diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:59 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:59 -0700 |
| commit | 457a4f57f3600e4c76d3d9f0476bcae126d328a2 (patch) | |
| tree | 3622dd7da483824c45dafe439a2a5f03257e083a | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5165.txt | 14715 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5165.zip | bin | 0 -> 283088 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/nncnt10.txt | 15456 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/nncnt10.zip | bin | 0 -> 282329 bytes |
7 files changed, 30187 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5165.txt b/5165.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92abf6a --- /dev/null +++ b/5165.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14715 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Innocent, by Marie Corelli + +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: Innocent + Her Fancy and His Fact + +Author: Marie Corelli + +Posting Date: June 20, 2013 [EBook #5165] +Release Date: February, 2004 +First Posted: May 27, 2002 +Last Updated: July 18, 2005 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INNOCENT *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +INNOCENT + +Her Fancy and His Fact + + +By MARIE CORELLI + + +Author of "God's Good Man," "The Treasure of Heaven," Etc. + + + + +BOOK ONE: HER FANCY + + + + +INNOCENT + + +BOOK ONE + +CHAPTER I + +The old by-road went rambling down into a dell of deep green shadow. It +was a reprobate of a road,--a vagrant of the land,--having long ago +wandered out of straight and even courses and taken to meandering +aimlessly into many ruts and furrows under arching trees, which in wet +weather poured their weight of dripping rain upon it and made it little +more than a mud pool. Between straggling bushes of elder and hazel, +blackberry and thorn, it made its solitary shambling way, so sunken +into itself with long disuse that neither to the right nor to the left +of it could anything be seen of the surrounding country. Hidden behind +the intervening foliage on either hand were rich pastures and ploughed +fields, but with these the old road had nothing in common. There were +many things better suited to its nature, such as the melodious notes of +the birds which made their homes year after year amid its bordering +thickets, or the gathering together in springtime of thousands of +primroses, whose pale, small, elfin faces peeped out from every mossy +corner,--or the scent of secret violets in the grass, filling the air +with the delicate sweetness of a breathing made warm by the April sun. +Or when the thrill of summer drew the wild roses running quickly from +the earth skyward, twining their stems together in fantastic arches and +tufts of deep pink and flush-white blossom, and the briony wreaths with +their small bright green stars swung pendent from over-shadowing boughs +like garlands for a sylvan festival. Or the thousands of tiny +unassuming herbs which grew up with the growing speargrass, bringing +with them pungent odours from the soil as from some deep-laid +storehouse of precious spices. These choice delights were the old +by-road's peculiar possession, and through a wild maze of beauty and +fragrance it strayed on with a careless awkwardness, getting more and +more involved in tangles of green,--till at last, recoiling abruptly as +it were upon its own steps, it stopped short at the entrance to a +cleared space in front of a farmyard. With this the old by-road had +evidently no sort of business whatever, and ended altogether, as it +were, with a rough shock of surprise at finding itself in such open +quarters. No arching trees or twining brambles were here,--it was a +wide, clean brick-paved place chiefly possessed by a goodly company of +promising fowls, and a huge cart-horse. The horse was tied to his +manger in an open shed, and munched and munched with all the steadiness +and goodwill of the sailor's wife who offended Macbeth's first witch. +Beyond the farmyard was the farmhouse itself,--a long, low, timbered +building with a broad tiled roof supported by huge oaken rafters and +crowned with many gables,--a building proudly declaring itself as of +the days of Elizabeth's yeomen, and bearing about it the honourable +marks of age and long stress of weather. No such farmhouses are built +nowadays, for life has become with us less than a temporary thing,--a +coin to be spent rapidly as soon as gained, too valueless for any +interest upon it to be sought or desired. In olden times it was +apparently not considered such cheap currency. Men built their homes to +last not only for their own lifetime, but for the lifetime of their +children and their children's children; and the idea that their +children's children might possibly fail to appreciate the strenuousness +and worth of their labours never entered their simple brains. + +The farmyard was terminated at its other end by a broad stone archway, +which showed as in a semi-circular frame the glint of scarlet geraniums +in the distance, and in the shadow cast by this embrasure was the small +unobtrusive figure of a girl. She stood idly watching the hens pecking +at their food and driving away their offspring from every chance of +sharing bit or sup with them,--and as she noted the greedy triumph of +the strong over the weak, the great over the small, her brows drew +together in a slight frown of something like scorn. Yet hers was not a +face that naturally expressed any of the unkind or harsh emotions. It +was soft and delicately featured, and its rose-white tints were +illumined by grave, deeply-set grey eyes that were full of wistful and +questioning pathos. In stature she was below the middle height and +slight of build, so that she seemed a mere child at first sight, with +nothing particularly attractive about her except, perhaps, her hands. +These were daintily shaped and characteristic of inbred refinement, and +as they hung listlessly at her sides looked scarcely less white than +the white cotton frock she wore. She turned presently with a movement +of impatience away from the sight of the fussy and quarrelsome fowls, +and looking up at the quaint gables of the farmhouse uttered a low, +caressing call. A white dove flew down to her instantly, followed by +another and yet another. She smiled and extended her arms, and a whole +flock of the birds came fluttering about her in a whirl of wings, +perching on her shoulders and alighting at her feet. One that seemed to +enjoy a position of special favouritism, flew straight against her +breast,--she caught it and held it there. It remained with her quite +contentedly, while she stroked its velvety neck. + +"Poor Cupid!" she murmured. "You love me, don't you? Oh yes, ever so +much! Only you can't tell me so! I'm glad! You wouldn't be half so +sweet if you could!" + +She kissed the bird's soft head, and still stroking it scattered all +the others around her by a slight gesture, and went, followed by a +snowy cloud of them, through the archway into the garden beyond. Here +there were flower-beds formally cut and arranged in the old-fashioned +Dutch manner, full of sweet-smelling old-fashioned things, such as +stocks and lupins, verbena and mignonette,--there were box-borders and +clumps of saxifrage, fuchsias, and geraniums,--and roses that grew in +every possible way that roses have ever grown, or can ever grow. The +farmhouse fronted fully on this garden, and a magnificent "Glory" rose +covered it from its deep black oaken porch to its highest gable, +wreathing it with hundreds of pale golden balls of perfume. A real +"old" rose it was, without any doubt of its own intrinsic worth and +sweetness,--a rose before which the most highly trained hybrids might +hang their heads for shame or wither away with envy, for the air around +it was wholly perfumed with its honey-scented nectar, distilled from +peaceful years upon years of sunbeams and stainless dew. The girl, +still carrying her pet dove, walked slowly along the narrow gravelled +paths that encircled the flower-beds and box-borders, till, reaching a +low green door at the further end of the garden, she opened it and +passed through into a newly mown field, where several lads and men were +about busily employed in raking together the last swaths of a full crop +of hay and adding them to the last waggon which stood in the centre of +the ground, horseless, and piled to an almost toppling height. One +young fellow, with a crimson silk tie knotted about his open +shirt-collar, stood on top of the lofty fragrant load, fork in hand, +tossing the additional heaps together as they were thrown up to him. +The afternoon sun blazed burningly down on his uncovered head and bare +brown arms, and as he shook and turned the hay with untiring energy, +his movements were full of the easy grace and picturesqueness which are +often the unconscious endowment of those whose labour keeps them daily +in the fresh air. Occasional bursts of laughter and scraps of rough +song came from the others at work, and there was only one absolutely +quiet figure among them, that of an old man sitting on an upturned +barrel which had been but recently emptied of its home-brewed beer, +meditatively smoking a long clay pipe. He wore a smock frock and straw +hat, and under the brim of the straw hat, which was well pulled down +over his forehead, his filmy eyes gleamed with an alert watchfulness. +He seemed to be counting every morsel of hay that was being added to +the load and pricing it in his mind, but there was no actual expression +of either pleasure or interest on his features. As the girl entered the +field, and her gown made a gleam of white on the grass, he turned his +head and looked at her, puffing hard at his pipe and watching her +approach only a little less narrowly than he watched the piling up of +the hay. When she drew sufficiently near him he spoke. + +"Coming to ride home on last load?" + +She hesitated. + +"I don't know. I'm not sure," she answered. + +"It'll please Robin if you do," he said. + +A little smile trembled on her lips. She bent her head over the dove +she held against her bosom. + +"Why should I please Robin?" she asked. + +His dull eyes sparkled with a gleam of anger. + +"Please Robin, please ME," he said, sharply--"Please yourself, please +nobody." + +"I do my best to please YOU, Dad!" she said, gently, yet with emphasis. + +He was silent, sucking at his pipe-stem. Just then a whistle struck the +air like the near note of a thrush. It came from the man on top of the +haywaggon. He had paused in his labour, and his face was turned towards +the old man and the girl. It was a handsome face, lighted by a smile +which seemed to have caught a reflex of the sun. + +"All ready, Uncle!" he shouted--"Ready and waiting!" + +The old man drew his pipe from his mouth. + +"There you are!" he said, addressing the girl in a softer tone,--"He's +wanting you." + +She moved away at once. As she went, the men who were raking in the +last sweepings of the hay stood aside for her to pass. One of them put +a ladder against the wheel of the waggon. + +"Going up, miss?" he asked, with a cheerful grin. + +She smiled a response, but said nothing. + +The young fellow on top of the load looked down. His blue eyes sparkled +merrily as he saw her. + +"Are you coming?" he called. + +She glanced up. + +"If you like," she answered. + +"If I like!" he echoed, half-mockingly, half-tenderly; "You know I +like! Why, you've got that wretched bird with you!" + +"He's not a wretched bird," she said,--"He's a darling!" + +"Well, you can't climb up here hugging him like that! Let him go,--and +then I'll help you." + +For all answer she ascended the ladder lightly without assistance, +still holding the dove, and in another minute was seated beside him. + +"There!" she said, as she settled herself comfortably down in the soft, +sweet-smelling hay. "Now you've got your wish, and I hope Dad is happy." + +"Did he tell you to come, or did you come of your own accord?" asked +the young man, with a touch of curiosity. + +"He told me, of course," she answered; "I should never have come of my +own accord." + +He bit his lip vexedly. Turning away from her he called to the +haymakers: + +"That'll do, boys! Fetch Roger, and haul in!" + +The sun was nearing the western horizon and a deep apricot glow warmed +the mown field and the undulating foliage in the far distance. The men +began to scatter here and there, putting aside their long wooden rakes, +and two of them went off to bring Roger, the cart-horse, from his shed. + +"Uncle Hugo!" + +The old man, who still sat impassively on the beer-barrel, looked up. + +"Ay! What is it?" + +"Are you coming along with us?" + +Uncle Hugo shook his head despondently. + +"Why not? It's the last load this year!" + +"Ay!" He lifted his straw hat and waved it in a kind of farewell salute +towards the waggon, repeating mechanically: "The last load! The very +last!" + +Then there came a cessation of movement everywhere for the moment. It +was a kind of breathing pause in Nature's everlasting chorus,--a sudden +rest, as it seemed, in the very spaces of the air. The young man threw +himself down on the hay-load so that he faced the girl, who sat quiet, +caressing the dove she held. He was undeniably good-looking, with an +open nobility of feature which is uncommon enough among well-born and +carefully-nurtured specimens of the human race, and is perhaps still +more rarely to be found among those whose lot in life is one of +continuous hard manual labour. Just now he looked singularly +attractive, the more so, perhaps, because he was unconscious of it. He +stretched out one hand towards the girl and touched the hem of her +white frock. + +"Are you feeling kind?" + +Her eyes lightened with a gleam of merriment. + +"I am always kind." + +"Not to me! Not as kind as you are to that bird." + +"Oh, poor Cupid! You're jealous of him!" + +He moved a little nearer to her. + +"Perhaps I am!" And he spoke in a lower tone. "Perhaps I am, Innocent! +I grudge him the privilege of lying there on your dear little white +breast! I am envious when you kiss him! I want you to kiss ME!" + +His voice was tremulous,--he turned up his face audaciously. + +She looked at him with a smile. + +"I will if you like!" she said. "I should think no more of kissing you +than of kissing Cupid!" + +He drew back with a gesture of annoyance. + +"I wouldn't be kissed at all that way," he said, hotly. + +"Why not?" + +"Because it's not the right way. A bird is not a man!" + +She laughed merrily. + +"Nor a man a bird, though he may have a bird's name!" she said. "Oh, +Robin, how clever you are!" + +He leaned closer. + +"Let Cupid go!" he pleaded,--"I want to ride home on the last load with +you alone." + +Another little peal of laughter escaped her. + +"I declare you think Cupid an actual person!" she said. "If he'll go, +he shall. But I think he'll stay." + +She loosened her hold of the dove, which, released, gravely hopped up +to her shoulder and sat there pruning its wing. She glanced round at it. + +"I told you so!" she said,--"He's a fixture." + +"I don't mind him so much up there," said Robin, and he ventured to +take one of her hands in his own,--"but he always has so much of you; +he nestles under your chin and is caressed by your sweet lips,--he has +all, and I have,--nothing!" + +"You have one hand," said Innocent, with demure gravity. + +"But no heart with it!" he said, wistfully. "Innocent, can you never +love me?" + +She was silent, looking at him critically,--then she gave a little sigh. + +"I'm afraid not! But I have often thought about it." + +"You have?"--and his eyes grew very tender. + +"Oh yes, often! You see, it isn't your fault at all. You +are--well!"--here she surveyed him with a whimsical air of +admiration,--"you are quite a beautiful man! You have a splendid figure +and a good face, and kind eyes and well-shaped feet and hands,--and I +like the look of you just now with that open collar and that gleam of +sunlight in your curly hair--and your throat is almost white, except +for a touch of sunburn, which is RATHER becoming!--especially with +that crimson silk tie! I suppose you put that tie on for effect, didn't +you?" + +He flushed, and laughed lightly. + +"Naturally! To please YOU!" + +"Really? How thoughtful of you! Well, you are charming,--and I +shouldn't mind kissing you at all. But it wouldn't be for love." + +"Wouldn't it? What would it be for, then?" + +Her face lightened up with the illumination of an inward mirth and +mischief. + +"Only because you look pretty!" she answered. + +He threw aside her hand with an angry gesture of impatience. + +"You want to make a fool of me!" he said, petulantly. + +"I'm sure I don't! You are just lovely, and I tell you so. That is not +making a fool of you!" + +"Yes, it is! A man is never lovely. A woman may be." + +"Well, I'm not," said Innocent, placidly. "That's why I admire the +loveliness of others." + +"You are lovely to me," he declared, passionately. + +She smiled. There was a touch of compassion in the smile. + +"Poor Robin!" she said. + +At that moment the hidden goddess in her soul arose and asserted her +claim to beauty. A rare indefinable charm of exquisite tenderness and +fascination seemed to environ her small and delicate personality with +an atmosphere of resistless attraction. The man beside her felt it, and +his heart beat quickly with a thrilling hope of conquest. + +"So you pity me!" he said,--"Pity is akin to love." + +"But kinsfolk seldom agree," she replied. "I only pity you because you +are foolish. No one but a very foolish fellow would think ME lovely." + +He raised himself a little and peered over the edge of the hay-load to +see if there was any sign of the men returning with Roger, but there +was no one in the field now except the venerable personage he called +Uncle Hugo, who was still smoking away his thoughts, as it were, in a +dream of tobacco. And he once more caught the hand he had just let go +and covered it with kisses. + +"There!" he said, lifting his head and showing an eager face lit by +amorous eyes. "Now you know how lovely you are to me! I should like to +kiss your mouth like that,--for you have the sweetest mouth in the +world! And you have the prettiest hair,--not raw gold which I +hate,--but soft brown, with delicious little sunbeams lost in it,--and +such a lot of it! I've seen it all down, remember! And your eyes would +draw the heart out of any man and send him anywhere,--yes, +Innocent!--anywhere,--to Heaven or to Hell!" + +She coloured a little. + +"That's beautiful talk!" she said,--"It's like poetry, but it isn't +true!" + +"It is true!" he said, with fond insistence. "And I'll MAKE you love +me!" + +"Ah, no!" A look of the coldest scorn suddenly passed over her +features--"that's not possible. You could never MAKE me do anything! +And--it's rude of you to speak in such a way. Please let go my hand!" + +He dropped it instantly, and sprang erect. + +"All right! I'll leave you to yourself,--and Cupid!" Here he laughed +rather bitterly. "What made you give that bird such a name?" + +"I found it in a book," she answered,--"It's a name that was given to +the god of Love when he was a little boy." + +"I know that! Please don't teach me my A.B.C.," said Robin, +half-sulkily. + +She leaned back laughing, and singing softly: + + "Love was once a little boy, + Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho! + Then 'twas sweet with him to toy, + Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho!" + +Her eyes sparkled in the sun,--a tress of her hair, ruffled by the hay, +escaped and flew like a little web of sunbeams against her cheek. He +looked at her moodily. + +"You might go on with the song," he said,--"'Love is now a little +man--'" + +"'And a very naughty one!'" she hummed, with a mischievous upward +glance. + +Despite his inward vexation, he smiled. + +"Say what you like, Cupid is a ridiculous name for a dove," he said. + +"It rhymes to stupid," she replied, demurely,--"And the rhyme expresses +the nature of the bird and--the god!" + +"Pooh! You think that clever!" + +"I don't! I never said a clever thing in my life. I shouldn't know how. +Everything clever has been written over and over again by people in +books." + +"Hang books!" he exclaimed. "It's always books with you! I wish we had +never found that old chest of musty volumes in the panelled room." + +"Do you? Then you are sillier than I thought you were. The books taught +me all I know,--about love!" + +"About love! You don't know what love means!" he declared, trampling +the hay he stood upon with impatience. "You read and read, and you get +the queerest ideas into your head, and all the time the world goes on +in ways that are quite different from what YOU are thinking about,--and +lovers walk through the fields and lanes everywhere near us every year, +and you never appear to see them or to envy them--" + +"Envy them!" The girl opened her eyes wide. "Envy them! Oh, Cupid, +hear! Envy them! Why should I envy them? Who could envy Mr. and Mrs. +Pettigrew?" + +"What nonsense you talk!" he exclaimed,--"Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew are +married folk, not lovers!" + +"But they were lovers once," she said,--"and only three years ago. I +remember them, walking through the lanes and fields as you say, with +arms round each other,--and Mrs. Pettigrew's hands were always +dreadfully red, and Mr. Pettigrew's fingers were always dirty,--and +they married very quickly,--and now they've got two dreadful babies +that scream all day and all night, and Mrs. Pettigrew's hair is never +tidy and Pettigrew himself--well, you know what he does!--" + +"Gets drunk every night," interrupted Robin, crossly,--"I know! And I +suppose you think I'm another Pettigrew?" + +"Oh dear, no!" And she laughed with the heartiest merriment. "You never +could, you never would be a Pettigrew! But it all comes to the same +thing--love ends in marriage, doesn't it?" + +"It ought to," said Robin, sententiously. + +"And marriage ends--in Pettigrews!" + +"Innocent!" + +"Don't say 'Innocent' in that reproachful way! It makes me feel quite +guilty! Now,--if you talk of names,--THERE'S a name to give a poor +girl,--Innocent! Nobody ever heard of such a name--" + +"You're wrong. There were thirteen Popes named Innocent between the +years 402 and 1724," said Robin, promptly,--"and one of them, Innocent +the Eleventh, is a character in Browning's 'Ring and the Book.'" + +"Dear me!" And her eyes flashed provocatively. "You astound me with +your wisdom, Robin! But all the same, I don't believe any girl ever had +such a name as Innocent, in spite of thirteen Popes. And perhaps the +Thirteen had other names?" + +"They had other baptismal names," he explained, with a learned air. +"For instance, Pope Innocent the Third was Cardinal Lothario before he +became Pope, and he wrote a book called 'De Contemptu Mundi sive de +Miseria Humanae Conditionis!'" + +She looked at him as he uttered the sonorous sounding Latin, with a +comically respectful air of attention, and then laughed like a +child,--laughed till the tears came into her eyes. + +"Oh Robin, Robin!" she cried--"You are simply delicious! The most +enchanting boy! That crimson tie and that Latin! No wonder the village +girls adore you! 'De,'--what is it? 'Contemptu Mundi,' and Misery Human +Conditions! Poor Pope! He never sat on top of a hay-load in his life +I'm sure! But you see his name was Lothario,--not Innocent." + +"His baptismal name was Lothario," said Robin, severely. + +She was suddenly silent. + +"Well! I suppose _I_ was baptised?" she queried, after a pause. + +"I suppose so." + +"I wonder if I have any other name? I must ask Dad." + +Robin looked at her curiously;--then his thoughts were diverted by the +sight of a squat stout woman in a brown spotted print gown and white +sunbonnet, who just then trotted briskly into the hay-field, calling at +the top of her voice: + +"Mister Jocelyn! Mister Jocelyn! You're wanted!" + +"There's Priscilla calling Uncle in," he said, and making a hollow of +his hands he shouted: + +"Hullo, Priscilla! What is it?" + +The sunbonnet gave an upward jerk in his direction and the wearer +shrilled out: + +"Doctor's come! Wantin' yer Uncle!" + +The old man, who had been so long quietly seated on the upturned +barrel, now rose stiffly, and knocking out the ashes of his pipe turned +towards the farmhouse. But before he went he raised his straw hat again +and stood for a moment bareheaded in the roseate glory of the sinking +sun. Innocent sprang upright on the load of hay, and standing almost at +the very edge of it, shaded her eyes with one hand from the strong +light, and looked at him. + +"Dad!" she called--"Dad, shall I come?" + +He turned his head towards her. + +"No, lass, no! Stay where you are, with Robin." + +He walked slowly, and with evident feebleness, across the length of the +field which divided him from the farmhouse garden, and opening the +green gate leading thereto, disappeared. The sun-bonneted individual +called Priscilla walked or rather waddled towards the hay-waggon, and +setting her arms akimbo on her broad hips, looked up with a grin at the +young people on top. + +"Well! Ye're a fine couple up there! What are ye a-doin' of?" + +"Never mind what we're doing," said Robin, impatiently. "I say, +Priscilla, do you think Uncle Hugo is really ill?" + +Priscilla's face, which was the colour of an ancient nutmeg, and almost +as deeply marked with contrasting lines of brown and yellow, showed no +emotion. + +"He ain't hisself," she said, bluntly. + +"No," said Innocent, seriously,--"I'm sure he isn't." Priscilla jerked +her sunbonnet a little further back, showing some tags of dusty grey +hair. + +"He ain't been hisself for this past year," she went on--"Mr. Slowton, +bein' only a kind of village physic-bottle, don't know much, an' yer +uncle ain't bin satisfied. Now there's another doctor from London +staying up 'ere for 'is own poor 'elth, and yer Uncle said he'd like to +'ave 'is opinion,--so Mr. Slowton, bein' obligin' though ignorant, 'as +got 'im in to see yer Uncle, and there they both is, in the best +parlour, with special wine an' seedies on the table." + +"Oh, it'll be all right!" said Robin, cheerfully,--"Uncle Hugo is +getting old, of course, and he's a bit fanciful." + +Priscilla sniffed the air. + +"Mebbe--and mebbe not! What are you two waitin' for now?" + +"For the men to come back with Roger. Then we'll haul home." + +"You'll 'ave to wait a bit longer, I'm thinkin'," said +Priscilla--"They's all drinkin' beer in the yard now an' tappin' +another barrel to drink at when the waggon comes in. There's no animals +on earth as ever thirsty as men! Well, good luck t'ye! I must go, or +there'll be a smell of burnin' supper-cakes." + +She settled her sunbonnet anew and trotted away,--looking rather like a +large spotted mushroom mysteriously set in motion and rolling, rather +than walking, off the field. + +When she was gone, Innocent sat down again upon the hay, this time +without Cupid. He had flown off to join his mates on the farmhouse +gables. + +"Dad is really not well," she said, thoughtfully; "I feel anxious about +him. If he were to die,--" At the mere thought her eyes filled with +tears. "He must die some day," answered Robin, gently,--"and he's +old,--nigh on eighty." + +"Oh, I don't want to remember that," she murmured. "It's the cruellest +part of life--that people should grow old, and die, and pass away from +us. What should I do without Dad? I should be all alone, with no one in +the world to care what becomes of me." + +"_I_ care!" he said, softly. + +"Yes, you care--just now"--she answered, with a sigh; "and it's very +kind of you. I wish I could care--in the way you want me to--but--" + +"Will you try?" he pleaded. + +"I do try--really I do try hard," she said, with quite a piteous +earnestness,--"but I can't feel what isn't HERE,"--and she pressed both +hands on her breast--"I care more for Roger the horse, and Cupid the +dove, than I do for you! It's quite awful of me--but there it is! I +love--I simply adore"--and she threw out her arms with an embracing +gesture--"all the trees and plants and birds!--and everything about the +farm and the farmhouse itself--it's just the sweetest home in the +world! There's not a brick or a stone in it that I would not want to +kiss if I had to leave it--but I never felt that way for you! And yet I +like you very, very much, Robin!--I wish I could see you married to +some nice girl, only I don't know one really nice enough." + +"Nor do I!" he answered, with a laugh, "except yourself! But never +mind, dear!--we won't talk of it any more, just now at any rate. I'm a +patient sort of chap. I can wait!" + +"How long?" she queried, with a wondering glance. + +"All my life!" he answered, simply. + +A silence fell between them. Some inward touch of embarrassment +troubled the girl, for the colour came and went flatteringly in her +soft cheeks and her eyes drooped under his fervent gaze. The glowing +light of the sky deepened, and the sun began to sink in a mist of +bright orange, which was reflected over all the visible landscape with +a warm and vivid glory. That strange sense of beauty and mystery which +thrills the air with the approach of evening, made all the simple +pastoral scene a dream of incommunicable loveliness,--and the two +youthful figures, throned on their high dais of golden-green hay, might +have passed for the rustic Adam and Eve of some newly created Eden. +They were both very quiet,--with the tense quietness of hearts that are +too full for speech. A joy in the present was shadowed with a dim +unconscious fear of the future in both their thoughts,--though neither +of them would have expressed their feelings in this regard one to the +other. A thrush warbled in a hedge close by, and the doves on the +farmhouse gables spread their white wings to the late sunlight, cooing +amorously. And again the man spoke, with a gentle firmness: + +"All my life I shall love you, Innocent! Whatever happens, remember +that! All my life!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +The swinging open of a great gate at the further end of the field +disturbed the momentary silence which followed his words. The returning +haymakers appeared on the scene, leading Roger at their head, and +Innocent jumped up eagerly, glad of the interruption. + +"Here comes old Roger!" she cried,--"bless his heart! Now, Robin, you +must try to look very stately! Are you going to ride home standing or +sitting?" + +He was visibly annoyed at her light indifference. + +"Unless I may sit beside you with my arm round your waist, in the +Pettigrew fashion, I'd rather stand!" he retorted. "You said +Pettigrew's hands were always dirty--so are mine. I'd better keep my +distance from you. One can't make hay and remain altogether as clean as +a new pin!" + +She gave an impatient gesture. + +"You always take things up in the wrong way," she said--"I never +thought you a bit like Pettigrew! Your hands are not really dirty!" + +"They are!" he answered, obstinately. "Besides, you don't want my arm +round your waist, do you?" + +"Certainly not!" she replied, quickly. + +"Then I'll stand," he said;--"You shall be enthroned like a queen and +I'll be your bodyguard. Here, wait a minute!" + +He piled up the hay in the middle of the load till it made a high +cushion where, in obedience to his gesture, Innocent seated herself. +The men leading the horse were now close about the waggon, and one of +them, grinning sheepishly at the girl, offered her a daintily-made +wreath of wild roses, from which all the thorns had been carefully +removed. + +"Looks prutty, don't it?" he said. + +She accepted it with a smile. + +"Is it for me? Oh, Larry, how nice of you! Am I to wear it?" + +"If ye loike!" This with another grin. + +She set it on her uncovered head and became at once a model for a +Romney; the wild roses with their delicate pink and white against her +brown hair suited the hues of her complexion and the tender grey of her +eyes;--and when, thus adorned, she looked up at her companion, he was +fain to turn away quickly lest his admiration should be too plainly +made manifest before profane witnesses. + +Roger, meanwhile, was being harnessed to the waggon. He was a handsome +creature of his kind, and he knew it. As he turned his bright soft +glance from side to side with a conscious pride in himself and his +surroundings, he seemed to be perfectly aware that the knots of bright +red ribbon tied in his long and heavy mane meant some sort of festival. +When all was done the haymakers gathered round. + +"Good luck to the last load, Mr. Clifford!" they shouted. + +"Good luck to you all!" answered Robin, cheerily. + +"Good luck t'ye, Miss!" and they raised their sun-browned faces to the +girl as she looked down upon them. "As fine a crop and as fair a load +next year!" + +"Good luck to you!" she responded--then suddenly bending a little +forward she said almost breathlessly: "Please wish luck to Dad! He's +not well--and he isn't here! Oh, please don't forget him!" + +They all stared at her for a moment, as if startled or surprised, then +they all joined in a stentorian shout. + +"That's right, Miss! Good luck to the master! Many good years of life +to him, and better crops every year!" + +She drew back, smiling her thanks, but there were tears in her eyes. +And then they all started in a pretty procession--the men leading +Roger, who paced along the meadow with equine dignity, shaking his +ribbons now and again as if he were fully conscious of carrying +something more valuable than mere hay,--and above them all smiled the +girl's young face, framed in its soft brown hair and crowned with the +wild roses, while at her side stood the very type of a model +Englishman, with all the promise of splendid life and vigour in the +build of his form, the set of his shoulders and the poise of his +handsome head. It was a picture of youth and beauty and lovely nature +set against the warm evening tint of the sky,--one of those pictures +which, though drawn for the moment only on the minds of those who see +it, is yet never forgotten. + +Arriving presently at a vast enclosure, in which already two loads of +hay were being stacked, they were hailed with a cheery shout by several +other labourers at work, and very soon a strong smell of beer began to +mingle with the odour of the hay and the dewy scent of the elder +flowers and sweet briar in the hedges close by. + +"Have a drop, Mr. Clifford!" said one tall, powerful-looking man who +seemed to be a leader among the others, holding out a pewter tankard +full and frothing over. + +Robin Clifford smiled and put his lips to it. + +"Just to your health, Landon!" he said--"I'm not a drinking man." + +"Haymaking's thirsty work," commented the other. "Will Miss Jocelyn do +us the honour?" + +The girl made a wry little face. + +"I don't like beer, Mr. Landon," she said--"It's horrid stuff, even +when it's home-brewed! I help to make it, you see!" + +She laughed gaily--they all laughed with her, and then there was a +little altercation which ended in her putting her lips to the tankard +just offered to Robin and sipping the merest fleck of its foam. Landon +watched her,--and as she returned the cup, put his own mouth to the +place hers had touched and drank the whole draught off greedily. Robin +did not see his action, but the girl did, and a deep blush of offence +suffused her cheeks. She rose, a little nervously. + +"I'll go in now," she said--"Dad must be alone by this time." + +"All right!" And Robin jumped lightly from the top of the load to the +ground and put the ladder up for her to descend. She came down +daintily, turning her back to him so that the hem of her neat white +skirt fell like a little snowflake over each rung of the ladder, +veiling not only her slim ankles but the very heels of her shoes. When +she was nearly at the bottom, he caught her up and set her lightly on +the ground. + +"There you are!" he said, with a laugh--"When you get into the house +you can tell Uncle that you are a Rose Queen, a Hay Queen, and Queen of +everything and everyone on Briar Farm, including your very humble +servant, Robin Clifford!" + +"And your humblest of slaves, Ned Landon!" added Landon, with a quick +glance, doffing his cap. "Mr. Clifford mustn't expect to have it all +his own way!" + +"What the devil are you talking about?" demanded Robin, turning upon +him with a sudden fierceness. + +Innocent gave him an appealing look. + +"Don't!--Oh, don't quarrel!" she whispered,--and with a parting nod to +the whole party of workers she hurried away. + +With her disappearance came a brief pause among the men. Then Robin, +turning away from Landon, proceeded to give various orders. He was a +person in authority, and as everyone knew, was likely to be the owner +of the farm when his uncle was dead. Landon went close up to him. + +"Mr. Clifford," he said, somewhat thickly, "you heard what I said just +now? You mustn't expect to have it all your own way! There's other men +after the girl as well as you!" + +Clifford glanced him up and down. + +"Yourself, I suppose?" he retorted. + +"And why not?" sneered Landon. + +"Only because there are two sides to every question," said Clifford, +carelessly, with a laugh. "And no decision can be arrived at till both +are heard!" + +He climbed up among the other men and set to work, stacking steadily, +and singing in a fine soft baritone the old fifteenth-century song: + + "Yonder comes a courteous knight, + Lustily raking over the hay, + He was well aware of a bonny lass, + As she came wandering over the way. + Then she sang Downe a downe, hey downe derry! + + "Jove you speed, fair ladye, he said, + Among the leaves that be so greene, + If I were a king and wore a crown, + Full soon faire Ladye shouldst thou be queene. + Then she sang Downe a downe, hey downe derry!" + +Landon looked up at him with a dark smile. + +"Those laugh best who laugh last!" he muttered, "And a whistling +throstle has had its neck wrung before now!" + +Meanwhile Innocent had entered the farmhouse. Passing through the hall, +which,--unaltered since the days of its original building,--was vaulted +high and heavily timbered, she went first into the kitchen to see +Priscilla, who, assisted by a couple of strong rosy-cheeked girls, did +all the housework and cooking of the farm. She found that personage +rolling out pastry and talking volubly as she rolled: + +"Ah! YOU'LL never come to much good, Jenny Spinner," she cried. "What +with a muck of dirty dishes in one corner and a muddle of ragged clouts +in another, you're the very model of a wife for a farm hand! Can't sew +a gown for yerself neither, but bound to send it into town to be made +for ye, and couldn't put a button on a pair of breeches for fear of +'urtin' yer delicate fingers! Well! God 'elp ye when the man comes as +ye're lookin' for! He'll be a fool anyhow, for all men are that,--but +he'll be twice a fool if he takes you for a life-satchel on his +shoulders!" + +Jenny Spinner endured this tirade patiently, and went on with the +washing-up in which she was engaged, only turning her head to look at +Innocent as she appeared suddenly in the kitchen doorway, with her hair +slightly dishevelled and the wreath of wild roses crowning her brows. + +"Priscilla, where's Dad?" she asked. + +"Lord save us, lovey! You gave me a real scare coming in like that with +them roses on yer head like a pixie out of the woods! The master? He's +just where the doctors left 'im, sittin' in his easy-chair and looking +out o' window." + +"Was it--was it all right, do you think?" asked the girl, hesitatingly. + +"Now, lovey, don't ask me about doctors, 'cos I don't know nothin' and +wants to know nothin', for they be close-tongued folk who never sez +what they thinks lest they get their blessed selves into hot water. And +whether it's all right or all wrong, I couldn't tell ye, for the two o' +them went out together, and Mr. Slowton sez 'Good-arternoon, Miss +Friday!' quite perlite like, and the other gentleman he lifts 'is 'at +quite civil, so I should say 'twas all wrong. For if you mark me, +lovey, men's allus extra perlite when they thinks there's goin' to be +trouble, hopin' they'll get somethin' for theirselves out of it." + +Innocent hardly waited to hear her last words. + +"I'm going to Dad," she said, quickly, and disappeared. + +Priscilla Friday stopped for a minute in the rolling-cut of her pastry. +Some great stress of thought appeared to be working behind her wrinkled +brow, for she shook her head, pursed her lips and rolled up her eyes a +great many times. Then she gave a short sigh and went on with her work. + +The farmhouse was a rambling old place, full of quaint corners, arches +and odd little steps up and down leading to cupboards, mysterious +recesses and devious winding ways which turned into dark narrow +passages, branching right and left through the whole breadth of the +house. It was along one of these that Innocent ran swiftly on leaving +the kitchen, till she reached a closed door, where pausing, she +listened a moment-then, hearing no sound, opened it and went softly in. +The room she entered was filled with soft shadows of the gradually +falling dusk, yet partially lit by a golden flame of the after-glow +which shone through the open latticed window from the western sky. +Close to the waning light sat the master of the farm, still clad in his +smock frock, with his straw hat on the table beside him and his stick +leaning against the arm of his chair. He was very quiet,--so quiet, +that a late beam of the sun, touching the rough silver white of his +hair, seemed almost obtrusive, as suggesting an interruption to the +moveless peace of his attitude. Innocent stopped short, with a tremor +of nervous fear. + +"Dad!" she said, softly. + +He turned towards her. + +"Ay, lass! What is it?" + +She did not answer, but came up and knelt down beside him, taking one +of his brown wrinkled hands in her own and caressing it. The silence +between them was unbroken for quite two or three minutes; then he said: + +"Last load in all safe?" + +"Yes, Dad!" + +"Not a drop of rain to wet it, and no hard words to toughen it, eh?" + +"No, Dad." + +She gave the answer a little hesitatingly. She was thinking of Ned +Landon. He caught the slight falter in her voice and looked at her +suspiciously. + +"Been quarrelling with Robin?" + +"Dear Dad, no! We're the best of friends." + +He loosened his hand from her clasp and patted her head with it. + +"That's right! That's as it should be! Be friends with Robin, child! Be +friends!--be lovers!" + +She was silent. The after-glow warmed the tints of her hair to +russet-gold and turned to a deeper pink the petals of the roses in the +wreath she wore. He touched the blossoms and spoke with great +gentleness. + +"Did Robin crown thee?" + +She looked up, smiling. + +"No, it's Larry's wreath." + +"Larry! Ay, poor Larry! A good lad--but he can eat for two and only +work for one. 'Tis the way of men nowadays!" + +Another pause ensued, and the western gold of the sky began to fade +into misty grey. + +"Dad," said the girl then, in a low tone--"Do tell me--what did the +London doctor say?" + +He lifted his head quickly, and his old eyes for a moment flashed as +though suddenly illumined by a flame from within. + +"Say! What should he say, lass, but that I am old and must expect to +die? It's natural enough--only I haven't thought about it. It's just +that--I haven't thought about it!" + +"Why should you think about it?" she asked, with quick tenderness--"You +will not die yet--not for many years. You are not so very old. +And you are strong." + +He patted her head again. + +"Poor little wilding!" he said--"If you had your way I should live for +ever, no doubt! But an' you were wise with modern wisdom, you would say +I had already lived too long!" + +For answer, she drew down his hand and kissed it. + +"I do not want any modern wisdom," she said--"I am your little girl and +I love you!" + +A shadow flitted across his face and he moved uneasily. She looked up +at him. + +"You will not tell me?" + +"Tell you what?" + +"All that the London doctor said." + +He was silent for a minute's space--then he answered. + +"Yes, I will tell you, but not now. To-night after supper will be time +enough. And then--" + +"Yes--then?" she repeated, anxiously. + +"Then you shall know--you will have to know--" Here he broke off +abruptly. "Innocent!" + +"Yes, Dad?" + +"How old are you now?" + +"Eighteen." + +"Ay, so you are!" And he looked at her searchingly. "Quite a woman! +Time flies! You're old enough to learn--" + +"I have always tried to learn," she said--"and I like studying things +out of books--" + +"Ay! But there are worse things in life than ever were written in +books," he answered, wearily--"things that people hide away and are +ashamed to speak of! Ay, poor wilding! Things that I've tried to keep +from you as long as possible--but--time presses, and, I shall have to +speak--" + +She looked at him earnestly. Her face paled and her eyes grew dark and +wondering. + +"Have I done anything wrong?" she asked. + +"You? No! Not you! You are not to blame, child! But you've heard the +law set out in church on Sundays that 'The sins of the fathers shall be +visited on the children even unto the third and fourth generation.' +You've heard that?" + +"Yes, Dad!" + +"Ay!--and who dare say the fourth generation are to blame! Yet, though +they are guiltless, they suffer most! No just God ever made such a law, +though they say 'tis God speaking. _I_ say 'tis the devil!" + +His voice grew harsh and loud, and finding his stick near his chair, he +took hold of it and struck it against the ground to emphasise his words. + +"I say 'tis the devil!" + +The girl rose from her kneeling attitude and put her arms gently round +his shoulders. + +"There, Dad!" she said soothingly,--"Don't worry! Church and church +things seem to rub you up all the wrong way! Don't think about them! +Supper will be ready in a little while and after supper we'll have a +long talk. And then you'll tell me what the doctor said." + +His angry excitement subsided suddenly and his head sank on his breast. + +"Ay! After supper. Then--then I'll tell you what the doctor said." + +His speech faltered. He turned and looked out on the garden, full of +luxuriant blossom, the colours of which were gradually merging into +indistinguishable masses under the darkening grey of the dusk. + +She moved softly about the room, setting things straight, and lighting +two candles in a pair of tall brass candlesticks which stood one on +either side of a carved oak press. The room thus illumined showed +itself to be a roughly-timbered apartment in the style of the earliest +Tudor times, and all the furniture in it was of the same period. The +thick gate-legged table--the curious chairs, picturesque, but +uncomfortable--the two old dower chests--the quaint three-legged stools +and upright settles, were a collection that would have been precious to +the art dealer and curio hunter, as would the massive eight-day clock +with its grotesquely painted face, delineating not only the hours and +days but the lunar months, and possessing a sonorous chime which just +now struck eight with a boom as deep as that of a cathedral bell. The +sound appeared to startle the old farmer with a kind of shock, for he +rose from his chair and grasped his stick, looking about him as though +for the moment uncertain of his bearings. + +"How fast the hours go by!" he muttered, dreamily. "When we're young +they don't count--but when we're old we know that every hour brings us +nearer to the end-the end, the end of all! Another night closing +in--and the last load cleared from the field--Innocent!" + +The name broke from his lips like a cry of suffering, and she ran to +him trembling. + +"Dad, dear, what is it?" + +He caught her outstretched hands and held them close. + +"Nothing--nothing!" he answered, drawing his breath quick and +hard--"Nothing, lass! No pain--no--not that! I'm only frightened! +Frightened!--think of it!--me frightened who never knew fear! And I--I +wouldn't tell it to anyone but you--I'm afraid of what's coming--of +what's bound to come! 'Twould always have come, I know--but I never +thought about it--it never seemed real! It never seemed real--" + +Here the door opened, admitting a flood of cheerful light from the +outside passage, and Robin Clifford entered. + +"Hullo, Uncle! Supper's ready!" + +The old man's face changed instantly. Its worn and scared expression +smoothed into a smile, and, loosening his hold of Innocent, he +straightened himself and stood erect. + +"All right, my lad! You've worked pretty late!" + +"Yes, and we've not done yet. But we shall finish stacking tomorrow," +answered Clifford--"Just now we're all tired and hungry." + +"Don't say you're thirsty!" said the old farmer, his smile broadening. +"How many barrels have been tapped to-day?" + +"Oh, well! You'd better ask Landon,"--and Clifford's light laugh had a +touch of scorn in it,--"he's the man for the beer! I hardly ever touch +it--Innocent knows that." + +"More work's done on water after all," said Jocelyn. "The horses that +draw for us and the cattle that make food for us prove that. But we +think we're a bit higher than the beasts, and some of us get drunk to +prove it! That's one of our strange ways as men! Come along, lad! And +you, child,"--here he turned to Innocent--"run and tell Priscilla we're +waiting in the Great Hall." + +He seemed to have suddenly lost all feebleness, and walked with a firm +step into what he called the Great Hall, which was distinguished by +this name from the lesser or entrance hall of the house. It was a nobly +proportioned, very lofty apartment, richly timbered, the roof being +supported by huge arched beams curiously and intricately carved. Long +narrow boards on stout old trestles occupied the centre, and these were +spread with cloths of coarse but spotlessly clean linen and furnished +with antique plates, tankards and other vessels of pewter which would +have sold for a far larger sum in the market than solid silver. A tall +carved chair was set at the head of the largest table, and in this +Farmer Jocelyn seated himself. The men now began to come in from the +fields in their work-a-day clothes, escorted by Ned Landon, their only +attempt at a toilet having been a wash and brush up in the outhouses; +and soon the hall presented a scene of lively bustle and activity. +Priscilla, entering it from the kitchen with her two assistants, +brought in three huge smoking joints on enormous pewter dishes,--then +followed other good things of all sorts,--vegetables, puddings, +pasties, cakes and fruit, which Innocent helped to set out all along +the boards in tempting array. It was a generous supper fit for a +"Harvest Home"--yet it was only Farmer Jocelyn's ordinary way of +celebrating the end of the haymaking,--the real harvest home was +another and bigger festival yet to come. Robin Clifford began to carve +a sirloin of beef,--Ned Landon, who was nearly opposite him, actively +apportioned slices of roast pork, the delicacy most favoured by the +majority, and when all the knives and forks were going and voices began +to be loud and tongues discursive, Innocent slipped into a chair by +Farmer Jocelyn and sat between him and Priscilla. For not only the farm +hands but all the servants on the place were at table, this haymaking +supper being the annual order of the household. The girl's small +delicate head, with its coronal of wild roses, looked strange and +incongruous among the rough specimens of manhood about her, and +sometimes as the laughter became boisterous, or some bucolic witticism +caught her ear, a faint flush coloured the paleness of her cheeks and a +little nervous tremor ran through her frame. She drew as closely as she +could to the old farmer, who sat rigidly upright and quiet, eating +nothing but a morsel of bread with a bowl of hot salted milk Priscilla +had put before him. Beer was served freely, and was passed from man to +man in leather "blackjacks" such as were commonly used in olden times, +but which are now considered mere curiosities. They were, however, +ordinary wear at Briar Farm, and had been so since very early days. The +Great Hall was lighted by tall windows reaching almost to the roof and +traversed with shafts of solid stonework; the one immediately opposite +Farmer Jocelyn's chair showed the very last parting glow of the sunset +like a dull red gleam on a dark sea. For the rest, thick home-made +candles of a torch shape fixed into iron sconces round the walls +illumined the room, and burned with unsteady flare, giving rise to +curious lights and shadows as though ghostly figures were passing to +and fro, ruffling the air with their unseen presences. Priscilla +Priday, her wizened yellow face just now reddened to the tint of a +winter apple by her recent exertions in the kitchen, was not so much +engaged in eating her supper as in watching her master. Her beady brown +eyes roved from him to the slight delicate girl beside him with +inquisitive alertness. She felt and saw that the old man's thoughts +were far away, and that something of an unusual nature was troubling +his mind. Priscilla was an odd-looking creature but faithful;--her +attachments were strong, and her dislikes only a shade more +violent,--and just now she entertained very uncomplimentary sentiments +towards "them doctors" who had, as she surmised, put her master out of +sorts with himself, and caused anxiety to the "darling child," as she +invariably called Innocent when recommending her to the guidance of the +Almighty in her daily and nightly prayers. Meanwhile the noise at the +supper table grew louder and more incessant, and sundry deep potations +of home-brewed ale began to do their work. One man, seated near Ned +Landon, was holding forth in very slow thick accents on the subject of +education: + +"Be eddicated!" he said, articulating his words with +difficulty,--"That's what I says, boys! Be eddicated! Then everything's +right for us! We can kick all the rich out into the mud and take their +goods and enjoy 'em for ourselves. Eddication does it! Makes us all we +wants to be,--members o' Parli'ment and what not! I've only one +boy,--but he'll be eddicated as his father never was--" + +"And learn to despise his father!" said Robin, suddenly, his clear +voice ringing out above the other's husky loquacity. "You're right! +That's the best way to train a boy in the way he should go!" + +There was a brief silence. Then came a fresh murmur of voices and Ned +Landon's voice rose above them. + +"I don't agree with you, Mr. Clifford," he said--"There's no reason why +a well-educated lad should despise his father." + +"But he often does," said Robin--"reason or no reason." + +"Well, you're educated yourself," retorted Landon, with a touch of +envy,--"You won a scholarship at your grammar school, and you've been +to a University." + +"What's that done for me?" demanded Robin, carelessly,--"Where has it +put me? Just nowhere, but exactly where I might have stood all the +time. I didn't learn farming at Oxford!" + +"But you didn't learn to despise your father either, did you, sir?" +queried one of the farm hands, respectfully. + +"My father's dead," answered Robin, curtly,--"and I honour his memory." + +"So your own argument goes to the wall!" said Landon. "Education has +not made you think less of him." + +"In my case, no," said Robin,--"but in dozens of other cases it works +out differently. Besides, you've got to decide what education IS. The +man who knows how to plough a field rightly is as usefully educated as +the man who knows how to read a book, in my opinion." + +"Education," interposed a strong voice, "is first to learn one's place +in the world and then know how to keep it!" + +All eyes turned towards the head of the table. It was Farmer Jocelyn +who spoke, and he went on speaking: + +"What's called education nowadays," he said, "is a mere smattering and +does no good. The children are taught, especially in small villages +like ours, by men and women who often know less than the children +themselves. What do you make of Danvers, for example, boys?" + +A roar of laughter went round the table. + +"Danvers!" exclaimed a huge red-faced fellow at the other end of the +board,--"Why he talks yer 'ead off about what he's picked up here and +there like, and when I asked him to tell me where my son is as went to +Mexico, blowed if he didn't say it was a town somewheres near New York!" + +Another roar went round the table. Farmer Jocelyn smiled and held up +his hand to enjoin silence. + +"Mr. Danvers is a teacher selected by the Government," he then +observed, with mock gravity. "And if he teaches us that Mexico is a +town near New York, we poor ignorant farm-folk are bound to believe +him!" + +They all laughed again, and he continued: + +"I'm old enough, boys, to have seen many changes, and I tell you, all +things considered, that the worst change is the education business, so +far as the strength and the health of the country goes. That, and +machine work. When I was a youngster, nearly every field-hand knew how +to mow,--now we've trouble enough to find an extra man who can use a +scythe. And you may put a machine on the grass as much as you like, +you'll never get the quality that you'll get with a well-curved blade +and a man's arm and hand wielding it. Longer work maybe, and risk of +rain--but, taking the odds for and against, men are better than +machines. Forty years we've scythed the grass on Briar Farm, and +haven't we had the finest crops of hay in the county?" + +A chorus of gruff voices answered him: + +"Ay, Mister Jocelyn!" + +"That's right!" + +"I never 'member more'n two wet seasons and then we got last load in +'tween showers," observed one man, thoughtfully. + +"There ain't never been nothin' wrong with Briar Farm hay crops +anyway--all the buyers knows that for thirty mile round," said another. + +"And the wheat and the corn and the barley and the oats the same," +struck in the old farmer again--"all the seed sown by hand and the +harvest reaped by hand, and every man and boy in the village or near it +has found work enough to keep him in his native place, spring, summer, +autumn and winter, isn't that so?" + +"Ay, ay!" + +"Never a day out o' work!" + +"Talk of unemployed trouble," went on Jocelyn, "if the old ways were +kept up and work done in the old fashion, there'd be plenty for all +England's men to do, and to feed fair and hearty! But the idea nowadays +is to rush everything just to get finished with it, and then to play +cards or football, and get drunk till the legs don't know whether it's +land or water they're standing on! It's the wrong way about, boys! It's +the wrong way about! You may hurry and scurry along as fast as you +please, but you miss most good things by the way; and there's only one +end to your racing--the grave! There's no such haste to drop into THAT, +boys! It'll wait! It's always waiting! And the quicker you go the +quicker you'll get to it! Take time while you're young! That time for +me is past!" + +He lifted his head and looked round upon them all. There was a strange +wild look in his old eyes,--and a sudden sense of awe fell on the rest +of the company. Farmer Jocelyn seemed all at once removed from them to +a height of dignity above his ordinary bearing. Innocent's rose-crowned +head drooped, and tears sprang involuntarily to her eyes. She tried to +hide them, not so well, however, but that Priscilla Priday saw them. + +"Now, lovey child!" she whispered,--"Don't take on! It's only the +doctors that's made him low like and feelin' blue, and he ain't takin' +sup or morsel, but we'll make him have a bite in his own room +afterwards. Don't you swell your pretty eyes and make 'em red, for that +won't suit me nor Mr. Robin neither, come, come!--that it won't!" + +Innocent put one of her little hands furtively under the board and +pressed Priscilla's rough knuckles tenderly, but she said nothing. The +silence was broken by one of the oldest men present, who rose, tankard +in hand. + +"The time for good farming is never past!" he said, in a hearty +voice--"And no one will ever beat Farmer Jocelyn at that! Full cups, +boys! And the master's health! Long life to him!" + +The response was immediate, every man rising to his feet. None of them +were particularly unsteady except Ned Landon, who nearly fell over the +table as he got up, though he managed to straighten himself in time. + +"Farmer Jocelyn!" + +"To Briar Farm and the master!" + +"Health and good luck!" + +These salutations were roared loudly round the table, and then the +whole company gave vent to a hearty 'Hip-hip-hurrah!' that roused +echoes from the vaulted roof and made its flaring lights tremble. + +"One more!" shouted Landon, suddenly, turning his flushed face from +side to side upon those immediately near him--"Miss Jocelyn!" + +There followed a deafening volley of cheering,--tankards clinked +together and shone in the flickering light and every eye looked towards +the girl, who, colouring deeply, shrank from the tumult around her like +a leaf shivering in a storm-wind. Robin glanced at her with a +half-jealous, half-anxious look, but her face was turned away from him. +He lifted his tankard and, bowing towards her, drank the contents. When +the toast was fully pledged, Farmer Jocelyn got up, amid much clapping +of hands, stamping of feet and thumping on the boards. He waited till +quiet was restored, and then, speaking in strong resonant accents, said: + +"Boys, I thank you! You're all boys to me, young and old, for you've +worked on the farm so long that I seem to know your faces as well as I +know the shape of the land and the trees on the ridges. You've wished +me health and long life--and I take it that your wishes are honest--but +I've had a long life already and mustn't expect much more of it. +However, the farm will go on just the same whether I'm here or +elsewhere,--and no man that works well on it will be turned away from +it,--that I can promise you! And the advice I've always given to you I +give to you again,--stick to the land and the work of the land! There's +nothing finer in the world than the fresh air and the scent of the good +brown earth that gives you the reward of your labour, always providing +it is labour and not 'scamp' service. When I'm gone you'll perhaps +remember what I say,--and think it not so badly said either. I thank +you for your good wishes and"--here he hesitated--"my little girl here +thanks you too. Next time you make the hay--if I'm not with you--I ask +you to be as merry as you are to-night and to drink to my memory! For +whenever one master of Briar Farm has gone there's always been another +in his place!--and there always will be!" He paused,--then lifting a +full tankard which had been put beside him, he drank a few drops of its +contents--"God bless you all! May you long have the will to work and +the health to enjoy the fruits of honest labour!" + +There was another outburst of noisy cheering, followed by a new kind of +clamour, + +"A song!" + +"A song!" + +"Who'll begin?" + +"Where's Steevy?" + +"Little Steevy!" + +"Steevy! Wheer be ye got to?" roared one old fellow with very white +hair and a very red face--"ye're not so small as ye can hide in yer +mother's thimble!" + +A young giant of a man stood up in response to this adjuration, +blushing and smiling bashfully. + +"Here I be!" + +"Sing away, lad, sing away!" + +"Wet yer pipe, and whistle!" + +"Tune up, my blackbird!" + +Steevy, thus adjured, straightened himself to his full stature of over +six feet and drank off a cupful of ale. Then he began in a remarkably +fine and mellow tenor: + + "Would you choose a wife + For a happy life, + Leave the town and the country take; + Where Susan and Doll, + And Jenny and Moll, + Follow Harry and John, + While harvest goes on, + And merrily, merrily rake!" + + "The lass give me here, + As brown as my beer, + That knows how to govern a farm; + That can milk a cow, + Or farrow a sow, + Make butter and cheese, + And gather green peas, + And guard the poultry from harm." + + + "This, this is the girl, + Worth rubies and pearl, + The wife that a home will make! + We farmers need + No quality breed, + But a woman that's won + While harvest goes on, + And we merrily, merrily rake!" + +[Footnote: Old Song 1740.] + +A dozen or more stentorian voices joined in the refrain: + + "A woman that's won + While harvest goes on, + And we merrily, merrily rake." + +"Bravo!" + +"Good for you, Steevy!" + +"First-class!" + +"Here's to you, my lad!" + +The shouting, laughter and applause continued for many minutes, then +came more singing of songs from various rivals to the tuneful Steevy. +And presently all joined together in a boisterous chorus which ran thus: + + "A glass is good and a lass is good, + And a pipe is good in cold weather, + The world is good and the people are good, + And we're all good fellows together!" + +In the middle of this performance Farmer Jocelyn rose from his place +and left the hall, Innocent accompanying him. Once he looked back on +the gay scene presented to him--the disordered supper-table, the easy +lounging attitudes of the well-fed men, the flare of the lights which +cast a ruddy glow on old and young faces and sparkled over the +burnished pewter,--then with a strange yearning pain in his eyes he +turned slowly away, leaning on the arm of the girl beside him, and +went,--leaving the merry-makers to themselves. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Returning to the room where he had sat alone before supper, he sank +heavily into the armchair he had previously occupied. The window was +still open, and the scent of roses stole in with every breath of +air,--a few stars sparkled in the sky, and a faint line of silver in +the east showed where the moon would shortly rise. He looked out in +dreamy silence, and for some minutes seemed too much absorbed in +thought to notice the presence of Innocent, who had seated herself at a +small table near him, on which she had set a lit candle, and was +quietly sewing. She had forgotten that she still wore the wreath of +wild roses,--the fragile flowers were drooping and dying in her hair, +and as she bent over her work and the candlelight illumined her +delicate profile, there was something almost sculptural in the shape of +the leaves as they encircled her brow, making her look like a young +Greek nymph or goddess brought to life out of the poetic dreams of the +elder world. She was troubled and anxious, but she tried not to let +this seem apparent. She knew from her life's experience of his ways and +whims that it was best to wait till the old man chose to speak, rather +than urge him into talk before he was ready or willing. She glanced up +from her sewing now and again and saw that he looked very pale and +worn, and she felt that he suffered. Her tender young heart ached with +longing to comfort him, yet she knew not what she should say. So she +sat quiet, as full of loving thoughts as a Madonna lily may be full of +the dew of Heaven, yet mute as the angelic blossom itself. Presently he +moved restlessly, and turning in his chair looked at her intently. The +fixity of his gaze drew her like a magnet from her work and she put +down her sewing. + +"Do you want anything, Dad?" + +He rose, and began to fumble with the buttons of his smock. + +"Ay--just help me to get this off. The working day is over,--the +working clothes can go!" + +She was at his side instantly and with her light deft fingers soon +disembarrassed him of the homely garment. When it was taken off a +noticeable transformation was effected in his appearance. Clad in plain +dark homespun, which was fashioned into a suit somewhat resembling the +doublet and hose of olden times, his tall thin figure had a distinctly +aristocratic look and bearing which was lacking when clothed in the +labourer's garb. Old as he was, there were traces of intellect and even +beauty in his features,--his head, on which the thin white hair shone +like spun silver, was proudly set on his shoulders in that unmistakable +line which indicates the power and the will to command; and as he +unconsciously drew himself upright he looked more like some old hero of +a hundred battles than a farmer whose chief pride was the excellence of +his crops and the prosperity of his farm managed by hand work only. For +despite the jeers of his neighbours, who were never tired of +remonstrating with him for not "going with the times," Jocelyn had one +fixed rule of farming, and this was that no modern machinery should be +used on his lands. He was the best employer of labour for many and many +a mile round, and the most generous as well as the most exact +paymaster, and though people asserted that there was no reasonable +explanation for it, nevertheless it annually happened that the +hand-sown, hand-reaped crops of Briar Farm were finer and richer in +grain and quality, and of much better value than the machine-sown, +machine-reaped crops of any other farm in the county or for that matter +in the three counties adjoining. He stood now for a minute or two +watching Innocent as she looked carefully over his smock frock to see +if there were any buttons missing or anything to be done requiring the +services of her quick needle and thread,--then as she folded it and put +it aside on a chair he said with a thrill of compassion in his voice: + +"Poor little child, thou hast eaten no supper! I saw thee playing with +the bread and touching no morsel. Art not well?" + +She looked up at him and tried to smile, but tears came into her eyes +despite her efforts to keep them back. + +"Dear Dad, I am only anxious," she murmured, tremulously. "You, too, +have had nothing. Shall I fetch you a glass of the old wine? It will do +you good." + +He still bent his brows thoughtfully upon her. + +"Presently--presently--not now," he answered. "Come and sit by me at +the window and I'll tell you--I'll tell you what you must know. But see +you, child, if you are going to cry or fret, you will be no help to me +and I'll just hold my peace!" + +She drew a quick breath, and her face paled. + +"I will not cry," she said,--"I will not fret. I promise you, Dad!" + +She came close up to him as she spoke. He took her gently in his arms +and kissed her. + +"That's a brave girl!" And holding her by the hand he drew her towards +the open window--"Look out there! See how the stars shine! Always the +same, no matter what happens to us poor folk down here,--they twinkle +as merrily over our graves as over our gardens,--and yet if we're to +believe what we're taught nowadays, they're all worlds more or less +like our own, full of living creatures that suffer and die like +ourselves. It's a queer plan of the Almighty, to keep on making +wonderful and beautiful things just to destroy them! There seems no +sense in it!" + +He sat down again in his chair, and she, obeying his gesture, brought a +low stool to his feet and settled herself upon it, leaning against his +knee. Her face was upturned to his and the flickering light of the tall +candles quivering over it showed the wistful tender watchfulness of its +expression--a look which seemed to trouble him, for he avoided her eyes. + +"You want to know what the London doctor said," he began. "Well, child, +you'll not be any the better for knowing, but it's as I thought. I've +got my death-warrant. Slowton was not sure about me,--but this man, ill +as he is himself, has had too much experience to make mistakes. There's +no cure for me. I may last out another twelve months--perhaps not so +long--certainly not longer." + +He saw her cheeks grow white with the ashy whiteness of a sudden shock. +Her eyes dilated with pain and fear, and a quick sigh escaped her, then +she set her lips hard. + +"I don't believe it," she said, adding with stronger emphasis--"I WON'T +believe it!" + +He patted the small hand that rested on his knee. + +"You won't? Poor little girl, you must believe it!--and more than that, +you must be prepared for it. Even a year's none too much for all that +has to be done,--'twill almost take me that time to look the thing +square in the face and give up the farm for good."--Here he paused with +a kind of horror at his own words--"Give up the farm!--My God! And for +ever! How strange it seems!" + +The tumult in her mind found sudden speech. + +"Dad, dear! Dad! It isn't true! Don't think it! Don't mind what the +doctor says. He's wrong--I'm sure he's wrong! You'll live for many and +many a happy year yet--oh yes, Dad, you will! I'm sure of it! You won't +die, darling Dad! Why should you?" + +She broke off with a half-smothered sob. + +"Why should I?" he said, with a perplexed frown; "Ah!--that's more than +I can tell you! There's neither rhyme nor reason in it that I can see. +But it's the rule of life that it should end in death. For some the end +is swift--for some it's slow--some know when it's coming--some +don't,--the last are the happiest. I've been told, you see,--and it's +no use my fighting against the fact,--a year at the most, perhaps less, +is the longest term I have of Briar Farm. Your eyes are wet--you +promised you wouldn't cry." + +She furtively dashed away the drops that were shining on her lashes. +Then she forced a faint quivering smile. + +"I'm not crying, Dad," she said. "There's nothing to cry for," and she +fondled his hand in her own--"The doctors are wrong. You're only a +little weak and run down--you'll be all right with rest and +care--and--and you shan't die! You shan't die! I won't let you." + +He drew a long breath and passed his hand across his forehead as though +he were puzzled or in pain. + +"That's foolish talk," he said, with some harshness; "You've got +trouble to meet, and you must meet it. I'm bound to show you +trouble--but I can show you a way out of it as well." + +He paused a moment,--a light wind outside the lattice swayed a branch +of roses to and fro, shaking out their perfume as from a swung censer. + +"The first thing I must tell you," he went on, "is about yourself. It's +time you should know who you are." + +She looked up at him startled. + +"Who I am?" she repeated,--then as she saw the stern expression on his +face a sudden sense of fear ran through her nerves like the chill of an +icy wind and she waited dumbly for his next word. He gripped her hand +hard in his own. + +"Now hear me out, child!" he said--"Let me speak on without +interruption, or I shall never get through the tale. Perhaps I ought to +have told you before, but I've put it off and put it off, thinking +'twould be time enough when you and Robin were wed. You and Robin--you +and Robin!--your marriage bells have rung through my brain many and +many a night for the past two years and never a bit nearer are you to +the end of your wooing, such fanciful children as you both are! And +you're so long about it and I've so short a time before me that I've +made up my mind it's best to let you have all the truth about yourself +before anything happens to me. All the truth about yourself--as far as +I know it." + +He paused again. She was perfectly silent. She trembled a +little--wondering what she was going to hear. It must be something +dreadful, she thought,--something for which she was +unprepared,--something that might, perhaps, like a sudden change in the +currents of the air, create darkness where there had been sunshine, +storm instead of calm. His grip on her hand was strong enough to hurt +her, but she was not conscious of it. She only wished he would tell her +the worst at once and quickly. The worst,--for she instinctively felt +there was no best. + +"It was eighteen years ago this very haymaking time," he went on, with +a dreamy retrospective air as though he were talking to himself,--"The +last load had been taken in. Supper was over. The men had gone +home,--Priscilla was clearing the great hall, when there came on a +sudden storm--just a flash of lightning--I can see it now, striking a +blue fork across the windows--a clap of thunder--and then a regular +downpour of rain. Heavy rain, too,--buckets-full--for it washed the +yard out and almost swamped the garden. I didn't think much about +it,--the hay was hauled in dry, and that was all my concern. I stood +under a shed in the yard and watched the rain falling in straight +sheets out of a sky black as pitch--I could scarcely see my own hand if +I stretched it out before me, the night was so dark. All at once I +heard the quick gallop of a horse's hoofs some way off,--then the sound +seemed to die away,--but presently I heard the hoofs coming at a slow +steady pace down our muddy old by-road--no one can gallop THAT, in any +weather. And almost before I knew how it came there, the horse was +standing at the farmyard gate, with a man in the saddle carrying a +bundle in front of him. He was the handsomest fellow I ever saw, and +when he dismounted and came towards me, and took off his cap in the +pouring rain and smiled at me, I was fairly taken with his looks. I +thought he must be something of a king or other great personage by his +very manner. 'Will you do me a kindness?' he said, as gently as you +please. 'This is a farm, I believe. I want to leave my little child +here in safe keeping for a night. She is such a baby,--I cannot carry +her any further through this storm.' And he put aside the wrappings of +the bundle he carried and showed me a small pale infant asleep. 'She's +motherless,' he added, 'and I'm taking her to my relatives. But I have +to ride some distance from here on very urgent business, and if you +will look after her for to-night I'll call for her to-morrow. Poor +little innocent! She's hungry and fretful. I haven't anything to give +her and the storm looks like continuing. Will you let her stay with +you?' 'Certainly!' said I, without thinking a bit further about it. +'Leave her here by all means. We'll see she gets all she wants.' He +gave me the child at once and said in a very soft voice: 'You are most +generous!--"verily I have not found so great a faith, no not in +Israel!" You're sure you don't mind?' 'Not at all!' I answered +him,--'You'll come back for her to-morrow, of course.' He smiled and +said--'Oh yes, of course! To-morrow! I'm really very much obliged to +you!' Then he seemed to think for a moment and put his hand in his +pocket, but I stopped him--'No, sir,' I said, 'excuse me, but I don't +want any pay for giving a babe a night's shelter.' He looked at me very +straight with his big clear hazel eyes, and then shook hands with me. +'You're an honest fellow,' he said,--and he stooped and kissed the +child he had put into my arms. 'I'm extremely sorry to trouble you, but +the storm is too much for this helpless little creature.' 'You yourself +are wet through,' I interrupted. 'That doesn't matter,' he +answered,--'for me nothing matters. Thank you a thousand times! +Good-night!' The rain was coming down faster than ever and I stepped +back into the shed, covering the child up so that the drifting wet +should not beat upon it. He came after me and kissed it again, saying +'Good-night, poor little innocent, good-night!' three or four times. +Then he went off quickly and sprang into his saddle and in the blur of +rain I saw horse and man turn away. He waved his hand once and his +handsome pale face gleamed upon me like that of a ghost in the storm. +'Till to-morrow!' he called, and was gone. I took the child into the +house and called Priscilla. She was always a rough one as you know, +even in her younger days, and she at once laid her tongue to with a +will and as far as she dared called me a fool for my pains. And so I +was, for when I came to think of it the man was a stranger to me, and I +had never asked him his name. It was just his handsome face and the way +he had with him that had thrown me off my guard as it were; so I stood +and looked silly enough, I suppose, while Priscilla fussed about with +the baby, for it had wakened and was crying. Well!"--and Jocelyn heaved +a short sigh--"That's about all! We never saw the man again, and the +child was never claimed; but every six months I received a couple of +bank-notes in an envelope bearing a different postmark each time, with +the words: 'For Innocent' written inside--" + +She uttered a quick, almost terrified exclamation, and drew her hand +away from his. + +"Every six months for a steady twelve years on end," he went on,--"then +the money suddenly stopped. Now you understand, don't you? YOU were the +babe that was left with me that stormy night; and you've been with me +ever since. But you're not MY child. I don't know whose child you are!" + +He stopped, looking at her. + +She had risen from her seat beside him and was standing up. She was +trembling violently, and her face seemed changed from the round and +mobile softness of youth to the worn pallor and thinness of age. Her +eyes were luminous with a hard and feverish brilliancy. + +"You--you don't know whose child I am!" she repeated,--"I am not +yours--and you don't know--you don't know who I belong to! Oh, it hurts +me!--it hurts me, Dad! I can't realise it! I thought you were my own +dear father!--and I loved you!--oh, how much I loved you!--yet you have +deceived me all along!" + +"I haven't deceived you," he answered, impatiently. "I've done all for +the best--I meant to tell you when you married Robin--" + +A flush of indignation flew over her cheeks. + +"Marry Robin!" she exclaimed--"How could I marry Robin? I'm nothing! +I'm nobody! I have not even a name!" + +She covered her face with her hands and an uncontrollable sob broke +from her. + +"Not even a name!" she murmured--"Not even a name!" + +With a sudden impulsive movement she knelt down in front of him like a +child about to say its prayers. + +"Oh, help me, Dad!" she said, piteously--"Comfort me! Say +something--anything! I feel so lost--so astray! All my life seems +gone!--I can't realise it! Yes, I know! You have been very kind,--all +kindness, just as if I had been your own little girl. Oh, why did you +tell me I was your own?--I was so proud to be your daughter--and +now--it's so hard--so hard! Only a few moments ago I was a happy girl +with a loving father as I thought--now I know I'm only a poor nameless +creature,--deserted by my parents and left on your hands. Oh, Dad dear! +I've given you years of trouble!--I hope I've been good to you! It's +not my fault that I am what I am!" + +He laid his wrinkled hand on her bowed head. + +"Dear child, of course it's not your fault! That's what I've said all +along. You're innocent, like your name,--and you've been a blessing to +me all your days,--the farm has been brighter for your living on +it,--so you've no cause to worry me or yourself about what's past long +ago and can't be helped. No one knows your story but Priscilla,--no one +need ever know." + +She sprang up from her kneeling attitude. + +"Priscilla!" she echoed--"She knew, and she never said a word!" + +"If she had, she'd have got the sack," answered Jocelyn, bluntly. "You +were brought up always as MY child." + +He broke off, startled by the tragic intensity of her look. + +"I want to know how that was," she said, slowly. "You told me my mother +died when I was born." + +He avoided her eyes. + +"Well, that was true, or so I suppose," he said. "The man who brought +you said you were motherless. But I--I have never married." + +"Then how could you tell Robin--and everyone else about here that I was +your daughter?" + +He grew suddenly angry. + +"Child, don't stare at me like that!" he exclaimed, with all an old +man's petulance. "It doesn't matter what I said--I had to let the +neighbours think you were mine--" + +A light flashed in upon her, and she gave vent to a shuddering cry. + +"Dad! Oh, Dad!" + +Gripping both arms of his chair he raised himself into an upright +posture. + +"What now?" he demanded, almost fiercely--"What trouble are you going +to make of it?" + +"Oh, if it were only trouble," she exclaimed, forlornly. "It's far +worse! You've branded me with shame! Oh, I understand now! I understand +at last why the girls about here never make friends with me! I +understand why Robin seems to pity me so much! Oh, how shall I ever +look people in the face again!" + +His fuzzy brows met in a heavy frown. + +"Little fool!" he said, roughly,--"What shame are you talking of? I see +no shame in laying claim to a child of my own, even though the claim +has no reality. Look at the thing squarely! Here comes a strange man +with a baby and leaves it on my hands. You know what a scandalous, +gossiping little place this is,--and it was better to say at once the +baby was mine than leave it to the neighbours to say the same thing and +that I wouldn't acknowledge it. Not a soul about here would have +believed the true story if I had told it to them. I've done everything +for the best--I know I have. And there'll never be a word said if you +marry Robin." + +Her face had grown very white. She put up her hand to her head and her +fingers touched the faded wreath of wild roses. She drew it off and let +it drop to the ground. + +"I shall never marry Robin!" she said, with quiet firmness--"And I will +not be considered your illegitimate child any longer. It's cruel of you +to have made me live on a lie!--yes, cruel!--though you've been so kind +in other things. You don't know who my parents were--you've no right to +think they were not honest!" + +He stared at her amazed. For the first time in eighteen years he began +to see the folly of what he had thought his own special wisdom. This +girl, with her pale sad face and steadfast eyes, confronted him with +the calm reproachful air of an accusing angel. + +"What right have you?" she went on. "The man who brought me to +you,--poor wretched me!--if he was my father, may have been good and +true. He said I was motherless; and he, or someone else, sent you money +for me till I was twelve. That did not look as if I was forgotten. Now +you say the money has stopped--well!--my father may be dead." Her lips +quivered and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. "But there is nothing +in all this that should make you think me basely born,--nothing that +should have persuaded you to put shame upon me!" + +He was taken aback for a minute by her words and attitude--then he +burst out angrily: + +"It's the old story, I see! Do a good action and it turns out a curse! +Basely born! Of course you are basely born, if that's the way you put +it! What man alive would leave his own lawful child at a strange farm +off the high-road and never claim it again? You're a fool, I tell you! +This man who brought you to me was by his look and bearing some fine +gentleman or other who had just the one idea in his head--to get rid of +an encumbrance. And so he got rid of you--" + +"Don't go over the whole thing again!" she interrupted, with weary +patience-"-I was an encumbrance to him--I've been an encumbrance to +you. I'm sorry! But in no case had you the right to set a stigma on me +which perhaps does not exist. That was wrong!" + +She paused a moment, then went on slowly: + +"I've been a burden on you for six years now,--it's six years, you say, +since the money stopped. I wish I could do something in return for what +I've cost you all those six years,--I've tried to be useful." + +The pathos in her voice touched him to the quick. + +"Innocent!" he exclaimed, and held out his arms. + +She looked at him with a very pitiful smile and shook her head. + +"No! I can't do that! Not just yet! You see, it's all so +unexpected--things have changed altogether in a moment. I can't feel +quite the same--my heart seems so sore and cold." + +He leaned back in his chair again. + +"Ah, well, it is as I thought!" he said, irritably. "You're more +concerned about yourself than about me. A few minutes ago you only +cared to know what the doctors thought of my illness, but now it's +nothing to you that I shall be dead in a year. Your mind is set on your +own trouble, or what you choose to consider a trouble." + +She heard him like one in a dream. It seemed very strange to her that +he should have dealt her a blow and yet reproach her for feeling the +force of it. + +"I am sorry!" she said, patiently. "But this is the first time I have +known real trouble--you forget that!--and you must forgive me if I am +stupid about it. And if the doctors really believe you are to die in a +year I wish I could take your place, Dad!--I would rather be dead than +live shamed. And there's nothing left for me now,--not even a name--" + +Here she paused and seemed to reflect. + +"Why am I called Innocent?" + +"Why? Because that's the name that was written on every slip of paper +that came with each six months' money," he answered, testily. "That's +the only reason I know." + +"Was I baptised by that name?" she asked. + +He moved uneasily. + +"You were never baptised." + +"Never baptised!" She echoed the words despairingly,--and then was +silent for a minute's space. "Could you not have done that much for +me?" she asked, plaintively, at last--"Would it have been impossible?" + +He was vaguely ashamed. Her eyes, pure as a young child's, were fixed +upon him in appealing sorrow. He began to feel that he had done her a +grievous wrong, though he had never entirely realised it till now. He +answered her with some hesitation and an effort at excuse. + +"Not impossible--no,--maybe I could have baptised you myself if I had +thought about it. 'Tis but a sprinkle of water and 'In the Name of the +Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.' But somehow I never worried my head--for +as long as you were a baby I looked for the man who brought you day +after day, and in my own mind left all that sort of business for him to +attend to--and when he didn't come and you grew older, it fairly +slipped my remembrance altogether. I'm not fond of the Church or its +ways,--and you've done as well without baptism as with it, surely. +Innocent is a good name for you, and fits your case. For you're +innocent of the faults of your parents whatever they were, and you're +innocent of my blunders. You're free to make your own life pleasant if +you'll only put a bright face on it and make the best of an awkward +business." + +She was silent, standing before him like a little statuesque figure of +desolation. + +"As for the tale I told the neighbours," he went on--"it was the best +thing I could think of. If I had said you were a child I had taken in +to adopt, not one of them would have believed me; 'twas a case of +telling one lie or t'other, the real truth being so queer and out of +the common, so I chose the easiest. And it's been all right with you, +my girl, whichever way you put it. There may be a few stuck-up young +huzzies in the village that aren't friendly to you, but you may take it +that it's more out of jealousy of Robin's liking for you than anything +else. Robin loves you--you know he does; and all you've got to do is to +make him happy. Marry him, for the farm will be his when I'm dead, and +it'll give me a bit of comfort to feel that you're settled down with +him in the old home. For then I know it'll go on just the same--just +the same--" + +His words trailed off brokenly. His head sank on his chest, and some +slow tears made their difficult way out of his eyes and dropped on his +silver beard. + +She watched him with a certain grave compassion, but she did not at +once go, as she would usually have done, to put her arms round his neck +and console him. She seemed to herself removed miles away from him and +from everything she had ever known. Just then there was a noise of +rough but cheery voices outside shouting "good-night" to each other, +and she said in a quiet tone: + +"The men are away now. Is there anything you want before I go to bed?" + +With a sudden access of energy, which contrasted strangely with his +former feebleness, he rose and confronted her. + +"No, there's nothing I want!" he said, in vehement tones--"Nothing but +peace and quietness! I've told you your story, and you take it ill. But +recollect, girl, that if you consider any shame has been put on you, +I've put equal shame on myself for your sake--I, Hugo Jocelyn,--against +whom never a word has been said but this,--which is a lie--that my +child, mine!--was born out of wedlock! I suffered this against myself +solely for your sake--I, who never wronged a woman in my life!--I, who +never loved but one woman, who died before I had the chance to marry +her!--and I say and I swear I have sacrificed something of my name and +reputation to you! So that you need not make trouble because you also +share in the sacrifice. Robin thinks you're my child, and therefore his +cousin,--and he counts nothing against you, for he knows that what the +world would count against you must be my fault and would be my fault, +if the lie I started against myself was true. Marry Robin, I tell +you!--and if you care to make me happy, marry him before I die. Then +you're safe out of all harm's way. If you DON'T marry him--" + +Her breath came and went quickly--she folded her hands across her +bosom, trying to still the loud and rapid beating of her heart, but her +eyes were very bright and steadfast. + +"Yes? What then?" she asked, calmly. + +"Then you must take the consequences," he said. "The farm and all I +have is left to Robin,--he's my dead sister's son and my nearest living +kin--" + +"I know that," she said, simply, "and I'm glad he has everything. It's +right that it should be so. I shall not be in his way. You may be quite +sure of that. But I shall not marry him." + +"You'll not marry him?" he repeated, and seemed about to give vent to a +torrent of invective when she extended her hands clasped together +appealingly. + +"Dad, don't be angry!--it only hurts you and it does no good! Just +before supper you reminded me of what they say in Church that 'the sins +of the fathers should be visited on the children, even unto the third +and fourth generation.' I will not visit the sin of my father and +mother on anyone. If you will give me a little time I shall be able to +understand everything more clearly, and perhaps bear it better. I want +to be quite by myself. I must try to see myself as I am,--unbaptised, +nameless, forsaken! And if there is anything to be done with this +wretched little self of mine, it is I that must do it. With God's +help!" She sighed, and her lips moved softly again in the last words, +"With God's help!" + +He said nothing, and she waited a moment as if expecting him to speak. +Then she moved to the table where she had been sitting and folded up +her needlework. + +"Shall I get you some wine, Dad?" she asked presently in a quiet voice. + +"No!" he replied, curtly--"Priscilla can get it." + +"Then good-night!" + +Still standing erect he turned his head and looked at her. + +"Are you going?" he said. "Without your usual kiss?--your usual +tenderness? Why should you change to me? Your own father--if he was +your father--deserted you,--and I have been, a father to you in his +place, wronging my own honourable name for your sake; am I to blame for +this? Be reasonable! The laws of man are one thing and the laws of God +are another,--and we have to make the best we can of ourselves between +the two. There's many a piece of wicked injustice in the world, but +nothing more wicked than to set shame or blame on a child that's born +without permit of law or blessing of priest. For it's not the child's +fault,--it's brought into the world without its own consent,--and yet +the world fastens a slur upon it! That's downright brutal and +senseless!--for if there is any blame attached to the matter it should +be fastened on the parents, and not on the child. And that's what I +thought when you were left on my hands--I took the blame of you on +myself, and I was careful that you should be treated with every +kindness and respect--mind you that! Respect! There's not a man on the +place that doesn't doff his cap to you; and you've been as my own +daughter always. You can't deny it! And more than that"--here his +strong voice faltered--"I've loved you!--yes-I've loved you, little +Innocent--" + +She looked up in his face and saw it quivering with suppressed emotion, +and the strange cold sense of aloofness that had numbed her senses +suddenly gave way like snow melting in the spring. In a moment she was +in his arms, weeping out her pent-up tears on his breast, and he, +stroking her soft hair, soothed her with every tender and gentle word +he could think of. + +"There, there!" he murmured, fondly. "Thou must look at it in this way, +dear child! That if God deprived thee of one father he gave thee +another in his place! Make the best of that gift before it be taken +from thee!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +There are still a few old houses left in rural England which are as yet +happily unmolested by the destroying ravages of modern improvement, and +Briar Farm was one of these. History and romance alike had their share +in its annals, and its title-deeds went back to the autumnal days of +1581, when the Duke of Anjou came over from France to England with a +royal train of noblemen and gentlemen in the hope to espouse the +greatest monarch of all time, "the most renowned and victorious" Queen +Elizabeth, whose reign has clearly demonstrated to the world how much +more ably a clever woman can rule a country than a clever man, if she +is left to her own instinctive wisdom and prescience. No king has ever +been wiser or more diplomatic than Elizabeth, and no king has left a +more brilliant renown. As the coldest of male historians is bound to +admit, "her singular powers of government were founded equally on her +temper and on her capacity. Endowed with a great command over herself, +she soon obtained an uncontrolled ascendant over her people. Few +sovereigns of England succeeded to the throne under more difficult +circumstances, and none ever conducted the government with such uniform +success and felicity." Had Elizabeth been weak, the Duke of Anjou might +have realised his ambitious dream, with the unhappiest results for +England; and that he fortunately failed was entirely due to her +sagacity and her quick perception of his irresolute and feeble +character. In the sumptuous train attendant upon this "Petit +Grenouille," as he styled himself in one of his babyish epistles to +England's sovereign majesty, there was a certain knight more inclined +to the study of letters than to the breaking of lances,--the Sieur +Amadis de Jocelin, who being much about the court in the wake of his +somewhat capricious and hot-tempered master, came, unfortunately for +his own peace of mind, into occasional personal contact with one of the +most bewitching young women of her time, the Lady Penelope Devereux, +afterwards Lady Rich, she in whom, according to a contemporary writer, +"lodged all attractive graces and beauty, wit and sweetness of +behaviour which might render her the mistress of all eyes and hearts." +Surrounded as she was by many suitors, his passion was hopeless from +the first, and that he found it so was evident from the fact that he +suddenly disappeared from the court and from his master's retinue, and +was never heard of by the great world again. Yet he was not far away. +He had not the resolution to leave England, the land which enshrined +the lady of his love,--and he had lost all inclination to return to +France. He therefore retired into the depths of the sweet English +country, among the then unspoilt forests and woodlands, and there +happening to find a small manor-house for immediate sale, surrounded by +a considerable quantity of land, he purchased it for the ready cash he +had about him and settled down in it for the remainder of his life. +Little by little, such social ambitions as he had ever possessed left +him, and with every passing year he grew more and more attached to the +simplicity and seclusion of his surroundings. He had leisure for the +indulgence of his delight in books, and he was able to give the rein to +his passion for poetry, though it is nowhere recorded that he ever +published the numerous essays, sonnets and rhymed pieces which, written +in the picturesque caligraphy of the period, and roughly bound by +himself in sheepskin, occupied a couple of shelves in his library. He +entered with animation and interest into the pleasures of farming and +other agricultural pursuits, and by-and-bye as time went on and the +former idol of his dreams descended from her fair estate of virtue and +scandalised the world by her liaison with Lord Mountjoy, he appears to +have gradually resigned the illusions of his first love, for he married +a simple village girl, remarkable, so it was said, for her beauty, but +more so for her skill in making butter and cheese. She could neither +read nor write, however, and the traditions concerning the Sieur Amadis +relate that he took a singular pleasure in teaching her these +accomplishments, as well as in training her to sing and to accompany +herself upon the lute in a very pretty manner. She made him an +excellent wife, and gave him no less than six children, three boys and +three girls, all of whom were brought up at home under the supervision +of their father and mother, and encouraged to excel in country pursuits +and to understand the art of profitable farming. It was in their days +that Briar Farm entered upon its long career of prosperity, which still +continued. The Sieur Amadis died in his seventieth year, and by his own +wish, expressed in his "Last Will and Testament," was buried in a +sequestered spot on his own lands, under a stone slab which he had +himself fashioned, carving upon it his recumbent figure in the costume +of a knight, a cross upon his breast and a broken sword at his side. +His wife, though several years younger than himself, only lived a +twelve-month after him and was interred by his side. Their +resting-place was now walled off, planted thickly with flowers, and +held sacred by every succeeding heir to the farm as the burial-place of +the first Jocelyns. Steadily and in order, the families springing from +the parent tree of the French knight Amadis had occupied Briar Farm in +unbroken succession, and through three centuries the property had been +kept intact, none of its possessions being dispersed and none of its +land being sold. The house was practically in the same sound condition +as when the Sieur Amadis fitted and furnished it for his own +occupation,--there was the same pewter, the same solid furniture, the +same fine tapestry, preserved by the careful mending of many hundreds +of needles worked by hands long ago mingled with the dust of the grave, +and, strange as it may seem to those who are only acquainted with the +flimsy manufactures of to-day, the same stout hand-wrought linen, +which, mended and replenished each year, lasted so long because never +washed by modern methods, but always by hand in clear cold running +water. There were presses full of this linen, deliriously scented with +lavender, and there were also the spinning-wheels that had spun the +flax and the hand-looms on which the threads had been woven. These were +witnesses to the days when women, instead of gadding abroad, were happy +to be at home--when the winter evenings seemed short and bright because +as they sat spinning by the blazing log fire they were cheerful in +their occupation, singing songs and telling stories and having so much +to do that there was no time to indulge in the morbid analysis of life +and the things of life which in our present shiftless day perplex and +confuse idle and unhealthy brains. + +And now after more than three centuries, the direct male line of Amadis +de Jocelin had culminated in Hugo, commonly called Farmer Jocelyn, who, +on account of some secret love disappointment, the details of which he +had never told to anyone, had remained unmarried. Till the appearance +on the scene of the child, Innocent, who was by the village folk +accepted and believed to be the illegitimate offspring of this +ill-starred love, it was tacitly understood that Robin Clifford, his +nephew, and the only son of his twin sister, would be the heir to Briar +Farm; but when it was seen how much the old man seemed to cling to +Innocent, and to rely upon her ever tender care of him, the question +arose as to whether there might not be an heiress after all, instead of +an heir. And the rustic wiseacres gossiped, as is their wont, watching +with no small degree of interest the turn of events which had lately +taken place in the frank and open admiration and affection displayed by +Robin for his illegitimate cousin, as it was thought she was, and as +Farmer Jocelyn had tacitly allowed it to be understood. If the two +young people married, everybody agreed it would be the right thing, and +the best possible outlook for the continued prosperity of Briar Farm. +For after all, it was the farm that had to be chiefly considered, so +they opined,--the farm was an historic and valuable property as well as +an excellent paying concern. The great point to be attained was that it +should go on as it had always gone on from the days of the Sieur +Amadis,--and that it should be kept in the possession of the same +family. This at any rate was known to be the cherished wish of old Hugo +Jocelyn, though he was not given to any very free expression of his +feelings. He knew that his neighbours envied him, watched him and +commented on his actions,--he knew also that the tale he had told them +concerning Innocent had to a great extent whispered away his own good +name and fastened a social slur upon the girl,--yet he could not, +according to his own views, have seen any other way out of the +difficulty. The human world is always wicked-tongued; and it is common +knowledge that any man or woman introducing an "adopted" child into a +family is at once accused, whether he or she be conscious of the +accusation or not, of passing off his own bastard under the "adoption" +pretext. Hugo Jocelyn was fairly certain that none of his neighbours +would credit the romantic episode of the man on horseback arriving in a +storm and leaving a nameless child on his hands. The story was quite +true,--but truth is always precisely what people refuse to believe. + +The night on which Innocent had learned her own history for the first +time was a night of consummate beauty in the natural world. When all +the gates and doors of the farm and its outbuildings had been bolted +and barred for the night, the moon, almost full, rose in a cloudless +heaven and shed pearl-white showers of radiance all over the newly-mown +and clean-swept fields, outlining the points of the old house gables +and touching with luminous silver the roses that clambered up the +walls. One wide latticed window was open to the full inflowing of the +scented air, and within its embrasure sat a lonely little figure in a +loose white garment with hair tumbling carelessly over its shoulders +and eyes that were wet with tears. The clanging chime of the old clock +below stairs had struck eleven some ten minutes since, and after the +echo of its bell had died away there had followed a heavy and intense +silence. The window looked not upon the garden, but out upon the fields +and a suggestive line of dark foliage edging them softly in the +distance,--away down there, under a huge myriad-branched oak, slept the +old knight Sieur Amadis de Jocelin and his English rustic wife, the +founders of the Briar Farm family. The little figure in the dark +embrasure of the window clasped its white hands and turned its weeping +eyes towards that ancient burial-place, and the moon-rays shone upon +its fair face with a silvery glimmer, giving it an almost spectral +pallor. "Why was I ever born?" sighed a trembling voice--"Oh, dear God! +Why did you let it be?" + +The vacant air, the vacant fields looked blankly irresponsive. They had +no sympathy to give,--they never have. To great Mother Nature it is not +important how or why a child is born, though she occasionally decides +that it shall be of the greatest importance how and why the child shall +live. What does it matter to the forces of creative life whether it is +brought into the world "basely," as the phrase goes, or honourably? The +child exists,--it is a human entity--a being full of potential good or +evil,--and after a certain period of growth it stands alone, and its +parents have less to do with it than they imagine. It makes its own +circumstances and shapes its own career, and in many cases the less it +is interfered with the better. But Innocent could not reason out her +position in any cold-blooded or logical way. She was too young and too +unhappy. Everything that she had taken pride in was swept from her at +once. Only that very morning she had made one of her many pilgrimages +down to the venerable oak beneath whose trailing branches the Sieur +Amadis de Jocelin lay, covered by the broad stone slab on which he had +carved his own likeness, and she had put a little knot of the "Glory" +roses between his mailed hands which were folded over the cross on his +breast, and she had said to the silent effigy: + +"It is the last day of the haymaking, Sieur Amadis! You would be glad +to see the big crop going in if you were here!" + +She was accustomed to talk to the old stone knight in this fanciful +way,--she had done so all her life ever since she could remember. She +had taken an intense pride in thinking of him as her ancestor; she had +been glad to trace her lineage back over three centuries to the +love-lorn French noble who had come to England in the train of the Due +d'Anjou--and now--now she knew she had no connection at all with +him,--that she was an unnamed, unbaptised nobody--an unclaimed waif of +humanity whom no one wanted! No one in all the world--except Robin! He +wanted her;--but perhaps when he knew her true history his love would +grow cold. She wondered whether it would be so. If it were she would +not mind very much. Indeed it would be best, for she felt she could +never marry him. + +"No, not if I loved him with all my heart!" she said, +passionately--"Not without a name!--not till I have made a name for +myself, if only that were possible!" + +She left the window and walked restlessly about her room, a room that +she loved very greatly because it had been the study of the Sieur +Amadis. It was a wonderful room, oak-panelled from floor to ceiling, +and there was no doubt about its history,--the Sieur Amadis himself had +taken care of that. For on every panel he had carved with his own hand +a verse, a prayer, or an aphorism, so that the walls were a kind of +open notebook inscribed with his own personal memoranda. Over the wide +chimney his coat-of-arms was painted, the colours having faded into +tender hues like those of autumn leaves, and the motto underneath was +"Mon coeur me soutien." Then followed the inscription: + + "Amadis de Jocelin, + Knight of France, + Who here seekynge Forgetfulness did here fynde Peace." + +Every night of her life since she could read Innocent had stood in +front of these armorial bearings in her little white night-gown and had +conned over these words. She had taken the memory and tradition of +Amadis to her heart and soul. He was HER ancestor,--hers, she had +always said;--she had almost learned her letters from the inscriptions +he had carved, and through these she could read old English and a +considerable amount of old French besides. When she was about twelve +years old she and Robin Clifford, playing about together in this room, +happened to knock against one panel that gave forth a hollow +reverberant sound, and moved by curiosity they tried whether they could +open it. After some abortive efforts Robin's fingers closed by chance +on a hidden spring, which being thus pressed caused the panel to fly +open, disclosing a narrow secret stair. Full of burning excitement the +two children ran up it, and to their delight found themselves in a +small square musty chamber in which were two enormous old dower-chests, +locked. Their locks were no bar to the agility of Robin, who, fetching +a hammer, forced the old hasps asunder and threw back the lids. The +coffers were full of books and manuscripts written on vellum, a +veritable sixteenth-century treasure-trove. They hastened to report the +find to Farmer Jocelyn, who, though never greatly taken with books or +anything concerning them, was sufficiently interested to go with the +eager children and look at the discovery they had made. But as he could +make nothing of either books or manuscripts himself, he gave over the +whole collection to Innocent, saying that as they were found in her +part of the house she might keep them. No one--not even Robin--knew how +much she had loved and studied these old books, or how patiently she +had spelt out the manuscripts; and no one could have guessed what a +wide knowledge of literature she had gained or what fine taste she had +developed from her silent communications with the parted spirit of the +Sieur Amadis and his poetical remains. She had even arranged her room +as she thought he might have liked it, in severe yet perfect taste. It +was now her study as it had been his,--the heavy oak table had a great +pewter inkstand upon it and a few loose sheets of paper with two or +three quill pens ready to hand,--some quaint old vellum-bound volumes +and a brown earthenware bowl full of "Glory" roses were set just where +they could catch the morning sunshine through the lattice window. One +side of the room was lined with loaded bookshelves, and at its furthest +end a wide arch of roughly hewn oak disclosed a smaller apartment where +she slept. Here there was a quaint little four-poster bedstead, hung +with quite priceless Jacobean tapestry, and a still more rare and +beautiful work of art--an early Italian mirror, full length and framed +in silver, a curio worth many hundreds of pounds. In this mirror +Innocent had surveyed herself with more or less disfavour since her +infancy. It was a mirror that had always been there--a mirror in which +the wife of the Sieur Amadis must have often gazed upon her own +reflection, and in which, after her, all the wives and daughters of the +succeeding Jocelyns had seen their charms presented to their own +admiration. The two old dower-chests which had been found in the upper +chamber were placed on either side of the mirror, and held all the +simple home-made garments which were Innocent's only wear. A special +joy of hers lay in the fact that she knew the management of the secret +sliding panel, and that she could at her own pleasure slip up the +mysterious stairway with a book and be thus removed from all the +household in a solitude which to her was ideal. To-night as she +wandered up and down her room like a little distraught ghost, all the +happy and romantic associations of the home she had loved and cherished +for so many years seemed cut down like a sheaf of fair blossoms by a +careless reaper,--a sordid and miserable taint was on her life, and she +shuddered with mingled fear and grief as she realised that she had not +even the simple privilege of ordinary baptism. She was a nameless waif, +dependent on the charity of Farmer Jocelyn. True, the old man had grown +to love her and she had loved him--ah!--let the many tender prayers +offered up for him in this very room bear witness before the throne of +God to her devotion to her "father" as she had thought him! And now--if +what the doctors said was true--if he was soon to die--what would +become of her? She wrung her little hands in unconscious agony. + +"What shall I do?" she murmured, sobbingly--"I have no claim on him, or +on anyone in the world! Dear God, what shall I do?" + +Her restless walk up and down took her into her sleeping-chamber, and +there she lit a candle and looked at herself in the old Italian mirror. +A little woe-begone creature gazed sorrowfully back at her from its +shining surface, with brimming eyes and quivering lips, and hair all +tossed loosely away from a small sad face as pale as a watery moon, and +she drew back from her own reflection with a gesture of repugnance. + +"I am no use to anybody in any way," she said, despairingly--"I am not +even good-looking. And Robin--poor foolish Robin!--called me 'lovely' +this afternoon! He has no eyes!" + +Then a sudden thought flew across her brain of Ned Landon. The tall +powerful-looking brute loved her, she knew. Every look of his told her +that his very soul pursued her with a reckless and relentless passion. +She hated him,--she trembled even now as she pictured his dark face and +burning eyes;--he had annoyed and worried her in a thousand ways--ways +that were not sufficiently open in their offence to be openly +complained of, though had Farmer Jocelyn's state of health given her +less cause for anxiety she might have said something to him which would +perhaps have opened his eyes to the situation. But not now,--not now +could she appeal to anyone for protection from amorous insult. For who +was she--what was she that she should resent it? She was nothing!--a +mere stray child whose parents nobody knew,--without any lawful +guardian to uphold her rights or assert her position. No wonder old +Jocelyn had called her "wilding"--she was indeed a "wilding" or +weed,--growing up unwanted in the garden of the world, destined to be +pulled out of the soil where she had nourished and thrown +contemptuously aside. A wretched sense of utter helplessness stole over +her,--of incapacity, weakness and loneliness. She tried to think,--to +see her way through the strange fog of untoward circumstance that had +so suddenly enshrouded her. What would happen when Farmer Jocelyn died? +For one thing she would have to quit Briar Farm. She could not stay in +it when Robin Clifford was its master. He would marry, of course; he +would be sure to marry; and there would be no place for her in his +home. She would have to earn her bread; and the only way to do that +would be to go out to service. She had a good store of useful domestic +knowledge,--she could bake and brew, and wash and scour; she knew how +to rear poultry and keep bees; she could spin and knit and embroider; +indeed her list of household accomplishments would have startled any +girl fresh out of a modern Government school, where things that are +useful in life are frequently forgotten, and things that are not by any +means necessary are taught as though they were imperative. One other +accomplishment she had,--one that she hardly whispered to herself--she +could write,--write what she herself called "nonsense." Scores of +little poems and essays and stories were locked away in a small old +bureau in a corner of the room,--confessions and expressions of pent-up +feeling which, but for this outlet, would have troubled her brain and +hindered her rest. They were mostly, as she frankly admitted to her own +conscience, in the "style" of the Sieur Amadis, and were inspired by +his poetic suggestions. She had no fond or exaggerated idea of their +merit,--they were the result of solitary hours and long silences in +which she had felt she must speak to someone,--exchange thoughts with +someone,--or suffer an almost intolerable restraint. That "someone" was +for her the long dead knight who had come to England in the train of +the Duc d'Anjou. To him she spoke,--to him she told all her +troubles--but to no one else did she ever breathe her thoughts, or +disclose a line of what she had written. She had often wondered +whether, if she sent these struggling literary efforts to a magazine or +newspaper, they would be accepted and printed. But she never made the +trial, for the reason that such newspaper literature as found its way +into Briar Farm filled her with amazement, repulsion and disgust. There +was nothing in any modern magazine that at all resembled the delicate, +pointed and picturesque phraseology of the Sieur Amadis! Strange, +coarse slang-words were used,--and the news of the day was slung +together in loose ungrammatical sentences and chopped-up paragraphs of +clumsy construction, lacking all pith and eloquence. So, repelled by +the horror of twentieth-century "style," she had hidden her manuscripts +deeper than ever in the old bureau, under little silk sachets of dried +rose-leaves and lavender, as though they were love-letters or old lace. +And when sometimes she shut herself up and read them over she felt like +one of Hamlet's "guilty creatures sitting at a play." Her literary +attempts seemed to reproach her for their inadequacy, and when she made +some fresh addition to her store of written thoughts, her crimes seemed +to herself doubled and weighted. She would often sit musing, with a +little frown puckering her brow, wondering why she should be moved to +write at all, yet wholly unable to resist the impulse. + +To-night, however, she scarcely remembered these outbreaks of her +dreaming fancy,--the sordid, hard, matter-of-fact side of life alone +presented itself to her depressed imagination. She pictured herself +going into service--as what? Kitchen-maid, probably,--she was not tall +enough for a house-parlourmaid. House-parlourmaids were bound to be +effective,--even dignified,--in height and appearance. She had seen one +of these superior beings in church on Sundays--a slim, stately young +woman with waved hair and a hat as fashionable as that worn by her +mistress, the Squire's lady. With a deepening sense of humiliation, +Innocent felt that her very limitation of inches was against her. Could +she be a nursery-governess? Hardly; for though she liked good-tempered, +well-behaved children, she could not even pretend to endure them when +they were otherwise. Screaming, spiteful, quarrelsome children were to +her less interesting than barking puppies or squealing pigs;--besides, +she knew she could not be an efficient teacher of so much as one +accomplishment. Music, for instance; what had she learned of music? She +could play on an ancient spinet which was one of the chief treasures of +the "best parlour" of Briar Farm, and she could sing old ballads very +sweetly and plaintively,--but of "technique" and "style" and all the +latter-day methods of musical acquirement and proficiency she was +absolutely ignorant. Foreign languages were a dead letter to +her--except old French. She could understand that; and Villon's famous +verses, "Ou sont les neiges d'antan?" were as familiar to her as +Herrick's "Come, my Corinna, let us go a-maying." But, on the whole, +she was strangely and poorly equipped for the battle of life. Her +knowledge of baking, brewing, and general housewifery would have stood +her in good stead on some Colonial settlement,--but she had scarcely +heard of these far-away refuges for the destitute, as she so seldom +read the newspapers. Old Hugo Jocelyn looked upon the cheap daily press +as "the curse of the country," and never willingly allowed a newspaper +to come into the living-rooms of Briar Farm. They were relegated +entirely to the kitchen and outhouses, where the farm labourers smoked +over them and discussed them to their hearts' content, seldom +venturing, however, to bring any item of so-called "news" to their +master's consideration. If they ever chanced to do so, he would +generally turn round upon them with a few cutting observations, such +as,-- + +"How do you know it's true? Who gives the news? Where's the authority? +And what do I care if some human brute has murdered his wife and blown +out his own brains? Am I going to be any the better for reading such a +tale? And if one Government is in or t'other out, what does it matter +to me, or to any of you, so long as you can work and pay your way? The +newspapers are always trying to persuade us to meddle in other folks's +business;--I say, take care of your own affairs!--serve God and obey +the laws of the country, and there won't be much going wrong with you! +If you must read, read a decent book--something that will last--not a +printed sheet full of advertisements that's fresh one day and torn up +for waste paper the next!" + +Under the sway of these prejudiced and arbitrary opinions, it was not +possible for Innocent to have much knowledge of the world that lay +outside Briar Farm. Sometimes she found Priscilla reading an old +magazine or looking at a picture-paper, and she would borrow these and +take them up to her own room surreptitiously for an hour or so, but she +was always more or less pained and puzzled by their contents. It seemed +to her that there were an extraordinary number of pictures of women +with scarcely any clothes on, and she could not understand how they +managed to be pictured at all in such scanty attire. + +"Who are they?" she asked of Priscilla on one occasion--"And how is it +that they are photographed like this? It must be so shameful for them!" + +Priscilla explained as best she could that they were "dancers and the +like." + +"They lives by their legs, lovey!" she said soothingly--"It's only +their legs that gits them their bread and butter, and I s'pose they're +bound to show 'em off. Don't you worry 'ow they gits done! You'll never +come across any of 'em!" + +Innocent shut her sensitive mouth in a firm, proud line. + +"I hope not!" she said. + +And she felt as if she had almost wronged the sanctity of the little +study which had formerly belonged to the Sieur Amadis by allowing such +pictures to enter it. Of course she knew that dancers and actors, both +male and female, existed,--a whole troupe of them came every year to +the small theatre of the country town which, by breaking out into an +eruption of new slate-roofed houses among the few remaining picturesque +gables and tiles of an earlier period, boasted of its "advancement" +some eight or ten miles away; but her "father," as she had thought him, +had an insurmountable objection to what he termed "gadding abroad," and +would not allow her to be seen even at the annual fair in the town, +much less at the theatre. Moreover, it happened once that a girl in the +village had run away with a strolling player and had gone on the +stage,--an incident which had caused a great sensation in the tiny +wood-encircled hamlet, and had brought all the old women of the place +out to their doorsteps to croak and chatter, and prognosticate terrible +things in the future for the eloping damsel. Innocent alone had +ventured to defend her. + +"If she loved the man she was right to go with him," she said. + +"Oh, don't talk to me about love!" retorted Priscilla, shaking her +head--"That's fancy rubbish! You know naught about it, dearie! On the +stage indeed! Poor little hussy! She'll be on the street in a year or +two, God help her!" + +"What is that?" asked Innocent. "Is it to be a beggar?" + +Priscilla made no reply beyond her usual sniff, which expressed volumes. + +"If she has found someone who really cares for her, she will never +want," Innocent went on, gently. "No man could be so cruel as to take +away a girl from her home for his own pleasure and then leave her alone +in the world. It would be impossible! You must not think such hard +things, Priscilla!" + +And, smiling, she had gone her way,--while Priscilla, shaking her head +again, had looked after her, dimly wondering how long she would keep +her faith in men. + +On this still moonlight night, when the sadness of her soul seemed +heavier than she could bear, her mind suddenly reverted to this +episode. She thought of the girl who had run away; and remembered that +no one in the village had ever seen or heard of her again, not even her +patient hard-working parents to whom she had been a pride and joy. + +"Now she had a real father and mother!" she mused, wistfully--"They +loved her and would have done anything for her--yet she ran away from +them with a stranger! I could never have done that! But I have no +father and no mother--no one but Dad!--ah!--how I have loved Dad!--and +yet I don't belong to him--and when he is dead--" + +Here an overpowering sense of calamity swept over her, and dropping on +her knees by the open window she laid her head on her folded arms and +wept bitterly. + +A voice called her in subdued accents once or twice, "Innocent! +Innocent!"--but she did not hear. + +Presently a rose flung through the window fell on her bent head. She +started up, alarmed. + +"Innocent!" + +Timidly she leaned out over the window-sill, looking down into the +dusky green of clambering foliage, and saw a familiar face smiling up +at her. She uttered a soft cry. + +"Robin!" + +"Yes--it's Robin!" he replied. "Innocent, what's the matter? I heard +you crying!" + +"No--no!" she answered, whisperingly--"It's nothing! Oh, Robin!--why +are you here at this time of night? Do go away!" + +"Not I!" and Robin placed one foot firmly on the tough and gnarled +branch of a giant wistaria that was trained thickly all over that side +of the house--"I'm coming up!" + +"Oh, Robin!" And straightway Innocent ran back into her room, there to +throw on a dark cloak which enveloped her so completely that only her +small fair head showed above its enshrouding folds,--then returning +slowly she watched with mingled interest and trepidation the gradual +ascent of her lover, as, like another Romeo, he ascended the natural +ladder formed by the thick rope-like twisted stems of the ancient +creeper, grown sturdy with years and capable of bearing a much greater +weight than that of the light and agile young man, who, with a smile of +amused triumph, at last brought himself on a level with the window-sill +and seated himself on its projecting ledge. + +"I won't come in," he said, mischievously--"though I might!--if I +dared! But I mustn't break into my lady's bower without her sovereign +permission! I say, Innocent, how pretty you look! Don't be +frightened!--dear, dear little girl,--you know I wouldn't touch so much +as a hair of your sweet little head! I'm not a brute--and though I'm +longing to kiss you I promise I won't even try!" + +She moved away from him into the deeper shadow, but a ray of the moon +showed him her face, very pale, with a deep sadness upon it which was +strange and new to him. + +"Tell me what's wrong?" he asked. "I've been too wide-awake and +restless to go to bed,--so I came out in the garden just to breathe the +air and look up at your window--and I heard a sound of sobbing like +that of a little child who was badly hurt--Innocent!" + +For she had suddenly stretched out her hands to him in impulsive appeal. + +"Oh yes--that's true!--I am badly hurt, Robin!" she said, in low +trembling accents--"So badly hurt that I think I shall never get over +it!" + +Surprised, he took her hands in his own with a gentle reverence, though +to be able to draw her nearer to him thus, set his heart beating +quickly. + +"What is it?" he questioned her, anxiously, as all unconsciously she +leaned closer towards him and he saw her soft eyes, wet with tears, +shining upon him like stars in the gloom. "Is it bad news of Uncle +Hugo?" + +"Bad news of him, but worse of me!" she answered, sighingly. "Oh, +Robin, shall I tell you?" + +He looked at her tenderly. The dark cloak about her had fallen a little +aside, and showed a gleam of white neck emerging from snowy drapery +underneath--it was, to his fancy, as though a white rose-petal had been +suddenly and delicately unfurled. He longed to kiss that virginal +whiteness, and trembled at the audacity of his own desire. + +"Yes, dear, tell me!" he murmured, abstractedly, scarcely thinking of +what he was saying, and only conscious of the thrill and ecstasy of +love which seemed to him the one thing necessary for existence in earth +or heaven. + +And so, with her hands still warmly held in his, she told him all. In a +sad voice, with lowered eyes and quivering lips, she related her +plaintive little history, disclosing her unbaptised shame,--her unowned +parentage,--her desperately forlorn and lonely condition. And Robin +listened--amazed and perplexed. + +"It seems to be all my fault," concluded Innocent, sorrowfully--"and +yet it is not really so! Of course I ought never to have been born--but +I couldn't help it, could I? And now it seems quite wrong for me to +even live!--I am not wanted--and ever since I was twelve years old your +Uncle has only kept me out of charity--" + +But at this Robin started as though some one had struck him. + +"Innocent!" he exclaimed--"Do not say such a thing!--do not think it! +Uncle Hugo has LOVED you!--and you--you have loved him!" + +She drew her hands away from his and covered her face. + +"I know!--I know!" and her tears fell fast again--"But I am not his, +and he is not mine!" + +Robin was silent. The position was so unexpected and bewildering that +he hardly knew what to say. But chiefly he felt that he must try and +comfort this little weeping angel, who, so far as he was concerned, +held his life subservient to her charm. He began talking softly and +cheerily: + +"Why should it matter so much?" he said. "If you do not know who you +are--if none of us know--it may be more fortunate for you than you can +imagine! We cannot tell! Your own father may claim you--your own +mother--such things are quite possible! You may be like the princess of +a fairy-tale--rich people may come and take you away from Briar Farm +and from me--and you will be too grand to think of us any more, and I +shall only be the poor farmer in your eyes--you will wonder how you +could ever have spoken to me--" + +"Robin!" Her hands dropped from her face and she looked at him in +reproachful sadness. "Why do you say this? You know it could never be +true!--never! If I had a father who cared for me, he would not have +forgotten--and my mother, if she were a true mother, would have tried +to find me long ago! No, Robin!--I ought to have died when I was a +baby. No one wants me--I am a deserted child--'base-born,' as your +Uncle Hugo says,--and of course he is right--but the sin of it is not +mine!" + +She had such a pitiful, fragile and fair appearance, standing half in +shadow and half in the mystic radiance of the moon, that Robin +Clifford's heart ached with love and longing for her. + +"Sin!" he echoed--"Sin and you have never met each other! You are like +your name, innocent of all evil! Oh, Innocent! If you could only care +for me as I care for you!" + +She gave a shivering sigh. + +"Do you--can you care?--NOW?" she asked. + +"Of course! What is there in all this story that can change my love for +you? That you are not my cousin?--that my uncle is not your own father? +What does that matter to me? You are someone else's child, and if we +never know who that someone is, why should we vex ourselves about it? +You are you!--you are Innocent!--the sweetest, dearest little girl that +ever lived, and I adore you! What difference does it make that you are +not Uncle Hugo's daughter?" + +"It makes a great difference to me," she answered, sadly--"I do not +belong any more to the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!" + +Robin stared, amazed--then smiled. + +"Why, Innocent!" he exclaimed--"Surely you're not worrying your mind +over that old knight, dead and gone more than three hundred years ago! +Dear little goose! How on earth does he come into this trouble of +yours?" + +"He comes in everywhere!" she replied, clasping and unclasping her +hands nervously as she spoke. "You don't know, Robin!--you would never +understand! But I have loved the Sieur Amadis ever since I can +remember;--I have talked to him and studied with him!--I have read his +old books, and all the poems he wrote--and he seemed to be my friend! I +thought I was born of his kindred--and I was proud of it--and I felt it +would be my duty to live at Briar Farm always because he would wish his +line quite unbroken--and I think--perhaps--yes, I think I might have +married you and been a good wife to you just for his sake!--and now it +is all spoiled!--because though you will be the master of Briar Farm, +you will not be the lineal descendant of the Sieur Amadis! No,--it is +finished!--all finished with your Uncle Hugo!--and the doctors say he +can only live a year!" + +Her grief was so touching and pathetic that Robin could not find it in +his heart to make a jest of the romance she had woven round the old +French knight whose history had almost passed into a legend. After all, +what she said was true--the line of the Jocelyn family had been kept +intact through three centuries till now--and a direct heir had always +inherited Briar Farm. He himself had taken a certain pride in thinking +that Uncle Hugo's "love-child," as he had believed her to be, was at +any rate, love-child or no, born of the Jocelyn blood--and that when he +married her, as he hoped and fully purposed to do, he would discard his +own name of Clifford and take that of Jocelyn, in order to keep the +continuity of associations unbroken as far as possible. All these ideas +were put to flight by Innocent's story, and, as the position became +more evident to him, the smiling expression on his face changed to one +of gravity. + +"Dear Innocent," he said, at last--"Don't cry! It cuts me to the heart! +I would give my very life to save you from a sorrow--you know I would! +If you ever thought, as you say, that you could or would marry me for +the sake of the Sieur Amadis, you might just as well marry me now, even +though the Sieur Amadis is out of it. I would make you so happy! I +would indeed! And no one need ever know that you are not really the +lineal descendant of the Knight--" + +She interrupted him. + +"Priscilla knows," she said--"and, no matter how you look at it, I am +'base-born.' Your Uncle Hugo has let all the village folk think I am +his illegitimate child--and that is 'base-born' of itself. Oh, it is +cruel! Even you thought so, didn't you?" + +Robin hesitated. + +"I did not know, dear," he answered, gently--"I fancied--" + +"Do not deny it, Robin!" she said, mournfully. "You did think so! Well, +it's true enough, I suppose!--I am 'base-born'--but your uncle is not +my father. He is a good, upright man--you can always be proud of him! +He has not sinned,--though he has burdened me with the shame of sin! I +think that is unfair,--but I must bear it somehow, and I will try to be +brave. I'm glad I've told you all about it,--and you are very kind to +have taken it so well--and to care for me still--but I shall never +marry you, Robin!--never! I shall never bring my 'base-born' blood into +the family of Jocelyn!" + +His heart sank as he heard her--and involuntarily he stretched out his +arms in appeal. + +"Innocent!" he murmured--"Don't be hard upon me! Think a little longer +before you leave me without any hope! It means so much to my life! +Surely you cannot be cruel? Do you care for me less than you care for +that old knight buried under his own effigy in the garden? Will you not +think kindly of a living man?--a man who loves you beyond all things? +Oh, Innocent!--be gentle, be merciful!" + +She came to him and took his hands in her own. + +"It is just because I am kind and gentle and merciful," she said, in +her sweet, grave accents, "that I will not marry you, dear! I know I am +right,--and you will think so too, in time. For the moment you imagine +me to be much better and prettier than I am--and that there is no one +like me!--poor Robin!--you are blind!--there are so many sweet and +lovely girls, well born, with fathers and mothers to care for them--and +you, with your good looks and kind ways, could marry any one of +them--and you will, some day! Good-night, dear! You have stayed here a +long time talking to me!--just suppose you were seen sitting on this +window-ledge so late!--it is past midnight!--what would be said of me!" + +"What could be said?" demanded Robin, defiantly. "I came up here of my +own accord,--the blame would be mine!" + +She shook her head sadly, smiling a little. + +"Ah, Robin! The man is never blamed! It's always the woman's fault!" + +"Where's your fault to-night?" he asked. + +"Oh, most plain!" she answered. "When I saw you coming, I ought to have +shut the window, drawn the curtains, and left you to clamber down the +wall again as fast as you clambered up! But I wanted to tell you what +had happened--and how everything had changed for me--and now--now that +you know all--good-night!" + +He looked at her longingly. If she would only show some little sign of +tenderness!--if he might just kiss her hand, he thought! But she +withdrew into the shadow, and he had no excuse for lingering. + +"Good-night!" he said, softly. "Good-night, my angel Innocent! +Good-night, my little love!" + +She made no response and moved slowly backward into the room. But as he +reluctantly left his point of vantage and began to descend, stepping +lightly from branch to branch of the accommodating wistaria, he saw the +shadowy outline of her figure once more as she stretched out a hand and +closed the lattice window, drawing a curtain across it. With the +drawing of that curtain the beauty of the summer night was over for +him, and poising himself lightly on a tough stem which was twisted +strongly enough to give him adequate support and which projected some +four feet above the smooth grass below, he sprang down. Scarcely had he +touched the ground when a man, leaping suddenly out of a thick clump of +bushes near that side of the house, caught him in a savage grip and +shook him with all the fury of an enraged mastiff shaking a rat. Taken +thus unawares, and rendered almost breathless by the swiftness of the +attack, Clifford struggled in the grasp of his assailant and fought +with him desperately for a moment without any idea of his +identity,--then as by a dexterous twist of body he managed to partially +extricate himself, he looked up and saw the face of Ned Landon, livid +and convulsed with passion. + +"Landon!" he gasped--"What's the matter with you? Are you mad?" + +"Yes!" answered Landon, hoarsely--"And enough to make me so! You devil! +You've ruined the girl!" + +With a rapid movement, unexpected by his antagonist, Clifford +disengaged himself and stood free. + +"You lie!" he said--"And you shall pay for it! Come away from the house +and fight like a man! Come into the grass meadow yonder, where no one +can see or hear us. Come!" + +Landon paused, drawing his breath thickly, and looking like a snarling +beast baulked of its prey. + +"That's a trick!" he said, scornfully--"You'll run away!" + +"Come!" repeated Clifford, vehemently--"You're more likely to run away +than I am! Come!" + +Landon glanced him over from head to foot--the moonbeams fell brightly +on his athletic figure and handsome face--then turned on his heel. + +"No, I won't!" he said, curtly--"I've done all I want to do for +to-night. I've shaken you like the puppy you are! To-morrow we'll +settle our differences." + +For all answer Clifford sprang at him and struck him smartly across the +face. In another moment both men were engaged in a fierce tussle, none +the less deadly because so silent. A practised boxer and wrestler, +Clifford grappled more and more closely with the bigger but clumsier +man, dragging him steadily inch by inch further away from the house as +they fought. More desperate, more determined became the struggle, till +by two or three adroit manoeuvres Clifford got his opponent under him +and bore him gradually to the ground, where, kneeling on his chest, he +pinned him down. + +"Let me go!" muttered Landon--"You're killing me!" + +"Serve you right!" answered Clifford--"You scoundrel! My uncle shall +know of this!" + +"Tell him what you like!" retorted Landon, faintly--"I don't care! Get +off my chest!--you're suffocating me!" + +Clifford slightly relaxed the pressure of his hands and knees. + +"Will you apologise?" he demanded. + +"Apologise?--for what?" + +"For your insolence to me and my cousin." + +"Cousin be hanged!" snarled Landon--"She's no more your cousin than I +am--she's only a nameless bastard! I heard her tell you so! And fine +airs she gives herself on nothing!" + +"You miserable spy!" and Clifford again held him down as in a +vise--"Whatever you heard is none of your business! Will you apologise?" + +"Oh, I'll apologise, if you like!--anything to get your weight off +me!"--and Landon made an abortive effort to rise. "But I keep my own +opinion all the same!" + +Slowly Robin released him, and watched him as he picked himself up, +with an air of mingled scorn and pity. Landon laughed forcedly, passing +one hand across his forehead and staring in a dazed fashion at the +shadows cast on the ground by the moon. + +"Yes--I keep my own opinion!" he repeated, stupidly. "You've got the +better of me just now--but you won't always, my pert Cock Robin! You +won't always. Don't you think it! Briar Farm and I may part +company--but there's a bigger place than Briar Farm--there's the +world!--that's a wide field and plenty of crops growing on it! And the +men that sow those kind of crops and reap them and bring them in, are +better farmers than you'll ever be! As for your girl!"--here his face +darkened and he shook his fist towards the lattice window behind which +slept the unconscious cause of the quarrel--"You can keep her! A nice +'Innocent' SHE is!--talking with a man in her bedroom after +midnight!--why, I wouldn't have her as a gift--not now!" + +Choking with rage, Clifford sprang towards him again--Landon stepped +back. + +"Hands off!" he said--"Don't touch me! I'm in a killing mood! I've a +knife on me--you haven't. You're the master--I'm the man--and I'll play +fair! I've my future to think of, and I don't want to start with a +murder!" + +With this, he turned his back and strode off, walking somewhat +unsteadily like a blind man feeling his way. + +Clifford stood for a moment, inert. The angry blood burned in his +face,--his hands were involuntarily clenched,--he was impatient with +himself for having, as he thought, let Landon off too easily. He saw at +once the possibility of mischief brewing, and hastily considered how it +could best be circumvented. + +"The simplest way out of it is to make a clean breast of everything," +he decided, at last. "Tomorrow I'll see Uncle Hugo early in the morning +and tell him just what has happened." + +Under the influence of this resolve, he gradually calmed down and +re-entered the house. And the moonlight, widening and then waning over +the smooth and peaceful meadows of Briar Farm, had it all its own way +for the rest of the night, and as it filtered through the leafy +branches of the elms and beeches which embowered the old tomb of the +Sieur Amadis de Jocelin it touched with a pale glitter the stone hands +of his sculptured effigy,--hands that were folded prayerfully above the +motto,--"Mon coeur me soutien!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +As early as six o'clock the next morning Innocent was up and dressed, +and, hastening down to the kitchen, busied herself, as was her usual +daily custom, in assisting Priscilla with the housework and the +preparation for breakfast. There was always plenty to do, and as she +moved quickly to and fro, fulfilling the various duties she had taken +upon herself and which she performed with unobtrusive care and +exactitude, the melancholy forebodings of the past night partially +cleared away from her mind. Yet there was a new expression on her +face--one of sadness and seriousness unfamiliar to its almost +child-like features, and it was not easy for her to smile in her +ordinary bright way at the round of scolding which Priscilla +administered every morning to the maids who swept and scrubbed and +dusted and scoured the kitchen till no speck of dirt was anywhere +visible, till the copper shone like mirrors, and the tables were nearly +as smooth as polished silver or ivory. Going into the dairy where pans +of new milk stood ready for skimming, and looking out for a moment +through the lattice window, she saw old Hugo Jocelyn and Robin Clifford +walking together across the garden, engaged in close and earnest +conversation. A little sigh escaped her as she thought: "They are +talking about me!"--then, on a sudden impulse, she went back into the +kitchen where Priscilla was for the moment alone, the other servants +having dispersed into various quarters of the house, and going straight +up to her said, simply-- + +"Priscilla dear, why did you never tell me that I wasn't Dad's own +daughter?" + +Priscilla started violently, and her always red face turned +redder,--then, with an effort to recover herself, she answered-- + +"Lord, lovey! How you frightened me! Why didn't I tell you? Well, in +the first place, 'twasn't none of my business, and in the second, +'twouldn't have done any good if I had." + +Innocent was silent, looking at her with a piteous intensity. + +"And who is it that's told you now?" went on Priscilla, +nervously--"some meddlin' old fool--" + +Innocent raised her hand, warningly. + +"Hush, Priscilla! Dad himself told me--" + +"Well, he might just as well have kept a still tongue in his head," +retorted Priscilla, sharply. "He's kept it for eighteen years, an' why +he should let it go wagging loose now, the Lord only knows! There's no +making out the ways of men,--they first plays the wise and silent game +like barn-door owls,--then all on a suddint-like they starts cawing +gossip for all they're worth, like crows. And what's the good of +tellin' ye, anyway?" + +"No good, perhaps," answered Innocent, sorrowfully--"but it's right I +should know. You see, I'm not a child any more--I'm eighteen--that's a +woman--and a woman ought to know what she must expect more or less in +her life--" + +Priscilla leaned on the newly scrubbed kitchen table and looked across +at the girl with a compassionate expression. + +"What a woman must expect in life is good 'ard knocks and blows," she +said--"unless she can get a man to look arter her what's not of the +general kicking spirit. Take my advice, dearie! You marry Mr. +Robin!--as good a boy as ever breathed--he'll be a kind fond 'usband to +ye, and arter all that's what a woman thrives best on--kindness--an' +you've 'ad it all your life up to now--" + +"Priscilla," interrupted Innocent, decidedly--"I cannot marry Robin! +You know I cannot! A poor nameless girl like me!--why, it would be a +shame to him in after-years. Besides, I don't love him--and it's +wicked to marry a man you don't love." + +Priscilla smothered a sound between a grunt and a sigh. + +"You talks a lot about love, child," she said--"but I'm thinkin' you +don't know much about it. Them old books an' papers you found up in the +secret room are full of nonsense, I'm pretty sure--an' if you believes +that men are always sighin' an' dyin' for a woman, you're +mistaken--yes, you are, lovey! They goes where they can be made most +comfortable--an' it don't matter what sort o' woman gives the comfort +so long as they gits it." + +Innocent smiled, faintly. + +"You don't know anything about it, Priscilla," she answered--"You were +never married." + +"Thank the Lord and His goodness, no!" said Priscilla, with an emphatic +sniff--"I've never been troubled with the whimsies of a man, which is +worse than all the megrims of a woman any day. I've looked arter Mr. +Jocelyn in a way--but he's no sort of a man to worry about--he just +goes reglar to the farmin'--an' that's all--a decent creature always, +an' steady as his own oxen what pulls the plough. An' when he's gone, +if go he must, I'll look arter you an' Mr. Robin, an' please God, I'll +dance your babies on my old knees--" Here she broke off and turned her +head away. Innocent ran to her, surprised. + +"Why, Priscilla, you're crying!" she exclaimed--"Don't do that! Why +should you cry?" + +"Why indeed!" blubbered Priscilla--"Except that I'm a doiterin' fool! I +can't abear the thoughts of you turnin' yer back on the good that God +gives ye, an' floutin' Mr. Robin, who's the best sort o' man that ever +could fall to the lot of a little tender maid like you--why, lovey, you +don't know the wickedness o' this world, nor the ways of it--an' you +talks about love as if it was somethin' wonderful an' far away, when +here it is at yer very feet for the pickin' up! What's the good of all +they books ye've bin readin' if they don't teach ye that the old knight +you're fond of got so weary of the world that arter tryin' everythin' +in turn he found nothin' better than to marry a plain, straight country +wench and settle down in Briar Farm for all his days? Ain't that the +lesson he's taught ye?" + +She paused, looking hopefully at the girl through her tears--but +Innocent's small fair face was pale and calm, though her eyes shone +with a brilliancy as of suppressed excitement. + +"No," she said--"He has not taught me that at all. He came here to +'seek forgetfulness'--so it is said in the words he carved on the panel +in his study,--but we do not know that he ever really forgot. He only +'found peace,' and peace is not happiness--except for the very old." + +"Peace is not happiness!" re-echoed Priscilla, staring--"That's a queer +thing to say, lovey! What do you call being happy?" + +"It is difficult to explain"--and a swift warm colour flew over the +girl's cheeks, expressing some wave of hidden feeling--"Your idea of +happiness and mine must be so different!" She smiled--"Dear, good +Priscilla! You are so much more easily contented than I am!" + +Priscilla looked at her with a great tenderness in her dim old grey +eyes. + +"See here, lovey!" she said--"You're just like a young bird on the edge +of a nest ready to fly. You don't know the world nor the ways of it. +Oh, my dear, it ain't all gold harvests and apples ripening rosy in the +sun! You've lived all your life in the open country, and so you've +always had the good God near you,--but there's places where the houses +stand so close together that the sky can hardly make a patch of blue +between the smoking chimneys--like London, for instance--ah!--that's +where you'd find what the world's like, lovey!--where you feels so +lonesome that you wonders why you ever were born--" + +"I wonder that already," interrupted the girl, quickly. "Don't worry +me, dear! I have so much to think about--my life seems so altered and +strange--I hardly understand myself--and I don't know what I shall do +with my future--but I cannot--I will not marry Robin!" + +She turned away quickly then, to avoid further discussion. + +A little later she went into the quaint oak-panelled room where the +fateful disclosures of the past night had been revealed to her. Here +breakfast was laid, and the latticed window was set wide open, +admitting the sweet scent of stocks and mignonette with every breath of +the morning air. She stood awhile looking out on the gay beauty of the +garden, and her eyes unconsciously filled with tears. + +"Dear home!" she murmured--"Home that is not mine--that never will be +mine! How I have loved you!--how I shall always love you!" + +A slow step behind her interrupted her meditations--and she looked +around with a smile as timid as it was tender. There was her "Dad"--the +same as ever,--yet now to her mind so far removed from her that she +hesitated a moment before giving him her customary good-morning +greeting. A pained contraction of his brow showed her that he felt this +little difference, and she hastened to make instant amends. + +"Dear Dad!" she said, softly,--and she put her soft arms about him and +kissed his cheek--"How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?" + +He took her arms from his shoulders, and held her for a moment, looking +at her scrutinisingly from under his shaggy brows. + +"I did not sleep at all," he answered her--"I lay broad awake, thinking +of you. Thinking of you, my little innocent, fatherless, motherless +lamb! And you, child!--you did not sleep so well as you should have +done, talking with Robin half the night out of window!" + +She coloured deeply. He smiled and pinched her crimsoning cheek, +apparently well pleased. + +"No harm, no harm!" he said--"Just two young doves cooing among the +leaves at mating time! Robin has told me all about it. Now listen, +child!--I'm away to-day to the market town--there's seed to buy and +crops to sell--I'll take Ned Landon with me--" he paused, and an odd +expression of sternness and resolve clouded his features--"Yes!--I'll +take Ned Landon with me--he's shrewd enough when he's sober--and he's +cunning enough, too, for that matter!--yes, I'll take him with me. +We'll be off in the dog-cart as soon as breakfast's done. My time's +getting short, but I'll attend to my own business as long as I +can--I'll look after Briar Farm till I die--and I'll die in harness. +There's plenty of work to do yet--plenty of work; and while I'm away +you can settle up things--" + +Here he broke off, and his eyes grew fixed in a sudden vacant stare. +Innocent, frightened at his unnatural look, laid her hand caressingly +on his arm. + +"Yes, dear Dad!" she said, soothingly--"What is it you wish me to do?" + +The stare faded from his eyeballs, and his face softened. + +"Settle up things," he repeated, slowly, and with emphasis--"Settle up +things with Robin. No more beating about the bush! You talked to him +long enough out of window last night, and mind you!--somebody was +listening! That means mischief! _I_ don't blame you, poor wilding!--but +remember, SOMEBODY WAS LISTENING! Now think of that and of your good +name, child!--settle with Robin and we'll have the banns put up next +Sunday." + +While he thus spoke the warm rose of her cheeks faded to an extreme +pallor,--her very lips grew white and set. Her hurrying thoughts +clamoured for utterance,--she could have expressed in passionate terms +her own bitter sense of wrong and unmerited shame, but pity for the old +man's worn and haggard look of pain held her silent. She saw and felt +that he was not strong enough to bear any argument or opposition in his +present mood, so she made no sort of reply, not even by a look or a +smile. Quietly she went to the breakfast table, and busied herself in +preparing his morning meal. He followed her and sat heavily down in his +usual chair, watching her furtively as she poured out the tea. + +"Such little white hands, aren't they?" he said, coaxingly, touching +her small fingers when she gave him his cup--"Eh, wilding? The +prettiest lily flowers I ever saw! And one of them will look all the +prettier for a gold wedding-ring upon it! Ay, ay! We'll have the banns +put up on Sunday." + +Still she did not speak; once she turned away her head to hide the +tears that involuntarily rose to her eyes. Old Hugo, meanwhile, began +to eat his breakfast with the nervous haste of a man who takes his food +more out of custom than necessity. Presently he became irritated at her +continued silence. + +"You heard what I said, didn't you?" he demanded--"And you understood?" + +She looked full at him with sorrowful, earnest eyes. + +"Yes, Dad. I heard. And I understood." + +He nodded and smiled, and appeared to take it for granted that she had +received an order which it was her bounden duty to obey. The sun shone +brilliantly in upon the beautiful old room, and through the open window +came a pleasant murmuring of bees among the mignonette, and the whistle +of a thrush in an elm-tree sounded with clear and cheerful persistence. +Hugo Jocelyn looked at the fair view of the flowering garden and drew +his breath hard in a quick sigh. + +"It's a fine day," he said--"and it's a fine world! Ay, that it is! I'm +not sure there's a better anywhere! And it's a bit difficult to think +of going down for ever into the dark and the cold, away from the +sunshine and the sky--but it's got to be done!"--here he clenched his +fist and brought it down on the table with a defiant blow--"It's got to +be done, and I've got to do it! But not yet--not quite yet!--I've +plenty of time and chance to stop mischief!" + +He rose, and drawing himself up to his full height looked for the +moment strong and resolute. Taking one or two slow turns up and down +the room, he suddenly stopped in front of Innocent. + +"We shall be away all day," he said--"I and Ned Landon. Do you hear?" + +There was something not quite natural in the tone of his voice, and she +glanced up at him in a little surprise. + +"Well, what are you wondering at?" he demanded, a trifle testily--"You +need not open your eyes at me like that!" + +She smiled faintly. + +"Did I open my eyes, Dad?" she said--"I did not mean to be curious. I +only thought--" + +"You only thought what?" he asked, with sudden heat--"What did you +think?" + +"Oh, just about your being away all day in the town--you will be so +tired--" + +"Tired? Not I!--not when there's work to do and business to settle!" He +rubbed his hands together with a kind of energetic expectancy. "Work to +do and business to settle!" he repeated--"Yes, little girl! There's not +much time before me, and I must leave everything in good order for you +and Robin." + +She dropped her head, and the expression of her face was hidden from +him. + +"You and Robin!" he said, again. "Ay, ay! Briar Farm will be in the +best of care when I'm dead, and it'll thrive well with young love and +hope to keep it going!" He came up to her and took one of her little +hands in his own. "There, there!" he went on, patting it gently--"We'll +think no more of trouble and folly and mistakes in life; it'll be all +joy and peace for you, child! Take God's good blessing of an honest +lad's love and be happy with it! And when I come home to-night,"--he +paused and appeared to think for a moment--"yes!--when I come home, let +me hear that it's all clear and straight between you--and we'll have +the banns put up on Sunday!" + +She said not a word in answer. Her hand slid passively from his +hold,--and she never looked up. He hesitated for a moment--then walked +towards the door. + +"You'll have all the day to yourself with Robin," he added, glancing +back at her--"There'll be no spies about the place, and no one +listening, as there was last night!" + +She sprang up from her chair, moved at last by an impulse of +indignation. + +"Who was it?" she asked--"I said nothing wrong--and I do not care!--but +who was it?" + +A curious strained look came into old Hugo's eyes as he answered-- + +"Ned Landon." + +She looked amazed,--then scared. + +"Ned Landon?" + +"Ay! Ned Landon. He hasn't the sweetest of tempers and he isn't always +sober. He's a bit in the way sometimes,--ay, ay!--a bit in the way! But +he's a good farm hand for all that,--and his word stands for something! +I'd rather he hadn't heard you and Robin talking last night--but what's +done is done, and it's a mischief easy mended--" + +"Why, what mischief can there be?" the girl demanded, her colour coming +and going quickly--"And why should he have listened? It's a mean trick +to spy upon others!" + +He smiled indulgently. + +"Of course it's a mean trick, child!--but there's a good many men--and +women too--who are just made up of mean tricks and nothing more. They +spend their lives in spying upon their neighbours and interfering in +everybody's business. You'd soon find that out, my girl, if you lived +in the big world that lies outside Briar Farm! Ay!--and that reminds +me--" Here he came from the door back into the room again, and going to +a quaint old upright oaken press that stood in one corner, he unlocked +it and took out a roll of bank-notes. These he counted carefully over +to himself, and folding them up put them away in his breast pocket. +"Now I'm ready!" he said--"Ready for all I've got to do! Good-bye, my +wilding!" He approached her, and lifting her small face between his +hands, kissed it tenderly. "Bless thee! No child of my own could be +dearer than thou art! All I want now is to leave thee in safe and +gentle keeping when I die. Think of this and be good to Robin!" + +She trembled under his caress, and her heart was full of speechless +sorrow. She longed to yield to his wishes,--she knew that if she did so +she would give him happiness and greater resignation to the death which +confronted him; and she also knew that if she could make up her mind to +marry Robin Clifford she would have the best and the tenderest of +husbands. And Briar Farm,--the beloved old home--would be hers!--her +very own! Her children would inherit it and play about the fair and +fruitful fields as she had done--they, too, could be taught to love the +memory of the old knight, the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin--ah!--but surely +it was the spirit of the Sieur Amadis himself that held her back and +prevented her from doing his name and memory grievous wrong! She was +not of his blood or race--she was nameless and illegitimate,--no good +could come of her engrafting herself like a weed upon a branch of the +old noble stock--the farm would cease to prosper. + +So she thought and so she felt, in her dreamy imaginative way, and +though she allowed old Hugo to leave her without vexing him by any +decided opposition to his plans, she was more than ever firmly resolved +to abide by her own interior sense of what was right and fitting. She +heard the wheels of the dog-cart grating the gravel outside the garden +gate, and an affectionate impulse moved her to go and see her "Dad" +off. As she made her appearance under the rose-covered porch of the +farm-house door, she perceived Landon, who at once pulled off his cap +with an elaborate and exaggerated show of respect. + +"Good-morning, Miss Jocelyn!" + +He emphasized the surname with a touch of malice. She coloured, but +replied "Good-morning" with a sweet composure. He eyed her askance, but +had no opportunity for more words, as old Hugo just then clambered up +into the dog-cart, and took the reins of the rather skittish young mare +which was harnessed to it. + +"Come on, Landon!" he shouted, impatiently--"No time for farewells!" +Then, as Landon jumped up beside him, he smiled, seeing the soft, +wistful face of the girl watching him from beneath a canopy of roses. + +"Take care of the house while I'm gone!" he called to her;--"You'll +find Robin in the orchard." + +He laid the lightest flick of the whip on the mare's ears, and she +trotted rapidly away. + +Innocent stood a moment gazing after the retreating vehicle till it +disappeared,--then she went slowly into the house. Robin was in the +orchard, was he? Well!--he had plenty of work to do there, and she +would not disturb him. She turned away from the sunshine and flowers +and made her way upstairs to her own room. How quiet and reposeful it +looked! It was a beloved shrine, full of sweet memories and +dreams,--there would never be any room like it in the world for her, +she well knew. Listlessly she sat down at the table, and turned over +the pages of an old book she had been reading, but her eyes were not +upon it. + +"I wonder!" she said, half aloud--then paused. + +The thought in her mind was too daring for utterance. She was picturing +the possibility of going quietly away from Briar Farm all alone, and +trying to make a name and career for herself through the one natural +gift she fancied she might possess, a gift which nowadays is considered +almost as common as it was once admired and rare. To be a poet and +romancist,--a weaver of wonderful thoughts into musical language,--this +seemed to her the highest of all attainment; the proudest emperor of +the most powerful nation on earth was, to her mind, far less than +Shakespeare,--and inferior to the simplest French lyrist of old time +that ever wrote a "chanson d'amour." But the doubt in her mind was +whether she, personally, had any thoughts worth expressing,--any ideas +which the world might be the happier or the better for knowing and +sharing? She drew a long breath,--the warm colour flushed her cheeks +and then faded, leaving her very pale,--the whole outlook of her life +was so barren of hope or promise that she dared not indulge in any +dream of brighter days. On the face of it, there seemed no possible +chance of leaving Briar Farm without some outside assistance--she had +no money, and no means of obtaining any. Then,--even supposing she +could get to London, she knew no one there,--she had no friends. +Sighing wearily, she opened a deep drawer in the table at which she +sat, and took out a manuscript--every page of it so neatly written as +to be almost like copper-plate--and set herself to reading it steadily. +There were enough written sheets to make a good-sized printed +volume--and she read on for more than an hour. When she lifted her eyes +at last they were eager and luminous. + +"Perhaps," she half whispered--"perhaps there is something in it after +all!--something just a little new and out of the ordinary--but--how +shall I ever know!" + +Putting the manuscript by with a lingering care, she went to the window +and looked out. The peaceful scene was dear and familiar--and she +already felt a premonition of the pain she would have to endure in +leaving so sweet and safe a home. Her thoughts gradually recurred to +the old trouble--Robin, and Robin's love for her,--Robin, who, if she +married him, would spend his life gladly in the effort to make her +happy,--where in the wide world would she find a better, truer-hearted +man? And yet--a curious reluctance had held her back from him, even +when she had believed herself to be the actual daughter of Hugo +Jocelyn,--and now--now, when she knew she was nothing but a stray +foundling, deserted by her own parents and left to the care of +strangers, she considered it would be nothing short of shame and +disgrace to him, were she to become his wife. + +"I can always be his friend," she said to herself--"And if I once make +him understand clearly how much better it is for us to be like brother +and sister, he will see things in the right way. And when he marries I +am sure to be fond of his wife and children--and--and--it will be ever +so much happier for us all! I'll go and talk to him now." + +She ran downstairs and out across the garden, and presently made a +sudden appearance in the orchard--a little vision of white among the +russet-coloured trees with their burden of reddening apples. Robin was +there alone--he was busied in putting up a sturdy prop under one of the +longer branches of a tree heavily laden with fruit. He saw her and +smiled--but went on with his work. + +"Are you very busy?" she asked, approaching him almost timidly. + +"Just now, yes! In a moment, no! We shall lose this big bough in the +next high wind if I don't take care." + +She waited--watching the strength and dexterity of his hands and arms, +and the movements of his light muscular figure. In a little while he +had finished all he had to do--and turning to her said, laughingly-- + +"Now I am at your service! You look very serious!--grave as a little +judge, and quite reproachful! What have I done?--or what has anybody +done that you should almost frown at me on this bright sun-shiny +morning?" + +She smiled in response to his gay, questioning look. + +"I'm sorry I have such a depressing aspect," she said--"I don't feel +very happy, and I suppose my face shows it." + +He was silent for a minute or two, watching her with a grave tenderness +in his eyes. + +By and by he spoke, gently-- + +"Come and stroll about a bit with me through the orchard,--it will +cheer you to see the apples hanging in such rosy clusters among the +grey-green leaves. Nothing prettier in all the world, I think!--and +they are just ripening enough to be fragrant. Come, dear! Let us talk +our troubles out!" + +She walked by his side, mutely--and they moved slowly together under +the warm scented boughs, through which the sunlight fell in broad +streams of gold, making the interlacing shadows darker by contrast. +There was a painful throbbing in her throat,--the tension of struggling +tears which strove for an outlet,--but gradually the sweet influences +of the air and sunshine did good work in calming her nerves, and she +was quite composed when Robin spoke again. + +"You see, dear, I know quite well what is worrying you. I'm worried +myself--and I'd better tell you all about it. Last night--" he paused. + +She looked up at him, quickly. + +"Last night?--Well?" + +"Well--Ned Landon was in hiding in the bushes under your window--and he +must have been there all the time we were talking together. How or why +he came there I cannot imagine. But he heard a good deal--and when you +shut your window he was waiting for me. Directly I got down he pounced +on me like a tramp-thief, and--now there!--don't look so +frightened!--he said something that I couldn't stand, so we had a jolly +good fight. He got the worst of it, I can tell you! He's stiff and +unfit to work to-day--that's why Uncle Hugo has taken him to the town. +I told the whole story to Uncle Hugo this morning--and he says I did +quite right. But it's a bore to have to go on 'bossing' Landon--he +bears me a grudge, of course--and I foresee it will be difficult to +manage him. He can hardly be dismissed--the other hands would want to +know why; no man has ever been dismissed from Briar Farm without good +and fully explained reasons. This time no reasons could be given, +because your name might come in, and I won't have that--" + +"Oh, Robin, it's all my fault!" she exclaimed. "If you would only let +me go away! Help me--do help me to go away!" + +He stared at her, amazed. + +"Go away!" he echoed--"You! Why, Innocent, how can you think of such a +thing! You are the very life and soul of the place--how can you talk of +going away! No, no!--not unless"--here he drew nearer and looked at her +steadily and tenderly in the eyes--"not unless you will let me take you +away!--just for a little while!--as a bridegroom takes a bride--on a +honeymoon of love and sunshine and roses--" + +He stopped, deterred by her look of sadness. + +"Dear Robin," she said, very gently--"would you marry a girl who cannot +love you as a wife should love? Won't you understand that if I could +and did love you I should be happier than I am?--though now, even if I +loved you with all my heart, I would not marry you. How could I? I am +nothing--I have no name--no family--and can you think that I would +bring shame upon you? No, Robin!--never! I know what your Uncle Hugo +wishes--and oh!--if I could only make him happy I would do it!--but I +cannot--it would be wrong of me--and you would regret it--" + +"I should never regret it," he interrupted her, quickly. "If you would +be my wife, Innocent, I should be the proudest, gladdest man alive! Ah, +dear!--do put all your fancies aside and try to realise what good you +would be doing to the old man if he felt quite certain that you would +be the little mistress of the old farm he loves so much--I will not +speak of myself--you do not care for me!--but for him--" + +She looked up at him with a sudden light in her eyes. + +"Could we not pretend?" she asked. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, pretend that we're engaged--just to satisfy him. Couldn't you +make things easy for me that way?" + +"I don't quite understand," he said, with a puzzled air--"How would it +make things easy?" + +"Why, don't you see?" and she spoke with hurried eagerness--"When he +comes home to-night let him think it's all right--and then--then I'll +run away by myself--and it will be my fault--" + +"Innocent! What are you talking about?"--and he flushed with vexation. +"My dear girl, if you dislike me so much that you would rather run away +than marry me, I won't say another word about it. I'll manage to smooth +things over with my uncle for the present--just to prevent his fretting +himself--and you shall not be worried--" + +"You must not be worried either," she said. "You will not understand, +and you do not think!--but just suppose it possible that, after all, my +own parents did remember me at last and came to look after me--and that +they were perhaps dreadful wicked people--" + +Robin smiled. + +"The man who brought you here was a gentleman," he said--"Uncle Hugo +told me so this morning, and said he was the finest-looking man he had +ever seen." + +Innocent was silent a moment. + +"You think he was a 'gentleman' to desert his own child?" she asked. + +Robin hesitated. + +"Dear, you don't know the world," he said--"There may have been all +sorts of dangers and difficulties--anyhow, _I_ don't bear him any +grudge! He gave you to Briar Farm!" + +She sighed, and made no response. Inadvertently they had walked beyond +the orchard and were now on the very edge of the little thicket where +the tomb of the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin glimmered pallidly through the +shadow of the leaves. Innocent quickened her steps. + +"Come!" she said. + +He followed her reluctantly. Almost he hated the old stone knight which +served her as a subject for so many fancies and feelings, and when she +beckoned him to the spot where she stood beside the recumbent effigy, +he showed a certain irritation of manner which did not escape her. + +"You are cross with him!" she said, reproachfully. "You must not be so. +He is the founder of your family--" + +"And the finish of it, I suppose!" he answered, abruptly. "He stands +between us two, Innocent!--a cold stone creature with no heart--and you +prefer him to me! Oh, the folly of it all! How can you be so cruel!" + +She looked at him wistfully--almost her resolution failed her. He saw +her momentary hesitation and came close up to her. + +"You do not know what love is!" he said, catching her hand in his +own--"Innocent, you do not know! If you did!--if I might teach you--!" + +She drew her hand away very quickly and decidedly. + +"Love does not want teaching," she said--"it comes--when it will, and +where it will! It has not come to me, and you cannot force it, Robin! +If I were your wife--your wife without any wife's love for you--I +should grow to hate Briar Farm!--yes, I should!--I should pine and die +in the very place where I have been so happy!--and I should feel that +HE"--here she pointed to the sculptured Sieur Amadis--"would almost +rise from this tomb and curse me!" + +She spoke with sudden, almost dramatic vehemence, and he gazed at her +in mute amazement. Her eyes flashed, and her face was lit up by a glow +of inspiration and resolve. + +"You take me just for the ordinary sort of girl," she went on--"A girl +to caress and fondle and marry and make the mother of your +children,--now for that you might choose among the girls about here, +any of whom would be glad to have you for a husband. But, Robin, do you +think I am really fit for that sort of life always?--can't you believe +in anything else but marriage for a woman?" + +As she thus spoke, she unconsciously created a new impression on his +mind,--a veil seemed to be suddenly lifted, and he saw her as he had +never before seen her--a creature removed, isolated and unattainable +through the force of some inceptive intellectual quality which he had +not previously suspected. He answered her, very gently-- + +"Dear, I cannot believe in anything else but love for a woman," he +said--"She was created and intended for love, and without love she must +surely be unhappy." + +"Love!--ah yes!" she responded, quickly--"But marriage is not love!" + +His brows contracted. + +"You must not speak in that way, Innocent," he said, seriously--"It is +wrong--people would misunderstand you--" + +Her eyes lightened, and she smiled. + +"Yes!--I'm sure 'people' would!" she answered--"But 'people' don't +matter--to ME. It is truth that matters,--truth,--and love!" + +He looked at her, perplexed. + +"Why should you think marriage is not love?" he asked--"It is the one +thing all lovers wish for--to be married and to live together always--" + +"Oh, they wish for it, yes, poor things!" she said, with a little +uplifting of her brows--"And when their wishes are gratified, they +often wish they had not wished!" She laughed. "Robin, this talk of ours +is making me feel quite merry! I am amused!" + +"I am not!" he replied, irritably--"You are much too young a girl to +think these things--" + +She nodded, gravely. + +"I know! And I ought to get married while young, before I learn too +many of 'these things,'" she said--"Isn't that so? Don't frown, Robin! +Look at the Sieur Amadis! How peacefully he sleeps! He knew all about +love!" + +"Of course he did!" retorted Robin--"He was a perfectly sensible +man--he married and had six children." + +Innocent nodded again, and a little smile made two fascinating dimples +in her soft cheeks. + +"Yes! But he said good-bye to love first!" + +He looked at her in visible annoyance. + +"How can you tell?--what do you know about it?" he demanded. + +She lifted her eyes to the glimpses of blue sky that showed in deep +clear purity between the over-arching boughs,--a shaft of sunlight +struck on her fair hair and illumined its pale brown to gold, so that +for a moment she looked like the picture of a young rapt saint, lost in +heavenly musing. + +Then a smile, wonderfully sweet and provocative, parted her lips, and +she beckoned him to a grassy slope beneath one of the oldest trees, +where little tufts of wild thyme grew thickly, filling the air with +fragrance. + +"Come and sit beside me here," she said--"We have the day to +ourselves--Dad said so,--and we can talk as long as we like. You ask me +what I know?--not much indeed! But I'll tell you what the Sieur Amadis +has told me!--if you care to hear it!" + +"I'm not sure that I do," he answered, dubiously. + +She laughed. + +"Oh, Robin!--how ungrateful you are! You ought to be so pleased! If you +really loved me as much as you say, the mere sound of my voice ought to +fill you with ecstasy! Yes, really! Come, be good!" And she sat down on +the grass, glancing up at him invitingly. He flung himself beside her, +and she extended her little white hand to him with a pretty +condescension. + +"There!--you may hold it!" she said, as he eagerly clasped it--"Yes, +you may! Now, if the Sieur Amadis had been allowed to hold the hand of +the lady he loved he would have gone mad with joy!" + +"Much good he'd have done by going mad!" growled Robin, with an +affectation of ill-humour--"I'd rather be sane,--sane and normal." + +She bent her smiling eyes upon him. + +"Would you? Poor Robin! Well, you will be--when you settle down--" + +"Settle down?" he echoed--"How? What do you mean?" + +"Why, when you settle down with a wife, and--shall we say six +children?" she queried, merrily--"Yes, I think it must be six! Like the +Sieur Amadis! And when you forget that you ever sat with me under the +trees, holding my hand--so!" + +The lovely, half-laughing compassion of her look nearly upset his +self-possession. He drew closer to her side. + +"Innocent!" he exclaimed, passionately--"if you would only listen to +reason--" + +She shook her head. + +"I never could!" she declared, with an odd little air of penitent +self-depreciation--"People who ask you to listen to reason are always +so desperately dull! Even Priscilla!--when she asks you to 'listen to +reason,' she's in the worst of tempers! Besides, Robin, dear, we shall +have plenty of chances to 'listen to reason' when we grow older,--we're +both young just now, and a little folly won't hurt us. Have patience +with me!--I want to tell you some quite unreasonable--quite abnormal +things about love! May I?" + +"Yes--if _I_ may too!" he answered, kissing the hand he held, with +lingering tenderness. + +The soft colour flew over her cheeks,--she smiled. + +"Poor Robin!" she said--"You deserve to be happy and you will be!--not +with me, but with some one much better, and ever so much prettier! I +can see you as the master of Briar Farm--such a sweet home for you and +your wife, and all your little children running about in the fields +among the buttercups and daisies--a pretty sight, Robin!--I shall think +of it often when--when I am far away!" + +He was about to utter a protest,--she stopped him by a gesture. + +"Hush!" she said. + +And there was a moment's silence. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"When I think about love," she began presently, in a soft dreamy +voice--"I'm quite sure that very few people ever really feel it or +understand it. It must be the rarest thing in all the world! This poor +Sieur Amadis, asleep so long in his grave, was a true lover,--and I +will tell you how I know he had said good-bye to love when he married. +All those books we found in the old dower-chest, that day when we were +playing about together as children, belonged to him--some are his own +compositions, written by his own hand,--the others, as you know, are +printed books which must have been difficult to get in his day, and are +now, I suppose, quite out of date and almost unknown. I have read them +all!--my head is a little library full of odd volumes! But there is +one--a manuscript book--which I never tire of reading,--it is a sort of +journal in which the Sieur Amadis wrote down many of his own +feelings--sometimes in prose, sometimes in verse--and by following them +carefully and piecing them together, it is quite easy to find out his +sadness and secret--how he loved once and never loved again--" + +"You can't tell that," interrupted Robin--"men often say they can only +love once--but they love ever so many times--" + +She smiled--and her eyes showed him what a stupid blunder he had made. + +"Do they?" she queried, softly--"I am so glad, Robin! For you will find +it easy then to love somebody else instead of me!" + +He flushed, vexedly. + +"I didn't mean that--" he began. + +"No? I think you did!--but of course if you had thought twice you +wouldn't have said it! It was uttered quite truly and naturally, +Robin!--don't regret it! Only I want to explain to you that the Sieur +Amadis was not like that--he loved just once--and the lady he loved +must have been a very beautiful woman who had plenty of admirers and +did not care for him at all. All he writes proves that. He is always +grieved to the heart about it. Still he loved her--and he seems glad to +have loved her, though it was all no use. And he kept a little +chronicle of his dreams and fancies--all that he felt and thought +about,--it is beautifully and tenderly written all in quaint old +French. I had some trouble to make it out--but I did at last--every +word--and when he made up his mind to marry, he finished the little +book and never wrote another word in it. Shall I tell you what were the +last lines he wrote?" + +"It wouldn't be any use," he answered, kissing again the hand he +held--"I don't understand French. I've never even tried to learn it." + +She laughed. + +"I know you haven't! But you've missed a great deal, Robin!--you have +really! When I made up my mind to find out all the Sieur Amadis had +written, I got Priscilla to buy me a French dictionary and grammar and +some other French lesson-books besides--then I spelt all the words +carefully and looked them all up in the dictionary, and learned the +pronunciation from one of the lesson-books--and by-and-bye it got quite +easy. For two years at least it was dreadfully hard work--but +now--well!--I think I could almost speak French if I had the chance!" + +"I'm sure you could!" said Robin, looking at her, admiringly--"You're a +clever little girl and could do anything you wanted to." + +Her brows contracted a little,--the easy lightness of his compliment +had that air of masculine indifference which is more provoking to an +intelligent woman than downright contradiction. The smile lingered in +her eyes, however,--a smile of mingled amusement and compassion. + +"Well, I wanted to understand the writing of the Sieur Amadis," she +went on, quietly--"and when I could understand them I translated them. +So I can tell you the last words he wrote in his journal--just before +he married,--in fact on the very eve of his marriage-day--" She paused +abruptly, and looked for a moment at the worn and battered tomb of the +old knight, green with moss and made picturesque by a trailing branch +of wild roses that had thrown itself across the stone effigy in an +attempt to reach some of its neighbours on the opposite side. Robin +followed her gaze with his own, and for a moment was more than usually +impressed by the calm, almost stern dignity of the recumbent figure. + +"Go on," he said--"What were the words?" + +"These"--and Innocent spoke them in a hushed voice, with sweet +reverence and feeling--"'Tonight I pull down and put away for ever the +golden banner of my life's ideal. It has been held aloft too long in +the sunshine of a dream, and the lily broidered on its web is but a +withered flower. My life is no longer of use to myself, but as a man +and faithful knight I will make it serve another's pleasure and +another's good. And because this good and simple girl doth truly love +me, though her love was none of my seeking, I will give her her heart's +desire, though mine own heart's desire shall never be accomplished,--I +will make her my wife, and will be to her a true and loyal husband, so +that she may receive from me all she craves of happiness and peace. For +though I fain would die rather than wed, I know that life is not given +to a man to live selfishly, nor is God satisfied to have it wasted by +any one who hath sworn to be His knight and servant. Therefore even so +let it be!--I give all my unvalued existence to her who doth consider +it valuable, and with all my soul I pray that I may make so gentle and +trustful a creature happy. But to Love--oh, to Love a long +farewell!--farewell my dreams!--farewell ambition!--farewell the glory +of the vision unattainable!--farewell bright splendour of an earthly +Paradise!--for now I enter that prison which shall hold me fast till +death release me! Close, doors!--fasten, locks!--be patient in thy +silent solitude, my Soul!'" + +Innocent's voice faltered here--then she said--"That is the end. He +signed it 'Amadis.'" + +Robin was very quiet for a minute or two. + +"It's pretty--very pretty and touching--and all that sort of thing," he +said at last--"but it's like some old sonnet or mediaeval bit of +romance. No one would go on like that nowadays." + +Innocent lifted her eyebrows, quizzically. + +"Go on like what?" + +He moved impatiently. + +"Oh, about being patient in solitude with one's soul, and saying +farewell to love." He gave a short laugh. "Innocent dear, I wish you +would see the world as it really is!--not through the old-style +spectacles of the Sieur Amadis! In his day people were altogether +different from what they are now." + +"I'm sure they were!" she answered, quietly--"But love is the same +to-day as it was then." + +He considered a moment, then smiled. + +"No, dear, I'm not sure that it is," he said. "Those knights and poets +and curious people of that kind lived in a sort of imaginary +ecstasy--they exaggerated their emotions and lived at the top-height of +their fancies. We in our time are much more sane and level-headed. And +it's much better for us in the long run." + +She made no reply. Only very gently she withdrew her hand from his. + +"I'm not a knight of old," he went on, turning his handsome, +sun-browned face towards her,--"but I'm sure I love you as much as ever +the Sieur Amadis could have loved his unknown lady. So much indeed do I +love you that I couldn't write about it to save my life!--though I did +write verses at Oxford once--very bad ones!" He laughed. "But I can do +one thing the Sieur Amadis didn't do--I can keep faithful to my Vision +of the glory unattainable'--and if I don't marry you I'll marry +no-body--so there!" + +She looked at him curiously and wistfully. + +"You will not be so foolish," she said--"You will not put me into the +position of the Sieur Amadis, who married some one who loved him, +merely out of pity!" + +He sprang up from the grass beside her. + +"No, no! I won't do that, Innocent! I'm not a coward! If you can't love +me, you shall not marry me, just because you are sorry for me! That +would be intolerable! I wouldn't have you for a wife at all under such +circumstances. I shall be perfectly happy as a bachelor--perhaps +happier than if I married." + +"And what about Briar Farm?" she asked. + +"Briar Farm can get on as best it may!" he replied, cheerily--"I'll +work on it as long as I live and hand it down to some one worthy of it, +never fear! So there, Innocent!--be happy, and don't worry yourself! +Keep to your old knight and your strange fancies about him--you may be +right in your ideas of love, or you may be wrong; but the great point +with me is that you should be happy--and if you cannot be happy in my +way, why you must just be happy in your own!" + +She looked at him with a new interest, as he stood upright, facing her +in all the vigour and beauty of his young manhood. A little smile crept +round the corners of her mouth. + +"You are really a very handsome boy!" she said--"Quite a picture in +your way! Some girl will be very proud of you!" + +He gave a movement of impatience. + +"I must go back to the orchard," he said--"There's plenty to do. And +after all, work's the finest thing in the world--quite as fine as +love--perhaps finer!" + +A faint sense of compunction moved her at his words--she was conscious +of a lurking admiration for his cool, strong, healthy attitude towards +life and the things of life. And yet she was resentful that he should +be capable of considering anything in the world "finer" than love. +Work? What work? Pruning trees and gathering apples? Surely there were +greater ambitions than these? She watched him thoughtfully under the +fringe of her long eyelashes, as he moved off. + +"Going to the orchard?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +She smiled a little. + +"That's right!" + +He glanced back at her. Had she known how bravely he restrained himself +she might have made as much a hero of him as of the knight Amadis. For +he was wounded to the heart--his brightest hopes were frustrated, and +at the very instant he walked away from her he would have given his +life to have held her for a moment in his arms,--to have kissed her +lips, and whispered to her the pretty, caressing love-nonsense which to +warm and tender hearts is the sweetest language in the world. And with +all his restrained passion he was irritated with what, from a man's +point of view, he considered folly on her part,--he felt that she +despised his love and himself for no other reason than a mere romantic +idea, bred of loneliness and too much reading of a literature alien to +the customs and manners of the immediate time, and an uncomfortable +premonition of fear for her future troubled his mind. + +"Poor little girl!" he thought--"She does not know the world!--and when +she DOES come to know it--ah, my poor Innocent!--I would rather she +never knew!" + +Meanwhile she, left to herself, was not without a certain feeling of +regret. She was not sure of her own mind--and she had no control over +her own fancies. Every now and then a wave of conviction came over her +that after all tender-hearted old Priscilla might be right--that it +would be best to marry Robin and help him to hold and keep Briar Farm +as it had ever been kept and held since the days of the Sieur Amadis. +Perhaps, had she never heard the story of her actual condition, as told +her by Farmer Jocelyn on the previous night, she might have consented +to what seemed so easy and pleasant a lot in life; but now it seemed to +her more than impossible. She no longer had any link with the far-away +ancestor who had served her so long as a sort of ideal--she was a mere +foundling without any name save the unbaptised appellation of Innocent. +And she regarded herself as a sort of castaway. + +She went into the house soon after Robin had left her, and busied +herself with sorting the linen and looking over what had to be mended. +"For when I go," she said to herself, "they must find everything in +order." She dined alone with Priscilla--Robin sent word that he was too +busy to come in. She was a little piqued at this--and almost cross when +he sent the same message at tea-time,--but she was proud in her way +and would not go out to see if she could persuade him to leave his work +for half-an-hour. The sun was slowly declining when she suddenly put +down her sewing, struck by a thought which had not previously occurred +to her--and ran fleetly across the garden to the orchard, where she +found Robin lying on his back under the trees with closed eyes. He +opened them, hearing the light movement of her feet and the soft +flutter of her gown--but he did not rise. She stopped--looking at him. + +"Were you asleep?" + +He stretched his arms above his head, lazily. + +"I believe I was!" he answered, smiling. + +"And you wouldn't come in to tea!" This with a touch of annoyance. + +"Oh yes, I would, if I had wanted tea," he replied--"but I didn't want +it." + +"Nor my company, I suppose," she added, with a little shrug of her +shoulders. His eyes flashed mischievously. + +"Oh, I daresay that had something to do with it!" he agreed. + +A curious vexation fretted her. She wished he would not look so +handsome--and--yes!--so indifferent. An impression of loneliness and +desertion came over her--he, Robin, was not the same to her now--so she +fancied--no doubt he had been thinking hard all the day while doing his +work, and at last had come to the conclusion that it was wisest after +all to let her go and cease to care for her as he had done. A little +throbbing pulse struggled in her throat--a threat of rising tears,--but +she conquered the emotion and spoke in a voice which, though it +trembled, was sweet and gentle. + +"Robin," she said--"don't you think--wouldn't it be better--perhaps--" + +He looked up at her wonderingly--she seemed nervous or frightened. + +"What is it?" he asked--"Anything you want me to do?" + +"Yes"--and her eyes drooped--"but I hardly like to say it. You see, Dad +made up his mind this morning that we were to settle things +together--and he'll be angry and disappointed--" + +Robin half-raised himself on one arm. + +"He'll be angry and disappointed if we don't settle it, you mean," he +said--"and we certainly haven't settled it. Well?" + +A faint colour flushed her face. + +"Couldn't we pretend it's all right for the moment?" she +suggested--"Just to give him a little peace of mind?" + +He looked at her steadily. + +"You mean, couldn't we deceive him?" + +"Yes!--for his good! He has deceived ME all my life,--I suppose for MY +good--though it has turned out badly--" + +"Has it? Why?" + +"It has left me nameless," she answered,--"and friendless." + +A sudden rush of tears blinded her eyes--she put her hands over them. +He sprang up and, taking hold of her slender wrists, tried to draw +those hands down. He succeeded at last, and looked wistfully into her +face, quivering with restrained grief. + +"Dear, I will do what you like!" he said. "Tell me--what is your wish?" + +She waited a moment, till she had controlled herself a little. + +"I thought"--she said, then--"that we might tell Dad just for to-night +that we are engaged--it would make him happy--and perhaps in a week or +two we might get up a quarrel together and break it off--" + +Robin smiled. + +"Dear little girl!--I'm afraid the plan wouldn't work! He wants the +banns put up on Sunday--and this is Wednesday." + +Her brows knitted perplexedly. + +"Something can be managed before then," she said. "Robin, I cannot bear +to disappoint him! He's old--and he's so ill too!--it wouldn't hurt us +for one night to say we are engaged!" + +"All right!"--and Robin threw back his head and laughed joyously--"I +don't mind! The sensation of even imagining I'm engaged to you is quite +agreeable! For one evening, at least, I can assume a sort of +proprietorship over you! Innocent! I--I--" + +He looked so mirthful and mischievous that she smiled, though the +teardrops still sparkled on her lashes. + +"Well? What are you thinking of now?" she asked. + +"I think--I really think--under the circumstances I ought to kiss you!" +he said--"Don't you feel it would be right and proper? Even on the +stage the hero and heroine ACT a kiss when they're engaged!" + +She met his laughing glance with quiet steadfastness. + +"I cannot act a kiss," she said--"You can, if you like! I don't mind." + +"You don't mind?" + +"No." + +He looked from right to left--the apple-boughs, loaded with rosy fruit, +were intertwined above them like a canopy--the sinking sun made mellow +gold of all the air, and touched the girl's small figure with a +delicate luminance--his heart beat, and for a second his senses swam in +a giddy whirl of longing and ecstasy--then he suddenly pulled himself +together. + +"Dear Innocent, I wouldn't kiss you for the world!" he said, +gently--"It would be taking a mean advantage of you. I only spoke in +fun. There!--dry your pretty eyes!--you sweet, strange, romantic little +soul! You shall have it all your own way!" + +She drew a long breath of evident relief. + +"Then you'll tell your uncle--" + +"Anything you like!" he answered. "By-the-bye, oughtn't he to be home +by this time?" + +"He may have been kept by some business," she said--"He won't be long +now. You'll say we're engaged?" + +"Yes." + +"And perhaps"--went on Innocent--"you might ask him not to have the +banns put up yet as we don't want it known quite so soon--" + +"I'll do all I can," he replied, cheerily--"all I can to keep him +quiet, and to make you happy! There! I can't say more!" + +Her eyes shone upon him with a grateful tenderness. + +"You are very good, Robin!" + +He laughed. + +"Good! Not I! But I can't bear to see you fret--if I had my way you +should never know a moment's trouble that I could keep from you. But I +know I'm not a patch on your old stone knight who wrote such a lot +about his 'ideal'--and yet went and married a country wench and had six +children. Don't frown, dear! Nothing will make me say he was romantic! +Not a bit of it! He wrote a lot of romantic things, of course--but he +didn't mean half of them!--I'm sure he didn't!" + +She coloured indignantly. + +"You say that because you know nothing about it," she said--"You have +not read his writings." + +"No--and I'm not sure that I want to," he answered, gaily. "Dear +Innocent, you must remember that I was at Oxford--my dear old father +and mother scraped and screwed every penny they could get to send me +there--and I believe I acquitted myself pretty well--but one of the +best things I learned was the general uselessness and vanity of the +fellows that called themselves 'literary.' They chiefly went in for +disparaging and despising everyone who did not agree with them and +think just as they did. Mulish prigs, most of them!" and Robin laughed +his gay and buoyant laugh once more--"They didn't know that I was all +the time comparing them with the honest type of farmer--the man who +lives an outdoor life with God's air blowing upon him, and the soil +turned freshly beneath him!--I love books, too, in my way, but I love +Nature better." + +"And do not poets help you to understand Nature?" asked Innocent. + +"The best of them do--such as Shakespeare and Keats and Tennyson,--but +they were of the past. The modern men make you almost despise +Nature,--more's the pity! They are always studying THEMSELVES, and +analysing THEMSELVES, and pitying THEMSELVES--now _I_ always say, the +less of one's self the better, in order to understand other people." + +Innocent's eyes regarded him with quiet admiration. + +"Yes, you are a thoroughly good boy," she said--"I have told you so +often. But--I'm not sure that I should always get on with anyone as +good as you are!" + +She turned away then, and moved towards the house. As she went, she +suddenly stopped and clapped her hands, calling: + +"Cupid! Cupid! Cu-COO-pid!" + +A flash of white wings glimmered in the sunset-light, and her pet dove +flew to her, circling round and round till it dropped on her +outstretched arm. She caught it to her bosom, kissing its soft head +tenderly, and murmuring playful words to it. Robin watched her, as with +this favourite bird-playmate she disappeared across the garden and into +the house. Then he gave a gesture half of despair, half of +resignation--and left the orchard. + +The sun sank, and the evening shadows began to steal slowly in their +long darkening lines over the quiet fields, and yet Farmer Jocelyn had +not yet returned. The women of the household grew anxious--Priscilla +went to the door many times, looking up the tortuous by-road for the +first glimpse of the expected returning vehicle--and Innocent stood in +the garden near the porch, as watchful as a sentinel and as silent. At +last the sound of trotting hoofs was heard in the far distance, and +Robin, suddenly making his appearance from the stable-yard where he too +had been waiting, called cheerily,-- + +"Uncle at last! Here he comes!" + +Another few minutes and the mare's head turned the corner--then the +whole dog-cart came into view with Farmer Jocelyn driving it. But he +was quite alone. + +Robin and Innocent exchanged surprised glances, but had no time to make +any comment as old Hugo just then drove up and, throwing the reins to +his nephew, alighted. + +"Aren't you very late, Dad?" said Innocent then, going to meet him--"I +was beginning to be quite anxious!" + +"Were you? Poor little one! I'm all right! I had business--I was kept +longer than I expected--" Here he turned quickly to Robin--"Unharness, +boy!--unharness!--and come in to supper!" + +"Where's Landon?" asked Robin. + +"Landon? Oh, I've left him in the town." + +He pulled off his driving-gloves, and unbuttoned his overcoat--then +strode into the house. Innocent followed him--she was puzzled by his +look and manner, and her heart beat with a vague sense of fear. There +was something about the old man that was new and strange to her. She +could not define it, but it filled her mind with a curious and +inexplicable uneasiness. Priscilla, who was setting the dishes on the +table in the room where the cloth was laid for supper, had the same +uncomfortable impression when she saw him enter. His face was unusually +pale and drawn, and the slight stoop of age in his otherwise upright +figure seemed more pronounced than usual. He drew up his chair to the +table and sat down,--then ruffling his fine white hair over his brow +with one hand, looked round him with an evidently forced smile. + +"Anxious about me, were you, child?" he said, as Innocent took her +place beside him. "Well, well! you need not have given me a thought! +I--I was all right--all right! I made a bit of a bargain in the +town--but the prices were high--and Landon--" + +He broke off suddenly and stared in front of him with strange fixed +eyeballs. + +Innocent and Priscilla looked at one another in alarm. There was a +moment's tense stillness,--then Innocent said in rather a trembling +voice-- + +"Yes, Dad? You were saying something about Landon--" + +The stony glare faded from his eyes and he looked at her with a more +natural expression. + +"Landon? Did I speak of him? Oh yes!--Landon met with some fellows he +knew and decided to spend the evening with them--he asked me for a +night off--and I gave it to him. Yes--I--I gave it to him." + +Just then Robin entered. + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed, gaily--"At supper? Don't begin without me! I +say, Uncle, is Landon coming back to-night?" + +Jocelyn turned upon him sharply. + +"No!" he answered, in so fierce a tone that Robin stood amazed--"Why do +you all keep on asking me about Landon? He loves drink more than life, +and he's having all he wants to-night. I've let him off work to-morrow." + +Robin was silent for a moment out of sheer surprise. + +"Oh well, that's all right, if you don't mind," he said, at +last--"We're pretty busy--but I daresay we can manage without him." + +"I should think so!" and Hugo gave a short laugh of scorn--"Briar Farm +would have come to a pretty pass if it could not get on without a man +like Landon!" + +There was another silent pause. + +Priscilla gave an anxious side-glance at Innocent's troubled face, and +decided to relieve the tension by useful commonplace talk. + +"Well, Landon or no Landon, supper's ready!" she said, briskly--"and +it's been waiting an hour at least. Say grace, Mister Jocelyn, and I'll +carve!" + +Jocelyn looked at her bewilderedly. + +"Say grace?" he queried--"what for?" + +Priscilla laughed loudly to cover the surprise she felt. + +"What for? Lor, Mister Jocelyn, if you don't know I'm sure I don't! For +the beef and potatoes, I suppose, an' all the stuff we eats--'for what +we are going to receive--'" + +"Ah, yes! I remember--'May the Lord make us truly thankful!'" responded +Jocelyn, closing his eyes for a second and then opening them +again--"And I'll tell you what, Priscilla!--there's a deal more to be +thankful for to-night than beef and potatoes!--a great deal more!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The supper was a very silent meal. Old Hugo was evidently not inclined +to converse,--he ate his food quickly, almost ravenously, without +seeming to be conscious that he was eating. Robin Clifford glanced at +him now and again watchfully, and with some anxiety,--an uncomfortable +idea that there was something wrong somewhere worried him,--moreover he +was troubled by the latent feeling that presently his uncle would be +sure to ask if all was "settled" between himself and Innocent. +Strangely enough, however, the old man made no allusion to the subject. +He seemed to have forgotten it, though it had been the chief matter on +which he had laid so much stress that morning. Each minute Innocent +expected him to turn upon her with the dreaded question--to which she +would have had to reply untruly, according to the plan made between +herself and Robin. But to her great surprise and relief he said nothing +that conveyed the least hint of the wish he had so long cherished. He +was irritable and drowsy,--now and again his head fell a little forward +on his chest and his eyes closed as though in utter weariness. Seeing +this, the practical Priscilla made haste to get the supper finished and +cleared away. + +"You be off to bed, Mister Jocelyn," she said,--"The sooner the better, +for you look as tired as a lame dog that 'as limped 'ome twenty miles. +You ain't fit to be racketing about markets an' drivin' bargains." + +"Who says I'm not?" he interrupted, sitting bolt upright and glaring +fiercely at her--"I tell you I am! I can do business as well as any +man--and drive a bargain-ah! I should think so indeed!--a hard-and-fast +bargain!--not easy to get out of, I can tell you!--not easy to get out +of! And it has cost me a pretty penny, too!" + +Robin Clifford glanced at him enquiringly. + +"How's that?" he asked--"You generally make rather than spend!" + +Jocelyn gave a sudden loud laugh. + +"So I do, boy, so I do! But sometimes one has to spend to make! I've +done both to-day--I've made and I've spent. And what I've spent is +better than keeping it--and what I've made--ay!--what I've +made--well!--it's a bargain, and no one can say it isn't a fair one!" + +He got up from the supper table and pushed away his chair. + +"I'll go," he said--"Priscilla's right--I'm dog-tired and bed's the +best place for me." He passed his hand over his forehead. "There's a +sort of buzzing in my brain like the noise of a cart-wheel--I want +rest." As he spoke Innocent came softly beside him and took his arm +caressingly. He looked down upon her with a smile. "Yes, wilding, I +want rest! We'll have a long talk out tomorrow--you and I and Robin. +Bless thee, child! Good-night!" + +He kissed her tenderly and held out one hand to Clifford, who cordially +grasped it. + +"Good boy!" he said-"Be up early, for there's much to do--and Landon +won't be home till late--no--not till late! Get on with the field +work--for if the clouds mean anything we shall have rain." He paused a +moment and seemed to reflect, then repeated slowly--"Yes, lad! We shall +have rain!--and wind, and storm! Be ready!--the fine weather's +breaking!" + +With that he went, walking slowly, and they heard him stumble once or +twice as he went up the broad oak staircase to his bedroom. Priscilla +put her head on one side, like a meditative crow, and listened. Then +she heaved a sigh, smoothed down her apron and rolled up her eyes. + +"Well, if Mister Jocelyn worn't as sober a man as any judge an' jury," +she observed--"I should say 'e'd bin drinkin'! But that ain't it. Mr. +Robin, there's somethin' gone wrong with 'im--an' I don't like it." + +"Nor I," said Innocent, in a trembling voice, suggestive of tears. "Oh, +Robin, you surely noticed how strange he looked! I'm so afraid! I feel +as if something dreadful was going to happen--" + +"Nonsense!" and Robin assumed an air of indifference which he was far +from feeling--"Uncle Hugo is tired--I think he has been put out--you +know he's quick-tempered and easily irritated--he may have had some +annoyance in the town--" + +"Ah! And where's Landon?" put in Priscilla, with a dark nod--"That do +beat me! Why ever the master should 'ave let a man like that go on the +loose for a night an' a day is more than I can make out! It's sort of +tempting Providence--that it is!" + +Clifford flushed and turned aside. His fight with Landon was fresh in +his mind--and he began to wonder whether he had done rightly in telling +his uncle how it came about. But meeting Innocent's anxious eyes, which +mutely asked him for comfort, he answered-- + +"Oh, well, there's nothing very much in that, Priscilla! I daresay +Landon wanted a holiday--he doesn't ask for one often, and he's kept +fairly sober lately. Hadn't we better be off to bed? Things will +straighten out with the morning." + +"Do you really think so?" Innocent sighed as she put the question. + +"Of course I think so!" answered Robin, cheerily. "We're all tired, and +can't look on the bright side! Sound sleep is the best cure for the +blues! Good-night, Innocent!" + +"Good-night!" she said, gently. + +"Good-night, Priscilla!" + +"Good-night, Mr. Robin. God bless ye!" + +He smiled, nodded kindly to them both, and left the room. + +"There's a man for ye!" murmured Priscilla, admiringly, as he +disappeared--"A tower of strength for a 'usband, which the Lord knows +is rare! Lovey, you'll never do better!" + +But Innocent seemed not to hear. Her face was very pale, and her eyes +had a strained wistful expression. + +"Dad looks very ill," she said, slowly--"Priscilla, surely you +noticed--" + +"Now, child, don't you worry--'tain't no use"--and Priscilla lit two +bedroom candles, giving Innocent one--"You just go up to bed and think +of nothing till the morning. Mister Jocelyn is dead beat and put out +about something--precious 'ungry too, for he ate his food as though he +hadn't 'ad any all day. You couldn't expect him to be pleasant if he +was wore out." + +Innocent said nothing more. She gave a parting glance round the room to +assure herself that everything was tidy, windows bolted and all safe +for the night, and for a fleeting moment the impression came over her +that she would never see it look quite the same again. A faint cold +tremor ran through her delicate little body--she felt lonely and +afraid. Silently she followed Priscilla up the beautiful Tudor +staircase to the first landing, where, moved by a tender, clinging +impulse, she kissed her. + +"Good-night, you dear, kind Priscilla!" she said--"You've always been +good to me!" + +"Bless you, my lovey!" answered Priscilla, with emotion--"Go and sleep +with the angels, like the little angel you are yourself! And mind you +think twice, and more than twice, before you say 'No' to Mr. Robin!" + +With a deprecatory shake of her head, and a faint smile, Innocent +turned away, and passed through the curious tortuous little corridor +that led to her own room. Once safely inside that quiet sanctum where +the Sieur Amadis of long ago had "found peace," she set her candle down +on the oak table and remained standing by it for some moments, lost in +thought. The pale glimmer of the single light was scarcely sufficient +to disperse the shadows around her, but the lattice window was open and +admitted a shaft of moonlight which shed a pearly radiance on her +little figure, clothed in its simple white gown. Had any artist seen +her thus, alone and absorbed in sorrowful musing, he might have taken +her as a model of Psyche after her god had flown. She was weary and +anxious--life had suddenly assumed for her a tragic aspect. Old +Jocelyn's manner had puzzled her--he was unlike himself, and she +instinctively felt that he had some secret trouble on his mind. What +could it be? she wondered. Not about herself and Robin--for were he as +keen on "putting up the banns" as he had been in the morning he would +not have allowed the matter to rest. He would have asked straight +questions, and he would have expected plain answers,--and they would, +in accordance with the secret understanding they had made with each +other, have deceived him. Now there was no deception necessary--he +seemed to have forgotten--at least for the present--his own dearest +desire. With a sigh, half of pain, half of relief, she seated herself +at the table, and opening its one deep drawer with a little key which +she always wore round her neck, she began to turn over her beloved pile +of manuscript, and this occupied her for several minutes. Presently she +looked up, her eyes growing brilliant with thought, and a smile on her +lips. + +"I really think it might do!" she said, aloud--"I should not be afraid +to try! Who knows what might happen? I can but fail--or succeed. If I +fail, I shall have had my lesson--if I succeed--" + +She leaned her head on her two hands, ruffling up her pretty hair into +soft golden-brown rings. + +"If I succeed!--ah!--if I do! Then I'll pay back everything I owe to +Dad and Briar Farm!--oh, no! I can never pay back my debt to Briar +Farm!--that would be impossible! Why, the very fields and trees and +flowers and birds have made me happy!--happier than I shall ever be +after I have said good-bye to them all!--good-bye even to the Sieur +Amadis!" + +Quick tears sprang to her eyes--and the tapering light of the candle +looked blurred and dim. + +"Yes, after all," she went on, still talking to the air, "it's better +and braver to try to do something in the world, rather than throw +myself upon Robin, and be cowardly enough to take him for a husband +when I don't love him. Just for comfort and shelter and Briar Farm! It +would be shameful. And I could not marry a man unless I loved him quite +desperately!--I could not! I'm not sure that I like the idea of +marriage at all,--it fastens a man and woman together for life, and the +time might come when they would grow tired of each other. How cruel and +wicked it would be to force them to endure each other's company when +they perhaps wished the width of the world between them! No--I don't +think I should care to be married--certainly not to Robin." + +She put her manuscript by, and shut and locked the drawer containing +it. Then she went to the open lattice window and looked out--and +thought of the previous night, when Robin had swung himself up on the +sill to talk to her, and they had been all unaware that Ned Landon was +listening down below. A flush of anger heated her cheeks as she +recalled this and all that Robin had told her of the unprepared attack +Landon had made upon him and the ensuing fight between them. But now? +Was it not very strange that Landon should apparently be in such high +favour with Hugo Jocelyn that he had actually been allowed to stay in +the market-town and enjoy a holiday, which for him only meant a bout of +drunkenness? She could not understand it, and her perplexity increased +the more she thought of it. Leaning far out over the window-sill, she +gazed long and lovingly across the quiet stretches of meadowland, +shining white in the showered splendour of the moon--the tall +trees--the infinite and harmonious peace of the whole scene,--then, +shutting the lattice, she pulled the curtains across it, and taking her +lit candle, went to her secluded inner sleeping-chamber, where, in the +small, quaintly carved four-poster bed, furnished with ancient tapestry +and lavendered linen, and covered up under a quilt embroidered three +centuries back by the useful fingers of the wife of Sieur Amadis de +Jocelin, she soon fell into a sound and dreamless slumber. + +The hours moved on, bearing with them different destinies to millions +of different human lives, and the tall old clock in the great hall of +Briar Farm told them off with a sonorous chime and clangour worthy of +Westminster itself. It was a quiet night; there was not a breath of +wind to whistle through crack or key-hole, or swing open an unbolted +door,--and Hero, the huge mastiff that always slept "on guard" just +within the hall entrance, had surely no cause to sit up suddenly on his +great haunches and listen with uplifted ears to sounds which were to +any other creature inaudible. Yet listen he did--sharply and intently. +Raising his massive head he snuffed the air--then suddenly began to +tremble as with cold, and gave vent to a long, low, dismal moan. It was +a weird noise--worse than positive howling, and the dog himself seemed +distressfully conscious that he was expressing something strange and +unnatural. Two or three times he repeated this eerie muffled cry--then, +lying down again, he put his nose between his great paws, and, with a +deep shivering sigh, appeared to resign himself to the inevitable. +There followed several moments of tense silence. Then came a sudden +dull thud overhead, as of a heavy load falling or being thrown down, +and a curious inexplicable murmur like smothered choking or groaning. +Instantly the great dog sprang erect and raced up the staircase like a +mad creature, barking furiously. The house was aroused--doors were +flung open--Priscilla rushed from her room half dressed--and Innocent +ran along the corridor in her little white nightgown, her feet bare, +and her hair falling dishevelled over her shoulders. + +"What is it?" she cried piteously--"Oh, do tell me! What is it?" + +Robin Clifford, hearing the dog's persistent barking, had hastily +donned coat and trousers and now appeared on the scene. + +"Hero, Hero!" he called--"Quiet, Hero!" + +But Hero had bounded to his master Jocelyn's door and was pounding +against it with all the force of his big muscular body, apparently +seeking to push or break it open. Robin laid one hand on the animal's +collar and pulled him back--then tried the door himself--it was locked. + +"Uncle Hugo!" + +There was no answer. + +He turned to one of the frightened servants who were standing near. His +face was very pale. + +"Fetch me a hammer," he said--"Something--anything that will force the +lock. Innocent!"--and with deep tenderness he took her little cold +hands in his own--"I wish you would go away!" + +"Why?" and she looked at him with eyes full of terror. "Oh no, no! Let +me be with you--let me call him!"--and she knelt outside the closed +door--"Dad! Dear Dad! I want to speak to you! Mayn't I come in? I'm so +frightened--do let me come in. Dad!" + +But the silence remained unbroken. + +"Priscilla!"--and Robin beckoned to her--"keep Innocent beside you--I'm +afraid--" + +Priscilla nodded, turning her head aside a moment to wipe away the +tears that were gathering in her eyes,--then she put an arm round +Innocent's waist. + +"Don't kneel there, lovey," she whispered--"It's no good and you're in +the way when they open the door. Come with me!--there's a dear!"--and +she drew the trembling little figure tenderly into her arms. +"There!--that'll be a bit warmer!" and she signed to one of the farm +maids near her to fetch a cloak which she carefully wrapped round the +girl's shoulders. Just then the hammer was brought with other tools, +and Robin, to save any needless clamour, took a chisel and inserted it +in such a manner as should most easily force the catch of the door--but +the lock was an ancient and a strong one, and would not yield for some +time. At last, with an extra powerful and dexterous movement of his +hand, it suddenly gave way--and he saw what he would have given worlds +that Innocent should not have seen--old Hugo lying face forward on the +floor, motionless. There was a rush and a wild cry-- + +"Dad! Dad!" + +She was beside him in a moment, trying with all her slight strength to +lift his head and turn his face. + +"Help me--oh, help me!" she wailed. "He has fainted--we must lift +him--get some one to lift him on the bed. It is only a faint--he will +recover--get some brandy and send for the doctor. Don't lose time!--for +Heaven's sake be quick! Robin, make them hurry!" + +Robin had already whispered his orders,--and two of the farm lads, +roused from sleep and hastily summoned, were ready to do what he told +them. With awed, hushed movements they lifted the heavy fallen body of +their master between them and laid it gently down on the bed. As the +helpless head dropped back on the pillow they saw that all was +over,--the pinched ashen grey of the features and the fast glazing eyes +told their own fatal story--there was no hope. But Innocent held the +cold hand of the dead man to her warm young bosom, endeavouring to take +from it its cureless chill. + +"He will be better soon," she said,--"Priscilla, bring me that +brandy--just a little will revive him, I'm sure. Why do you stand there +crying? You surely don't think he's dead?--No, no, that isn't possible! +It isn't possible, is it, Robin? He'll come to himself in a few +minutes--a fainting fit may last quite a long time. I wish he had not +locked his door--we could have been with him sooner." + +So she spoke, tremblingly nursing the dead hand in her bosom. No one +present had the heart to contradict her--and Priscilla, with the tears +running down her face, brought the brandy she asked for and held it +while she tenderly moistened the lips of the corpse and tried to force +a few drops between the clenched teeth--in vain. This futile attempt +frightened her, and she looked at Robin Clifford with a wild air. + +"I cannot make him swallow it," she said--"Can you, Robin? He looks so +grey and cold!--but his lips are quite warm." + +Robin, restraining the emotion that half choked him and threatened to +overflow in womanish weeping, went up to her and tried to coax her away +from the bedside. + +"Dear, if you could leave him for a little it would perhaps be better," +he said. "He might--he might recover sooner. We have sent for the +doctor--he will be here directly--" + +"I will stay here till he comes," replied the girl, quietly. "How can +you think I would leave Dad when he's ill? If we could only rouse him a +little--" + +Ah, that "if"! If we could only rouse our beloved ones who fall into +that eternal sleep, would not all the riches and glories of the world +seem tame in comparison with such joy! Innocent had never seen +death--she could not realise that this calm irresponsiveness, this cold +and stiffening rigidity, meant an end to the love and care she had +known all her life--love and care which would never be replaced in +quite the same way! + +The first peep of a silver dawn began to peer through the lattice +window, and as she saw this suggestion of wakening life, a sudden dread +clutched at her heart and made it cold. + +"It will be morning soon," she said--"Priscilla, when will the doctor +come?" + +Scarcely had she said the words when the doctor entered. He took a +comprehensive glance round the room,--at the still form on the bed--at +the little crouching girl--figure beside it--at Priscilla, trembling +and tearful--at Robin, deadly pale and self-restrained--at the +farm-lads and servants. + +"When did this happen?" he said. + +Robin told him. + +"I see!" he said. "He must have fallen forward on getting out of bed. I +rather expected a sudden seizure of this kind." He made his brief +examination. The eyes of the dead man were open and glassily staring +upward--he gently closed the lids over them and pressed them down. + +"Nothing to be done," he went on, gently--"His end was painless." + +Innocent had risen--she had laid the cold hand of the corpse back on +its breast--and she stood gazing vacantly before her in utter misery. + +"Nothing to be done?" she faltered--"Do you mean that you cannot rouse +him? Will he never speak to me again?" + +The doctor looked at her gravely and kindly. + +"Not in this world, my dear," he said--"in the next--perhaps! Let us +hope so!" + +She put her hand up to her forehead with a bewildered gesture. + +"He is dead!" she cried--"Dead! Oh, Robin, Robin! I can't believe +it!--it isn't true! Dad, dear Dad! My only friend! Good-bye--good-bye, +Dad!--good-bye, Briar Farm--good-bye to everything--oh, Dad!" + +Her voice quavered and broke in a passion of tears. + +"I loved him as if he were my own father," she sobbed. "And he loved me +as if I were his own child! Oh, Dad, darling Dad! We can never love +each other again!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The news of Farmer Jocelyn's sudden death was as though a cloud-burst +had broken over the village, dealing utter and hopeless destruction. To +the little community of simple workaday folk living round Briar Farm it +was a greater catastrophe than the death of any king. Nothing else was +talked of. Nothing was done. Men stood idly about, looking at each +other in a kind of stupefied consternation,--women chattered and +whispered at their cottage doors, shaking their heads with all that +melancholy profundity of wisdom which is not wise till after the +event,--the children were less noisy in their play, checked by the +grave faces of their parents--the very dogs seemed to know that +something had occurred which altered the aspect of ordinary daily +things. The last of the famous Jocelyns was no more! It seemed +incredible. And Briar Farm? What would become of Briar Farm? + +"There ain't none o' th' owd folk left now" said one man, lighting his +pipe slowly--"It's all over an' done wi'. Mister Clifford, he's good +enow--but he ain't a Jocelyn, though a Jocelyn were his mother. 'Tis +the male side as tells. An' he's young, an' he'll want change an' +rovin' about like all young men nowadays, an' the place'll be broke up, +an' the timber felled, an' th' owd oak'll be sold to a dealer, an' +Merrikans'll come an' buy the pewter an' the glass an' the linen, an' +by-an'-bye we won't know there ever was such a farm at all--" + +"That's your style o' thinkin', is it?" put in another man standing by, +with a round straw hat set back upon his head in a fashion which gave +him the appearance of a village idiot--"Well, it's not mine! No, by no +means! There'll be a Will,--an' Mister Robin he'll find a Way! Briar +Farm'll allus be Briar Farm accordin' to MY mind!" + +"YOUR mind ain't much," growled the first speaker--"so don't ye go +settin' store by it. Lord, Lord! to think o' Farmer Jocelyn bein' gone! +Seems as if a right 'and 'ad bin cut off! Onny yesterday I met 'im +drivin' along the road at a tearin' pace, with Ned Landon sittin' +beside 'im--an' drivin' fine too, for the mare's a tricky one with a +mouth as 'ard as iron--but 'e held 'er firm--that 'e did!--no weakness +about 'im--an' 'e was talkin' away to Landon while 'e drove, 'ardly +lookin' right or left, 'e was that sure of hisself. An' now 'e's cold +as stone--who would a' thort it!" + +"Where's Landon?" asked the other man. + +"I dunno. He's nowhere about this mornin' that I've seen." + +At that moment a figure came into view, turning the corner of a lane at +the end of the scattered thatched cottages called "the village,"--a +portly, consequential-looking figure, which both men recognised as that +of the parson of the parish, and they touched their caps accordingly. +The Reverend William Medwin, M.A., was a great personage,--and his +"cure of souls" extended to three other villages outlying the one of +which Briar Farm was the acknowledged centre. + +"Good-morning!" he said, with affable condescension--"I hear that +Farmer Jocelyn died suddenly last night. Is it true?" + +Both men nodded gravely. + +"Yes, sir, it's true--more's the pity! It's took us all aback." + +"Ay, ay!" and Mr. Medwin nodded blandly--"No doubt-no doubt! But I +suppose the farm will go on just the same?--there will be no lack of +employment?" + +The man who was smoking looked doubtful. + +"Nobuddy can tell--m'appen the place will be sold--m'appen it won't. +The hands may be kept, or they may be given the sack. There's only Mr. +Clifford left now, an' 'e ain't a Jocelyn." + +"Does that matter?" and the reverend gentleman smiled with the superior +air of one far above all things of mere traditional sentiment. "There +is the girl--" + +"Ah, yes! There's the girl!" + +The speakers looked at one another. + +"Her position," continued Mr. Medwin, meditatively tracing a pattern on +the ground with the end of his walking-stick, "seems to me to be a +little unfortunate. But I presume she is really the daughter of our +deceased friend?" + +The man who was smoking took the pipe from his mouth and stared for a +moment. + +"Daughter she may be," he said, "but born out o' wedlock anyhow--an' +she ain't got no right to Briar Farm unless th' owd man 'as made 'er +legal. An' if 'e's done that it don't alter the muddle, 'cept in the +eyes o' the law which can twist ye any way--for she was born bastard, +an' there's never been a bastard Jocelyn on Briar Farm all the hundreds +o' years it's been standin'!" + +Mr. Medwin again interested himself in a dust pattern. + +"Ah, dear, dear!" he sighed--"Very sad, very sad! Our follies always +find us out, if not while we live, then when we die! I'm sorry! Farmer +Jocelyn was not a Churchman--no!--a regrettable circumstance!--still, +I'm sorry! He was a useful person in the parish--quite honest, I +believe, and a very fair and good master--" + +"None better!" chorussed his listeners. + +"True! None better. Well, well! I'll just go up to the house and see if +I can be of any service, or--or comfort---" + +One of the men smiled darkly. + +"Sartin sure Farmer Jocelyn's as dead as door-nails. If so be you are +a-goin' to Briar Farm, Mr. Medwin!" he said--"Why, you never set foot +in the place while 'e was a livin' man!" + +"Quite correct!" and Mr. Medwin nodded pleasantly--"I make it a rule +never to go where I'm not wanted." He paused, impressively,--conscious +that he had "scored." "But now that trouble has visited the house I +consider it my duty to approach the fatherless and the afflicted. +Good-day!" + +He walked off then, treading ponderously and wearing a composed and +serious demeanour. The men who had spoken with him were quickly joined +by two or three others. + +"Parson goin' to the Farm?" they enquired. + +"Ay!" + +"We'll 'ave gooseberries growin' on hayricks next!" declared a young, +rough-featured fellow in a smock--"anythin' can 'appen now we've lost +the last o' the Jocelyns!" + +And such was the general impression throughout the district. Men met in +the small public-houses and over their mugs of beer discussed the +possibilities of emigrating to Canada or New Zealand, for--"there'll be +no more farm work worth doin' round 'ere"--they all declared--"Mister +Jocelyn wanted MEN, an' paid 'em well for workin' LIKE men!--but it'll +all be machines now." + +Meanwhile, the Reverend Mr. Medwin, M.A., had arrived at Briar Farm. +Everything was curiously silent. All the blinds were down--the +stable-doors were closed, and the stable-yard was empty. The sunlight +swept in broad slanting rays over the brilliant flower-beds which were +now at their gayest and best,--the doves lay sleeping on the roofs of +sheds and barns as though mesmerised and forbidden to fly. A marked +loneliness clouded the peaceful beauty of the place--a loneliness that +made itself seen and felt by even the most casual visitor. + +With a somewhat hesitating hand Mr. Medwin pulled the door-bell. In a +minute or two a maid answered the summons--her eyes were red with +weeping. At sight of the clergyman she looked surprised and a little +frightened. + +"How is Miss--Miss Jocelyn?" he enquired, softly--"I have only just +heard the sad news--" + +"She's not able to see anyone, sir," replied the maid, tremulously--"at +least I don't think so--I'll ask. She's very upset--" + +"Of course, of course!" said Mr. Medwin, soothingly--"I quite +understand! Please say I called! Mr. Clifford--" + +A figure stepped out from the interior darkness of the shadowed hall +towards him. + +"I am here," said Robin, gently--"Did you wish to speak to me? This is +a house of heavy mourning to-day!" + +The young man's voice shook,--he was deadly pale, and there was a +strained look in his eyes of unshed tears. Mr. Medwin was conscious of +nervous embarrassment. + +"Indeed, indeed I know it is!" he murmured--"I feel for you most +profoundly! So sudden a shock too!--I--I thought that perhaps Miss +Jocelyn--a young girl struck by her first great loss and sorrow, might +like to see me--" + +Robin Clifford looked at him in silence for a moment. The consolations +of the Church! Would they mean anything to Innocent? He wondered. + +"I will ask her," he said at last, abruptly--"Will you step inside?" + +Mr. Medwin accepted the suggestion, taking off his hat as he crossed +the threshold, and soon found himself in the quaint sitting-room where, +but two days since, Hugo Jocelyn had told Innocent all her true +history. He could not help being impressed by its old-world peace and +beauty, furnished as it was in perfect taste, with its window-outlook +on a paradise of happy flowers rejoicing in the sunlight. The fragrance +of sweet lavender scented the air, and a big china bowl of roses in the +centre of the table gave a touch of tender brightness to the old oak +panelling on the walls. + +"There are things in this room that are priceless!" soliloquised the +clergyman, who was something of a collector--"If the place comes under +the hammer I shall try to pick up a few pieces." + +He smiled, with the pleased air of one who feels that all things must +have an end--either by the "hammer" or otherwise,--even a fine old +house, the pride and joy of a long line of its owners during three +hundred years. And then he started, as the door opened slowly and +softly and a girl stood before him, looking more like a spirit than a +mortal, clad in a plain white gown, with a black ribbon threaded +through her waving fair hair. She was pale to the very lips, and her +eyes were swollen and heavy with weeping. Timidly she held out her hand. + +"It is kind of you to come," she said,--and paused. + +He, having taken her hand and let it go again, stood awkwardly mute. It +was the first time he had seen Innocent in her home surroundings, and +he had hardly noticed her at all when he had by chance met her in her +rare walks through the village and neighbourhood, so that he was +altogether unprepared for the refined delicacy and grace of her +appearance. + +"I am very sorry to hear of your sad bereavement," he began, at last, +in a conventional tone--"very sorry indeed--" + +She looked at him curiously. + +"Are you? I don't think you can be sorry, because you did not know +him--if you had known him, you would have been really grieved--yes, I +am sure you would. He was such a good man!--one of the best in all the +world! I'm glad you have come to see me, because I have often wanted to +speak to you--and perhaps now is the right time. Won't you sit down?" + +He obeyed her gesture, surprised more or less by her quiet air of sad +self-possession. He had expected to offer the usual forms of religious +consolation to a sort of uneducated child or farm-girl, nervous, +trembling and tearful,--instead of this he found a woman whose grief +was too deep and sincere to be relieved by mere talk, and whose +pathetic composure and patience were the evident result of a highly +sensitive mental organisation. + +"I have never seen death before," she said, in hushed tones--"except in +birds and flowers and animals--and I have cried over the poor things +for sorrow that they should be taken away out of this beautiful world. +But with Dad it is different. He was afraid--afraid of suffering and +weakness--and he was taken so quickly that he could hardly have felt +anything--so that his fears were all useless. And I can hardly believe +he is dead--actually dead--can you? But of course you do not believe in +death at all--the religion you teach is one of eternal life--eternal +life and happiness." + +Mr. Medwin's lips moved--he murmured something about "living again in +the Lord." + +Innocent did not hear,--she was absorbed in her own mental problem and +anxious to put it before him. + +"Listen!" she said--"When Priscilla told me Dad was really dead--that +he would never get off the bed where he lay so cold and white and +peaceful,--that he would never speak to me again, I said she was +wrong--that it could not be. I told her he would wake presently and +laugh at us all for being so foolish as to think him dead. Even Hero, +our mastiff, does not believe it, for he has stayed all morning by the +bedside and no one dare touch him to take him away. And just now +Priscilla has been with me, crying very much--and she says I must not +grieve,--because Dad is gone to a better world. Then surely he must be +alive if he is able to go anywhere, must he not? I asked her what she +knew about this better world, and she cried again and said indeed she +knew nothing except what she had been taught in her Catechism. I have +read the Catechism and it seems to me very stupid and +unnatural--perhaps because I do not understand it. Can you tell me +about this better world?" + +Mr. Medwin's lips moved again. He cleared his throat. + +"I'm afraid," he observed--"I'm very much afraid, my poor child, that +you have been brought up in a sad state of ignorance." + +Innocent did not like being called a "poor child"--and she gave a +little gesture of annoyance. + +"Please do not pity me," she said, with a touch of hauteur--"I do not +wish that! I know it is difficult for me to explain things to you as I +see them, because I have never been taught religion from a Church. I +have read about the Virgin and Christ and the Saints and all those +pretty legends in the books that belonged to the Sieur Amadis--but he +lived three hundred years ago and he was a Roman Catholic, as all those +French noblemen were at that time." + +Mr. Medwin stared at her in blank bewilderment. Who was the Sieur +Amadis? She went on, heedless of his perplexity. + +"Dad believed in a God who governed all things rightly,--I have heard +him say that God managed the farm and made it what it is. But he never +spoke much about it--and he hated the Church--" + +The reverend gentleman interrupted her with a grave uplifted hand. + +"I know!" he sighed--"Ah yes, I know! A dreadful thing!--a shocking +attitude of mind!' I fear he was not saved!" + +She looked straightly at him. + +"I don't see what you mean," she said--"He was quite a good man--" + +"Are you sure of that?" and Mr. Medwin fixed his shallow brown eyes +searchingly upon her. "Our affections are often very deceptive--" + +A flush of colour overspread her pale cheeks. + +"Indeed I am very sure!" she answered, steadily--"He was a good man. +There was never a stain on his character--though he allowed people to +think wrong things of him for my sake. That was his only fault." + +He was silent, waiting for her next word. + +"I think perhaps I ought to tell you," she continued--"because then you +will be able to judge him better and spare his memory from foolish and +wicked scandal. He was not my father--I was only his adopted daughter." + +Mr. Medwin gave a slight cough--a cough of incredulity. "Adopted" is a +phrase often used to cover the brand of illegitimacy. + +"I never knew my own history till the other day," she said, slowly and +sadly. "The doctor came to see Dad, with a London specialist, a friend +of his--and they told him he had not long to live. After that Dad made +up his mind that I must learn all the truth of myself--oh!--what a +terrible truth it was!--I thought my heart would break! It was so +strange--so cruel! I had grown up believing myself to be Dad's own, +very own daughter!--and I had been deceived all my life!--for he told +me I was nothing but a nameless child, left on his hands by a stranger!" + +Mr. Medwin opened his small eyes in amazement,--he was completely taken +aback. He tried to grasp the bearings of this new aspect of the +situation thus presented to him, but could not realise anything save +what in his own mind was he pleased to call a "cock-and-bull" story. + +"Most extraordinary!" he ejaculated, at last--"Did he give you no clue +at all as to your actual parentage?" + +Innocent shook her head. + +"How could he? A man on horseback arrived here suddenly one very stormy +night, carrying me in his arms--I was just a little baby--and asked +shelter for me, promising to come and fetch me in the morning--but he +never came--and Dad never knew who he was. I was kept here out of pity +at first--then Dad began to love me--" + +The suppressed tears rose to her eyes and began to fall. + +"Priscilla can tell you all about it," she continued, tremulously--"if +you wish to know more. I am only explaining things a little because I +do want you to understand that Dad was really a good man though he did +not go to Church--and he must have been 'saved,' as you put it, for he +never did anything unworthy of the name of Jocelyn!" + +The clergyman thought a moment. + +"You are not Miss Jocelyn, then?" he said. + +She met his gaze with a sorrowful calmness. + +"No. I am nobody. I have not even been baptised." + +He sprang up from his chair, horrified. + +"Not baptised!" he exclaimed--"Not baptised! Do you mean to tell me +that Farmer Jocelyn never attended to this imperative and sacred duty +on your behalf?--that he allowed you to grow up as a heathen?" + +She remained unmoved by his outburst. + +"I am not a heathen," she said, gently--"I believe in God--as Dad +believed. I'm sorry I have not been baptised--but it has made no +difference to me that I know of--" + +"No difference!" and the clergyman rolled up his eyes and shook his +head ponderously--"You poor unfortunate girl, it has made all the +difference in the world! You are unregenerate--your soul is not washed +clean--all your sins are upon you, and you are not redeemed!" + +She looked at him tranquilly. + +"That is all very sad for me if it is true," she said--"but it is not +my fault. I could not help it. Dad couldn't help it either--he did not +know what to do. He expected that I might be claimed and taken away any +day--and he had no idea what name to give me--except Innocent--which is +a name I suppose no girl ever had before. He used to get money from +time to time in registered envelopes, bearing different foreign +postmarks--and there was always a slip of paper inside with the words +'For Innocent' written on it. So that name has been my only name. You +see, it was very difficult for him--poor Dad!--besides, he did not +believe in baptism--" + +"Then he was an infidel!" declared Mr. Medwin, hotly. + +Her serious blue eyes regarded him reproachfully. + +"I don't think you should say that--it isn't quite kind on your part," +she replied--"He always thanked God for prosperity, and never +complained when things went wrong--that is not being an infidel! Even +when he knew he was hopelessly ill, he never worried anyone about +it--he was only just a little afraid-and that was perfectly natural. +We're all a little afraid, you know--though we pretend we're not--none +of us like the idea of leaving this lovely world and the sunshine for +ever. Even Hamlet was afraid,--Shakespeare makes him say so. And when +one has lived all one's life on Briar Farm--such a sweet peaceful +home!--one can hardly fancy anything better, even in a next world! +No--Dad was not an infidel--please do not think such a thing!--he only +died last night--and I feel as if it would hurt him." + +Mr. Medwin was exceedingly embarrassed and annoyed--there was something +in the girl's quiet demeanour that suggested a certain intellectual +superiority to himself. He hummed and hawed, lurking various unpleasant +throaty noises. + +"Well--to me, of course, it is a very shocking state of affairs," he +said, irritably--"I hardly think I can be of any use--or consolation to +you in the matters you have spoken of, which are quite outside my scope +altogether. If you have anything to say about the funeral +arrangements--but I presume Mr. Clifford--" + +"Mr. Clifford is master here now," she answered--"He will give his own +orders, and will do all that is best and wisest. As I have told you, I +am a name-less nobody, and have no right in this house at all. I'm +sorry if I have vexed or troubled you--but as you called I thought it +was right to tell you how I am situated. You see, when poor Dad is +buried I shall be going away at once--and I had an idea you might +perhaps help me--you are God's minister." + +He wrinkled up his brows and looked frowningly at her. + +"You are leaving Briar Farm?" he asked. + +"I must. I have no right to stay." + +"Is Mr. Clifford turning you out?" + +A faint, sad smile crept round the girl's pretty, sensitive mouth. + +"Ah, no! No, indeed! He would not turn a dog out that had once taken +food from his hand," she said. "It is my own wish entirely. When Dad +was alive there was something for me to do in taking care of him--but +now!--there is no need for me--I should feel in the way--besides, I +must try to earn my own living." + +"What do you propose to do?" asked Mr. Medwin, whose manner to her had +completely changed from the politely patronising to the sharply +aggressive--"Do you want a situation?" + +She lifted her eyes to his fat, unpromising face. + +"Yes--I should like one very much--I could be a lady's maid, I think, I +can sew very well. But--perhaps you would baptise me first?" + +He gave a sound between a cough and a grunt. + +"Eh? Baptise you?" + +"Yes,--because if I am unregenerate, and my soul is not clean, as you +say, no one would take me--not even as a lady's maid." + +Her quaint, perfectly simple way of putting the case made him angry. + +"I'm afraid you are not sufficiently aware of the importance of the +sacred rite,"--he said, severely--"At your age you would need to be +instructed for some weeks before you could be considered fit and +worthy. Then,--you tell me you have no name!--Innocent is not a name at +all for a woman--I do not know who you are--you are ignorant of your +parentage--you may have been born out of wedlock--" + +She coloured deeply. + +"I am not sure of that," she said, in a low tone. + +"No--of course you are not sure,--but I should say the probability is +that you are illegitimate"--and the reverend gentleman took up his hat +to go. "The whole business is very perplexing and difficult. However, I +will see what can be done for you--but you are in a very awkward +corner!--very awkward indeed! Life will not be very easy for you, I +fear!" + +"I do not expect ease," she replied--"I have been very happy till +now--and I am grateful for the past. I must make my own future." + +Her eyes filled with tears as she looked out through the open window at +the fair garden which she herself had tended for so long--and she saw +the clergyman's portly form through a mist of sorrow as in half-hearted +fashion he bade her good-day. + +"I hope--I fervently trust--that God will support you in your +bereavement," he said, unctuously--"I had intended before leaving to +offer up a prayer with you for the soul of the departed and for your +own soul--but the sad fact of your being unbaptised places me in a +difficulty. But I shall not fail personally to ask our Lord to prepare +you for the unfortunate change in your lot!" + +"Thank you!" she replied, quietly--and without further salute he left +her. + +She stood for a moment considering--then sat down by the window, +looking at the radiant flowerbeds, with all their profusion of blossom. +She wondered dreamily how they could show such brave, gay colouring +when death was in the house, and the aching sense of loss and sorrow +weighted the air as with darkness. A glitter of white wings flashed +before her eyes, and her dove alighted on the window-sill,--she +stretched out her hand and the petted bird stepped on her little rosy +palm with all its accustomed familiarity and confidence. She caressed +it tenderly. + +"Poor Cupid!" she murmured--"You are like me--you are +unregenerate!--you have never been baptised!--your soul has not been +washed clean!--and all your sins are on your head! Yes, Cupid!--we are +very much alike!--for I don't suppose you know your own father and +mother any more than I know mine! And yet God made you--and He has +taken care of you--so far!" + +She stroked the dove's satiny plumage gently--and then drew back a +little into shadow as she saw Robin Clifford step out from the porch +into the garden and hurriedly interrupt the advance of a woman who just +then pushed open the outer gate--a slatternly-looking creature with +dark dishevelled hair and a face which might have been handsome, but +for its unmistakable impress of drink and dissipation. + +"Eh, Mr. Clifford--it's you, is it?" she exclaimed, in shrill tones. +"An' Farmer Jocelyn's dead!--who'd a' thought it! But I'd 'ave 'ad a +bone to pick with 'im this mornin', if he'd been livin'--that I +would!--givin' sack to Ned Landon without a warning to me!" + +Innocent leaned forward, listening eagerly, with an uncomfortably +beating heart. Through all the miserable, slow, and aching hours that +had elapsed since Hugo Jocelyn's death, there had been a secret anxiety +in her mind concerning Ned Landon and the various possibilities +involved in his return to the farm, when he should learn that his +employer was no more, and that Robin was sole master. + +"I've come up to speak with ye," continued the woman,--"It's pretty +'ard on me to be left in the ditch, with a man tumbling ye off his +horse an' ridin' away where ye can't get at 'im!" She laughed harshly. +"Ned's gone to 'Merriker!" + +"Gone to America!"--Robin's voice rang out in sharp accents of +surprise--"Ned Landon? Why, when did you hear that?" + +"Just now--his own letter came with the carrier's cart--he left the +town last night and takes ship from Southampton to-day. And why? +Because Farmer Jocelyn gave him five hundred pounds to do it! So +there's some real news for ye!" + +"Five hundred pounds!" echoed Clifford--"My Uncle Hugo gave him five +hundred pounds!" + +"Ay, ye may stare!"--and the woman laughed again--"And the devil has +taken it all,--except a five-pun' note which he sends to me to 'keep me +goin',' he says. Like his cheek! I'm not his wife, that's true!--but +I'm as much as any wife--an' there's the kid--" + +Robin glanced round apprehensively at the open window. + +"Hush!" he said--"don't talk so loud--" + +"The dead can't hear," she said, scornfully--"an' Ned says in his +letter that he's been sent off all on account of you an' your light o' +love--Innocent, she's called--a precious 'innocent' SHE is!--an' that +the old man has paid 'im to go away an' 'old his tongue! So it's all +YOUR fault, after all, that I'm left with the kid to rub along +anyhow;--he might ave married me in a while, if he'd stayed. I'm only +Jenny o' Mill-Dykes now--just as I've always been--the toss an' catch +of every man!--but I 'ad a grip on Ned with the kid, an' he'd a' done +me right in the end if you an' your precious 'innocent' 'adn't been in +the way--" + +Robin made a quick stride towards her. + +"Go out of this place!" he said, fiercely--"How dare you come here with +such lies!" + +He stopped, half choked with rage. + +Jenny looked at him and laughed--then snapped her fingers in his face. + +"Lies, is it?" she said--"Well, lies make good crops, an' Farmer +Jocelyn's money'll 'elp them to grow! Lies, indeed! An' how dare I come +here? Why, because your old uncle is stiff an' cold an' can't speak no +more--an' no one would know what 'ad become o' Ned Landon if I wasn't +here to tell them an' show his own letter! I'll tell them all, right +enough!--you bet your life I will!" + +She turned her back on him and began to walk, or rather slouch, out of +the garden. He went up close to her, his face white with passion. + +"If you say one word about Miss Jocelyn--" he began. + +"Miss Jocelyn!" she exclaimed, shrilly--"That's good!--we ARE +grand!"--and she dropped him a mock curtsey--"Miss Jocelyn! There ain't +no 'Miss Jocelyn,' an' you know it as well as I do! So don't try to +fool ME! Look here, Mr. Robin Clifford"--and she confronted him, with +arms akimbo--"you're not a Jocelyn neither!--there's not a Jocelyn left +o' the old stock--they're all finished with the one lyin' dead upstairs +yonder--and I'll tell ye what!--you an' your 'innocent' are too 'igh +an' mighty altogether for the likes o' we poor villagers--seein' ye +ain't got nothin' to boast of, neither of ye! You've lost me my +man--an' I'll let everyone know how an' why!" + +With that she went, banging the gate after her--and Clifford stood +inert, furious within himself, yet powerless to do anything save +silently endure the taunts she had flung at him. He could have cursed +himself for the folly he had been guilty of in telling his uncle about +the fight between him and Landon--for he saw now that the old man had +secretly worried over the possible harm that might be done to Innocent +through Landon's knowledge of her real story, which he had learned +through his spying and listening. Whatever that harm could be, was now +intensified--and scandal, beginning as a mere whispered suggestion, +would increase to loud and positive assertion ere long. + +"Poor Uncle Hugo!" and the young man looked up sorrowfully at the +darkened windows of the room where lay in still and stern repose all +that was mortal of the last of the Jocelyns--"What a mistake you have +made! You meant so well!--you thought you were doing a wise thing in +sending Landon away--and at such a cost!--but you did not know what he +had left behind him--Jenny of the Mill-Dykes, whose wicked tongue would +blacken an angel's reputation!" + +A hand touched him lightly on the arm from behind. He turned swiftly +round and confronted Innocent--she stood like a little figure of white +porcelain, holding her dove against her breast. + +"Poor Robin!" she said, softly--"Don't worry! I heard everything." + +He stared down upon her. + +"You heard--?" + +"Yes. I was at the open window there--I couldn't help hearing. It was +Jenny of the Mill-Dykes--I know her by sight, but not to speak +to--Priscilla told me something about her. She isn't a nice woman, is +she?" + +"Nice?" Robin gasped--"No, indeed! She is--Well!--I must not tell you +what she is!" + +"No!--you must not--I don't want to hear. But she ought to be Ned +Landon's wife--I understood that!--and she has a little child. I +understood that too. And she knows everything about me--and about that +night when you climbed up on my window-sill and sat there so long. It +was a pity you did that, wasn't it?" + +"Yes!--when there was a dirty spy in hiding!" said Robin, hotly. + +"Ah!--we never imagined such a thing could be on Briar Farm!"--and she +sighed--"but it can't be helped now. Poor darling Dad! He parted with +all that money to get rid of the man he thought would do me wrong. Oh +Robin, he loved me!" + +The tears gathered in her eyes and fell slowly like bright raindrops on +the downy feathers of the dove she held. + +"He loved you, and I love you!" murmured Robin, tenderly. "Dear little +girl, come indoors and don't cry any more! Your sweet eyes will be +spoilt, and Uncle Hugo could never bear to see you weeping. All the +tears in the world won't bring him back to us here,--but we can do our +best to please him still, so that if his spirit has ever been troubled, +it can be at peace. Come in and let us talk quietly together--we must +look at things squarely and straightly, and we must try to do all the +things he would have wished--" + +"All except one thing," she said, as they went together side by side +into the house--"the one thing that can never be!" + +"The one thing--the chief thing that shall be!" answered Robin, +fiercely--"Innocent, you must be my wife!" + +She lifted her tear-wet eyes to his with a grave and piteous appeal +which smote him to the heart by its intense helplessness and sorrow. + +"Robin,--dear Robin!" she said--"Don't make it harder for me than it +is! Think for a moment! I am nameless--a poor, unbaptised, deserted +creature who was flung on your uncle's charity eighteen years ago--I am +a stranger and intruder in this old historic place--I have no right to +be here at all--only through your uncle's kindness and yours. And now +things have happened so cruelly for me that I am supposed to be to +you--what I am not,"--and the deep colour flushed her cheeks and brow. +"I have somehow--through no fault of my own--lost my name!--though I +had no name to lose--except Innocent!--which, as the clergyman told me, +is no name for a woman. Do you not see that if I married you, people +would say it was because you were compelled to marry me?--that you had +gone too far to escape from me?--that, in fact, we were a sort of copy +of Ned Landon and Jenny of the Mill-Dykes?" + +"Innocent!" + +He uttered the name in a tone of indignant and despairing protest. They +were in the oak parlour together, and she went slowly to the window and +let her pet dove fly. + +"Ah, yes! Innocent!" she repeated, sadly--"But you must let me go, +Robin!--just as I have let my dove fly, so you must let me fly +also--far, far away!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +No more impressive scene was ever witnessed in a country village than +the funeral of "the last of the Jocelyns,"--impressive in its +solemnity, simplicity and lack of needless ceremonial. The coffin, +containing all that was mortal of the sturdy, straightforward farmer, +whose "old-world" ways of work and upright dealing with his men had for +so long been the wonder and envy of the district, was placed in a low +waggon and covered with a curiously wrought, handwoven purple cloth +embroidered with the arms of the French knight "Amadis de Jocelin," +tradition asserting that this cloth had served as a pall for every male +Jocelyn since his time. The waggon was drawn by four glossy dark brown +cart-horses, each animal having known its master as a friend whose call +it was accustomed to obey, following him wherever he went. On the +coffin itself was laid a simple wreath of the "Glory" roses gathered +from the porch and walls of Briar Farm, and offered, as pencilled +faintly on a little scroll--"With a life's love and sorrow from +Innocent." A long train of mourners, including labourers, farm-lads, +shepherds, cowherds, stable-men and villagers generally, followed the +corpse to the grave,--Robin Clifford, as chief mourner and next-of-kin +to the dead man, walking behind the waggon with head down-bent and a +face on which intense grief had stamped such an impress as to make it +look far older than his years warranted. Groups of women stood about, +watching the procession with hard eager eyes, and tongues held in check +for a while, only to wag more vigorously than ever when the ceremony +should be over. Innocent, dressed in deep black for the first time in +her life, went by herself to the churchyard, avoiding the crowd--and, +hidden away among concealing shadows, she heard the service and watched +all the proceedings dry-eyed and heart-stricken. She could not weep any +more--there seemed no tears left to relieve the weight of her burning +brain. Robin had tenderly urged her to walk with him in the funeral +procession, but she refused. + +"How can I!--how dare I!" she said--"I am not his daughter--I am +nothing! The cruel people here know it!--and they would only say my +presence was an insult to the dead. Yes!--they would--NOW! He loved +me!--and I loved him!--but nobody outside ourselves thinks about that, +or cares. You would hardly believe it, but I have already been told how +wicked it was of me to be dressed in white when the clergyman called to +see me the morning after Dad's death--well, I had no other colour to +wear till Priscilla got me this sad black gown--it made me shudder to +put it on--it is like the darkness itself!--you know Dad always made me +wear white--and I feel as if I were vexing him somehow by wearing +black. Oh, Robin, be kind!--you always are!--let me go by myself and +watch Dad put to rest where nobody can see me. For after they have laid +him down and left him, they will be talking!" + +She was right enough in this surmise. Not one who saw Farmer Jocelyn's +coffin lowered into the grave failed to notice the wreath of "Glory" +roses that went with it--"from Innocent";--and her name was whispered +from mouth to mouth with meaning looks and suggestive nods. And when +Robin, with tears thick in his eyes, flung the first handfuls of earth +rattling down on the coffin lid, his heart ached to see the lovely +fragrant blossoms crushed under the heavy scattered mould, for it +seemed to his foreboding mind that they were like the delicate thoughts +and fancies of the girl he loved being covered by the soiling mud of +the world's cruelty and slander, and killed in the cold and darkness of +a sunless solitude. + +All was over at last,--the final prayer was said--the final benediction +was spoken, and the mourners gradually dispersed. The Reverend Mr. +Medwin, assisted by his young curate, had performed the ceremony, and +before retiring to the vestry to take off his surplice, he paused by +the newly-made grave to offer his hand and utter suitable condolences +to Robin Clifford. + +"It is a great and trying change for you," he said. "I suppose"--this +tentatively--"I suppose you will go on with the farm?" + +"As long as I live," answered Clifford, looking him steadily in the +face, "Briar Farm will be what it has always been." + +Mr. Medwin gave him a little appreciative bow. + +"We are very glad of that--very glad indeed!" he said--"Briar Farm is a +great feature--a very great feature!--indeed, one may say it is an +historical possession. Something would be lacking in the neighbourhood +if it were not kept up to its old tradition and--er--reputation. I +think we feel that--I think we feel it, do we not, Mr. Forwood?" here +turning to his curate with affable condescension. + +Mark Forwood, a clever-looking young man with kind eyes and intelligent +features, looked at Robin sympathetically. + +"I am quite sure," he said, "that Mr. Clifford will take as much pride +in the fine old place as his uncle did--but is there not Miss +Jocelyn?--the daughter will probably inherit the farm, will she not, as +nearest of kin?" + +Mr. Medwin coughed obtrusively--and Clifford felt the warm blood +rushing to his brows. Yet he resolved that the truth should be told, +for the honour of the dead man's name. + +"She is not my uncle's daughter," he said, quietly--"My uncle never +married. He adopted her when she was an infant--and she was as dear to +him as if she had been his own child. Of course she will be amply +provided for--there can be no doubt of that." + +Mr. Forwood raised his eyes and eyebrows together. + +"You surprise me!" he murmured. "Then--there is no Miss Jocelyn?" + +Again Robin coloured. But he answered, composedly-- + +"There is no Miss Jocelyn." + +Mr. Medwin's cough here troubled him considerably, and though it was a +fine day, he expressed a mild fear that he was standing too long by the +open grave in his surplice--he, therefore, retired, his curate +following him,--whereupon the sexton, a well-known character in the +village, approached to finish the sad task of committing "ashes to +ashes, dust to dust." + +"Eh, Mr. Clifford," remarked this worthy, as he stuck his spade down in +the heaped-up earth and leaned upon it,--"it's a black day, forbye the +summer sun! I never thort I'd a' thrown the mouls on the last Jocelyn. +For last he is, an' there'll never be another like 'im!" + +"You're right there, Wixton," said Robin, sadly--"I know the place can +never be the same without him. I shall do my best--but--" + +"Ay, ye'll do your best," agreed Wixton, with a foreboding shake of his +grizzled head--"but you're not a Jocelyn, an' your best'll be but a bad +crutch, though there's Jocelyn blood in ye by ye'r mother's side. +Howsomever it's not the same as the male line, do what we will an' say +what we like! It's not your fault, no, lad!"--this with a pitying +look--"an' no one's blamin' ye for what can't be 'elped--but it's not a +thing to be gotten over." + +Robin's grave nod of acquiescence was more eloquent than speech. + +Wixton dug his spade a little deeper into the pile of earth. + +"If Farmer Jocelyn 'ad been a marryin' man, why, that would a' been the +right thing," he went on--"He might a' had a fine strappin' son to come +arter 'im, a real born-an'-bred Jocelyn--" + +Robin listened with acute interest. Why did not Wixton mention +Innocent? Did he know she was not a Jocelyn? He waited, and Wixton went +on-- + +"But, ye see, 'e wouldn't have none o' that. An' he took the little gel +as was left with 'im the night o' the great storm nigh eighteen years +ago that blew down three of our biggest elms in the church-yard--" + +"Did you know?" exclaimed Clifford, eagerly--"Did you see--?" + +"I saw a man on 'orseback ride up to Briar Farm, 'oldin' a baby in +front o' him with one hand, and the reins in t'other--an' he came out +from the farm without the baby. Then one mornin' when Farmer Jocelyn +was a-walkin' with the baby in the fields I said to 'im, +secret-like--'That ain't your child!' an' he sez--'Ow do you know it +ain't?' An' I sez--' Because I saw it come with a stranger'--an' he +laughed an' said--'It may be mine for all that!' But I knew it worn't! +A nice little girl she is too,--Miss Innocent--poor soul! I'm downright +sorry for 'er, for she ain't got many friends in this village." + +"Why?" Robin asked, half mechanically. + +"Why? Well, she's a bit too dainty--like in 'er ways for one +thing--then there's gels who are arter YOU, Mister Clifford!--ay, ay, +ye know they are!--sharp 'ussies, all of 'em!--an' they can't abide +'ER, for they thinks you're a-goin' to marry 'er!--Lord forgive me that +I should be chitterin' 'ere about marryin' over a buryin'!--but that's +the trouble--an' it's the trouble all the world over, wimmin wantin' a +man, an' mad for their lives when they thinks another woman's arter +'im! Eh, eh! We should all get along better if there worn't no wimmin +jealousies, but bein' men we've got to put up with 'em. Are ye goin' +now, Mister?--Well, the Lord love ye an' comfort ye!--ye'll never meet +a finer man this side the next world than the one I'm puttin' a cold +quilt on!" + +Silently Clifford turned away, heavy-hearted and lost in perplexed +thought. What was best to be done for Innocent? This was the chief +question that presented itself to his mind. He could no longer deny the +fact that her position was difficult--almost untenable. Nameless, and +seemingly deserted by her kindred, if any such kindred still existed, +she was absolutely alone in life, now that Hugo Jocelyn was no more. As +he realised this to its fullest intensity, the deeper and more +passionate grew his love for her. + +"If she would only marry me!" he said under his breath, as he walked +home slowly from the church-yard--"It was Uncle Hugo's last wish!" + +Then across his brain flashed the memory of Ned Landon and his +malignant intention--born of baffled desire and fierce jealousy--to +tarnish the fair name of the girl he coveted,--then, his uncle's +quixotic and costly way of ridding himself of such an enemy at any +price. He understood now old Jocelyn's talk of his "bargain" on the +last night of his life,-and what a futile bargain it was, after +all!--for was not Jenny of the Mill-Dykes fully informed of the reason +why the bargain was made?--and she, the vilest-tongued woman in the +whole neighbourhood, would take delight in spreading the story far and +wide. Five Hundred Pounds paid down as "hush-money"!--so she would +report it--thus, even if he married Innocent it would be under the +shadow of a slur and slander. What was wisest to do under the +circumstances he could not decide--and he entered the smiling garden of +Briar Farm with the saddest expression on his face that anyone had ever +seen there. Priscilla met him as he came towards the house. + +"I thought ye'd never git here, Mister Robin," she said, anxiously--"Ye +haven't forgot there's folks in the hall 'avin' their 'wake' feed an' +they'll be wantin' to speak wi' ye presently. Mister Bayliss, which is +ye'r uncle's lawyer, 'e wants to see ye mighty partikler, an' there +ain't no one to say nothin' to 'em, for the dear little Innocent, she's +come back from the cold churchyard like a little image o' marble, an' +she's gone an' shut 'erself up in 'er own room, sayin' 'Ask Mister +Robin to excuse me'--poor child!--she's fair wore out, that she is! An' +you come into the big 'all where there's the meat and the wine laid +out, for funeral folk eats more than weddin' folk, bein' longer about +it an' a bit solemner in gettin' of it down." + +Robin looked at her with strained, haggard eyes. + +"Priscilla," he said, huskily--"Death is a horrible thing!" + +"Ay, that it is!" and Priscilla wiped the teardrops off her cheeks with +a corner of her apron--"An' I've often thought it seems a silly kind o' +business to bring us into the world at all for no special reason 'cept +to take us out of it again just as folks 'ave learned to know us a bit +and find us useful. Howsomever, there's no arguin' wi' the Almighty, +an' p'raps it's us as makes the worst o' death instead o' the best of +it. Now you go into the great hall, Mr. Robin--you're wanted there." + +He went, as desired,--and was received with a murmur of sympathy by +those assembled--a gathering made up of the head men about the farm, +and a few other personages less familiar to the village, but fairly +well known to him, such as corn and cattle dealers from the +neighbouring town who had for many years done business with Jocelyn in +preference to any other farmer. These came forward and cordially shook +hands with Robin, entering at once into conversation with him +concerning his future intentions. + +"We should like things to go on the same as if th' old man were alive," +said one, a miller,--"We don't like changes after all these years. But +whether you're up to it, my lad, or not, we don't know--and time'll +prove--" + +"Time WILL prove," answered Clifford, steadily. "You may rely upon it +that Briar Farm will be worked on the same methods which my uncle +practised and approved--and there will be no changes, except--the +inevitable one"--and he sighed,--"the want of the true master's brain +and hand." + +"Eh well! You'll do your best, lad!--I'm sure of that!" and the miller +grasped his hand warmly--"And we'll all stick by you! There's no farm +like Briar Farm in the whole country--that's my opinion!--it gives the +finest soil and the soundest crops to be got anywhere--you just manage +it as Farmer Jocelyn managed it, with men's work, and you'll come to no +harm! And, as I say, we'll all stick by you!" + +Robin thanked him, and then moved slowly in and out among the other +funeral guests, saying kindly things, and in his quiet, manly way +creating a good impression among them, and making more friends than he +himself was aware of. Presently Mr. Bayliss, a mild-looking man with +round spectacles fixed very closely up against his eyes, approached +him, beckoning him with one finger. + +"When you're ready, Mr. Clifford," he said, "I should like to see you +in the best parlour--and the young lady--I believe she is called +Innocent?--yes, yes!--and the young lady also. Oh, there's no hurry--no +hurry!--better wait till the guests have gone, as what I have to say +concerns only yourself--and--er--yes--er, the young lady before +mentioned. And also a--a"--here he pulled out a note-book from his +pocket and studied it through his owl-like glasses--"yes!--er, yes!--a +Miss Priscilla Priday--she must be present, if she can be found--I +believe she is on the premises?" + +"Priscilla is our housekeeper," said Robin--"and a faithful friend." + +"Yes--I--er--thought so--a devoted friend," murmured Mr. Bayliss, +meditatively--"and what a thing it is to have a devoted friend, Mr. +Clifford! Your uncle was a careful man!--very careful!--he knew whom to +trust--he thoroughly knew! Yes--WE don't all know--but HE did!" + +Robin made no comment. The murmuring talk of the funeral party went on, +buzzing in his ears like the noise of an enormous swarm of bees--he +watched men eating and drinking the good things Priscilla had provided +for the "honour of the farm"--and then, on a sudden impulse he slipped +out of the hall and upstairs to Innocent's room, where he knocked +softly at the door. She opened it at once, and stood before him--her +face white as a snowdrop, and her eyes heavy and strained with the +weight of unshed tears. + +"Dear," he said, gently--"you will be wanted downstairs in a few +minutes--Mr. Bayliss wishes you to be present when he reads Uncle +Hugo's will." + +She made a little gesture of pain and dissent. + +"I do not want to hear it," she said--"but I will come." + +He looked at her with anxiety and tenderness. + +"You have eaten nothing since early morning; you look so pale and +weak--let me get you something--a glass of wine." + +"No, thank you," she answered--"I could not touch a morsel--not just +yet. Oh, Robin, it hurts me to hear all those voices in the great +hall!--men eating and drinking there, as if he were still alive!--and +they have only just laid him down in the cold earth--so cold and dark!" + +She shuddered violently. + +"I do not think it is right," she went on--"to allow people to love +each other at all if death must separate them for ever. It seems only a +cruelty and wickedness. Now that I have seen what death can do, I will +never love anyone again!" + +"No--I suppose you will not," he said, somewhat bitterly--"yet, you +have never known what love is--you do not understand it." + +She sighed, deeply. + +"Perhaps not!" she said--"And I'm not sure that I want to understand +it--not now. What love I had in my heart is all buried--with Dad and +the roses. I am not the same girl any more--I feel a different +creature--grown quite old!" + +"You cannot feel older than I do," he replied--"but you do not think of +me at all,--why should you? I never used to think you selfish, +Innocent!--you have always been so careful and considerate of the +feelings of others--yet now!--well!--are you not so much absorbed in +your own grief as to be forgetful of mine? For mine is a double +grief--a double loss--I have lost my uncle and best friend--and I shall +lose you because you will not love me, though I love you with all my +heart and only want to make you happy!" + +Her sad eyes met his with a direct, half-reproachful gaze. + +"You think me selfish?" + +"No!--no, Innocent!--but--" + +"I see!" she said--"You think I ought to sacrifice myself to you, and +to Dad's last wish. You would expect me to spoil your life by marrying +you unwillingly and without love--" + +"I tell you you know nothing about love!" he interrupted her, +impatiently. + +"So you imagine," she answered quietly--"but I do know one thing--and +it is that no one who really loves a person wishes to see that person, +unhappy. To love anybody means that above all things in the world you +desire to see the beloved one well and prosperous and full of gladness. +You cannot love me or you would not wish me to do a thing that would +make me miserable. If I loved you, I would marry you and devote my life +to yours--but I do not love you, and, therefore, I should only make you +wretched if I became your wife. Do not let us talk of this any more--it +tires me out!" + +She passed her hand over her forehead with a weary gesture. + +"It is wrong to talk of ourselves at all when Dad is only just buried," +she continued. "You say Mr. Bayliss wants to see me--very well!--in a +few minutes I will come." + +She stepped back inside her little room and shut the door. Clifford +walked away, resentful and despairing. There was something in her +manner that struck him as new and foreign to her usual sweet and +equable nature,--a grave composure, a kind of intellectual hardness +that he had never before seen in her. And he wondered what such a +change might portend. + +Downstairs, the funeral party had broken up--many of the mourners had +gone, and others were going. Some lingered to the last possible moment +that their intimacy or friendship with the deceased would allow, +curious to hear something of the will--what the amount of the net cash +was that had been left, and how it had been disposed. But Mr. Bayliss, +the lawyer, was a cautious man, and never gave himself away at any +point. To all suggestive hints and speculative theories he maintained a +dignified reserve--and it was not until the last of the guests had +departed that he made his way to the vacant "best parlour," and sat +there with his chair pulled well up to the table and one or two +legal-looking documents in front of him. Robin Clifford joined him +there, taking a seat opposite to him--and both men waited in more or +less silence till the door opened softly to admit Innocent, who came in +with Priscilla. + +Mr. Bayliss rose. + +"I'm sorry to have to disturb you, Miss--er--Miss Innocent," he said, +with some awkwardness--"on this sad occasion--" + +"It is no trouble," she answered, gently--"if I can be of any use--" + +Mr. Bayliss waited till she sat down,--then again seated himself. + +"Well, there is really no occasion to go over legal formalities," he +said, opening one of the documents before him--"Your uncle, Mr. +Clifford, was a business man, and made his will in a business-like way. +Briefly, I may tell you that Briar Farm, its lands, buildings, and all +its contents are left to you--who are identified thus--'to my nephew, +Robin Clifford, only son of my only sister, the late Elizabeth Jocelyn, +widow of John Clifford, wholesale trader in French wines, and formerly +resident in the City of London, on condition that the said Robin +Clifford shall keep and maintain the farm and house as they have always +been kept and maintained. He shall not sell any part of the land for +building purposes, nor shall he dispose of any of the furniture, +pewter, plate, china, glass, or other effects belonging to Briar Farm +House,--but shall carefully preserve the same and hand them down to his +lawful heirs in succession on the same terms as heretofore'--etc., +etc.,--yes!--well!--that is the gist of the business, and we need not +go over the details. With the farm and lands aforesaid he leaves the +sum of Twenty Thousand Pounds--" + +"Twenty Thousand Pounds!" ejaculated Robin, amazed--"Surely my uncle +was never so rich--!" + +"He was a saving man and a careful one," said Mr. Bayliss, +calmly,--"You may take it for granted, Mr. Clifford, that his money was +made through the course of his long life, in a thoroughly honest and +straightforward manner!" + +"Oh--that, of course!--but--Twenty Thousand Pounds!" + +"It is a nice little fortune," said Mr. Bayliss--"and you come into it +at a time of life when you will be able to make good use of it. +Especially if you should be inclined to marry--" + +His eyes twinkled meaningly as they glanced from Clifford's face to +that of Innocent--the young man's expression was absorbed and earnest, +but the girl looked lost and far away in a dream of her own. + +"I shall not marry," said Robin, slowly--"I shall use the money +entirely for the good of the farm and the work-people--" + +"Then, if you do not marry, you allow the tradition of heritage to +lapse?" suggested Mr. Bayliss. + +"It has lapsed already," he replied--"I am not a real descendant of the +Jocelyns--" + +"By the mother's side you are," said Mr. Bayliss--"and your mother +being dead, it is open to you to take the name of Jocelyn by law, and +continue the lineage. It would be entirely fair and reasonable." + +Robin made no answer. Mr. Bayliss settled his glasses more firmly on +his nose, and went on with his documents. + +"Mr. Jocelyn speaks in his Last Will and Testament of the 'great love' +he entertained for his adopted child, known as 'Innocent'--and he gives +to her all that is contained in the small oak chest in the best +parlour--this is the best parlour, I presume?"--looking round--"Can you +point out the oak chest mentioned?" + +Innocent rose, and moved to a corner, where she lifted out of a recess +a small quaintly made oaken casket, brass-bound, with a heavy lock. + +Mr. Bayliss looked at it with a certain amount of curiosity. + +"The key?" he suggested--"I believe the late Mr. Jocelyn always wore it +on his watch-chain." + +Robin got up and went to the mantelpiece. + +"Here is my uncle's watch and chain," he said, in a hushed voice--"The +watch has stopped. I do not intend that it shall ever go again--I shall +keep it put by with the precious treasures of the house." + +Mr. Bayliss made no remark on this utterance, which to him was one of +mere sentiment--and taking the watch and chain in his hand, detached +therefrom a small key. With this he opened the oak casket--and looked +carefully inside. Taking out a sealed packet, he handed it to Innocent. + +"This is for you," he said--"and this also"--here he lifted from the +bottom of the casket a flat jewel-case of antique leather embossed in +gold. + +"This," he continued, "Mr. Jocelyn explained to me, is a necklet of +pearls--traditionally believed to have been given by the founder of the +house, Amadis de Jocelin, to his wife on their wedding-day. It has been +worn by every bride of the house since. I hope--yes--I very much +hope--it will be worn by the young lady who now inherits it." + +And he passed the jewel-case over the table to Innocent, who sat +silent, with the sealed packet she had just received lying before her. +She took it passively, and opened it--a beautiful row of pearls, not +very large, but wonderfully perfect, lay within--clasped by a small, +curiously designed diamond snap. She looked at them with +half-wondering, half-indifferent eyes--then closed the case and gave it +to Robin Clifford. + +"They are for your wife when you marry," she said--"Please keep them." + +Mr. Bayliss coughed--a cough of remonstrance. + +"Pardon me, my dear young lady, but Mr. Jocelyn was particularly +anxious the pearls should be yours--" + +She looked at him, gravely. + +"Yes--I am sure he was," she said--"He was always good--too good and +generous--but if they are mine, I give them to Mr. Clifford. There is +nothing more to be said about them." + +Mr. Bayliss coughed again. + +"Well--that is all that is contained in this casket, with the exception +of a paper unsealed--shall I read it?" + +She bent her head. + +"The paper is written in Mr. Jocelyn's own hand, and is as follows," +continued the lawyer: "I desire that my adopted child, known as +'Innocent,' shall receive into her own possession the Jocelyn pearls, +valued by experts at L2,500, and that she shall wear the same on her +marriage-morning. The sealed packet, placed in this casket with the +pearls afore-said, contains a letter for her own personal and private +perusal, and other matter which concerns herself alone." + +Mr. Bayliss here looked up, and addressed her. + +"From these words it is evident that the sealed packet you have there +is an affair of confidence." + +She laid her hand upon it. + +"I quite understand!" + +He adjusted his glasses, and turned over his documents once more. + +"Then I think there is nothing more we need trouble you with--oh +yes!--one thing--Miss--er--Miss Priday--?" + +Priscilla, who during the whole conversation had sat bolt upright on a +chair in the corner of the room, neither moving nor speaking, here rose +and curtsied. + +The lawyer looked at her attentively. + +"Priday-Miss Priscilla Priday?" + +"Yes, sir--that's me," said Priscilla, briefly. + +"Mr. Jocelyn thought very highly of you, Miss Friday," he said--"he +mentions you in the following paragraph of his will--'I give and +bequeath to my faithful housekeeper and good friend, Priscilla Priday, +the sum of Two Hundred Pounds for her own personal use, and I desire +that she shall remain at Briar Farm for the rest of her life. And that, +if she shall find it necessary to resign her duties in the farm house, +she shall possess that cottage on my estate known as Rose Cottage, free +of all charges, and be allowed to live there and be suitably and +comfortably maintained till the end of her days. And,--er--pray don't +distress yourself, Miss Priday!" + +For Priscilla was crying, and making no effort to hide her emotion. + +"Bless 'is old 'art!" she sobbed--"He thort of everybody, 'e did! An' +what shall I ever want o' Rose Cottage, as is the sweetest o' little +places, when I've got the kitchen o' Briar Farm!--an' there I'll 'ope +to do my work plain an' true till I drops!--so there!--an' I'm much +obliged to ye, Mr. Bayliss, an' mebbe ye'll tell me where to put the +two 'underd pounds so as I don't lose it, for I never 'ad so much money +in my life, an' if any one gets to 'ear of it I'll 'ave all the 'alt +an' lame an' blind round me in a jiffy. An' as for keepin' money, I +never could--an' p'raps it 'ud be best for Mr. Robin to look arter +it---" Here she stopped, out of breath with talk and tears. + +"It will be all right," said Mr. Bayliss, soothingly, "quite all right, +I assure you! Mr. Clifford will no doubt see to any little business +matter for you with great pleasure--" + +"Dear Priscilla!"--and Innocent went to her side and put an arm round +her neck--"Don't cry!--you will be so happy, living always in this dear +old place!--and Robin will be so glad to have you with him." + +Priscilla took the little hand that caressed her, and kissed it. + +"Ah, my lovey!" she half whispered--"I should be 'appy enough if I +thought you was a-goin' to be 'appy too!--but you're flyin' in the face +o' fortune, lovey!--that's what you're a-doin'!" + +Innocent silenced her with a gesture, and stood beside her, patiently +listening till Mr. Bayliss had concluded his business. + +"I think, Mr. Clifford," he then said, at last--"there is no occasion +to trouble you further. Everything is in perfect order--you are the +inheritor of Briar Farm and all its contents, with all its adjoining +lands--and the only condition attached to your inheritance is that you +keep it maintained on the same working methods by which it has always +been maintained. You will find no difficulty in doing this--and you +have plenty of money to do it on. There are a few minor details +respecting farm stock, etc., which we can go over together at any time. +You are sole executor, of course--and--and--er--yes!--I think that is +all." + +"May I go now?" asked Innocent, lifting her serious blue-grey eyes to +his face--"Do you want me any more?" + +Mr. Bayliss surveyed her curiously. + +"No--I--er--I think not," he replied--"Of course the pearls should be +in your possession--" + +"I have given them away," she said, quickly--"to Robin." + +"But I have not accepted them," he answered--"I will keep them if you +like--for YOU." + +She gave a slight, scarcely perceptible movement of vexation, and then, +taking up the sealed packet which was addressed to her personally, she +left the room. + +The lawyer looked after her in a little perplexity. + +"I'm afraid she takes her loss rather badly," he said--"or--perhaps--is +she a little absent-minded?" + +Robin Clifford smiled, sadly. + +"I think not," he answered. "Of course she feels the death of my uncle +deeply--she adored him--and then-I-suppose you know--my uncle may have +told you--" + +"That he hoped and expected you to marry her?" said Mr. Bayliss, +nodding his head, sagaciously--"Yes--I am aware that such was his +dearest wish. In fact he led me to believe that the matter was as good +as settled." + +"She will not have me," said Clifford, gently--"and I cannot compel her +to marry me against her will--indeed I would not if I could." + +The lawyer was so surprised that he was obliged to take off his glasses +and polish them. + +"She will not have you!" he exclaimed. "Dear me! That is indeed most +unexpected and distressing! There is--there is nothing against you, +surely?--you are quite a personable young man--" + +Robin shrugged his shoulders, disdainfully. + +"Whatever I am does not matter to her," he said--"Let us talk no more +about it." + +Priscilla looked from one to the other. + +"Eh well!" she said--"If any one knows 'er at all 'tis I as 'ave 'ad +'er with me night an' day when she was a baby--and 'as watched 'er grow +into the little beauty she is,--an' 'er 'ed's just fair full o' strange +fancies that she's got out o' the books she found in the old knight's +chest years ago--we must give 'er time to think a bit an' settle. 'Tis +an awful blow to 'er to lose 'er Dad, as she allus called Farmer +Jocelyn--she's like a little bird fallen out o' the nest with no +strength to use 'er wings an' not knowin' where to go. Let 'er settle a +bit!--that's what I sez--an' you'll see I'm right. You leave 'er alone, +Mister Robin, an' all'll come right, never fear! She's got the queerest +notions about love--she picked 'em out o' they old books--an' she'll +'ave to find out they's more lies than truth. Love's a poor 'oldin' for +most folks--it don't last long enough." + +Mr. Bayliss permitted himself to smile, as he took his hat, and +prepared to go. + +"I'm sure you're quite right, Miss Priday!" he said--"you +speak--er--most sensibly! I'm sure I hope, for the young lady's sake, +that she will 'settle down'--if she does not--" + +"Ay, if she does not!" echoed Clifford. + +"Well! if she does not, life may be difficult for her"--and the lawyer +shook his head forebodingly--"A girl alone in the world--with no +relatives!--ah, dear, dear me! A sad look-out!--a very sad look-out! +But we must trust to her good sense that she will be wise in time!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Upstairs, shut in her own little room with the door locked, Innocent +opened the sealed packet. She found within it a letter and some +bank-notes. With a sensitive pain which thrilled every nerve in her +body she unfolded the letter, written in Hugo Jocelyn's firm clear +writing--a writing she knew so well, and which bore no trace of +weakness or failing in the hand that guided the pen. How strange it +was, she thought, that the written words should look so living and +distinct when the writer was dead! Her head swam.--her eyes were +dim--for a moment she could scarcely see--then the mist before her +slowly dispersed and she read the first words, which made her heart +swell and the tears rise in her aching throat. + +"MY LITTLE WILDING!--When you read this I shall be gone to that +wonderful world which all the clergymen tell us about, but which none +of them are in any great hurry to see for themselves. I hope--and I +sometimes believe--such a world exists--and that perhaps it is a place +where a man may sow seed and raise crops as well and as prosperously as +on Briar Farm--however, I'm praying I may not be taken till I've seen +you safely wed to Robin--and yet, something tells me this will not be; +and that's the something that makes me write this letter and put it +with the pearls that are, by my will, destined for you on your +marriage-morning. I'm writing it, remember, on the same night I've told +you all about yourself--the night of the day the doctor gave me my +death-warrant. I may live a year,--I may live but a week,--it will be +hard if I may not live to see you married!--but God's will must be +done. The bank-notes folded in this letter make up four hundred +pounds--and this money you can spend as you like--on your clothes for +the bridal, or on anything you fancy--I place no restriction on you as +to its use. When a maid weds there are many pretties she needs to buy, +and the prettier they are for you the better shall I be pleased. +Whether I live or whether I die, you need say nothing of this money to +Robin, or to anyone. It is your own absolutely--to do as you like with. +I am thankful to feel that you will be safe in Robin's loving care--for +the world is hard on a woman left alone as you would be, were it not +for him. I give you my word that if I had any clue, however small, to +your real parentage, I would write down here for you all I know--but I +know nothing more than I have told you. I have loved you as my own +child and you have been the joy of my old days. May God bless you and +give you joy and peace in Briar Farm!--you and your children, and your +children's children! Amen! + +"Your 'Dad' + +"HUGO JOCELYN." + +She read this to the end, and then some tension in her brain seemed to +relax, and she wept long and bitterly, her head bent down on the letter +and her bright hair falling over it. Presently, checking her sobs, she +rose, and looked about her in a kind of dream--the familiar little room +seemed to have suddenly become strange to her, and she thought she saw +standing in one corner a figure clad in armour,--its vizor was up, +showing a sad pale face and melancholy eyes--the lips moved--and a +sighing murmur floated past her ears--"Mon coeur me soutien!" A cold +terror seized her, and she trembled from head to foot--then the vision +or hallucination vanished as swiftly and mysteriously as it had +appeared. Rallying her forces, she gradually mastered the overpowering +fear which for a moment had possessed her,--and folding up Hugo +Jocelyn's last letter, she kissed it, and placed it in her bosom. The +bank-notes were four in number--each for one hundred pounds;--these she +put in an envelope, and shut them in the drawer containing her secret +manuscript. + +"Now the way is clear!" she said--"I can do what I like--I have my +wings, and I can fly away! Oh Dad, dear Dad!--you would be so unhappy +if you knew what I mean to do!--it would break your heart, Dad!--but +you have no heart to break now, poor Dad!--it is cold as stone!--it +will never beat any more! Mine is the heart that beats!--the heart that +burns, and aches, and hurts me!--ah!--how it hurts! And no one can +understand--no one will ever care to understand!" + +She locked her manuscript-drawer--then went and bathed her eyes, which +smarted with the tears she had shed. Looking at herself in the mirror +she saw a pale plaintive little creature, without any freshness of +beauty--all the vitality seemed gone out of her. Smoothing her ruffled +hair, she twisted it up in a loose coil at the back of her head, and +studied with melancholy dislike and pain the heavy effect of her dense +black draperies against her delicate skin. + +"I shall do for anything now," she said--"No one will look at me, and I +shall pass quite unnoticed in a crowd. I'm glad I'm not a pretty +girl--it might be more difficult to get on. And Robin called me +'lovely' the other day!--poor, foolish Robin!" + +She went downstairs then to see if she could help Priscilla--but +Priscilla would not allow her to do anything in the way of what she +called "chores." + +"No, lovey," she said--"you just keep quiet, an' by-an'-bye you an' +me'll 'ave a quiet tea together, for Mister Robin he's gone off for the +rest o' the day an' night with Mr. Bayliss, as there's lots o' things +to see to, an' 'e left you this little note"--here Priscilla produced a +small neatly folded paper from her apron pocke-t-"an' sez 'e--'Give +this to Miss Innocent`' 'e sez, 'an' she won't mind my bein' out o' the +way--it'll be better for 'er to be quiet a bit with you'--an' so it +will, lovey, for sometimes a man about the 'ouse is a worrit an' a +burden, say what we will, an' good though 'e be." + +Innocent took the note and read-- + +"I have made up my mind to go with Bayliss into the town and stay at +his house for the night--there are many business matters we have to go +into together, and it is important for me to thoroughly understand the +position of my uncle's affairs. If I cannot manage to get back +to-morrow, I will let you know. Robin." + +She heaved a sigh of intense relief. For twenty-four hours at least she +was free from love's importunity--she could be alone to think, and to +plan. She turned to Priscilla with a gentle look and smile. + +"I'll go into the garden," she said--"and when it's tea-time you'll +come and fetch me, won't you? I shall be near the old stone knight, +Sieur Amadis--" + +"Oh, bother 'im," muttered Priscilla, irrelevantly--"You do think too +much o' that there blessed old figure!--why, what's 'e got to do with +you, my pretty?" + +"Nothing!" and the colour came to her pale cheeks for a moment, and +then fled back again--"He never had anything to do with me, really! But +I seem to know him." + +Priscilla gave a kind of melancholy snort--and the girl moved slowly +away through the open door and beyond it, out among the radiant +flowers. Her little figure in deep black was soon lost to sight, and +after watching her for a minute, Priscilla turned to her home-work with +tears blinding her eyes so thickly that she could scarcely see. + +"If she winnot take Mister Robin, the Lord knows what'll become of +'er!" sighed the worthy woman--"For she's as lone i' the world as a +thrush fallen out o' the nest before it's grown strong enough to fly! +Eh, we thort we did a good deed, Mister Jocelyn an' I, when we kep' 'er +as a baby, 'opin' agin 'ope as 'er parents 'ud turn up an' be sorry for +the loss of 'er--but never a sign of a soul!--an' now she's grow'd up +she's thorts in 'er 'ed which ain't easy to unnerstand--for since +Mister Jocelyn told 'er the tale of 'erself she's not been the same +like--she's got suddin old!" + +The afternoon was very peaceful and beautiful--the sun shone warmly +over the smooth meadows of Briar Farm, and reddened the apples in the +orchard yet a little more tenderly, flashing in flecks of gold on the +"Glory" roses, and touching the wings of fluttering doves with arrowy +silver gleams. No one looking at the fine old house, with its +picturesque gables and latticed windows, would have thought that its +last master of lawful lineage was dead and buried, and that the funeral +had taken place that morning. Briar Farm, though more than three +centuries old, seemed full of youthful life and promise--a vital fact, +destined to outlast many more human lives than those which in the +passing of three hundred years had already left their mark upon it, and +it was strange and incredible to realise that the long chain of +lineally descended male ancestors had broken at last, and that no +remaining link survived to carry on the old tradition. Sadly and slowly +Innocent walked across the stretches of warm clover-scented grass to +the ancient tomb of the "Sieur Amadis"--and sat down beside it, not far +from the place where so lately she had sat with Robin--what a change +had come over her life since then! She watched the sun sinking towards +the horizon in a mellow mist of orange-coloured radiance,--the day was +drawing to an end--the fateful, wretched day which had seen the best +friend she had ever known, and whom for years she had adored and +revered as her own "father," laid in the dust to perish among +perishable things. + +"I wish I had died instead of him," she said, half aloud--"or else that +I had never been born! Oh, dear 'Sieur Amadis'!--you know how hard it +is to live in the world unless some one wants you--unless some one +loves you!--and no one wants me--no one loves me--except Robin!" + +Solitary, and full of the heaviest sadness, she tried to think and to +form plans--but her mind was tired, and she could come to no decisive +resolution beyond the one all-convincing necessity--that of leaving +Briar Farm. Of course she must go,--there was no other alternative. And +now, thanks to Hugo Jocelyn's forethought in giving her money for her +bridal "pretties," no financial difficulty stood in the way of her +departure. She must go--but where? To begin with, she had no name. She +would have to invent one for herself--"Yes!" she murmured--"I must +invent a name--and make it famous!" Involuntarily she clenched her +small hand as though she held some prize within its soft grasp. "Why +not? Other people have done the same--I can but try! If I fail--!" + +Her delicate fingers relaxed,--in her imagination she saw some coveted +splendour slip from her hold, and her little face grew set and serious +as though she had already suffered a whole life's disillusion. + +"I can but try," she repeated--"something urges me on--something tells +me I may succeed. And then--!" + +Her eyes brightened slowly--a faint rose flushed her cheeks,--and with +the sudden change of expression, she became almost beautiful. Herein +lay her particular charm,--the rarest of all in women,--the passing of +the lights and shadows of thought over features which responded swiftly +and emotionally to the prompting and play of the mind. + +"I should have to go," she went on--"even if Dad were still alive. I +could not--I cannot marry Robin!--I do not want to marry anybody. It is +the common lot of women--why they should envy or desire it, I cannot +think! To give one's self up entirely to a man's humours--to be glad of +his caresses, and miserable when he is angry or tired--to bear his +children and see them grow up and leave you for their own 'betterment' +as they would call it--oh!--what an old, old drudging life!--a life of +monotony, sickness, pain, and fatigue!--and nothing higher done than +what animals can do! There are plenty of women in the world who like to +stay on this level, I suppose--but I should not like it,--I could not +live in this beautiful, wonderful world with no higher ambition than a +sheep or a cow!" + +At that moment she suddenly saw Priscilla running from the house across +the meadow, and beckoning to her in evident haste and excitement. She +got up at once and ran to meet her, flying across the grass with light +airy feet as swiftly as Atalanta. + +"What is it?" she cried, seeing Priscilla's face, crimson with hurry +and nervousness--"Is there some new trouble?" + +Priscilla was breathless, and could scarcely speak. + +"There's a lady"--she presently gasped--"a lady to see you--from +London--in the best parlour--she asked for Farmer Jocelyn's adopted +daughter named Innocent. And she gave me her card--here it is"--and +Priscilla wiped her face and gasped again as Innocent took the card and +read "Lady Maude Blythe,"--then gazed at Priscilla, wonderingly. + +"Who can she be?--some one who knew Dad--?" + +"Bless you, child, he never knew lord nor lady!" replied Priscilla, +recovering her breath somewhat--"No--it's more likely one o' they grand +folks what likes to buy old furniture, an' mebbe somebody's told 'er +about Briar Farm things, an' 'ow they might p'raps be sold now the +master's gone--" + +"But that would be very silly and wicked talk," said Innocent. "Nothing +will be sold--Robin would never allow it--" + +"Well, come an' see the lady," and Priscilla hurried her along--"She +said she wished to see you partikler. I told 'er the master was dead, +an' onny buried this mornin', an' she smiled kind o' pleasant like, an' +said she was sorry to have called on such an unfortunate day, but her +business was important, an' if you could see 'er--" + +"Is she young?" + +"No, she's not young--but she isn't old," replied Priscilla--"She's +wonderful good-looking an' dressed beautiful! I never see such clothes +cut out o' blue serge! An' she's got a scent about her like our +stillroom when we're makin' pot-purry bags for the linen." + +By this time they had reached the house, and Innocent went straight +into the best parlour. Her unexpected and unknown visitor stood there +near the window, looking out on the beds of flowers, but turned round +as she entered. For a moment they confronted each other in +silence,--Innocent gazing in mute astonishment and enquiry at the tall, +graceful, self-possessed woman, who, evidently of the world, worldly, +gazed at her in turn with a curious, almost quizzical interest. +Presently she spoke in a low, sweet, yet cold voice. + +"So you are Innocent!" she said. + +The girl's heart beat quickly,--something frightened her, though she +knew not what. + +"Yes," she answered, simply--"I am Innocent. You wished to see me--?" + +"Yes--I wished to see you,"--and the lady quietly shut the window--"and +I also wish to talk to you. In case anyone may be about +listening, will you shut the door?" + +With increasing nervousness and bewilderment, Innocent obeyed. + +"You had my card, I think?" continued the lady, smiling ever so +slightly--"I gave it to the servant--" + +Innocent held it half crumpled in her hand. + +"Yes," she said, trying to rally her self-possession--"Lady Maude +Blythe--" + +"Exactly!--you have quite a nice pronunciation! May I sit down?" and, +without waiting for the required permission, Lady Blythe sank +indolently into the old oaken arm-chair where Farmer Jocelyn had so +long been accustomed to sit, and, taking out a cobweb of a handkerchief +powerfully scented, passed it languorously across her lips and brow. + +"You have had a very sad day of it, I fear!" she continued--"Deaths and +funerals are such unpleasant affairs! But the farmer--Mr. Jocelyn--was +not your father, was he?" The question was put with a repetition of the +former slight, cold smile. + +"No,"--and the girl looked at her wonderingly--"but he was better than +my own father who deserted me!" + +"Dear me! Your own father deserted you! How shocking of him!" and Lady +Blythe turned a pair of brilliant dark eyes full on the pale little +face confronting her--"And your mother?" + +"She deserted me, too." + +"What a reprehensible couple!" Here Lady Blythe extended a delicately +gloved hand towards her. "Come here and let me look at you!" + +But Innocent hesitated. + +"Excuse me," she said, with a quaint and simple dignity--"I do not know +you. I cannot understand why you have come to see me--if you would +explain--" + +While she thus spoke Lady Blythe had surveyed her scrutinisingly +through a gold-mounted lorgnon. + +"Quite a proud little person it is!" she remarked, and smiled--"Quite +proud! I suppose I really must explain! Only I do hope you will not +make a scene. Nothing is so unpleasant! And SUCH bad form! Please sit +down!" + +Innocent placed a chair close to the table so that she could lean her +arm on that friendly board and steady her trembling little frame. When +she was seated, Lady Blythe again looked at her critically through the +lorgnon. Then she continued-- + +"Well, I must first tell you that I have always known your +history--such a romance, isn't it! You were brought here as a baby by a +man on horseback'--and he left you with the good old farmer who has +taken care of you ever since. I am right? Yes!--I'm quite sure about +it--because I knew the man--the curious sort of parental +Lochinvar!--who got rid of you in such a curious way!" + +Innocent drew a sharp breath. + +"You knew him?" + +Lady Blythe gave a delicate little cough. + +"Yes--I knew him--rather well! I was quite a girl--and he was an +artist--a rather famous one in his way--half French--and very +good-looking. Yes, he certainly was remarkably good-looking! We ran +away together--most absurd of us--but we did. Please don't look at me +like that!--you remind me of Sara Bernhardt in 'La Tosca'!" + +Innocent's eyes were indeed full of something like positive terror. Her +heart beat violently--she felt a strange dread, and a foreboding that +chilled her very blood. + +"People often do that kind of thing--fall in love and run away," +continued Lady Blythe, placidly--"when they are young and silly. It is +quite a delightful sensation, of course, but it doesn't last. They +don't know the world--and they never calculate results. However, we had +quite a good time together. We went to Devon and Cornwall, and he +painted pictures and made love to me--and it was all very nice and +pretty. Then, of course, trouble came, and we had to get out of it as +best we could--we were both tired of each other and quarrelled +dreadfully, so we decided to give each other up. Only you were in the +way!" + +Innocent rose, steadying herself with one hand against the table. + +"I!" she exclaimed, with a kind of sob in her throat. + +"Yes--you! Dear me,--how you stare! Don't you understand? I suppose +you've lived such a strange sort of hermit life down here that you know +nothing. You were in the way--you, the baby!" + +"Do you mean--?" + +"Yes--I mean what you ought to have guessed at once--if you were not as +stupid as an owl! I've told you I ran away with a man--I wouldn't marry +him, though he asked me to--I should have been tied up for life, and I +didn't want that--so we decided to separate. And he undertook to get +rid of the baby--" + +"Me!" cried Innocent, wildly--"oh, dear God! It was me!" + +"Yes--it was you--but you needn't be tragic about it!" said Lady +Blythe, calmly--"I think, on the whole, you were fortunately +placed--and I was told where you were--" + +"You were told?--oh, you were told!--and you never came! And you--you +are--my MOTHER!"--and overpowered by the shock of emotion, the girl +sank back on her chair, and burying her head in her hands, sobbed +bitterly. Lady Blythe looked at her in meditative silence. + +"What a tiresome creature!" she murmured, under her breath--"Quite +undisciplined! No repose of manner--no style whatever! And apparently +very little sense! I think it's a pity I came,--a mistaken sense of +duty!" + +Aloud she said-- + +"I hope you're not going to cry very long! Won't you get it over? I +thought you would be glad to know me--and I've come out of pure +kindness to you, simply because I heard your old farmer was dead. Why +Pierce Armitage should have brought you to him I never could +imagine--except that once he was painting a picture in the +neighbourhood and was rather taken with the history of this place--Briar +Farm isn't it called? You'll make your eyes quite sore if you +go on crying like that! Yes--I am your mother--most unfortunately!--I +hoped you would never know it!--but now--as you are left quite alone in +the world, I have come to see what I can do for you." + +Innocent checked her sobs, and lifting her head looked straight into +the rather shallow bright eyes that regarded her with such cold and +easy scrutiny. + +"You can do nothing for me," she answered, in a low voice--"You never +have done anything for me. If you are my mother, you are an unnatural +one!" And moved by a sudden, swift emotion, she stood up with +indignation and scorn lighting every feature of her face. "I was in +your way at my birth--and you were glad to be rid of me. Why should you +seek me now?" + +Lady Blythe glanced her over amusedly. + +"Really, you would do well on the stage!" she said--"If you were +taller, you would make your fortune with that tragic manner! It is +quite wasted on me, I assure you! I've told you a very simple +commonplace truth--a thing that happens every day--a silly couple run +away together, madly in love, and deluded by the idea that love will +last--they get into trouble and have a child--naturally, as they are +not married, the child is in the way, and they get rid of it--some +people would have killed it, you know! Your father was quite a +kind-hearted person--and his one idea was to place you where there were +no other children, and where you would have a chance of being taken +care of. So he brought you to Briar Farm--and he told me where he had +left you before he went away and died." + +"Died!" echoed the girl--"My father is dead?" + +"So I believe,"--and Lady Blythe stifled a slight yawn--"He was always +a rather reckless person--went out to paint pictures in all weathers, +or to 'study effects' as he called it--how I hated his 'art' talk!--and +I heard he died in Paris of influenza or pneumonia or something or +other. But as I was married then, it didn't matter." + +Innocent's deep-set, sad eyes studied her "mother" with strange +wistfulness. + +"Did you not love him?" she asked, pitifully. + +Lady Blythe laughed, lightly. + +"You odd girl! Of course I was quite crazy about him!--he was so +handsome--and very fascinating in his way--but he could be a terrible +bore, and he had a very bad temper. I was thankful when we separated. +But I have made my own private enquiries about you, from time to +time--I always had rather a curiosity about you, as I have had no other +children. Won't you come and kiss me?" + +Innocent stood rigid. + +"I cannot!" she said. + +Lady Blythe flushed and bit her lips. + +"As you like!" she said, airily--"I don't mind!" + +The girl clasped her hands tightly together. + +"How can you ask me!" she said, in low, thrilling tones--"You who have +let me grow up without any knowledge of you!--you who had no shame in +leaving me here to live on the charity of a stranger!--you who never +cared at all for the child you brought into the world!--can you imagine +that I could care--now?" + +"Well, really," smiled Lady Blythe--"I'm not sure that I have asked you +to care! I have simply come here to tell you that you are not entirely +alone in the world, and that I, knowing myself to be your +mother--(although it happened so long ago I can hardly believe I was +ever such a fool!)--am willing to do something for you--especially as I +have no children by my second marriage. I will, in fact, 'adopt' you!" +and she laughed--a pretty, musical laugh like a chime of little silver +bells. "Lord Blythe will be delighted--he's a kind old person!" + +Innocent looked at her gravely and steadily. + +"Do you mean to say that you will own me?--name me?--acknowledge me as +your daughter--" + +"Why, certainly not!" and Lady Blythe's eyes flashed over her in cold +disdain--"What are you thinking of? You are not legitimate--and you +really have no lawful name--besides, I'm not bound to do anything at +all for you now you are old enough to earn your own living. But I'm +quite a good-natured woman,--and as I have said already I have no other +children--and I'm willing to 'adopt' you, bring you out in society, +give you pretty clothes, and marry you well if I can. But to own that I +ever made such an idiot of myself as to have you at all is a little too +much to ask!--Lord Blythe would never forgive me!" + +"So you would make me live a life of deception with you!" said +Innocent--"You would make me pretend to be what I am not--just as you +pretend to be what you are not!--and yet you say I am your child! Oh +God, save me from such a mother! Madam"--and she spoke in cold, +deliberate accents--"you have lived all these years without children, +save me whom you have ignored--and I, though nameless and illegitimate, +now ignore you! I have no mother! I would not own you any more than you +would own me;--my shame in saying that such a woman is my mother would +be greater than yours in saying that I am your child! For the stigma of +my birth is not my fault, but yours!--I am, as my father called +me--'innocent'!" + +Her breath came and went quickly--a crimson flush was on her +cheeks--she looked transfigured--beautiful. Lady Blythe stared at her +in wide-eyed disdain. + +"You are exceedingly rude and stupid," she said--"You talk like a +badly-trained actress! And you are quite blind to your own interests. +Now please remember that if you refuse the offer I make you, I shall +never trouble about you again--you will have to sink or swim--and you +can do nothing for yourself--without even a name--" + +"Have you never heard," interrupted Innocent, suddenly, "that it is +quite possible to MAKE a name?" + +Her "mother" was for the moment startled--she looked so intellectually +strong and inspired. + +"Have you never thought," she went on--"even you, in your strange life +of hypocrisy--" + +"Hypocrisy!" exclaimed Lady Blythe--"How dare you say such a thing!" + +"Of course it is hypocrisy," said the girl, resolutely--"You are +married to a man who knows nothing of your past life--is not that +hypocrisy? You are a great lady, no doubt--you have everything you want +in this world, except children--one child you had in me, and you let me +be taken from you--yet you would pretend to 'adopt' me though you know +I am your own! Is not that hypocrisy?" + +Lady Blythe for a moment tightened her lips in a line of decided +temper--then she smiled ironically. + +"It is tact," she said--"and good manners. Society lives by certain +conventions, and we must be careful not to outrage them. In your own +interests you should be glad to learn how to live suitably without +offence to others around you." + +Innocent looked at her with straight and relentless scorn. + +"I have done that," she answered--"so far. I shall continue to do it. I +do not want any help from you! I would rather die than owe you +anything! Please understand this! You say I am your daughter, and I +suppose I must believe it--but the knowledge brings me sorrow and +shame. And I must work my way out of this sorrow and shame,--somehow! I +will do all I can to retrieve the damaged life you have given me. I +never knew my mother was alive--and now--I wish to forget it! If my +father lived, I would go to him--" + +"Would you indeed!" and Lady Blythe rose, shaking her elegant skirts, +and preening herself like a bird preparing for flight--"I'm afraid you +would hardly receive a parental welcome! Fortunately for himself and +for me, he is dead,--so you are quite untrammelled by any latent +notions of filial duty. And you will never see me again after to-day!" + +"No?"--and the interrogation was put with the slightest inflection of +satire--so fine as to be scarcely perceptible--but Lady Blythe caught +it, and flushed angrily. + +"Of course not!" she said--"Do you think you, in your position of a +mere farmer's girl, are likely to meet me in the greater world? You, +without even a name--" + +"Would you have given me a name?" interposed the girl, calmly. + +"Of course! I should have invented one for you-- + +"I can do that for myself," said Innocent, quietly--"and so you are +relieved from all trouble on my score. May I ask you to go now?" + +Lady Blythe stared at her. + +"Are you insolent, or only stupid?" she asked--"Do you realise what it +is that I have told you--that I, Lady Blythe, wife of a peer, and +moving in the highest ranks of society, am willing to take charge of +you, feed you, clothe you, bring you out and marry you well? Do you +understand, and still refuse?" + +"I understand--and I still refuse," replied Innocent--"I would accept, +if you owned me as your daughter to your husband and to all the +world--but as your 'adopted' child--as a lie under your roof--I refuse +absolutely and entirely! Are you astonished that I should wish to live +truly instead of falsely?" + +Lady Blythe gathered her priceless lace scarf round her elegant +shoulders. + +"I begin to think it must have been all a bad dream!" she said, and +laughed softly--"My little affair with your father cannot have really +happened, and you cannot really be my child! I must consider it in that +light! I feel I have done my part in the matter by coming here to see +you and talk to you and make what I consider a very kind and reasonable +proposition--you have refused it--and there is no more to be said." She +settled her dainty hat more piquantly on her rich dark hair, and smiled +agreeably. "Will you show me the way out? I left my motor-car on the +high-road--my chauffeur did not care to bring it down your rather muddy +back lane." + +Innocent said nothing--but merely opened the door and stood aside for +her visitor to pass. A curious tightening at her heart oppressed her as +she thought that this elegant, self-possessed, exquisitely attired +creature was actually her "mother!"--and she could have cried out with +the pain which was so hard to bear. Suddenly Lady Blythe came to an +abrupt standstill. + +"You will not kiss me?" she said--"Not even for your father's sake?" + +With a quick sobbing catch in her breath, the girl looked up--her +"mother" was a full head taller than she. She lifted her fair head--her +eyes were full of tears. Her lips quivered--Lady Blythe stooped and +kissed them lightly. + +"There!--be a good girl!" she said. "You have the most extraordinary +high-flown notions, and I think they will lead you into trouble! +However, I'll give you one more chance--if at the end of this year you +would like to come to me, my offer to you still holds good. After +that--well!--as you yourself said, you will have no mother!" + +"I have never had one!" answered Innocent, in low choked +accents--"And--I shall never have one!" + +Lady Blythe smiled--a cold, amused smile, and passed out through the +hall into the garden. + +"What delightful flowers!" she exclaimed, in a sweet, singing voice, +for the benefit of anyone who might be listening--"A perfect paradise! +No wonder Briar Farm is so famous! It's perfectly charming! Is this the +way? Thanks ever so much!" This, as Innocent opened the gate--"Let me +see!--I go up the old by-road?--yes?--and the main road joins it at the +summit?--No, pray don't trouble to come with me--I can find my car +quite easily! Good-bye!" + +And picking up her dainty skirt with one ungloved hand, on which two +diamond rings shone like circlets of dew, she nodded, smiled, and went +her way--Innocent standing at the gate and watching her go with a kind +of numbed patience as though she saw a figure in a dream vanishing +slowly with the dawn of day. In truth she could hardly grasp the full +significance of what had happened--she did not feel, even remotely, the +slightest attraction towards this suddenly declared "mother" of +hers--she could hardly believe the story. Yet she knew it must be +true,--no woman of title and position would thus acknowledge a stigma +on her own life without any cause for the confession. She stood at the +gate still watching, though there was nothing now to watch, save the +bending trees, and the flowering wild plants that fringed each side of +the old by-road. Priscilla's voice calling her in a clear, yet lowered +tone, startled her at last--she slowly shut the gate and turned in +answer. + +"Yes, dear? What is it?" + +Priscilla trotted out from under the porch, full of eager curiosity. + +"Has the lady gone?" + +"Yes." + +"What did she want with ye, dearie?" + +"Nothing very much!" and Innocent smiled--a strange, wistful +smile--"Only just what you thought!--she wished to buy something from +Briar Farm--and I told her it was not to be sold!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +That night Innocent made an end of all her hesitation. Resolutely she +put away every thought that could deter her from the step she was now +resolved to take. Poor old Priscilla little imagined the underlying +cause of the lingering tenderness with which the girl kissed her +"good-night," looking back with more than her usual sweetness as she +went along the corridor to her own little room. Once there, she locked +and bolted the door fast, and then set to work gathering a few little +things together and putting them in a large but light-weight satchel, +such as she had often used to carry some of the choicest apples from +the orchard when they were being gathered in. Her first care was for +her manuscript,--the long-treasured scribble, kept so secretly and so +often considered with hope and fear, and wonder and doubting--then she +took one or two of the more cherished volumes which had formerly been +the property of the "Sieur Amadis" and packed them with it. Choosing +only the most necessary garments from her little store, she soon filled +her extemporary travelling-bag, and then sat down to write a letter to +Robin. It was brief and explicit. + +"DEAR ROBIN,"--it ran--"I have left this beloved home. It is impossible +for me to stay. Dad left me some money in bank-notes in that sealed +letter--so I want for nothing. Do not be anxious or unhappy--but marry +soon and forget me. I know you will always be good to Priscilla--tell +her I am not ungrateful to her for all her care of me. I love her +dearly. But I am placed in the world unfortunately, and I must do +something that will help me out of the shame of being a burden on +others and an object of pity or contempt. If you will keep the old +books Dad gave me, and still call them mine, you will be doing me a +great kindness. And will you take care of Cupid?--he is quite a clever +bird and knows his friends. He will come to you or Priscilla as easily +as he comes to me. Good-bye, you dear, kind boy! I love you very much, +but not as you want me to love you,--and I should only make you +miserable if I stayed here and married you. God bless you! "INNOCENT." + +She put this in an envelope and addressed it,--then making sure that +everything was ready, she took a few sovereigns from the little pile of +housekeeping money which Priscilla always brought to her to count over +every week and compare with the household expenses. + +"I can return these when I change one of Dad's bank-notes," she said to +herself--"but I must have something smaller to pay my way with just now +than a hundred pounds." + +Indeed the notes Hugo Jocelyn had left for her might have given her +some little trouble and embarrassment, but she did not pause to +consider difficulties. When a human creature resolves to dare and to +do, no impediment, real or imaginary, is allowed to stand long in the +way. An impulse pushes the soul forward, be it ever so reluctantly--the +impulse is sometimes from heaven and sometimes from hell--but as long +as it is active and peremptory, it is obeyed blindly and to the full. + +This little ignorant and unworldly girl passed the rest of the night in +tidying the beloved room where she had spent so many happy hours, and +setting everything in order,--talking in whispers between whiles to the +ghostly presence of the "Sieur Amadis" as to a friend who knew her +difficult plight and guessed her intentions. + +"You see," she said, softly, "there is no way out of it. It is not as +if I were anybody--I am nobody! I was never wanted in the world at all. +I have no name. I have never been baptised. And though I know now that +I have a mother, I feel that she is nothing to me. I can hardly believe +she is my mother. She is a lady of fashion with a secret--and _I_ am +the secret! I ought to be put away and buried and forgotten!--that +would be safest for her, and perhaps best for me! But I should like to +live long enough to make her wish she had been true to my father and +had owned me as his child! Ah, such dreams! Will they ever come true!" + +She paused, looking up by the dim candle-light at the arms of the +"Sieur Amadis"--who "Here seekinge Forgetfulnesse did here fynde +Peace"--and at the motto "Mon coeur me soutien." + +"Poor 'Sieur Amadis!'" she murmured--"He sought forgetfulness!--shall I +ever do the same? How strange it will be not to WISH to +remember!--surely one must be very old, or sad, to find gladness in +forgetting!" + +A faint little thrill of dread ran through her slight frame--thoughts +began to oppress her and shake her courage--she resolutely put them +away and bent herself to the practical side of action. Re-attiring +herself in the plain black dress and hat which Priscilla had got for +her mourning garb, she waited patiently for the first peep of +daylight--a daylight which was little more than darkness--and then, +taking her satchel, she crept softly out of her room, never once +looking back. There was nothing to stay her progress, for the great +mastiff Hero, since Hugo Jocelyn's death, had taken to such dismal +howling that it had been found necessary to keep him away from the +house in, a far-off shed where his melancholy plaints could not be +heard. Treading with light, soundless footsteps down the stairs, she +reached the front-door,--unbarred and unlocked it without any noise, +and as softly closed it behind her,--then she stood in the open, +shivering slightly in the sweet coldness of the coming dawn, and +inhaling the fragrance of awakening unseen flowers. She knew of a gap +in the hedge by means of which she could leave the garden without +opening the big farm-gate which moved on rather creaking hinges--and +she took this way over a couple of rough stepping-stones. Once out on +the old by-road she paused. Briar Farm looked like a house in a +dream--there was not enough daylight yet to show its gables distinctly, +and it was more like the shadowy suggestion of a building than any +actual substance. Yet there was something solemn and impressive in its +scarcely defined outline--to the girl's sensitive imagination it was +like the darkened and disappearing vision of her youth and +happiness,--a curtain falling, as it were, between the past and the +future like a drop-scene in a play. + +"Good-bye, Briar Farm!" she whispered, kissing her hand to the quaintly +peaked roof just dimly perceptible--"Good-bye, dear, beloved home! I +shall never forget you! I shall never see anything like you! Good-bye, +peace and safety!--good-bye!" + +The tears rushed to her eyes, and for the moment blinded her,--then, +overcoming this weakness, she set herself to walk quickly and steadily +away. Up the old by-road, through the darkness of the overhanging +trees, here and there crossed by pale wandering gleams of fitful light +from the nearing dawn, she moved swiftly, treading with noiseless +footsteps as though she thought the unseen spirits of wood and field +might hear and interrupt her progress--and in a few minutes she found +herself upon the broad highway branching right and left and leading in +either direction to the wider world. Briar Farm had disappeared behind +the trees,--it was as though no such place existed, so deeply was it +hidden. + +She stopped, considering. She was not sure which was the way to the +nearest railway-station some eight miles distant. She was prepared to +walk it, but feared to take the wrong road, for she instinctively felt +that if she had to endure any unexpected delay, some one from Briar +Farm would be sent to trace her and find out where she went. While she +thus hesitated, she heard the heavy rumbling of slow cart-wheels, and +waited to see what sort of vehicle might be approaching. It was a large +waggon drawn by two ponderous horses and driven by a man who, dimly +perceived by the light of the lantern fastened in front of him, +appeared to be asleep. Innocent hailed him--and after one or two +efforts succeeded at last in rousing his attention. + +"Which is the way to the railway-station?" she asked. + +The man blinked drowsily at her. + +"Railway-station, is it? I be a-goin' there now to fetch a load o' +nitrates. Are ye wantin' to git?" + +"Wantin' to git" was a country phrase to which Innocent was well +accustomed. She answered, gently-- + +"Yes. I should be so glad if you'd give me a lift--I'll pay you for it. +I have to catch the first train to London." + +"Lunnon? Quiet, ye rascals!"--this to the sturdy horses who were +dragging away at their shafts in stolid determination to move +on--"Lunnon's a good way off! Ever bin there?" + +"No." + +"Nor I, nayther. Seekin' service?" + +"Yes." + +"Wal, ye can ride along wi' me, if so be ye likes it--we be goin' main +slow, but we'll be there before first engine. Climb up!--that's right! +'Ere's a corner beside me--ye could sit in the waggon if ye liked, but +it's 'ard as nails. 'Ere's a bit of 'oss-cloth for a cushion." + +The girl sprang up as he bade her and was soon seated. + +"Ye're a light 'un an' a little 'un, an' a young 'un," he said, with a +chuckle--"an' what ye're doin' all alone i' the wake o' the marnin' is +more than yer own mother knows, I bet!" + +"I have no mother," she said. + +"Eh, eh! That's bad--that's bad! Yet for all that there's bad mothers +wot's worse than none. Git on wi' ye!"--this in a stentorian voice to +the horses, accompanied by a sounding crack of the whip. "Git on!" + +The big strong creatures tugged at the shafts and obeyed, their hoofs +making a noisy clatter in the silence of the dawn. The daylight was +beginning to declare itself more openly, and away to the east, just +above a line of dark trees, the sky showed pale suggestions of amber +and of rose. Innocent sat very silent; she was almost afraid of the +coming light lest by chance the man beside her should ever have seen +her before and recognise her. His sleep having been broken, he was +disposed to be garrulous. + +"Ever bin by train afore?" he asked. + +"No." + +"No! Eh, that's mighty cur'ous. A'most everyone goes somewhere by train +nowadays--there's such a sight o' cheap 'scursions. I know a man wot +got up i' the middle o' night, 'e did, an' more fool 'e!--an' off 'e +goes by train down to seaside for the day--'e'd never seen the sea +before an' it giv' 'im such a scare as 'e ain't got over it yet. 'E +said there was such a sight o' wobblin' water that 'e thort it 'ud +wobble off altogether an' wash away all the land and 'im with it. Ay, +ay! 'e was main scared with 'is cheap 'scursion!" + +"I've never seen the sea," said Innocent then, in a low clear +tone--"but I've read about it--and I think I know what it is like. It +is always changing,--it is full of beautiful colours, blue and green, +and grey and violet--and it has great waves edged with white foam!--oh +yes!--the poets write about it, and I have often seen it in my dreams." + +The dawning light in the sky deepened--and the waggoner turned his head +to look more closely at his girl-companion. + +"Ye talks mighty strange!" he said--"a'most as if ye'd been eddicated +up to it. I ain't been eddicated, an' I've no notions above my betters, +but ye may be right about the sea--if ye've read about it, though the +papers is mostly lies, if ye asks me, telling ye one thing one day an' +another to-morrow--" + +"I don't read the papers"--and Innocent smiled a little as in the +widening light she began to see the stolid, stupid, but good-natured +face of the man--"I don't understand them. I've read about the sea in +books,--books of poetry." + +He uttered a sound between a whistle and a grunt. + +"Books of poetry! An' ye're goin' to seek service in Lunnon? Take my +word for't, my gel, they won't want any folks there wi' sort o' gammon +like that in their 'eds--they're all on the make there, an' they don't +care for nothin' 'cept money an' 'ow to grab it. I ain't bin there, but +I've heerd a good deal." + +"You may have heard wrong," said Innocent, gathering more courage as +she realised that the light was now quite clear enough for him to see +her features distinctly and that it was evident he did not know +her--"London is such a large place that there must be all sorts in +it--good as well as bad--they can't all be greedy for money. There must +be people who think beautiful things, and do beautiful work--" + +"Oh, there's plenty o' work done there"--and the waggoner flicked his +long whip against the sturdy flanks of his labouring horses--"I ain't +denyin' that. An' YOU'll 'ave to work, my gel!--you bet! you'll 'ave to +wash down steps an' sweep kitchens a good while afore you gits into the +way of it! Why not take a service in the country?" + +"I'm a little tired of the country," she answered--"I'd like a change." + +"An' a change ye're likely to git!" he retorted, somewhat gruffly--"Lor' +bless yer 'art! There ain't nothin' like the country! All the +trees a-greenin' an' the flowers a-blowin' an' the birds a-singin'! +'Ave ye ever 'era tell of a place called Briar Farm?" + +She controlled the nervous start of her body, and replied quietly-- + +"I think I have. A very old place." + +"Ah! Old? I believe ye! 'Twas old in the time o' good Queen Bess--an' +the same fam'ly 'as 'ad it these three 'undred years--a fam'ly o' the +name o' Jocelyn. Ay, if ye could a' got service wi' Farmer Jocelyn ye'd +a' bin in luck's way! But 'e's dead an' gone last week--more's the +pity!--an' 'is nephew's got the place now, forbye 'e ain't a Jocelyn." + +She was silent, affecting not to be interested. The waggoner went on-- + +"That's the sort o' place to seek service in! Safe an' clean an' 'onest +as the sunshine--good work an' good pay--a deal better than a place in +Lunnon. An' country air, my gel!--country air!--nuthin' like it!" + +A sudden blaze of gold lit up the trees--the sun was rising--full day +was disclosed, and the last filmy curtains of the night were withdrawn, +showing a heavenly blue sky flecked lightly with wandering trails of +white cloud like swansdown. He pointed eastward with his long whip. + +"Look at that!" he said--"Fine, isn't it! No roofs and chimneys--just +the woods and fields! Nuthin' like it anywhere!" + +Innocent drew a long breath--the air was indeed sweet and keen--new +life seemed given to the world with its exhilarating freshness. But she +made no reply to the enthusiastic comments of her companion. Thoughts +were in her brain too deep for speech. Not here, not here, in this +quiet pastoral scene could she learn the way to wrest the golden +circlet of fame from the hands of the silent gods!--it must be in the +turmoil and rush of endeavour--the swift pursuit of the flying Apollo! +And--as the slow waggon jogged along--she felt herself drawn, as it +were, by a magnet--on--on--on!--on towards a veiled mystery which +waited for her--a mystery which she alone could solve. + +Presently they came within sight of several rows of ugly wooden sheds +with galvanised iron roofs and short black chimneys. + +"A'most there now," said the waggoner--"'Ere's a bit o' Lunnon +a'ready!--dirt an' muck and muddle! Where man do make a mess o' things +'e makes a mess all round! Spoils everything 'e can lay 'is 'ands on!" + +The approaches to the railway were certainly not attractive--no railway +approaches ever are. Perhaps they appear more than usually hideous when +built amid a fair green country, where for miles and miles one sees +nothing but flowering hedgerows and soft pastures shaded by the +graceful foliage of sheltering trees. Then the shining, slippery iron +of the railway running like a knife through the verdant bosom of the +land almost hurts the eyes, and the accessories of station-sheds, +coal-trucks, and the like, affront the taste like an ill-done +foreground in an otherwise pleasing picture. A slight sense of +depression and foreboding came like a cloud over the mind of poor +little lonely Innocent, as she alighted at the station at last, and +with uplifted wistful eyes tendered a sovereign to the waggoner. + +"Please take as much of it as you think right," she said--"It was very +kind of you to let me ride with you." + +The man stared, whistled, and thought. Feeling in the depth of a +capacious pocket he drew out a handful of silver and counted it over +carefully. + +"'Ere y'are!" he said, handing it all over with the exception of one +half-crown--"Ye'll want all yer change in Lunnon an' more. I'm takin' +two bob an' sixpence--if ye thinks it too much, say so!" + +"Oh no, no!" and Innocent looked distressed--"Perhaps it's too +little--I hope you are not wronging yourself?" + +The waggoner laughed, kindly enough. + +"Don't ye mind ME!" he said--"I'M all right! If I 'adn't two kids at +'ome I'd charge ye nothin'--but I'm goin' to get 'em a toy they wants, +an' I'll take the 'arf-crown for the luck of it. Good-day t'ye! Hope +you'll find an easy place!" + +She smiled and thanked him,--then entered the station and, finding the +ticket-office just open, paid a third-class fare to London. A sudden +thrill of nervousness came over her. She spoke to the booking-clerk, +peering wistfully at him through his little ticket-aperture. + +"I have never been in a train before!" she said, in a small, anxious +voice. + +The clerk smiled, and yawned expansively. He was a young man who +considered himself a "gentleman," and among his own particular set +passed for being a wit. + +"Really!" he drawled--"Quite a new experience for you! A little country +mouse, is it?" + +Innocent drew back, offended. + +"I don't know what you mean," she said, coldly--and moved away. + +The young clerk fingered his embryo moustache dubiously--conscious of a +blunder in manners. This girl was a lady--not a mere country wench to +joke with. He felt rather uncomfortable--and presently leaving his +office, went out on the platform where she was walking up and down, and +slightly lifted his cap. + +"I beg your pardon!" he said, his face reddening a little--"If you are +travelling alone you would like to get into a carriage with other +people, wouldn't you?" + +"Oh yes!" she answered, eagerly--"If you would be so kind--" + +He made no answer, as just then, with a rush and crash and clatter, and +deafening shriek of the engine-whistle, the train came thundering in. +There was opening and shutting of doors, much banging and confusion, +and before she very well knew where she was, Innocent found herself in +a compartment with three other persons--one benevolent-looking old +gentleman with white hair who was seated opposite to her, and a man and +woman, evidently husband and wife. Another shriek and roar, and the +train started--as it began to race along, Innocent closed her eyes with +a sickening sensation of faintness and terror--then, opening them, saw +hedges, fields, trees and ponds all flying past her like scud in the +wind, and sat watching in stupefied wonderment--one little hand +grasping the satchel that held all her worldly possessions--the other +hanging limply at her side. Now and then she looked at her +companions--the husband and wife sat opposite each other and spoke +occasionally in monosyllables--the old gentleman on the seat facing +herself was reading a paper which showed its title--"The Morning Post." +Sometimes he looked at her over the top of the paper, but for the most +part he appeared absorbed in the printed page. On, on, on, the train +rushed at a pace which to her seemed maddening and full of danger--she +felt sick and giddy--would it never stop, she thought?--and a deep +sense of relief came over her when, with a scream from the +engine-whistle loud enough to tear the drum of a sensitive ear, the +whole shaking, rattling concern came to an abrupt standstill at a +station. Then she mustered up courage to speak. + +"Please, would you tell me--" she began, faintly. + +The old gentleman laid down his "Morning Post" and surveyed her +encouragingly. + +"Yes? What is it?" + +"Will it be long before we get to London?" + +"About three hours." + +"Three hours!" + +She gave a deep and weary sigh. Three hours! Hardly till then had she +realised how far she was from Briar Farm--or how entirely she had cut +herself off from all the familiar surroundings of her childhood's home, +her girlhood's life. She leaned back in her seat, and one or two tears +escaped from under her drooping eyelids and trickled slowly down her +cheeks. The train started off again, rushing at what she thought an +awful speed,--she imagined herself as being torn away from the peaceful +past and hurled into a stormy future. Yet it was her own +doing--whatever chanced to her now she would have no one but herself to +blame. The events of the past few days had crushed and beaten her so +with blows,--the old adage "Misfortunes never come singly" had been +fulfilled for her with cruel and unlooked-for plenitude. There is a +turning-point in every human life--or rather several +turning-points--and at each one are gathered certain threads of destiny +which may either be involved in a tangle or woven distinctly as a +clue--but which in any case lead to change in the formerly accepted +order of things. We may thank the gods that this is so--otherwise in +the jog-trot of a carefully treasured conservatism and sameness of +daily existence we should become the easy prey of adventurers, who, +discovering our desire for the changelessness of a convenient and +comfortable routine, would mulct us of all individuality. Our very +servants would become our masters, and would take advantage of our +easy-going ways to domineer over us, as in the case of "lone ladies" +who are often half afraid to claim obedience from the domestics they +keep and pay. Ignorant of the ways of the world and full of such dreams +as the world considers madness, Innocent had acted on a powerful inward +impetus which pushed her spirit towards liberty and independence--but +of any difficulties or dangers she might have to encounter she never +thought. She had the blind confidence of a child that runs along +heedless of falling, being instinctively sure that some hand will be +stretched out to save it should it run into positive danger. + +Mastering the weakness of tears, she furtively dried her eyes and +endeavoured not to think at all--not to dwell on the memory of her +"Dad" whom she had loved so tenderly, and all the sweet surroundings of +Briar Farm which already seemed so far away. Robin would be sorry she +had gone--indeed he would be very miserable for a time--she was certain +of that!--and Priscilla! yes, Priscilla had loved her as her own +child,--here her thoughts began running riot again, and she moved +impatiently. Just then the old gentleman with the "Morning Post" folded +it neatly and, bending forward, offered it to her. + +"Would you like to see the paper?" he asked, politely. + +The warm colour flushed her cheeks--she accepted it shyly. + +"Thank you very much!" she murmured--and, gratefully shielding her +tearful eyes behind the convenient news-sheet, she began glancing up +and down the front page with all its numerous announcements, from the +"Agony" column down to the latest new concert-singers and sailings of +steamers. + +Suddenly her attention was caught by the following advertisement-- + +"A Lady of good connection and position will be glad to take another +lady as Paying Guest in her charming house in Kensington. Would suit +anyone studying art or for a scholarship. Liberal table and refined +surroundings. Please communicate with 'Lavinia' at--" Here followed an +address. + +Over and over again Innocent read this with a sort of fascination. +Finally, taking from her pocket a little note-book and pencil, she +copied it carefully. + +"I might go there," she thought--"If she is a poor lady wanting money, +she might be glad to have me as a 'paying guest,' Anyhow, it will do no +harm to try. I must find some place to rest in, if only for a night." + +Here she became aware that the old gentleman who had lent her the paper +was eyeing her curiously yet kindly. She met his glance with a mixture +of frankness and timidity which gave her expression a wonderful charm. +He ventured to speak as he might have spoken to a little child. + +"Are you going to London for the first time?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir." + +He smiled. He had a pleasant smile, distinctly humorous and +good-natured. + +"It's a great adventure!" he said--"Especially for a little girl, all +alone." + +She coloured. + +"I'm not a little girl," she answered, with quaint dignity--"I'm +eighteen." + +"Really!"--and the old gentleman looked more humorous than ever--"Oh +well!--of course you are quite old. But, you see, I am seventy, so to +me you seem a little girl. I suppose your friends will meet you in +London?" + +She hesitated--then answered, simply-- + +"No. I have no friends. I am going to earn my living." + +The old gentleman whistled. It was a short, low whistle at first, but +it developed into a bar of "Sally in our Alley," Then he looked +round--the other people in the compartment, the husband and wife, were +asleep. + +"Poor child!" he then said, very gently--"I'm afraid that will be hard +work for you. You don't look very strong." + +"Oh, but I am!" she replied, eagerly--"I can do anything in housework +or dairy-farming--I've been brought up to be useful--" + +"That's more than a great many girls can say!" he remarked, +smiling--"Well, well! I hope you may succeed! I also was brought up to +be useful--but I'm not sure that I have ever been of any use!" + +She looked at him with quick interest. + +"Are you a clever man?" she asked. + +The simplicity of the question amused him, and he laughed. + +"A few people have sometimes called me so," he answered--"but my +'cleverness,' or whatever it may be, is not of the successful order. +And I'm getting old now, so that most of my activity is past. I have +written a few books--" + +"Books!"--she clasped her hands nervously, and her eyes grew +brilliant--"Oh! If you can write books you must always be happy!" + +"Do you think so?" And he bent his brows and scrutinised her more +intently. "What do YOU know about it? Are you fond of reading?" + +A deep blush suffused her fair skin. + +"Yes--but I have only read very old books for the most part," she +said--"In the farm-house where I was brought up there were a great many +manuscripts on vellum, and curious things--I read those--and some books +in old French--" + +"Books in old French!" he echoed, wonderingly. "And you can read them? +You are quite a French scholar, then?" + +"Oh no, indeed!" she protested--"I have only taught myself a little. Of +course it was difficult at first,--but I soon managed it,--just as I +learned how to read old English--I mean the English of Queen +Elizabeth's time. I loved it all so much that it was a pleasure to +puzzle it out. We had a few modern books--but I never cared for them." + +He studied her face with increasing interest. + +"And you are going to earn your own living in London!" he said--"Have +you thought of a way to begin? In old French, or old English?" + +She glanced at him quickly and saw that he was smiling kindly. + +"Yes," she answered, gently--"I have thought of a way to begin! Will +you tell me of some book you have written so that I may read it?" + +He shook his head. + +"Not I!" he declared--"I could not stand the criticism of a young lady +who might compare me with the writers of the Elizabethan +period--Shakespeare, for instance--" + +"Ah no!" she said--"No one can ever be compared with Shakespeare--that +is impossible!" + +He was silent,--and as she resumed her reading of the "Morning Post" he +had lent her, he leaned back in his seat and left her to herself. But +he was keenly interested,--this young, small creature with her +delicate, intelligent face and wistful blue-grey eyes was a new +experience for him. He was a well-seasoned journalist and man of +letters,--clever in his own line and not without touches of originality +in his work--but hardly brilliant or forceful enough to command the +attention of the public to a large or successful issue. He was, +however, the right hand and chief power on the staff of one of the most +influential of daily newspapers, whose proprietor would no more have +thought of managing things without him than of going without a dinner, +and from this post, which he had held for twenty years, he derived a +sufficiently comfortable income. In his profession he had seen all +classes of humanity--the wise and the ignorant,--the conceited and the +timid,--men who considered themselves new Shakespeares in +embryo,--women in whom the unbounded vanity of a little surface +cleverness was sufficient to place them beyond the pale of common +respect,--but he had never till now met a little country girl making +her first journey to London who admitted reading "old French" and +Elizabethan English as unconcernedly as she might have spoken of +gathering apples or churning cream. He determined not to lose sight of +her, and to improve the acquaintance if he got the chance. He heard her +give a sudden sharp sigh as she read the "Morning Post,"--she had +turned to the middle of the newspaper where the events of the day were +chronicled, and where a column of fashionable intelligence announced +the ephemeral doings of the so-called "great" of the world. Here one +paragraph had caught and riveted her attention--it ran thus--"Lord and +Lady Blythe have left town for Glen-Alpin, Inverness-shire, where they +will entertain a large house-party to meet the Prime Minister." + +Her mother!--It was difficult to believe that but a few hours ago this +very Lady Blythe had offered to "adopt" her!--"adopt" her own child and +act a lie in the face of all the "society" she frequented,--yet, +strange and fantastic as it seemed, it was true! Possibly +she--Innocent--had she chosen, could have been taken to "Glen-Alpin, +Inverness-shire!"--she too might have met the Prime Minister! She +almost laughed at the thought of it!--the paper shook in her hand. Her +"mother"! Just then the old gentleman bent forward again and spoke to +her. + +"We are very near London now," he said--"Can I help you at the station +to get your luggage? You might find it confusing at first--" + +"Oh, thank you!" she murmured--"But I have no luggage--only this"--and +she pointed to the satchel beside her--"I shall get on very well." + +Here she folded up the "Morning Post" and returned it to him with a +pretty air of courtesy. As he accepted it he smiled. + +"You are a very independent little lady!" he said--"But--just in case +you ever do want to read a book of mine,--I am going to give you my +name and address." Here he took a card from his waistcoat pocket and +gave it to her. "That will always find me," he continued--"Don't be +afraid to write and ask me anything about London you may wish to know. +It's a very large city--a cruel one!"--and he looked at her with +compassionate kindness--"You mustn't lose yourself in it!" + +She read the name on the card--"John Harrington"--and the address was +the office of a famous daily journal. Looking up, she gave him a +grateful little smile. + +"You are very kind!" she said--"And I will not forget you. I don't +think I shall lose myself--I'll try not to be so stupid! Yes--when I +have read one of your books I will write to you!" + +"Do!"--and there was almost a note of eagerness in his voice--"I should +like to know what you think"--here a loud and persistent scream from +the engine-whistle drowned all possibility of speech as the train +rushed past a bewildering wilderness of houses packed close together +under bristling black chimneys--then, as the deafening din ceased, he +added, quietly, "Here is London." + +She looked out of the window,--the sun was shining, but through a dull +brown mist, and nothing but bricks and mortar, building upon building, +met her view. After the sweet freshness of the country she had left +behind, the scene was appallingly hideous, and her heart sank with a +sense of fear and foreboding. Another few minutes and the train stopped. + +"This is Paddington," said John Harrington; then, noting her troubled +expression--"Let me get a taxi for you and tell the man where to drive." + +She submitted in a kind of stunned bewilderment. The address she had +found in the "Morning Post" was her rescue--she could go there, she +thought, rapidly, even if she had to come away again. Almost before she +could realise what had happened in all the noise and bustling to and +fro, she found herself in a taxi-cab, and her kind fellow-traveller +standing beside it, raising his hat to her courteously in farewell. She +gave him the address of the house in Kensington which she had copied +from the advertisement she had seen in the "Morning Post," and he +repeated it to the taxi-driver with a sense of relief and pleasure. It +was what is called "a respectable address"--and he was glad the child +knew where she was going. In another moment the taxi was off,--a +parting smile brightened the wistful expression of her young face, and +she waved her little hand to him. And then she was whirled away among +the seething crowd of vehicles and lost to sight. Old John Harrington +stood for a moment on the railway-platform, lost in thought. + +"A sweet little soul!" he mused--"I wonder what will become of her! I +must see her again some day. She reminds me of--let me see!--who does +she remind me of? By Jove, I have it! Pierce Armitage!--haven't seen +him for twenty years at least--and this girl's face has a look of +his--just the same eyes and intense expression. Poor old Armitage!--he +promised to be a great artist once, but he's gone to the dogs by this +time, I suppose. Curious, curious that I should remember him just now!" + +And he went his way, thinking and wondering, while Innocent went hers, +without any thought at all, in a blind and simple faith that God would +take care of her. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +To be whirled along through the crowded streets of London in a taxi-cab +for the first time in one's life must needs be a somewhat +disconcerting, even alarming experience, and Innocent was the poor +little prey of so many nervous fears during her journey to Kensington +in this fashion, that she could think of nothing and realise nothing +except that at any moment it seemed likely she would be killed. With +wide-open, terrified eyes, she watched the huge motor-omnibuses almost +bearing down upon the vehicle in which she sat, and shivered at the +narrow margin of space the driver seemed to allow for any sort of +escape from instant collision and utter disaster. She only began to +breathe naturally again when, turning away out of the greater press of +traffic, the cab began to run at a smoother and less noisy pace, till +presently, in less time than she could have imagined possible, it drew +up at a modestly retreating little door under an arched porch in a +quiet little square, where there were some brave and pretty trees doing +their best to be green, despite London soot and smoke. Innocent stepped +out, and seeing a bell-handle pulled it timidly. The summons was +answered by a very neat maid-servant, who looked at her in primly +polite enquiry. + +"Is Mrs.--or Miss 'Lavinia' at home?" she murmured. "I saw her +advertisement in the 'Morning Post.'" + +The servant's face changed from primness to propitiation. + +"Oh yes, miss! Please step in! I'll tell Miss Leigh." + +"Thank you. I'll pay the driver." + +She thereupon paid for the cab and dismissed it, and then followed the +maid into a very small but prettily arranged hall, and from thence into +a charming little drawing-room, with French windows set open, showing a +tiny garden beyond--a little green lawn, smooth as velvet, and a few +miniature flower-beds gay with well-kept blossoms. + +"Would you please take a seat, miss?" and the maid placed a chair. +"Miss Leigh is upstairs, but she'll be down directly." + +She left the room, closing the door softly behind her. + +Innocent sat still, satchel in hand, looking wistfully about her. The +room appealed to her taste in its extreme simplicity--and it +instinctively suggested to her mind resigned poverty making the best of +itself. There were one or two old miniatures on little velvet stands +set on the mantelpiece--these were beautiful, and of value; some +engravings of famous pictures adorned the walls, all well chosen; the +quaint china bowl on the centre table was full of roses carefully +arranged--and there was a very ancient harpsichord in one corner which +apparently served only as a stand for the portrait of a man's +strikingly handsome face, near which was placed a vase containing a +stem of Madonna lilies. Innocent found herself looking at this portrait +now and again--there was something familiar in its expression which had +a curious fascination for her. But her thoughts revolved chiefly round +a difficulty which had just presented itself--she had no real name. +What name could she take to be known by for the moment? She would not +call herself "Jocelyn"--she felt she had no right to do so. "Ena" might +pass muster for an abbreviation of "Innocent"--she decided to make use +of that as a Christian name--but a surname that would be appropriately +fitted to her ultimate intentions she could not at once select. Then +she suddenly thought of the man who had been her father and had brought +her as a helpless babe to Briar Farm. Pierce Armitage was his name--and +he was dead. Surely she might call herself Armitage? While she was +still puzzling her mind over the question the door opened and a little +old lady entered--a soft-eyed, pale, pretty old lady, as dainty and +delicate as the fairy-godmother of a child's dream, with white hair +bunched on either side of her face, and a wistful, rather plaintive +expression of mingled hope and enquiry. + +"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she began--then paused in a kind of +embarrassment. The two looked at each other. Innocent spoke, a little +shyly: + +"I saw your advertisement in the 'Morning Post,'" she said, "and I +thought perhaps--I thought that I might come to you as a paying guest. +I have to live in London, and I shall be very busy studying all day, so +I should not give you much trouble." + +"Pray do not mention it!" said the old lady, with a quaint air of +old-fashioned courtesy. "Trouble would not be considered! But you are a +much younger person than I expected or wished to accommodate." + +"You said in the advertisement that it would be suitable for a person +studying art, or for a scholarship," put in Innocent, quickly. "And I +am studying for literature." + +"Are you indeed?" and the old lady waved a little hand in courteous +deprecation of all unnecessary explanation--a hand which Innocent +noticed had a delicate lace mitten on it and one or two sparkling +rings. "Well, let us sit down together and talk it over. I have two +spare rooms--a bedroom and a sitting-room--they are small but very +comfortable, and for these I have been told I should ask three guineas +a week, including board. I feel it a little difficult"--and the old +lady heaved a sigh--"I have never done this kind of thing before--I +don't know what my poor father, Major Leigh, would have said--he was a +very proud man--very proud--!" + +While she thus talked, Innocent had been making a rapid calculation in +her own mind. Three guineas a week! It was more than she had meant to +pay, but she was instinctively wise enough to realise the advantage of +safety and shelter in this charming little home of one who was +evidently a lady, gentle, kindly, and well-mannered. She had plenty of +money to go on with--and in the future she hoped to make more. So she +spoke out bravely. + +"I will pay the three guineas a week gladly," she said. "May I see the +rooms?" + +The old lady meanwhile had been studying her with great intentness, and +now asked abruptly-- + +"Are you an English girl?" + +Innocent flushed a sudden rosy red. + +"Yes. I was brought up in the country, but all my people are dead now. +I have no friends, but I have a little money left to me--and for the +rest--I must earn my own living." + +"Well, my dear, that won't hurt you!" and an encouraging smile +brightened Miss Leigh's pleasantly wrinkled face. "You shall see the +rooms. But you have not told me your name yet." + +Again Innocent blushed. + +"My name is Armitage," she said, in a low, hesitating tone--"Ena +Armitage." + +"Armitage!"--Miss Leigh repeated the name with a kind of wondering +accent--"Armitage? Are you any relative of the painter, Pierce +Armitage?" + +The girl's heart beat quickly--for a moment the little drawing-room +seemed to whirl round her--then she collected her forces with a strong +effort and answered--"No!" + +The old lady's wistful blue eyes, dimmed with age, yet retaining a +beautiful tenderness of expression, rested upon her anxiously. + +"You are quite sure?" + +Repressing the feeling that prompted her to cry out--"He was my +father!" she replied-- + +"I am quite sure!" + +Lavinia Leigh raised her little mittened hand and pointed to the +portrait standing on the harpsichord: + +"That was Pierce Armitage!" she said. "He was a dear friend of +mine"--her voice trembled a little--"and I should have been glad if you +had been in any way connected with him." + +As she spoke Innocent turned and looked steadily at the portrait, and +it seemed to her excited fancy that its eyes gave her glance for +glance. She could hardly breathe--the threatening tears half choked +her. What strange fate was it, she thought, that had led her to a house +where she looked upon her own father's likeness for the first time! + +"He was a very fine man," continued Miss Leigh in the same +half-tremulous voice--"very gifted--very clever! He would have been a +great artist, I think--" + +"Is he dead?" the girl asked, quietly. + +"Yes--I--I think so--he died abroad--so they say, but I have never +quite believed it--I don't know why! Come, let me show you the rooms. I +am glad your name is Armitage." + +She led the way, walking slowly,--Innocent followed like one in a +dream. They ascended a small staircase, softly carpeted, to a square +landing, and here Miss Leigh opened a door. + +"This is the sitting-room," she said. "You see, it has a nice +bow-window with a view of the garden. The bedroom is just beyond +it--both lead into one another." + +Innocent looked in and could not resist giving a little exclamation of +pleasure. Everything was so clean and dainty and well kept--it seemed +to her a perfect haven of rest and shelter. She turned to Miss Leigh in +eager impulsiveness. + +"Oh, please let me stay!" she said. "Now, at once! I have only just +arrived in London and this is the first place I have seen. It seems +so--so fortunate that you should have had a friend named Armitage! +Perhaps--perhaps I may be a friend too!" + +A curious tremor seemed to pass over the old lady as though she +shivered in a cold wind. She laid one hand gently on the girl's arm. + +"You may, indeed!" she said. "One never can tell what may happen in +this strange world! But we have to be practical--and I am very poor and +pressed for money. I do not know you--and of course I should expect +references from some respectable person who can tell me who you are and +all about you." + +Innocent grew pale. She gave a little expressive gesture of utter +hopelessness. + +"I cannot give you any references," she said--"I am quite alone in the +world--my people are dead--you see I am in mourning. The last friend I +had died a little while ago and left me four hundred pounds in +bank-notes. I have them here"--and she touched her breast--"and if you +like I will give you one of them in advance payment for the rooms and +board at once." + +The old lady heaved a quick sharp sigh. One hundred pounds! It would +relieve her of a weight of pressing difficulty--and yet--! She paused, +considering. + +"No, my child!" she said, quietly. "I would not on any account take so +much money from you. If you wish to stay, and if I must omit references +and take you on trust--which I am quite willing to do!"--and she +smiled, gravely--"I will accept two months' rent in advance if you +think you can spare this--can you?" + +"Yes--oh, yes!" the girl exclaimed, impulsively. "If only I may +stay--now!" + +"You may certainly stay now," and Miss Leigh rang a bell to summon the +neat maid-servant. "Rachel, the rooms are let to this young lady, Miss +Armitage. Will you prepare the bedroom and help her unpack her things?" +Then, turning round to Innocent, she said kindly,--"You will of course +take your meals with me at my table--I keep very regular hours, and if +for any cause you have to be absent, I should wish to know beforehand." + +Innocent said nothing;--her eyes were full of tears, but she took the +old lady's little hand and kissed it. They went down together again to +the drawing-room, Innocent just pausing to tell the maid Rachel that +she would prefer to unpack and arrange the contents of her satchel--all +her luggage,--herself; and in a very few minutes the whole business was +settled. Eager to prove her good faith to the gentle lady who had so +readily trusted her, she drew from her bosom the envelope containing +the bank-notes left to her by Hugo Jocelyn, and, unfolding all four, +she spread them out on the table. + +"You see," she said, "this is my little fortune! Please change one of +them and take the two months' rent and anything more you want--please +do!" + +A faint colour flushed Miss Leigh's pale cheeks. + +"No, my dear, no!" she answered. "You must not tempt me! I will take +exactly the two months' rent and no more; but I think you ought not to +carry this money about with you--you should put it in a bank. We'll +talk of this afterwards--but go and lock it up somewhere now--there's a +little desk in your room you could use--but a bank would be safest. +After dinner this evening I'll tell you what I think you ought to +do--you are so very young!"--and she smiled--"such a young little +thing! I shall have to look after you and play chaperone!" + +Innocent looked up with a sweet confidence in her eyes. + +"That will be kind of you!" she said, and leaving the one bank-note of +a hundred pounds on the table, she folded up the other three in their +original envelope and returned them to their secret place of safety. +"In a little while I will tell you a great deal about myself--and I do +hope I shall please you! I will not give any trouble, and I'll try to +be useful in the house if you'll let me. I can cook and sew and do all +sorts of things!" + +"Can you, indeed!" and Miss Leigh laughed good-naturedly. "And what +about studying for literature?" + +"Ah!--that of course comes first!" she said. "But I shall do all my +writing in the mornings--in the afternoons I can help you as much as +you like." + +"My dear, your time must be your own," said Miss Leigh, decisively. +"You have paid for your accommodation, and you must have perfect +liberty to do as you like, as long as you keep to my regular hours for +meals and bed-time. I think we shall get on well together,--and I hope +we shall be good friends!" + +As she spoke she bent forward and on a sudden impulse drew the girl to +her and kissed her. Poor lonely Innocent thrilled through all her being +to the touch of instinctive tenderness, and her heart beat quickly as +she saw the portrait on the harpsichord--her father's pictured +face--apparently looking at her with a smile. + +"Oh, you are very good to me!" she murmured, with a little sob in her +breath, as she returned the gentle old lady's kiss. "I feel as if I had +known you for years! Did you know him"--and she pointed to the +portrait--"very long?" + +Miss Leigh's eyes grew bright and tender. + +"Yes!" she answered. "We were boy and girl together--and once--once we +were very fond of each other. Perhaps I will tell you the story some +day! Now go up to your rooms and arrange everything as you like, and +rest a little. Would you like some tea? Anything to eat?" + +Poor Innocent, who had left Briar Farm at dawn without any thought of +food, and had travelled to London almost unconscious of either hunger +or fatigue, was beginning to feel the lack of nourishment, and she +gratefully accepted the suggestion. + +"I lunch at two o'clock," continued Miss Leigh. "But it's only a little +past twelve now, and if you have come a long way from the country you +must be tired. I'll send Rachel up to you with some tea." + +She went to give the order, and Innocent, left to herself for a moment, +moved softly up to her father's picture and gazed upon it with all her +soul in her eyes. It was a wonderful face--a face expressive of the +highest thought and intelligence--the face of a thinker or a poet, +though the finely moulded mouth and chin had nothing of the weakness +which sometimes marks a mere dreamer of dreams. Timidly glancing about +her to make sure she was not observed, she kissed the portrait, the +cold glass which covered it meeting her warm caressing lips with a +repelling chill. He was dead--this father whom she could never +claim!--dead as Hugo Jocelyn, who had taken that father's place in her +life. She might love the ghost of him if her fancy led her that way, as +she loved the ghost of the "Sieur Amadis"--but there was nothing else +to love! She was alone in the world, with neither father nor "knight of +old" to protect or defend her, and on herself alone depended her +future. She turned away and left the room, looking a fragile, sad, +unobtrusive little creature, with nothing about her to suggest either +beauty or power. Yet the mind in that delicate body had a strength of +which she was unconscious, and she was already bending it instinctively +and intellectually like a bow ready for the first shot--with an arrow +which was destined to go straight to its mark. + +Meanwhile on Briar Farm there had fallen a cloud of utter desolation. +The day was fair and brilliant with summer sunshine, the birds sang, +the roses bloomed, the doves flew to and fro on the gabled roof, and +Innocent's pet "Cupid" waited in vain on the corner of her window-sill +for the usual summons that called it to her hand,--but a strange +darkness and silence like a whelming wave submerged the very light from +the eyes of those who suddenly found themselves deprived of a beloved +presence--a personality unobtrusively sweet, which had bestowed on the +old house a charm and grace far greater than had been fully recognised. +The "base-born" Innocent, nameless, and unbaptised, and therefore +shadowed by the stupid scandal of commonplace convention, had given the +"home" its homelike quality--her pretty idealistic fancies about the +old sixteenth-century knight "Sieur Amadis" had invested the place with +a touch of romance and poetry which it would hardly have possessed +with-out her--her gentle ways, her care of the flowers and the animals, +and the never-wearying delight she had taken in the household +affairs--all her part in the daily life of the farm had been as +necessary to happiness as the mastership of Hugo Jocelyn himself--and +without her nothing seemed the same. Poor Priscilla went about her +work, crying silently, and Robin Clifford paced restlessly up and down +the smooth grass in front of the old house with Innocent's farewell +letter in his hand, reading it again and again. He had returned early +from the market town where he had stayed the night, eager to explain to +her all the details of the business he had gone through with the lawyer +to whom his Uncle Hugo had entrusted his affairs, and to tell her how +admirably everything had been arranged for the prosperous continuance +of Briar Farm on the old traditional methods of labour by which it had +always been worked to advantage. Hugo Jocelyn had indeed shown plenty +of sound wisdom and foresight in all his plans save one--and that one +was his fixed idea of Innocent's marriage with his nephew. It had +evidently never occurred to him that a girl could have a will of her +own in such a momentous affair--much less that she could or would be so +unwise as to refuse a good husband and a settled home when both were at +hand for her acceptance. Robin himself, despite her rejection of him, +had still hoped and believed that when the first shock of his uncle's +death had lessened, he might by patience and unwearying tenderness move +her heart to softer yielding, and he had meant to plead his cause with +her for the sake of the famous old house itself, so that she might +become its mistress and help him to prove a worthy descendant of its +long line of owners. But now! All hope was at an end--she had taken the +law into her own hands and gone--no one knew whither. Priscilla was the +last who had seen her--Priscilla could only explain, with many tears, +that when she had gone to call her to breakfast she had found her room +vacant, her bed unslept in, and the letter for Robin on the table--and +that letter disclosed little or nothing of her intentions. + +"Oh, the poor child!" Priscilla said, sobbingly. "All alone in a hard +world, with her strange little fancies, and no one to take care of her! +Oh, Mr. Robin, whatever are we to do!" + +"Nothing!" and Robin's handsome face was pale and set. "We can only +wait to hear from her--she will not keep us long in anxiety--she has +too much heart for that. After all, it is MY fault, Priscilla! I tried +to persuade her to marry me against her will--I should have let her +alone." + +Sudden boyish tears sprang to his eyes--he dashed them away in +self-contempt. + +"I'm a regular coward, you see," he said. "I could cry like a baby--not +for myself so much, but to think of her running away from Briar Farm +out into the wide world all alone! Little Innocent! She was safe +here--and if she had wished it, _I_ would have gone away--I would have +made HER the owner of the farm, and left her in peace to enjoy it and +to marry any other man she fancied. But she wouldn't listen to any plan +for her own happiness since she knew she was not my uncle's +daughter--that is what has changed her! I wish she had never known!" + +"Ay, so do I!" agreed Priscilla, dolefully. "But she's got the +fancifullest notions! All about that old stone knight in the +garden--an' what wi' the things he's left carved all over the wall of +the room where she read them queer old books, she's fair 'mazed with +ideas that don't belong to the ways o' the world at all. I can't think +what'll become o' the child. Won't there be any means of findin' out +where she's gone?" + +"I'm afraid not!" answered Robin, sadly. "We muse trust to her +remembrance of us, Priscilla, and her thoughts of the old home where +she was loved and cared for." His voice shook. "It will be a dreary +place without her! We shall miss her every minute, every hour of the +day! I cannot fancy what the garden will look like without her little +white figure flitting over the grass, and her sweet fair face smiling +among the roses! Hang it all, Priscilla, if it were not for the last +wishes of my Uncle Hugo I'd throw the whole thing up and go abroad!" + +"Don't do that, Mister Robin!"--and Priscilla laid her rough work-worn +hand on his arm--"Don't do it! It's turning your back on duty to give +up the work entrusted to you by a dead man. You know it is! An' the +child may come back any day! I shouldn't wonder if she got frightened +at being alone and ran home again to-morrow! Think of it, Mister Robin! +Suppose she came an' you weren't here? Why, you'd never forgive +yourself! I can't think she's gone far or that she'll stay away long. +Her heart's in Briar Farm all the while--I'd swear to that! Why, only +yesterday when a fine lady came to see if she couldn't buy something +out o' the house, you should just a' seen her toss her pretty little +head when she told me how she'd said it wasn't to be sold." + +"Lady? What lady?" and Robin looked, as he felt, bewildered by +Priscilla's vague statement. "Did someone come here to see the house?" + +"Not exactly--I don't know what it was all about," replied Priscilla. +"But quite a grand lady called an' gave me her card. I saw the name on +it--'Lady Maude Blythe'--and she asked to see 'Miss Jocelyn' on +business. I asked if it was anything I could do, and she said no. So I +called the child in from the garden, and she and the lady had quite a +long talk together in the best parlour. Then when the lady went away, +Innocent told me that she had wished to buy something from Briar +Farm--but that it was not to be sold." + +Robin listened attentively. "Curious!" he murmured--"very curious! What +was the lady's name?" + +"Lady Maude Blythe," repeated Priscilla, slowly. + +He took out a note-book and pencil, and wrote it down. + +"You don't think she came to engage Innocent for some service?" he +asked. "Or that Innocent herself had perhaps written to an agency +asking for a place, and that this lady had come to see her in +consequence?" + +Such an idea had never occurred to Priscilla's mind, but now it was +suggested to her it seemed more than likely. + +"It might be so," she answered, slowly. "But I can't bear to think the +child was playin' a part an' tellin' me things that weren't true just +to get away from us. No! Mister Robin! I don't believe that lady had +anything to do with her going." + +"Well, I shall keep the name by me," he said. "And I shall find out +where the lady lives, who she is and all about her. For if I don't hear +from Innocent, if she doesn't write to us, I'll search the whole world +and never rest till I find her!" + +Priscilla looked at him, pityingly, tears springing again to her eyes. + +"Aye, you've lost the love o' your heart, my lad! I know that well +enough!" she said. "An' it's mighty hard on you! But you must be a man +an' turn to work as though nowt had happened. There's the farm--" + +"Yes, there's the farm," he repeated, absently. "But what do I care for +the farm without her! Priscilla, YOU will stay with me?" + +"Stay with you? Surely I will, Mister Robin! Where should an old woman +like me go to at this time o' day!" and Priscilla took his hand and +clasped it affectionately. "Don't you fear! My place is in Briar Farm +till the Lord makes an end of me! And if the child comes back at any +hour of the day or night, she'll find old Priscilla ready to welcome +her,--ready an' glad an' thankful to see her pretty face again." + +Here, unable to control her sobs, she turned away and made a hasty +retreat into the kitchen. + +He did not follow her, but acting on the sudden impulse of his mind he +entered the house and went up to Innocent's deserted room. He opened +the door hesitatingly,--the little study, in its severe simplicity and +neatness, looked desolate--like an empty shrine from which the +worshipped figure had been taken. He trod softly across the floor, +hushing his footsteps, as though some one slept whom he feared to wake, +and his eyes wandered from one familiar object to another till they +rested on the shelves where the old vellum-bound books, which Innocent +had loved and studied so much, were ranged in orderly rows. Taking one +or two of them out he glanced at their title-pages;--he knew that most +of them were rare and curious, though his Oxford training had not +impressed him with as great a love of things literary as it might or +should have done. But he realised that these strange black-letter and +manuscript volumes were of unique value, and that their contents, so +difficult to decipher, were responsible for the formation of Innocent's +guileless and romantic spirit, colouring her outlook on life with a +glamour of rainbow brilliancy which, though beautiful, was unreal. One +quaint little book he opened had for its title--"Ye Whole Art of Love, +Setting Forth ye Noble Manner of Noble Knights who woulde serve their +Ladies Faithfullie in Death as in Lyfe"--this bore the date of 1590. He +sighed as he put it back in its place. + +"Ah, well," he said, half aloud, "these books are hers, and I'll keep +them for her--but I believe they've done her a lot of mischief, and I +don't love them! They've made her see the world as it is not--and life +as it never will be! And she has got strange fancies into her +head--fancies which she will run after like a child chasing pretty +butterflies--and when the butterflies are caught, they die, much to the +child's surprise and sorrow! My poor little Innocent! She has gone out +alone into the world, and the world will break her heart! Oh dearest +little love, come back to me!" + +He sat down in her vacant chair and covered his face with his hands, +giving himself up to the relief of unwitnessed tears. Above his head +shone the worn glitter of the old armoured device of the "Sieur Amadis" +with its motto--"Mon coeur me soutien"--and only a psychist could have +thought or imagined it possible that the spirit of the old French +knight of Tudor times might still be working through clouds of +circumstance and weaving the web of the future from the torn threads of +the past. And when Robin had regained his self-possession and had left +the room, there was yet a Presence in its very emptiness,--the silent +assertion of an influence which if it had been given voice and speech +might have said--"Do what you consider is your own will and intention, +but _I_ am still your Master!--and all your thoughts and wishes are but +the reflex of MY desire!" + +It was soon known in the village that Innocent had left Briar +Farm--"run away," the gossips said, eager to learn more. But they could +get no information out of Robin Clifford or Priscilla Priday, and the +labourers on the farm knew nothing. The farm work was going on as +usual--that was all they cared about. Mr. Clifford was very +silent--Miss Priday very busy. However, all anxiety and suspense came +to an end very speedily so far as Innocent's safety was concerned, for +in a few days letters arrived from her--both for Robin and +Priscilla--kind, sweetly-expressed letters full of the tenderest +affection. + +"Do not be at all sorry or worried about me, dear good Priscilla!" she +wrote. "I know I am doing right to be away from Briar Farm for a +time--and I am quite well and happy. I have been very fortunate in +finding rooms with a lady who is very kind to me, and as soon as I feel +I can do so I will let you know my address. But I don't want anyone +from home to come and see me--not yet!--not for a very long time! It +would only make me sad--and it would make you sad too! But be quite +sure it will not be long before you see me again." + +Her letter to Robin was longer and full of restrained feeling: + +"I know you are very unhappy, you kind, loving boy," it ran. "You have +lost me altogether--yes, that is true--but do not mind, it is better +so, and you will love some other girl much more than me some day. I +should have been a mistake in your life had I stayed with you. You will +see me again--and you will then understand why I left Briar Farm. I +could not wrong the memory of the Sieur Amadis, and if I married you I +should be doing a wicked thing to bring myself, who am base-born, into +his lineage. Surely you do understand how I feel? I am quite safe--in a +good home, with a lady who takes care of me--and as soon as I can I +will let you know exactly where I am--then if you ever come to London I +will see you. But your work is on Briar Farm--that dear and beloved +home!--and you will keep up its old tradition and make everybody happy +around you. Will you not? Yes! I am sure you will! You MUST, if ever +you loved me. "INNOCENT." + +With this letter his last hope died within him. She would never be +his--never, never! Some dim future beckoned her in which he had no +part--and he confronted the fact as a brave soldier fronts the guns, +with grim endurance, aware, yet not afraid of death. + +"If ever I loved her!" he thought. "If ever I cease to love her then I +shall be as stone-cold a man as her fetish of a French knight, the +Sieur Amadis! Ah, my little Innocent, in time to come you may +understand what love is--perhaps to your sorrow!--you may need a strong +defender--and I shall be ready! Sooner or later--now or years hence--if +you call me, I shall answer. I would find strength to rise from my +death-bed and go to you if you wanted me! For I love you, my little +love! I love you, and nothing can change me. Only once in a life-time +can a man love any woman as I love you!" + +And with a deep vow of fidelity sworn to his secret soul he sat alone, +watching the shadows of evening steal over the landscape--falling, +falling slowly, like a gradually descending curtain upon all visible +things, till Briar Farm stood spectral in the gloom like the ghost of +its own departed days, and lights twinkled in the lattice windows like +little eyes glittering in the dark. Then silently bidding farewell to +all his former dreams of happiness, he set himself to face "the burden +and heat of the day"--that long, long day of life so difficult to live, +when deprived of love! + + + + + +BOOK TWO: HIS FACT + + +BOOK TWO + +CHAPTER I + +In London, the greatest metropolis of the world, the smallest affairs +are often discussed with more keenness than things of national +importance,--and it is by no means uncommon to find society more +interested in the doings of some particular man or woman than in the +latest and most money-milking scheme of Government finance. In this way +it happened that about a year after Innocent had, like a small boat in +a storm, broken loose from her moorings and drifted out to the wide +sea, everybody who was anybody became suddenly thrilled with curiosity +concerning the unknown personality of an Author. There are so many +Authors nowadays that it is difficult to get up even a show of interest +in one of them,--everybody "writes"--from Miladi in Belgravia, who +considers the story of her social experiences, expressed in +questionable grammar, quite equal to the finest literature, down to the +stable-boy who essays a "prize" shocker for a penny dreadful. But this +latest aspirant to literary fame had two magnetic qualities which +seldom fail to arouse the jaded spirit of the reading public,--novelty +and mystery, united to that scarce and seldom recognised power called +genius. He or she had produced a Book. Not an ephemeral piece of +fiction,--not a "Wells" effort of imagination under hydraulic +pressure--not an hysterical outburst of sensual desire and +disappointment such as moves the souls of demimondaines and +dressmakers,--not even a "detective" sensation--but just a Book--a real +Book, likely to live as long as literature itself. It was something in +the nature of a marvel, said those who knew what they were talking +about, that such a book should have been written at all in these modern +days. The "style" of it was exquisite and scholarly--quaint, +expressive, and all-sufficing in its artistic simplicity,--thoughts +true for all time were presented afresh with an admirable point and +delicacy that made them seem new and singularly imperative,--and the +story which, like a silken thread, held all the choice jewels of +language together in even and brilliant order, was pure and +idyllic,--warm with a penetrating romance, yet most sincerely human. +When this extraordinary piece of work was published, it slipped from +the press in quite a modest way without much preliminary announcement, +and for two or three weeks after its appearance nobody knew anything +about it. The publishers themselves were evidently in doubt as to its +reception, and signified their caution by economy in the way of +advertisement--it was not placarded in the newspaper columns as "A Book +of the Century" or "A New Literary Event." It simply glided into the +crowd of books without noise or the notice of reviewers--just one of a +pushing, scrambling, shouting multitude,--and quite suddenly found +itself the centre of the throng with all eyes upon it, and all tongues +questioning the how, when and where of its author. No one could say how +it first began to be thus busily talked about,--the critics had +bestowed upon it nothing of either their praise or blame,--yet somehow +the ball had been set rolling, and it gathered size and force as it +rolled, till at last the publishers woke up to the fact that they had, +by merest chance, hit upon a "paying concern." They at once assisted in +the general chorus of delight and admiration, taking wider space in the +advertisement columns of the press for the "work of genius" which had +inadvertently fallen into their hands--but when it came to answering +the questions put to them respecting its writer they had very little to +say, being themselves more or less in the dark. + +"The manuscript was sent to us in the usual way," the head of the firm +explained to John Harrington, one of the soundest and most influential +of journalists, "just on chance,--it was neither introduced nor +recommended. One of our readers was immensely taken with it and advised +us to accept it. The author gave no name, and merely requested all +communications to be made through his secretary, a Miss Armitage, as he +wished for the time being to remain anonymous. We drew up an Agreement +on these lines which was signed for the author by Miss Armitage,--she +also corrected and passed the proofs--" + +"Perhaps she also wrote the book," interrupted Harrington, with an +amused twinkle in his eyes--"I suppose such a solution of the mystery +has not occurred to you?" + +The publisher smiled. "Under different circumstances it might have done +so," he replied, "but we have seen Miss Armitage several times--she is +quite a young girl, not at all of the 'literary' type, though she is +very careful and accurate in her secretarial work--I mean as regards +business letters and attention to detail. But at her age she could not +have had the scholarship to produce such a book. The author shows a +close familiarity with sixteenth-century literature such as could only +be gained by a student of the style of that period,--Miss Armitage has +nothing of the 'book-worm' about her--she is quite a simple young +person--more like a bright school-girl than anything else--" + +"Where does she live?" asked Harrington, abruptly. + +The publisher looked up the address and gave it. + +"There it is," he said; "if you want to write to the author she will +forward any letters to him." + +Harrington stared at the pencilled direction for a moment in silence. +He remembered it--of course he remembered it!--it was the very address +given to the driver of the taxi-cab in which the girl with whom he had +travelled to London more than a year ago had gone, as it seemed, out of +his sight. Every little incident connected with her came freshly back +to his mind--how she had spoken of the books she loved in "old French" +and "Elizabethan English"--and how she had said she knew the way to +earn her own living. If this was the way--if she was indeed the author +of the book which had stirred and wakened the drowsing soul of the age, +then she had not ventured in vain! + +Aloud he said: + +"It seems to be another case of the 'Author of Waverley' and the 'Great +Unknown'! I suppose you'll take anything else you can get by the same +hand?" + +"Rather!" And the publisher nodded emphatically--"We have already +secured a second work." + +"Through Miss Armitage?" + +"Yes. Through Miss Armitage." + +Harrington laughed. + +"I believe you're all blinder than bats!" he said--"Why on earth you +should think that because a woman looks like a school-girl she cannot +write a clever book if gifted that way, is a condition of +non-intelligence I fail to fathom! You speak of this author as a 'he.' +Do you think only a male creature can produce a work of genius? Look at +the twaddle men turn out every day in the form of novels alone! Many of +them are worse than the worst weak fiction by women. I tell you I've +lived long enough to know that a woman's brain can beat a man's if she +cares to test it, so long as she does not fall in love. When once that +disaster happens it's all over with her! It's the one drawback to a +woman's career; if she would only keep clear of love and self-sacrifice +she'd do wonders! Men never allow love to interfere with so much as +their own smoke--very few among them would sacrifice a good cigar for +a woman! As for this girl, Miss Armitage, I'll pluck out the heart of +her mystery for you! I suppose you won't pay any less for good work if +it turns out to be by a 'she' instead of a 'he'?" + +The publisher was amused. + +"Certainly not!" he answered. "We have already paid over a thousand +pounds in royalties on the present book, and we have agreed to give two +thousand in advance on the next. The author has expressed himself as +perfectly satisfied--" + +"Through Miss Armitage?" put in Harrington. + +"Yes. Through Miss Armitage." + +"Well!" And Harrington turned to go--"I hope Miss Armitage will also +express herself as perfectly satisfied after I have seen her! I shall +write and ask permission to call--" + +"Surely"--and the publisher looked distressed--"surely you do not +intend to trouble this poor girl by questions concerning her employer? +It's hardly fair to her!--and of course it's only your way of joking, +but your idea that she wrote the book we're all talking about is simply +absurd! She couldn't do it! When you see her, you'll understand." + +"I daresay I shall!" And Harrington smiled-"Don't you worry! I'm too +old a hand to get myself or anybody else into trouble! But I'll wager +you anything that your simple school-girl is the author!" + +He went back then and there to the office of his big newspaper and +wrote a guarded little note as follows:-- + +"DEAR MISS ARMITAGE, + +I wonder if you remember a grumpy old fellow who travelled with you on +your first journey to London rather more than a year ago? You never +told me your name, but I kept a note of the address you gave through me +to your taxi-driver, and through that address I have just by chance +heard that you and the Miss Armitage who corrected the proofs of a +wonderful book recently published are one and the same person. May I +call and see you? Yours sincerely, + +JOHN HARRINGTON." + +He waited impatiently for the answer, but none came for several days. +At last he received a simple and courteous "put off," thus expressed:-- + +"DEAR MR. HARRINGTON, + +I remember you very well--you were most kind, and I am grateful for +your thought of me. But I hope you will not think me rude if I ask you +not to call. I am living as a paying guest with an old lady whose +health is not very strong and who does not like me to receive visitors, +and you can understand that I try not to inconvenience her in any way. +I do hope you are well and successful. + +Yours sincerely, + +ENA ARMITAGE." + +He folded up the note and put it in his pocket. + +"That finishes me very decisively!" he said, with a laugh at himself +for his own temerity. "Who is it says a woman cannot keep a secret? She +can, and will, and does!--when it suits her to do so! Never mind, Miss +Armitage! I shall find you out when, you least expect it--never fear!" + +Meanwhile Miss Leigh's little house in Kensington was the scene of +mingled confusion and triumph. The "paying guest"--the little +unobtrusive girl, with all her wardrobe in a satchel and her legacy of +four hundred pounds in bank-notes tucked into her bosom--had achieved +a success beyond her wildest dreams, and now had only to declare her +identity to become a "celebrity." Miss Lavinia had been for some days +in a state of nervous excitement, knowing that it was Innocent's first +literary effort which had created such a sensation. By this time she +had learned all the girl's history--Innocent had told her everything, +save and except the one fact of her parentage,--and this she held back, +not out of shame for herself, but consideration for the memory of the +handsome man whose portrait stood on the silent harpsichord. For she in +her turn had discovered Miss Lavinia's secret,--how the dear lady's +heart had been devoted to Pierce Armitage all her life, and how when +she knew he had been drawn away from her and captivated by another +woman her happiness had been struck down and withered like a flowering +rose in a hard gale of wind. For this romance, and the disillusion she +had suffered, Innocent loved her. The two had become fast friends, +almost like devoted mother and daughter. Miss Leigh was, as she had +stated in her "Morning Post" advertisement, well-connected, and she did +much for the girl who had by chance brought a new and thrilling +interest into her life--more than Innocent could possibly have done for +herself. The history of the child,--as much as she was told of it,--who +had been left so casually at a country farm on the mere chance of its +being kept and taken care of, affected her profoundly, and when +Innocent confided to her the fact that she had never been baptised, the +gentle old lady was moved to tears. No time was lost in lifting this +spiritual ban from the young life concerned, and the sacred rite was +performed quietly one morning in the church which Miss Leigh had +attended for many years, Miss Leigh having herself explained beforehand +some of the circumstances to the Vicar, and standing as god-mother to +the newly-received little Christian. And though there had arisen some +question as to the name by which she should be baptised, Miss Leigh +held tenaciously to the idea that she should retain the name her +"unknown" father had given her--"Innocent." + +"Suppose he should not be dead," she said, "then if he were to meet you +some day, that name might waken his memory and lead him to identify +you. And I like it--it is pretty and original--quite Christian, +too,--there were several Popes named Innocent." + +The girl smiled. She thought of Robin Clifford, and how he had aired +his knowledge to her on the same subject. + +"But it is a man's name, isn't it?" she asked. + +"Not more so than a woman's, surely!" declared Miss Leigh. "You can +always call yourself 'Ena' for short if you like--but 'Innocent' is the +prettier name." + +And so "Innocent" it was,--and by the sprinkling of water and the +blessing of the Church the name was finally bestowed and sanctified. +Innocent herself was peacefully glad of her newly-attained spiritual +dignity and called Miss Lavinia her "fairy god-mother." + +"Do you mind?" she asked, coaxingly. "It makes me so happy to feel that +you are one of those kind people in a fairy-tale, bringing good fortune +and blessing. I'm sure you ARE like that!" + +Miss Lavinia protested against the sweet flattery, but all the same she +was pleased. She began to take the girl out with her to the houses of +various "great" personages--friends whom she knew well and who made an +intimate little social circle of their own--"old-fashioned" people +certainly, but happily free from the sort of suppressed rowdyism which +distinguishes the "nouveaux riches" of the present day,--people who +adhered rigidly to almost obsolete notions of honour and dignity, who +lived simply and well within their means, who spoke reverently of +things religious and believed in the old adage--"Manners makyth the +man." So by degrees, Innocent found herself among a small choice "set" +chiefly made up of the fragments of the real "old" aristocracy, to +which Miss Leigh herself belonged,--and, with her own quick intuition +and inborn natural grace, she soon became a favourite with them all. +But no one knew the secret of her literary aspirations save Miss Leigh, +and when her book was published anonymously and the reading world began +to talk of it as something unusual and wonderful, she was more +terrified than pleased. Its success was greater than she had ever +dreamed of, and her one idea was to keep up the mystery of its +authorship as long as possible, but every day made this more difficult. +And when John Harrington wrote to her, she felt that disclosure was +imminent. She had always kept the visiting-card he had given her when +they had travelled to London together, and she knew he belonged to the +staff of a great and leading newspaper,--he was a man not likely to be +baffled in any sort of enquiry he might choose to make. She thought +about this as she sat in her quiet little room, working at the last few +chapters of her second book which the publishers were eagerly waiting +for. What a magical change had been wrought in her life since she left +Briar Farm more than a year, aye,--nearly eighteen months ago! For one +thing, all fears of financial difficulty were at an end. Her first book +had brought her more money than she had ever had in her life, and the +publisher's offer for her second outweighed her most ambitious desires. +She was independent--she could earn sufficient, and more than +sufficient to keep herself in positive luxury if she chose,--but for +this she had no taste. Her little rooms in Miss Leigh's house satisfied +all her ideas of rest and comfort, and she stayed on with the kind old +lady by choice and affection, helping her in many ways, and submitting +to her guidance in every little social matter with the charming +humility of a docile and obedient spirit all too rare in these days +when youth is more full of effrontery than modesty. She had managed her +"literary" business so far well and carefully, representing herself as +the private secretary of an author who wished to remain anonymous, and +who had gone abroad, entrusting her with his manuscript to "place" with +any suitable firm that would make a suitable offer. The ruse would +hardly have succeeded in the case of any ordinary piece of work, but +the book itself was of too exceptional a quality to be passed over, and +the firm to which it was first offered recognised this and accepted it +without parley, astute enough to see its possibilities and to risk its +chances of success. And now she realised that her little plot might be +discovered any day, and that she would have to declare herself as the +writer of a strange and brilliant book which was the talk of the moment. + +"I wonder what they will say when they know it at Briar Farm!" she +thought, with a smile and a half sigh. + +Briar Farm seemed a long way off in these days. She had written +occasionally both to Priscilla and Robin Clifford; giving her address +and briefly stating that she had taken the name of Armitage, feeling +that she had no right to that of Jocelyn. But Priscilla could not +write, and contented herself with sending her "dear love and duty and +do come back soon," through Robin, who answered for both in letters +that were carefully cold and restrained. Now that he knew where she was +he made no attempt to visit her,--he was too grieved and disappointed +at her continued absence, and deeply hurt at what he considered her +"quixotic" conduct in adopting a different name,--an "alias" as he +called it. + +"You have separated yourself from your old home by your own choice in +more ways than one," he wrote, "and I see I have no right to criticise +your actions. You are in a strange place and you have taken a strange +name,--I cannot feel that you are Innocent,--the Innocent of our bygone +happy years! It is better I should not go and see you--not unless you +send for me, when, of course, I will come." + +She was both glad and sorry for this,--she would have liked to see him +again, and yet!--well!--she knew instinctively that if they met, it +would only cause him fresh unhappiness. Her new life had bestowed new +grace on her personality--all the interior intellectual phases of her +mind had developed in her a beauty of face and form which was rare, +subtle and elusive, and though she was not conscious of it herself, she +had that compelling attraction about her which few can resist,--a +fascination far greater than mere physical perfection. No one could +have called her actually beautiful,--hardly could it have been said she +was even "pretty"--but in her slight figure and intelligent face with +its large blue-grey eyes half veiled under dreamy, drooping lids and +long lashes, there was a magnetic charm which was both sweet and +powerful. Moreover, she dressed well,--in quiet taste, with a careful +avoidance of anything foolish or eccentric in fashion, and wherever she +went she made her effect as a graceful young presence expressive of +repose and harmony. She spoke delightfully,--in a delicious voice, +attuned to the most melodious inflections, and her constant study of +the finer literature of the past gave her certain ways of expressing +herself in a manner so far removed from the abrupt slanginess commonly +used to-day by young people of both sexes that she was called "quaint" +by some and "weird" by others of her own sex, though by men young and +old she was declared "charming." Guarded and chaperoned by good old +Miss Lavinia Leigh, she had no cause to be otherwise than satisfied +with her apparently reckless and unguided plunge into the mighty vortex +of London,--some beneficent spirit had led her into a haven of safety +and brought her straight to the goal of her ambition without difficulty. + +"Of course I owe it all to Dad," she thought. "If it had not been for +the four hundred pounds he left me to 'buy pretties' with I could not +have done anything. I have bought my 'pretties'!--not bridal ones--but +things so much better!" + +As the memory of her "Dad" came over her, tears sprang to her eyes. In +her mind she saw the smooth green pastures round Briar Farm--the +beautiful old gabled house,--the solemn trees waving their branches in +the wind over the tomb of the "Sieur Amadis,"--the doves wheeling round +and round in the clear air, and her own "Cupid" falling like a +snowflake from the roof to her caressing hand. All the old life of +country sights and sounds passed before her like a fair mirage, giving +place to dark days of sorrow, disillusion and loss,--the fleeting +glimpse of her self-confessed "mother," Lady Maude Blythe,--and the +knowledge she had so unexpectedly gained as to the actual identity of +her father--he, whose portrait was in the very house to which she had +come through no more romantic means than a chance advertisement in the +"Morning Post!" And Miss Lavinia--her "fairy godmother"--could she have +found a better friend, even in any elf stepping out of a magic pumpkin? + +"If she ever knows the truth--if I am ever able to tell her that I am +HIS daughter," she said to herself, "I wonder if she will care for me +less or more? But I must not tell her!--She says he was so good and +noble! It would break her heart to think he had done anything wrong--or +that he had deserted his child." + +And so she held her peace on this point, though she was often tempted +to break silence whenever Miss Leigh reverted to the story of her being +left in such a casual, yet romantic way at Briar Farm. + +"I wonder who the handsome man was, my dear?" she would query--"Perhaps +he'll go back to the place and enquire for you. He may be some very +great personage!" + +And Innocent would smile and shake her head. + +"I fear not, my godmother!" she would reply. "You must not have any +fairy dreams about me! I was just a deserted baby--not wanted in the +world--but the world may have to take me all the same!" + +And her eyes would flash, and her sensitive mouth would quiver as the +vision of fame like a mystical rainbow circled the heaven of her +youthful imagination--while Miss Leigh would sigh, and listen and +wonder,--she, whose simple hope and faith had been centred in a love +which had proved false and vain,--praying that the girl might realise +her ambition without the wreckage and disillusion of her life. + +One evening--an evening destined to mark a turning-point in Innocent's +destiny--they went together to an "At Home" held at a beautiful studio +in the house of an artist deservedly famous. Miss Leigh had a great +taste for pictures, no doubt fostered since the early days of her +romantic attachment to a man who had painted them,--and she knew most +of the artists whose names were more or less celebrated in the modern +world. Her host on this special occasion was what is called a +"fashionable" portrait painter,--from the Queen downwards he had +painted the "counterfeit presentments" of ladies of wealth and title, +flattering them as delicately as his really clever brush would allow, +and thereby securing golden opinions as well as golden guineas. He was +a genial, breezy sort of man,--quite without vanity or any sort of +"art" ostentation, and he had been a friend of Miss Leigh's for many +years. Innocent loved going to his studio whenever her "godmother" +would take her, and he, in his turn, found interest and amusement in +talking to a girl who showed such a fresh, simple and unworldly nature, +united to intelligence and perception far beyond her years. On the +particular evening in question the studio was full of notable +people,--not uncomfortably crowded, but sufficiently so as to compose a +brilliant effect of colour and movement--beautiful women in wonderful +attire fluttered to and fro like gaily-plumaged birds among the +conventionally dark-clothed men who stood about in that aimless fashion +they so often affect when disinclined to talk or to make themselves +agreeable,--and there was a pleasantly subdued murmur of +voices,--cultured voices, well-attuned, and incapable of breaking into +the sheep-like snigger or asinine bray. Innocent, keeping close beside +her "god-mother," watched the animated scene with happy interest, +unconscious that many of those present watched her in turn with a good +deal of scarcely restrained curiosity. For, somehow or other, rumour +had whispered a flying word or two that it was possible she--even +she--that young, childlike-looking creature--might be, and probably was +the actual author of the clever book everybody was talking about, and +though no one had the hardihood to ask her point-blank if the report +was true, people glanced at her inquisitively and murmured their +"asides" of suggestion or incredulity, finding it difficult to believe +that a woman could at any time or by any means, alone and unaided, +snatch one flower from the coronal of fame. She looked very fair and +sweet and NON-literary, clad in a simple white gown made of some softly +clinging diaphanous material, wholly unadorned save by a small posy of +natural roses at her bosom,--and as she stood a little apart from the +throng, several artists noticed the grace of her personality--one +especially, a rather handsome man of middle age, who gazed at her +observantly and critically with a frank openness which, though bold, +was scarcely rude. She caught the straight light of his keen blue +eyes--and a thrill ran through her whole being, as though she had been +suddenly influenced by a magnetic current--then she flushed deeply as +she fancied she saw him smile. For the first time in her life she found +pleasure in the fact that a man had looked at her with plainly evinced +admiration in his fleeting glance,--and she watched him talking to +several people who all seemed delighted and flattered by his +notice--then he disappeared. Later on in the evening she asked her host +who he was. The famous R.A. considered for a moment. + +"Do you mean a man with rough dark hair and a youngish face?--rather +good-looking in an eccentric sort of way?" + +Innocent nodded eagerly. + +"Yes! And he had blue eyes." + +"Had he, really!" And the great artist smiled. "Well, I'm sure he would +be flattered at your close observation of him! I think I know +him,--that is, I know him as much as he will let anybody know him--he +is a curious fellow, but a magnificent painter--a real genius! He's +half French by descent, and his name is Jocelyn,--Amadis de Jocelyn." + +For a moment the room went round in a giddy whirl of colour before her +eyes,--she could not credit her own hearing. Amadis de Jocelyn!--the +name of her old stone Knight of France, on his tomb at Briar Farm, with +his motto--"Mon coeur me soutien!" + +"Amadis de Jocelyn!" she repeated, falteringly ... "Are you sure? ... I +mean ... is that his name really? ... it's so unusual... so curious..." + +"Yes--it IS curious"--agreed her host--"but it's quite a good old +French name, belonging to a good old French family. The Jocelyns bore +arms for the Duc d'Anjou in the reign of Queen Elizabeth--and this man +is a sort of last descendant, very proud of his ancestry. I'll bring +him along and introduce him to you if you'll allow me." + +Innocent murmured something--she scarcely knew what,--and in a few +minutes found herself giving the conventional bow in response to the +formal words--"Miss Armitage, Mr. de Jocelyn"--and looking straight up +at the blue eyes that a short while since had flashed an almost +compelling glance into her own. A strange sense of familiarity and +recognition moved her; something of the expression of her "Dad" was in +the face of this other Jocelyn of whom she knew nothing,--and her heart +beat so quickly that she could scarcely speak in answer when he +addressed her, as he did in a somewhat abrupt manner. + +"Are you an art student?" + +She smiled a little. + +"Oh no! I am--nothing! ... I love pictures of course--" + +"There is no 'of course' in it," he said, a humorous curve lifting the +corners of his moustache--"You're not bound to love pictures at all! +Most people hate them, and scarcely anybody understands them!" + +She listened, charmed by the mellow and deep vibration of his voice. + +"Everybody comes to see our friend here," he continued, with a slight +gesture of his hand towards their host, who had moved away,--"because +he is the fashion. If he were NOT the fashion he might paint like +Velasquez or Titian and no one would care a button!" + +He seemed entertained by his own talk, and she did not interrupt him. + +"You look like a stranger here," he went on, in milder accents--"a sort +of elf who has lost her way out of fairyland! Is anyone with you?" + +"Yes," she answered, quickly--"Miss Leigh--" + +"Miss Leigh? Who is she? Your aunt or your chaperone?" + +She was more at her ease now, and laughed at his quick, brusque manner +of speech. + +"Miss Leigh is my godmother," she said--"I call her my fairy godmother +because she is always so good and kind. There she is, standing by that +big easel." + +He looked in the direction indicated. + +"Oh yes!--I see! A charming old lady! I love old ladies when they don't +pretend to be young. That white hair of hers is very picturesque! So +she is your godmother!--and she takes care of you! Well! She might do +worse!" + +He ruffled his thick crop of hair and looked at her more or less +quizzically. + +"You have an air of suppressed enquiry," he said--"There is something +on your mind! You want to ask me a question--what is it?" + +A soft colour flew over her cheeks--she was confused to find him +reading her thoughts. + +"It is really nothing!" she answered, quickly--"I was only wondering a +little about your name--because it is one I have known all my life." + +His eyebrows went up in surprise. + +"Indeed? This is very interesting! I thought I was the only wearer of +such a very medieval appellation! Is there another so endowed?" + +"There WAS another--long, long ago"--and, unconsciously to herself her +delicate features softened into a dreamy and rapt expression as she +spoke,--while her voice fell into its sweetest and most persuasive +tone. "He was a noble knight of France, and he came over to England +with the Due d' Anjou when the great Elizabeth was Queen. He fell in +love with a very beautiful Court lady, who would not care for him at +all,--so, as he was unhappy and broken-hearted, he went away from +London and hid himself from everybody in the far country. There he +bought an old manor-house and called it Briar Farm--and he married a +farmer's daughter and settled in England for good--and he had six sons +and daughters. And when he died he was buried on his own land--and his +effigy is on his tomb--it was sculptured by himself. I used to put +flowers on it, just where his motto was carved--'Mon coeur me soutien.' +For I--I was brought up at Briar Farm... and I was quite fond of the +Sieur Amadis!" + +She looked up with a serious, sweet luminance in her eyes--and he was +suddenly thrilled by her glance, and moved by a desire to turn her +romantic idyll into something of reality. This feeling was merely the +physical one of an amorously minded man,--he knew, or thought he knew, +women well enough to hold them at no higher estimate than that of +sex-attraction,--yet, with all the cynicism he had attained through +long experience of the world and its ways, he recognised a charm in +this fair little creature that was strange and new and singularly +fascinating, while the exquisite modulations of her voice as she told +the story of the old French knight, so simply yet so eloquently, gave +her words the tenderness of a soft song well sung. + +"A pity you should waste fondness on a man of stone!" he said, lightly, +bending his keen steel-blue eyes on hers. "But what you tell me is most +curious, for your 'Sieur Amadis' must be the missing branch of my own +ancestral tree. May I explain?--or will it bore you?" + +She gave him a swift, eager glance. + +"Bore me?" she echoed--"How could it? Oh, do please let me know +everything--quickly!" + +He smiled at her enthusiasm. + +"We'll sit down here out of the crowd," he said,--and, taking her arm +gently, he guided her to a retired corner of the studio which was +curtained off to make a cosy and softly cushioned recess. "You have +told me half a romance! Perhaps I can supply the other half." He +paused, looking at her, whimsically pleased to see the warm young blood +flushing her cheeks as he spoke, and her eyes drooping under his +penetrating gaze. "Long, long ago--as you put it--in the days of good +Queen Bess, there lived a certain Hugo de Jocelin, a nobleman of +France, famed for fierce deeds of arms, and for making himself +generally disagreeable to his neighbours with whom he was for ever at +cross-purposes. This contentious personage had two sons,--Jeffrey and +Amadis,--also knights-at-arms, inheriting the somewhat excitable nature +of their father; and the younger of these, Amadis, whose name I bear, +was selected by the Duc d'Anjou to accompany him with his train of +nobles and gentles, when that 'petit grenouille' as he called himself, +went to England to seek Queen Elizabeth's hand in marriage. The Duke +failed in his ambitious quest, as we all know, and many of his +attendants got scattered and dispersed,--among them Amadis, who was +entirely lost sight of, and never returned again to the home of his +fathers. He was therefore supposed to be dead--" + +"MY Amadis!" murmured Innocent, her eyes shining like stars as she +listened. + +"YOUR Amadis!--yes!" And his voice softened. "Of course he must have +been YOUR Amadis!--your 'Knight of old and warrior bold!' Well! None of +his own people ever heard of him again--and in the family tree he is +marked as missing. But Jeffrey stayed at home in France,--and in due +course inherited his father's grim old castle and lands. He married, +and had a large family,--much larger than the six olive-branches +allotted to your friend of Briar Farm,"--and he smiled. "He, Jeffrey, +is my ancestor, and I can trace myself back to him in direct lineage, +so you see I have quite the right to my curious name!" + +She clasped and unclasped her little hands nervously--she was shy of +raising her eyes to his face. + +"It is wonderful!" she murmured--"I can hardly believe it possible that +I should meet here in London a real Jocelyn!--one of the family of the +Sieur Amadis!" + +"Does it seem strange?" He laughed. "Oh no! Nothing is strange in this +queer little world! But I don't quite know what the exact connection is +between me and your knight--it's too difficult for me to grasp! I +suppose I'm a sort of great-great-great-grand-nephew! However, nothing +can alter the fact that I am also an Amadis de Jocelyn!" + +She glanced up at him quickly. + +"You are, indeed!" she said. "It is you who ought to be the master of +Briar Farm!" + +"Ought I?" He was amused at her earnestness. "Why?" + +"Because there is no direct heir now to the Sieur Amadis!" she +answered, almost sadly. "His last descendant is dead. His name was +Hugo--Hugo Jocelyn--and he was a farmer, and he left all he had to his +nephew, the only child of his sister who died before him. The nephew is +very good, and clever, too,--he was educated at Oxford,--but he is not +an actually lineal descendant." + +He laughed again, this time quite heartily, at the serious expression +of her face. + +"That's very terrible!" he said. "I don't know when I've heard anything +so lamentable! And I'm afraid I can't put matters right! I should never +do for a farmer--I'm a painter. I had better go down and see this +famous old place, and the tomb of my ever so great-great-grand-uncle! I +could make a picture of it--I ought to do that, as it belonged to the +family of my ancestors. Will you take me?" + +She gave him a little fleeting, reluctant smile. + +"You are making fun of it all," she said. "That is not wise of you! You +should not laugh at grave and noble things." + +He was charmed with her quaintness. + +"Was he grave and noble?--Amadis, I mean?" he asked, his blue eyes +sparkling with a kind of mirthful ardour. "You are sure? Well, all +honour to him! And to YOU--for believing in him! I hope you'll consider +me kindly for his sake! Will you?" + +A quick blush suffused her cheeks. + +"Of course!--I must do so!" she answered, simply. "I owe him so much--" +then, fearful of betraying her secret of literary authorship, she +hesitated--"I mean--he taught me all I know. I studied all his old +books...." + +Just then their cheery host came up. + +"Well! Have you made friends? Ah!--I see you have! Mutual intelligence, +mutual comprehension! Jocelyn, will you bring Miss Innocent in to +supper?--I leave her in your charge." + +"Miss Innocent?" repeated Jocelyn, doubtful as to whether this was said +by way of a joke or not. + +"Yes--some people call her Ena--but her real name is Innocent. Isn't +it, little lady?" + +She smiled and coloured. Jocelyn looked at her with a curious +intentness. + +"Really? Your name is Innocent?" he asked. + +"Yes," she answered him--"I'm afraid it's a very unusual name--" + +"It is indeed!" he said with emphasis. "Innocent by name and by nature! +Will you come?" + +She rose at once, and they moved away together. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Chance and coincidence play curious pranks with human affairs, and one +of the most obvious facts of daily experience is that the merest +trifle, occurring in the most haphazard way, will often suffice to +change the whole intention and career of a life for good or for evil. +It is as though a musician in the composition of a symphony should +suddenly bethink himself of a new and strange melody, and, pleasing his +fancy with the innovation, should wilfully introduce it at the last +moment, thereby creating more or less of a surprise for the audience. +Something of this kind happened to Innocent after her meeting with the +painter who bore the name of her long idealised knight of France, +Amadis de Jocelin. She soon learned that he was a somewhat famous +personage,--famous for his genius, his scorn of accepted rules, and his +contempt for all "puffery," push and patronage, as well as for his +brusquerie in society and carelessness of conventions. She also heard +that his works had been rejected twice by the Royal Academy Council, a +reason he deemed all-sufficient for never appealing to that exclusive +school of favouritism again,--while everything he chose to send was +eagerly accepted by the French Salon, and purchased as soon as +exhibited. His name had begun to stand very high--and his original +character and personality made him somewhat of a curiosity among +men--one more feared than favoured. He took a certain pleasure in +analysing his own disposition for the benefit of any of his +acquaintances who chose to listen,--and the harsh judgment he passed on +himself was not altogether without justice or truth. + +"I am an essentially selfish man," he would say--"I have met +selfishness everywhere among my fellow men and women, and have imbibed +it as a sponge imbibes water. I've had a fairly hard time, and I've +experienced the rough side of human nature, getting more kicks than +halfpence. Now that the kicks have ceased I'm in no mood for soft soap. +I know the humbug of so-called 'friendship'--the rarity of +sincerity--and as for love!--there's no such thing permanently in man, +woman or child. What is called 'love' is merely a comfortable +consciousness that one particular person is agreeable and useful to you +for a time--but it's only for a time--and marriage which seeks to bind +two people together till death is the heaviest curse ever imposed on +manhood or womanhood! Devotion and self-sacrifice are merest folly--the +people you sacrifice yourself for are never worth it, and devotion is +generally, if not always, misplaced. The only thing to do in this life +is to look after yourself,--serve yourself--please yourself! No one +will do anything for you unless they can get something out of it for +their own advantage,--you're bound to follow the general example!" + +Notwithstanding this candid confession of cynical egotism, the man had +greatness in him, and those who knew his works readily recognised his +power. The impression he had made on Innocent's guileless and romantic +nature was beyond analysis,--she did not try to understand it herself. +His name and the connection he had with the old French knight of her +childhood's dreams and fancies had moved and roused her to a new +interest in life--and just as she had hitherto been unwilling to betray +the secret of her literary authorship, she was now eager to have it +declared--for one reason only,--that he might perhaps think well of +her. Whereby it will be seen that the poor child, endowed with a +singular genius as she was, knew nothing of men and their never-failing +contempt for the achievements of gifted women. Delicate of taste and +sensitive in temperament she was the very last sort of creature to +realise the ugly truth that men, taken en masse, consider women in one +only way--that of sex,--as the lower half of man, necessary to man's +continuance, but always the mere vessel of his pleasure. To her, Amadis +de Jocelyn was the wonderful realisation of an ideal,--but she was very +silent concerning him,--reserved and almost cold. This rather +surprised good Miss Lavinia Leigh, whose romantic tendencies had been +greatly stirred by the story of the knight of Briar Farm and the +discovery of a descendant of the same family in one of the most admired +artists of the day. They visited Jocelyn's studio together--a vast, +bare place, wholly unadorned by the tawdry paraphernalia which is +sometimes affected by third-rate men to create an "art" impression on +the minds of the uninstructed--and they had stood lost in wonder and +admiration before a great picture he was painting on commission, +entitled "Wild Weather." It was what is called by dealers an "important +work," and represented night closing in over a sea lashed into fury by +the sweep of a stormy wind. So faithfully was the scene of terror and +elemental confusion rendered that it was like nature itself, and the +imaginative eye almost looked for the rising waves to tumble liquidly +from the painted canvas and break on the floor in stretches of creamy +foam. Gentle Miss Leigh was conscious of a sudden beating of the heart +as she looked at this masterpiece of form and colour,--it reminded her +of the work of Pierce Armitage. She ventured to say so, with a little +hesitation, and Jocelyn caught at the name. + +"Armitage?--Yes--he was beginning to be rather famous some +five-and-twenty years ago--I wonder what became of him? He promised +great things. By the way"--and he turned to Innocent--"YOUR name is +Armitage! Any relation to him?" + +The colour rushed to her cheeks and fled again, leaving her very pale. + +"No," she answered. + +He looked at her inquisitively. + +"Well, Armitage is not as outlandish a name as Amadis de Jocelyn," he +said--"You will hardly find two of ME!--and I expect I shall hardly +find two of YOU!" and he smiled--"especially if what I have heard is +anything more than rumour!" + +Her eyes filled with an eager light. + +"What do you mean?" + +He laughed,--yet in himself was conscious of a certain embarrassment. + +"Well!--that a certain 'Innocent' young lady is a great author!" he +said--"There! You have it! I'm loth to believe it, and hope the report +isn't true, for I'm afraid of clever women! Indeed I avoid them +whenever I can!" + +A sudden sense of hopelessness and loss fell over her like a cloud--her +lips quivered. + +"Why should you do so?" she asked--"We do not avoid clever men!" + +He smiled. + +"Ah! That is different!" + +She was silent. Miss Leigh looked a little distressed. + +He went on lightly. + +"My dear Miss Armitage, don't be angry with me!" he said--"You are so +delightfully ignorant of the ways of our sex, and I for one heartily +wish you might always remain so! But we men are proverbially +selfish-and we like to consider cleverness, or 'genius' if you will, as +our own exclusive property. We hate the feminine poacher on our +particular preserves! We consider that women were made to charm and to +amuse us--not to equal us. Do you see? When a woman is clever--perhaps +cleverer than we are--she ceases to be amusing--and we must be amused! +We cannot have our fun spoiled by the blue-stocking element,--though +you--YOU do not look in the least 'blue'!" + +She turned from him in a mute vexation. She thought his talk trifling +and unmanly. Miss Leigh came to the rescue. + +"No--Innocent is certainly not 'blue,'" she said, sweetly--"If by that +term you mean 'advanced' or in any way unwomanly. But she has been +singularly gifted by nature--yes, dear child, I must be allowed to +speak!"--this, as Innocent made an appealing gesture,--"and if people +say she is the author of the book that is just now being so much talked +of, they are only saying the truth. The secret cannot be kept much +longer." + +He heard--then went quickly up to the girl where she stood in a +somewhat dejected attitude near his easel. + +"Then it IS true!" he said--"I heard it yesterday from an old +journalist friend of mine, John Harrington--but I couldn't quite +believe it. Let me congratulate you on your brilliant success--" + +"You do not care!" she said, almost in a whisper. + +"Oh, do I not?" He was amused, and taking her hand kissed it lightly. +"If all literary women were like YOU--" + +He left the sentence unfinished, but his eyes conveyed a wordless +language which made her heart beat foolishly and her nerves thrill. She +forgot the easy mockery which had distinguished his manner since when +speaking of the "blue-stocking element"-and once more "Amadis de +Jocelyn" sat firmly on her throne of the ideal! + +That very afternoon, on her return from Jocelyn's studio to Miss +Leigh's little house in Kensington which she now called her "home"--she +found a reply-paid telegram from her publishers, running thus: + +"Eminent journalist John Harrington reviews book favourably in evening +paper suggesting that you are the actual author. May we deny or +confirm?" + +She thought for some minutes before deciding--and went to Miss Leigh +with the telegram in her hand. + +"Godmother mine!" she said, kneeling down beside her--"Tell me, what +shall I do? Is it any use continuing to wear the veil of mystery? Shall +I take up my burden and bear it like a man?" + +Miss Lavinia smiled, and drew the girl's fair head to her bosom. + +"Poor little one!" she said, tenderly--"I know just what you feel about +it! You would rather remain quietly in your own dreamland than face the +criticism of the world, or be pointed out as a 'celebrity'--yes, I +quite understand! But I think you must, in justice to yourself and +others, 'take up the burden'--as you put it--yes, child! You must wear +your laurels, though for you I should prefer the rose!" + +Innocent shivered, as with sudden cold. + +"A rose has thorns!" she said, as she got up from her kneeling attitude +and moved away--"It's beautiful to look at--but it soon fades!" + +She sent off her reply wire to the publishers without further delay. + +"Statement quite true. You can confirm it publicly." + +And so the news was soon all over London, and for that matter all over +the world. From one end of the globe to the other the fact was made +known that a girl in her twentieth year had produced a literary +masterpiece, admirable both in design and execution, worthy to rank +with the highest work of the most brilliant and renowned authors. She +was speedily overwhelmed by letters of admiration, and invitations from +every possible quarter where "lion-hunting" is practised as a stimulant +to jaded and over-wrought society, but amid all the attractions and +gaieties offered to her she held fast by her sheet-anchor of safety, +Miss Leigh, who redoubled her loving care and vigilance, keeping her as +much as she could in the harbour of that small and exclusive "set" of +well-bred and finely-educated people for whom noise and fuss and show +meant all that was worst in taste and manners. And remaining more or +less in seclusion, despite the growing hubbub around her name, she +finished her second book, and took it herself to the great publishing +house which was rapidly coining good hard cash out of the delicate +dream of her woman's brain. The head of the firm received her with +eager and respectful cordiality. + +"You kept your secret very well!" he said--"I assure you I had no idea +you could be the author of such a book!--you are so young--" + +She smiled, a little sadly. + +"One may be young in years and old in thought," she answered--"I passed +all my childhood in reading and studying--I had no playmates and no +games--and I was nearly always alone. I had only old books to +read--mostly of the sixteenth century--I suppose I formed a 'style' +unconsciously on these." + +"It is a very beautiful and expressive style," said the publisher--"I +told Mr. Harrington, when he first suggested that you might be the +author, that it was altogether too scholarly for a girl." + +She gave a slight deprecatory gesture. + +"Pray do not let us discuss it," she said--"I am not at all pleased to +be known as the author." + +"No?" And he looked surprised--"Surely you must be happy to become so +suddenly famous?" + +"Are famous persons happy?" she asked--"I don't think they are! To be +stared at and whispered about and criticised--that's not happiness! And +men never like you!" + +The publisher laughed. + +"You can do without their liking, Miss Armitage," he said--"You've +beaten all the literary fellows on their own ground! You ought to be +satisfied. WE are very proud!" + +"Thank you!" she said, simply, as she rose to go--"I am grateful for +your good opinion." + +When she had left him, the publisher eagerly turned over the pages of +her new manuscript. At a glance he saw that there was no +"falling-off"--he recognised the same lucidity of expression, the same +point and delicacy of phraseology which had distinguished her first +effort, and the wonderful charm with which a thought was pressed firmly +yet tenderly home to its mark. + +"It will be a greater triumph for her and for us than the previous +book!" he said--"She's a wonder!--and the most wonderful thing about +her is that she has no conceit, and is unconscious of her own power!" + +Two or three days after the announcement of her authorship, came a +letter from Robin Clifford. + +"DEAR INNOCENT," it ran, "I see that your name, or rather the name you +have taken for yourself, is made famous as that of the author of a book +which is creating a great sensation--and I venture to write a word of +congratulation, hoping it may be acceptable to you from your playmate +and friend of bygone days. I can hardly believe that the dear little +'Innocent' of Briar Farm has become such a celebrated and +much-talked-of personage, for after all it is not yet two years since +you left us. I have told Priscilla, and she sends her love and duty, +and hopes God will allow her to see you once again before she dies. The +work of the farm goes on as usual, and everything prospers--all is as +Uncle Hugo would have wished--all except one thing which I know will +never be! But you must not think I grumble at my fate. I might feel +lonely if I had not plenty of work to do and people dependent on +me--but under such circumstances I manage to live a life that is at +least useful to others and I want for nothing. In the evenings when the +darkness closes in, and we light the tall candles in the old pewter +sconces, I often wish I could see a little fair head shining like a +cameo against the dark oak panelling--a vision of grace and hope and +comfort!--but as this cannot be, I read old books--even some of those +belonging to your favourite French Knight Amadis!--and try to add to +the little learning I gained at Oxford. I am sending for your +book!--when it comes I shall read every word of it with an interest too +deep to be expressed to you in my poor language. 'Cupid' is well--he +flies to my hand, surprised, I think, to find it of so rough a texture +as compared with the little rose-velvet palm to which he was +accustomed. Will you ever come to Briar Farm again? God bless you! +ROBIN." + +She shed some tears over this letter--then, moved by a sudden impulse, +sat down and answered it at once, giving a full account of her meeting +and acquaintance with another Amadis de Jocelyn--"the real last +descendant," she wrote, "of the real old family of the very Amadis of +Briar Farm!" She described his appearance and manners,--descanted on +his genius as a painter, and all unconsciously poured out her ardent, +enthusiastic soul on this wonderful discovery of the Real in the Ideal. +She said nothing of her own work or success, save that she was glad to +be able to earn her living. And when Robin read the simple outflow of +her thoughts his heart grew cold within him. He, with the keen instinct +of a lover, guessed at once all that might happen,--saw the hidden fire +smouldering, and became conscious of an inexplicable dread, as though a +note of alarm had sounded mystically in his brain. What would happen to +Innocent, if she, with her romantic, old-world fancies, should allow a +possible traitor to intrude within the crystal-pure sphere where her +sweet soul dwelt unsullied and serene? He told Priscilla the strange +story--and she in her shrewd, motherly way felt something of the same +fear. + +"Eh, the poor lamb!" she sighed--"That old French knight was ever a fly +in her brain and a stumbling-block in the way of us all!--and now to +come across a man o' the same name an' family, turning up all +unexpected like,--why, it's like a ghost's sudden risin' from the tomb! +An' what does it mean, Mister Robin? Are you the master o' Briar Farm +now?--or is he the rightful one?" + +Clifford laughed, a trifle bitterly. + +"I am the master," he said, "according to my uncle's will. This man is +a painter--famous and admired,--he'll scarcely go in for farming! If he +did--if he'd buy the farm from me--I should be glad enough to sell it +and leave the country." + +"Mister Robin!" cried Priscilla, reproachfully. + +He patted her hand gently. + +"Not yet--not yet anyhow, Priscilla!" he said--"I may be yet of some +use--to Innocent." He paused, then added, slowly--"I think we shall +hear more of this second Amadis de Jocelyn!" + +But months went on, and he heard nothing, save of Innocent's growing +fame which, by leaps and bounds, was spreading abroad like fire blown +into brightness by the wind. He got her first book and read it with +astonishment and admiration, utterly confounded by its brilliancy and +power. When her second work appeared with her adopted name appended to +it as the author, all the reading world "rushed" at it, and equally +"rushed" at HER, lifting her, as it were, on their shoulders and +bearing her aloft, against her own desire, above the seething tide of +fashion and frivolity as though she were a queen of many kingdoms, +crowned with victory. And again the old journalist, John Harrington, +sought an audience of her, and this time was not refused. She received +him in Miss Leigh's little drawing-room, holding out both her hands to +him in cordial welcome, with a smile frank and sincere enough to show +him at a glance that her "celebrity" had left her unscathed. She was +still the same simple child-like soul, wearing the mystical halo of +spiritual dreams rather than the brazen baldric of material +prosperity--and he, bitterly seasoned in the hardest ways of humanity, +felt a thrill of compassion as he looked at her, wondering how her +frail argosy, freighted with fine thought and rich imagination, would +weather a storm should storms arise. He sat talking for a long time +with her and Miss Leigh--reminding her pleasantly of their journey up +to London together,--while she, in her turn, amused and astonished him +by avowing the fact that it was his loan of the "Morning Post" that had +led her, through an advertisement, to the house where she was now +living. + +"So I've had something of a hand in it all!" he said, cheerily--"I'm +glad of that! It was chance or luck, or whatever you call it!--but I +never thought that the little girl with the frightened eyes, carrying a +satchel for all her luggage, was a future great author, to whom I, as a +poor old journalist, would have to bow!" He laughed kindly as he +spoke--"And you are still a little girl!--or you look one! I feel +disposed to play literary grandfather to you! But you want nobody's +help--you have made yourself!" + +"She has, indeed!" said Miss Leigh, with pride sparkling in her tender +eyes--"When she came here, and suddenly decided to stay with me, I had +no idea of her plans, or what she was studying. She used to shut +herself up all the morning and write--she told me she was finishing off +some work--in fact it was her first book,--a manuscript she brought +with her from the country in that famous satchel! I knew nothing at all +about it till she confided to me one day that she had written a book, +and that it had been accepted by a publisher. I was amazed!" + +"And the result must have amazed you still more," said +Harrington,--"but I'm a very astute person!--and I guessed at once, +when I was told the address of the 'PRIVATE SECRETARY of the author,' +that the SECRETARY was the author herself!" + +Innocent blushed. + +"Perhaps it was wrong to say what was not true," she said, "but really +I WAS and AM the secretary of the author!--I write all the manuscript +with my own hand!" + +They laughed at this, and then Harrington went on to say-- + +"I believe you know the painter Amadis Jocelyn, don't you? Yes? Well, I +was with him the other day, and I said you were the author of the +wonderful book. He told me I was talking nonsense--that you couldn't +be,--he had met you at an artist's evening party and that you had told +him a story about some ancestor of his own family. 'She's a nice little +thing with baby eyes,' he said, 'but she couldn't write a clever book! +She may have got some man to write it for her!'" + +Innocent gave a little cry of pain. + +"Oh!--did he say that?" + +"Of course he did! All men say that sort of thing! They can't bear a +woman to do more than marry and have children. Simple girl with the +satchel, don't you know that? You mustn't mind it--it's their way. Of +course I rounded on Jocelyn and told him he was a fool, with a swelled +head on the subject of his own sex--he IS a fool in many ways,--he's a +great painter, but he might be much greater if he'd get up early in the +morning and stick to his work. He ought to have been in the front rank +long ago." + +"But surely he IS in the front rank?" queried Miss Leigh, mildly--"He +is a wonderful artist!" + +"Wonderful--yes!--with a lot of wonderful things in him which haven't +come out!" declared Harrington, "and which never will come out, I fear! +He turns night into day too often. Oh, he's clever!--I grant you all +that--but he hasn't a resolute will or a great mind, like Watts or +Burne-Jones or any of the fellows who served their art nobly--he's a +selfish sort of chap!" + +Innocent heard, and longed to utter a protest--she wanted to say-"No, +no!--you wrong him! He is good and noble--he must be!--he is Amadis de +Jocelyn!" + +But she repressed her thought and sat very quiet,--then, when +Harrington paused, she told him in a sweet, even voice the story of the +"Knight of France" who founded Briar Farm. He was enthralled--not so +much by the tale as by her way of telling it. + +"And so Jocelyn the painter is the lineal descendant of the BROTHER of +your Jocelin!--the knight who disappeared and took to farming in the +days of Elizabeth!" he said--"Upon my word, it's a quaint bit of +history and coincidence--almost too romantic for such days as these!" + +Innocent smiled. + +"Is romance at an end now?" she asked. + +Harrington looked at her kindly. + +"Almost! It's gasping its last gasp in company with poetry. Realism is +our only wear--Realism and Prose--very prosy Prose. YOU are a romantic +child!--I can see that!--but don't over-do it! And if you ever made an +ideal out of your sixteenth-century man, don't make another out of the +twentieth-century one! He couldn't stand it!--he'd crumble at a touch!" + +She answered nothing, but avoided his glance. He prepared to take his +leave--and on rising from his chair suddenly caught sight of the +portrait on the harpsichord. + +"I know that face!" he said, quickly,--"Who is he?" + +"He WAS also a painter--as great as the one we have just been speaking +of," answered Miss Leigh--"His name was Pierce Armitage." + +"That's it!" exclaimed Harrington, with some excitement. "Of course! +Pierce Armitage! I knew him! One of the handsomest fellows I ever saw! +THERE was an artist, if you like!--he might have been anything! What +became of him?--do you know?" + +"He died abroad, so it is said"--and Miss Leigh's gentle voice trembled +a little--"but nothing is quite certainly known--" + +Harrington turned swiftly to stare eagerly at Innocent. + +"YOUR name is Armitage!" he said--"and do you know you are rather like +him! Your face reminds me---Are you any relative?" + +She gave the usual answer-- + +"No." + +"Strange!" He bent his eyes scrutinisingly upon her. "I remember I +thought the same thing when I first met you--and HIS features are not +easily forgotten! You have his eyes--and mouth,--you might almost be +his daughter!" + +Her breath quickened-- + +"I wish I were!" she said. + +He still looked puzzled. + +"No--don't wish for what would perhaps be a misfortune!" he +said--"You've done very well for yourself!--but don't be romantic! Keep +that old 'French knight' of yours in the pages of an old French +chronicle!--shut the volume,--lock it up,--and--lose the key!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Some weeks later on, when the London season was at its height, and +Fashion, that frilled and furbelowed goddess, sat enthroned in state, +controlling the moods of the Elect and Select which she chooses to call +"society," Innocent was invited to the house of a well-known Duchess, +renowned for a handsome personality, and also for an unassailable +position, notwithstanding certain sinister rumours. People said--people +are always saying something!--that her morals were easy-going, but +everyone agreed that her taste was unimpeachable. She--this great lady +whose rank permitted her to entertain the King and Queen--heard of "Ena +Armitage" as the brilliant author whose books were the talk of the +town, and forthwith made up her mind that she must be seen at her house +as the "sensation" of at least one evening. To this end she glided in +her noiseless, satin-cushioned motor brougham up to the door of Miss +Leigh's modest little dwelling and left the necessary slips of +pasteboard bearing her titled name, with similar slips on behalf of her +husband the Duke, for Miss Armitage and Miss Leigh. The slips were +followed in due course by a more imposing and formal card of invitation +to a "Reception and Small Dance. R.S.V.P." On receiving this, good old +Miss Lavinia was a little fluttered and excited, and turning it over +and over in her hand, looked at Innocent with a kind of nervous anxiety. + +"I think we ought to go, my dear," she said--"or rather--I don't know +about myself--but YOU ought to go certainly. It's a great house--a +great family--and she is a very great lady--a little--well!--a little +'modern' perhaps--" + +Innocent lifted her eyebrows with a slight, almost weary smile. A +scarcely perceptible change had come over her of late--a change too +subtle to be noticed by anyone who was not as keenly observant as Miss +Lavinia--but it was sufficient to give the old lady who loved her cause +for a suspicion of trouble. + +"What is it to be modern?" she asked--"In your sense, I mean? I know +what is called 'modern' generally--bad art, bad literature, bad manners +and bad taste! But what do YOU call modern?" + +Miss Leigh considered--looking at the girl with steadfast, kindly eyes. + +"You speak a trifle bitterly--for YOU, dear child!" she said--"These +things you name as 'modern' truly are so, but they are ancient as well! +The world has altered very little, I think. What we call 'bad' has +always existed as badness--it is only presented to us in different +forms--" + +Innocent laughed--a soft little laugh of tenderness. + +"Wise godmother!" she said, playfully--"You talk like a book!" + +Miss Lavinia laughed too, and a pretty pink colour came into her wan +cheeks. + +"Naughty child, you are making fun of me!" she said--"What I meant +about the Duchess--" + +Innocent stretched out her hand for the card of invitation and looked +at it. + +"Well!" she said, slowly--"What about the Duchess?" + +Miss Leigh hesitated. + +"I hardly know how to put it," she answered, at last--"She's a +kind-hearted woman--very generous--and most helpful in works of +charity. I never knew such energy as she shows in organising charity +bails and bazaars!--perfectly wonderful!--but she likes to live her +life--" + +"Who would not!" murmured the girl, scarcely audibly. + +"And she lives it--very much so!--rather to the dregs!" continued the +old lady, with emphasis. "She has no real aim beyond the satisfaction +of her own vanity and social power--and you, with your beautiful +thoughts and ideals, might not like the kind of people she surrounds +herself with--people, who only want amusement and +'sensation'--particularly sensation--" + +Innocent said nothing for a minute or two--then she looked up, brightly. + +"To go or not to go, godmother mine! Which is it to be? The decision +rests with you! Yes, or no?" + +"I think it must be 'yes'"--and Miss Leigh emphasised the word with a +little nod of her head. "It would be unwise to refuse--especially just +now when everyone is talking of you and wishing to see you. And you are +quite worth seeing!" + +The girl gave a slight gesture of indifference and moved away slowly +and listlessly, as though fatigued by the mere effort of speech. Miss +Leigh noted this with some concern, watching her as she went, and +admiring the supple grace of her small figure, the well-shaped little +head so proudly poised on the slim throat, and the burnished sheen of +her bright hair. + +"She grows prettier every day," she thought--"But not happier, I +fear!--not happier, poor child!" + +Innocent meanwhile, upstairs in her own little study, was reading and +re-reading a brief letter which had come for her by the same post that +had delivered the Duchess's invitation. + +"I hear you are among the guests invited to the Duchess of Deanshire's +party," it ran--"I hope you will go--for the purely selfish reason that +I want to meet you there. Hers is a great house with plenty of room, +and a fine garden--for London. People crowd to her 'crushes', but one +can always escape the mob. I have seen so little of you lately, and you +are now so famous that I shall think myself lucky if I may touch the +hem of your garment. Will you encourage me thus far? Like Hamlet, 'I +lack advancement'! When will you take me to Briar Farm? I should like +to see the tomb of my very ancestral uncle--could we not arrange a +day's outing in the country while the weather is fine? I throw myself +on your consideration and clemency for this--and for many other +unwritten things! + +Yours, + +AMADIS DE JOCELYN." + +There was nothing in this easily worded scrawl to make an ordinarily +normal heart beat faster, yet the heart of this simple child of the +gods, gifted with genius and deprived of worldly wisdom as all such +divine children are, throbbed uneasily, and her eyes were wet. More +than this, she touched the signature,--the long-familiar name--with her +soft lips,--and as though afraid of what she had done, hurriedly folded +the letter and locked it away. + +Then she sat down and thought. Nearly two years had elapsed since she +had left Briar Farm, and in that short time she had made the name she +had adopted famous. She could not call it her own name; born out of +wedlock, she had no right, by the stupid law, to the name of her +father. She could, legally, have worn the maiden name of her mother had +she known it--but she did not know it. And what she was thinking of +now, was this: Should she tell her lately discovered second "Amadis de +Jocelyn" the true story of her birth and parentage at this, the outset +of their friendship, before--well, before it went any further? She +could not consult Miss Leigh on the point, without smirching the +reputation of Pierce Armitage, the man whose memory was enshrined in +that dear lady's heart as a thing of unsullied honour. She puzzled +herself over the question for a long time, and then decided to keep her +own counsel. + +"After all, why should I tell him?" she asked herself. "It might make +trouble--he is so proud of his lineage, and I too am proud of it for +him! ... why should I let him know that I inherit nothing but my +mother's shame!" + +Her heart grew heavy as her position was thus forced back upon her by +her own thoughts. Up to the present no one had asked who she was, or +where she came from--she was understood to be an orphan, left alone in +the world, who by her own genius and unaided effort had lifted herself +into the front rank among the "shining lights" of the day. This, so +far, had been sufficient information for all with whom she had come in +contact--but as time went on, would not people ask more about her?--who +were her father and mother?--where she was born?--how she had been +educated? These inquisitorial demands were surely among the penalties +of fame! And, if she told the truth, would she not, despite the renown +she had won, be lightly, even scornfully esteemed by conventional +society as a "bastard" and interloper, though the manner of her birth +was no fault of her own, and she was unjustly punishable for the sins +of her parents, such being the wicked law! + +The night of the Duchess's reception was one of those close sultry +nights of June in London when the atmosphere is well-nigh as +suffocating as that of some foetid prison where criminals have been +pacing their dreary round all day. Royal Ascot was just over, and space +and opportunity were given for several social entertainments to be +conveniently checked off before Henley. Outside the Duke's great house +there was a constant stream of motor-cars and taxi-cabs; a passing +stranger might have imagined all the world and his wife were going to +the Duchess's "At Home." It was difficult to effect an entrance, but +once inside, the scene was one of veritable enchantment. The lovely +hues and odours of flowers, the softened glitter of thousands of +electric lamps shaded with rose-colour, the bewildering brilliancy of +women's clothes and jewels, the exquisite music pouring like a rippling +stream through the magnificent reception-rooms, all combined to create +a magical effect of sensuous beauty and luxury; and as Innocent, +accompanied by the sweet-faced old-fashioned lady who played the part +of chaperone with such gentle dignity, approached her hostess, she was +a little dazzled and nervous. Her timidity made her look all the more +charming--she had the air of a wondering child called up to receive an +unexpected prize at school. She shrank visibly when her name was +shouted out in a stentorian voice by the gorgeously liveried major-domo +in attendance, quite unaware that it created a thrill throughout the +fashionable assemblage, and that all eyes were instantly upon her. The +Duchess, diamond-crowned and glorious in gold-embroidered tissue, kept +back by a slight gesture the pressing crowd of guests, and extended her +hand with marked graciousness and a delightful smile. + +"SUCH a pleasure and honour!" she said, sweetly--"So good of you to +come! You will give me a few words with you later on? Yes? Everybody +will want to speak to you!--but you must let me have a chance too!" + +Innocent murmured something gently deprecatory as a palliative to this +sort of society "gush" which always troubled her--and moved on. +Everybody gazed, whispered and wondered, astonished at the youth and +evident unworldliness of the "author of those marvellous books!"--so +the commentary ran;--the women criticised her gown, which was one of +pale blue silken stuff caught at the waist and shoulders by quaint +clasps of dull gold--a gown with nothing remarkable about it save its +cut and fit--melting itself, as it were, around her in harmonious folds +of fine azure which suggested without emphasising the graceful lines of +her form. The men looked, and said nothing much except "A pity she's a +writing woman! Mucking about Fleet Street!"--mere senseless talk which +they knew to be senseless, inasmuch as "mucking" about Fleet Street is +no part of any writer's business save that of the professional +journalist. Happily ignorant of comment, the girl made her way quietly +and unobtrusively through the splendid throng, till she was presently +addressed by a stoutish, pleasant-featured man, with small twinkling +eyes and an agreeable surface manner. + +"I missed you just now when my wife received you," he said--"May I +present myself? I am your host--proud of the privilege!" + +Innocent smiled as she bowed and held out her hand; she was amused, and +taken a little by surprise. This was the Duke of Deanshire--this quite +insignificant-looking personage--he was the owner of the great house +and the husband of the great lady,--and yet he had the appearance of a +very ordinary nobody. But that he was a "somebody" of paramount +importance there was no doubt; and when he said, "May I give you my arm +and take you through the rooms? There are one or two pictures you may +like to see," she was a little startled. She looked round for Miss +Leigh, but that tactful lady, seeing the position, had disappeared. So +she laid her little cream-gloved hand on the Duke's arm and went with +him, shyly at first, yet with a pretty stateliness which was all her +own, and moving slowly among the crowd of guests, gradually recovered +her ease and self-possession, and began to talk to him with a +delightful naturalness and candour which fairly captivated His Grace, +in fact, "bowled him over," as he afterwards declared. She was +blissfully unaware that his manner of escorting her on his arm through +the long vista of the magnificent rooms had been commanded and arranged +by the Duchess, in order that she should be well looked at and +criticised by all assembled as the "show" person of the evening. She +was so unconscious of the ordeal to which she was being subjected that +she bore it with the perfect indifference which such unconsciousness +gives. All at once the Duke came to a standstill. + +"Here is a great friend of mine--one of the best I have in the world," +he said--"I want to introduce him to you,"--this, as a tall old man +paused near them with a smile and enquiring glance, "Lord Blythe--Miss +Armitage." + +Innocent's heart gave a wild bound; for a moment she felt a struggling +sensation in her throat moving her to cry out, and it was only with a +violent effort that she repressed herself. + +"You've heard of Miss Armitage--Ena Armitage,--haven't you, Blythe?" +went on the Duke, garrulously. "Of course! all the world has heard of +her!" + +"Indeed it has!" and Lord Blythe bowed ceremoniously. "May I +congratulate you on winning your laurels while you are young enough to +enjoy them! One moment!--my wife is most anxious to meet you--" + +He turned to look for her, while Innocent, trembling violently, +wondered desperately whether it would be possible for her to run +away!--anywhere--anywhere, rather than endure what she knew must come! +The Duke noticed her sudden pallor with concern. + +"Are you cold?" he asked--"I hope there is no draught---" + +"Oh no--no!" she murmured--"It is nothing--" + +Then she braced herself up in every nerve--drawing her little body +erect, as though a lily should lift itself to the sun--she saw Lord +Blythe approaching with a handsome woman dressed in silvery grey and +wearing a coronet of emeralds--and in one more moment looked full in +the face--of her mother! + +"Lady Blythe--Miss Armitage." + +Lady Blythe turned white to the lips. Her dark eyes opened widely in +amazement and fear--she put out a hand as though to steady herself. Her +husband caught it, alarmed. + +"Maude! Are you ill?" + +"Not at all!" and she forced a laugh. "I am perfectly--perfectly +well!--a little faint perhaps! The heat, I think! Yes--of course! Miss +Armitage--the famous author! I am--I am very proud to meet you!" + +"Most kind of you!" said Innocent, quietly. + +And they still looked at each other, very strangely. + +The men beside them were a little embarrassed, the Duke twirled his +short white moustache, and Lord Blythe glanced at his wife with some +wonder and curiosity. Both imagined, with the usual short-sightedness +of the male sex, that the women had taken a sudden fantastic dislike to +one another. + +"By jove, she's jealous!" thought the Duke, fully aware that Lady +Blythe was occasionally "moved that way." + +"The girl seems frightened of her," was Lord Blythe's inward comment, +knowing that his wife did not always create a sympathetic atmosphere. + +But her ladyship was soon herself again and laughed quite merrily at +her husband's anxious expression. + +"I'm all right--really!" she said, with a quick, almost defiant turn of +her head towards him, the emeralds in her dark hair flashing with a +sinister gleam like lightning on still water. "You must remember it's +rather overwhelming to be introduced to a famous author and think of +just the right thing to say at the right moment! Isn't it, Miss +Armitage?" + +"It is as you feel," replied Innocent, coldly. + +Lady Blythe rattled on gaily. + +"Do come and talk to me for a few moments!--it will be so good of you! +The garden's lovely!--shall we go there? Now, my dear Duke, don't look +so cross, I'll bring her back to you directly!" and she nodded +pleasantly. "You want her, of course!--everybody wants her!--such a +celebrity!" then, turning again to Innocent, "Will you come?" + +As one in a dream the girl obeyed her inviting gesture, and they passed +out of the room together through a large open French window to a +terraced garden, dimly illumined in the distance by the glitter of +fairy lamps, but for the most part left to the tempered brilliancy of a +misty red moon. Once away from the crowd, Lady Blythe walked quickly +and impatiently, scarcely looking at the youthful figure that +accompanied her own, like a fair ghost gliding step for step beside +her. At last she stopped; they were well away from the house in a +quaint bit of garden shaded with formal fir-trees and clipped yews, +where a fountain dashed up a slender spiral thread of white spray. A +strange sense of fury in her broke loose; with pale face and cruel, +glittering eyes she turned upon her daughter. + +"How dare you!" she half whispered, through her set teeth--"How dare +you!" + +Innocent drew back a step, and looked at her steadfastly. + +"I do not understand you," she said. + +"You do understand!--you understand only too well!" and Lady Blythe put +her hand to the pearls at her throat as though she felt them choking +her. "Oh, I could strike you for your insolence! I wish I had never +sought you out or told you how you were born! Is this your revenge for +the manner of your birth, that you come to shame me among my own +class--my own people--" + +Innocent's eyes flashed with a fire seldom seen in their soft depths. + +"Shame you?" she echoed. "I? What shame have I brought you? What shame +shall I bring? Had you owned me as your child I would have made you +proud of me! I would have given you honour,--you abandoned me to +strangers, and I have made honour for myself! Shame is YOURS and yours +only!--it would be mine if I had to acknowledge YOU as my mother!--you +who never had the courage to be true!" Her young voice thrilled with +passion.--"I have won my own way! I am something beyond and above +you!--'your own class--your own people,' as you call them, are at MY +feet,--and you--you who played with my father's heart and spoilt his +career--you have lived to know that I, his deserted child, have made +his name famous!" + +Lady Blythe stared at her like some enraged cat ready to spring. + +"His name--his name!" she muttered, fiercely. "Yes, and how dare you +take it? You have no right to it in law!" + +"Wise law, just law!" said the girl, passionately. "Would you rather I +had taken yours? I might have done so had I known it--though I think +not, as I should have been ashamed of any 'maiden' name you had +dishonoured! When you came to Briar Farm to find me--to see me--so +late, so late!--after long years of desertion--I told you it was +possible to make a name;--one cannot go nameless through the world! I +have made mine!--independently and honestly--in fact"--and she smiled, +a sad cold smile--"it is an honour for you, my mother, to know me, your +daughter!" + +Lady Blythe's face grew ghastly pale in the uncertain light of the +half-veiled moon. She moved a step and caught the girl's arm with some +violence. + +"What do you mean to do?" she asked, in an angry whisper, "I must know! +What are your plans of vengeance?--your campaign of notoriety?--your +scheme of self-advertisement? What claim will you make?" + +"None!" and Innocent looked at her fully, with calm and fearless +dignity. "I have no claim upon you, thank God! I am less to you than a +dropped lamb, lost in a thicket of thorns, is to the sheep that bore +it! That's a rough country simile,--I was brought up on a farm, you +know!--but it will serve your case. Think nothing of me, as I think +nothing of you! What I am, or what I may be to the world, is my own +affair!" + +There was a pause. Presently Lady Blythe gave a kind of shrill +hysterical laugh. + +"Then, when we meet in society, as we have met to-night, it will be as +comparative strangers?" + +"Why, of course!--we have always been strangers," the girl replied, +quietly. "No strangers were ever more strange to each other than we!" + +"You mean to keep MY secret?--and your own?" + +"Certainly. Do you suppose I would give my father's name to slander?" + +"Your father!--you talk of your father as if HE was worth +consideration!--he was chiefly to blame for your position--" + +"Was he? I am not quite sure of that," said Innocent, slowly--"I do not +know all the circumstances. But I have heard that he was a great +artist; and that some woman he loved ruined his life. And I believe you +are that woman!" + +Lady Blythe laughed--a hard mirthless laugh. + +"Believe what you like!" she said--"You are an imaginative little fool! +When you know more of the world you will find out that men ruin women's +lives as casually as cracking nuts, but they take jolly good care of +their own skins! Pierce Armitage was too selfish a man to sacrifice his +own pleasure and comfort for anyone--he was glad to get rid of me--and +of YOU! And now--now!" She threw up her hands with an expressive, +half-tragic gesture. "Now you are famous!--actually famous! Good +heavens!--why, I thought you would stay in that old farmhouse all your +life, scrubbing the floors and looking after the poultry, and perhaps +marrying some good-natured country yokel! Famous!--you!--with social +London dancing attendance on you! What a ghastly comedy!" She laughed +again. "Come!--we must go back to the house." + +They walked side by side--the dark full-figured woman and the fair +slight girl--the one a mere ephemeral unit in an exclusively +aristocratic and fashionable "set,"--the other, the possessor of a +sudden brilliant fame which was spreading a new light across the two +hemispheres. Not another word was exchanged between them, and as they +re-entered the ducal reception-rooms, now more crowded than ever, Lord +Blythe met them. + +"I was just going to look for you," he said to his wife--"There are +dozens of people waiting to be presented to Miss Armitage; the Duchess +has asked for her several times." + +Lady Blythe turned to Innocent with a dazzling smile. + +"How guilty I feel!" she exclaimed. "Everybody wanting to see you, and +I selfishly detaining you in the garden! It was so good of you to give +me a few minutes!--you, the guest of the evening too! Good-night!--in +case I don't find you again in this crowd!" + +She moved away then, leaving Innocent fairly bewildered by her entire +coolness and self-possession. She herself, poor child, moved to the +very soul by the interview she had just gone through, was trembling +with extreme nervousness, and could hardly conceal her agitation. + +"I'm afraid you've caught cold!" said Lord Blythe, kindly--"That will +never do! I promised I would take you to the Duchess as soon as I found +you--she has some friends with her who wish to meet you. Will you come?" + +She smiled assent, looking up at him gratefully and thinking what a +handsome old man he was, with his tall, well-formed figure and fine +intellectual face on which the constant progress of good thoughts had +marked many a pleasant line. Her mother's husband!--and she wondered +how it happened that such a woman had been chosen for a wife by such a +man! + +"They're going to dance in the ball-room directly," he continued, as he +guided her through the pressing throng of people. "You will not be +without partners! Are you fond of dancing?" + +Her face lighted up with the lovely youthful look that gave her such +fascination and sweetness of expression. + +"Yes, I like it very much, though before I came to London I only knew +country dances such as they dance at harvest-homes; but of course here, +you all dance so differently!--it is only just going round and round! +But it's quite pleasant and rather amusing." + +"You were brought up in the country then?" he said. + +"Yes, entirely. I came to London about two years ago." + +"But--I hope you don't think me too inquisitive!--where did you study +literature?" + +She laughed a little. + +"I don't think I studied it at all," she answered, "I just loved it! +There was a small library of very old books in the farmhouse where I +lived, and I read and re-read these. Then, when I was about sixteen, it +suddenly came into my head that I would try to write a story +myself--and I did. Little by little it grew into a book, and I brought +it to London and finished it here. You know the rest!" + +"Like Byron, you awoke one morning to find yourself famous!" said Lord +Blythe, smiling. "You have no parents living?" + +Her cheeks burned with a hot blush as she replied. + +"No." + +"A pity! They would have been very proud of you. Here is the Duchess!" + +And in another moment she was drawn into the vortex of a brilliant +circle surrounding her hostess--men and women of notable standing in +politics, art and letters, to whom the Duchess presented her with the +half kindly, half patronising air of one who feels that any genius in +man or woman is a kind of disease, and that the person affected by it +must be soothingly considered as a sort of "freak" or nondescript +creature, like a white crow or a red starling. + +"These abnormal people are so interesting!" she was wont to say. "These +prodigies and things! I love them! They're often quite ugly and have +rude manners--Beethoven used to eat with his fingers I believe; wasn't +it wonderful of him! Such a relief from the conventional way! When I +was quite a girl I used to adore a man in Paris who played the 'cello +divinely--a perfect marvel!--but he wouldn't comb his hair or blow his +nose properly--and it wasn't very nice!--not that it mattered much, he +was such a wonderful artist! Oh yes, I know! it wouldn't have lessened +his genius to have wiped his nose with a handkerchief instead of--! +well!--perhaps we'd better not mention it!" And she would laugh +charmingly and again murmur, "These deaf abnormal people!" + +With Innocent, however, she was somewhat put off her usual line of +conduct; the girl was too graceful and easy-mannered to be called +"abnormal" or eccentric; she was perfectly modest, simple and +unaffected, and the Duchess was a trifle disappointed that she was not +ill-dressed, frowsy, frumpish and blue-spectacled. + +"She's so young too!" thought her Grace, half crossly--"Almost a +child!--and not in the least 'bookish.' It seems quite absurd that such +a baby-looking creature should be actually a genius, and famous at +twenty! Simply amazing!" + +And she watched the little "lion" or lioness of the evening with keen +interest and curiosity, whimsically vexed that it did not roar, snort, +or make itself as noticeable as certain other animals of the literary +habitat whom she had occasionally entertained. Just then a mirthful, +mellow voice spoke close beside her. + +"Where is the new Corinne? The Sappho of the Leucadian rock of London? +Has she met her Phaon?" + +"How late you are, Amadis!" and the Duchess smiled captivatingly as she +extended her hand to Jocelyn, who gallantly stooped and kissed the +perfectly fitting glove which covered it. "If you mean Miss Armitage, +she is just over there talking to two old fogies. I think they're +Cabinet ministers--they look it! She's quite the success of the +evening,--and pretty, don't you think?" + +Jocelyn looked, and saw the small fair head rising like a golden flower +from sea-blue draperies; he smiled enigmatically. + +"Not exactly," he answered, "But spirituelle--she has what some +painters might call an imaginative head--she could pose very well for +St. Dorothy. I can quite realise her preferring the executioner's axe +to the embraces of Theophilus." + +The Duchess gave him a swift glance and touched his arm with the edge +of her fan. + +"Are you going to make love to her?" she asked. "You make love to every +woman--but most women understand your sort of love-making--" + +"Do they?" and his blue eyes flashed amusement. "And what do they think +of it?" + +"They laugh at it!" she answered, calmly. "But that clever child would +not laugh--she would take it au grand serieux." + +He passed his hand carelessly through the rough dark hair which gave +his ruggedly handsome features a singular softness and charm. + +"Would she? My dear Duchess, nobody takes anything 'au grand serieux' +nowadays. We grin through every scene of life, and we don't know and +don't care whether it's comedy or tragedy we're grinning at! It doesn't +do to be serious. I never am. 'Life is real, life is earnest' was the +line of conduct practised by my French ancestors; they cut up all their +enemies with long swords, and then sat down to wild boar roasted whole +for dinner. That was real life, earnest life! We in our day don't cut +up our enemies with long swords--we cut them up in the daily press. +It's so much easier!" + +"How you love to hear yourself talk!" commented the Duchess. "I let you +do it--but I know you don't mean half you say!" + +"You think not? Well, I'm going to join the court of Corinne--she's not +the usual type of Corinne--I fancy she has a heart--" + +"And you want to steal it if you can, of course!" and the Duchess +laughed. "Men always long for what they haven't got, and tire of what +they have!" + +"True, O Queen! We are made so! Blame, not us, but the Creator of the +poor world-mannikins!" + +He moved away and was soon beside Innocent, who blushed into a pretty +rose at sight of him. + +"I thought you were never coming!" she said, shyly. "I'm so glad you +are here!" + +He looked at her with an admiring softness in his eyes. + +"May I have the first dance?" he said. "I timed myself to gain the +privilege." + +She gave him her dance programme where no name was yet inscribed. He +took it and scribbled his name down several times, then handed it back +to her. Several of the younger men in the group which had gathered +about her laughed and remonstrated. + +"Give somebody else a chance, Miss Armitage!" + +She looked round upon them, smiling. + +"But of course! Mr. Amadis de Jocelyn has not taken all?" + +They laughed again. + +"His name dominates your programme, anyhow!" + +Her eyes shone softly. + +"It is a beautiful name!" she said. + +"Granted! But show a little mercy to the unbeautiful names!" said one +man near her. "My name, for instance, is Smith--can you tolerate it?" + +She gave a light gesture of protest. + +"You play with me!" she said--"Of course! You will find a dance, Mr. +Smith!--and I will dance it with you!" + +They were all now ready for fun, and taking her programme handed it +round amongst themselves and soon filled it. When it came back to her +she looked at it, amazed. + +"But I shall never dance all these!" she exclaimed. + +"No, you will sit out some of them," said Jocelyn, coolly--"With me!" + +The ball-room doors were just then thrown invitingly open and +entrancing strains of rhythmical music came swinging and ringing in +sweet cadence on the ears. He passed his arm round her waist. + +"We'll begin the revelry!" he said, and in another moment she felt +herself floating deliciously, as it were, in his arms--her little feet +flying over the polished floor, his hand warmly clasping her slim soft +body--and her heart fluttered wildly like the beating wings of a snared +bird as she fell into the mystic web woven by the strange and pitiless +loom of destiny. The threads were already tangling about her--but she +made no effort to escape. She was happy in her dream; she imagined that +her Ideal had been found in the Real. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The first waltz over, Jocelyn led his partner out of the ball-room. + +"Come into the garden," he said. "It's quite a real garden for +London--and I know every inch of it. We'll find a quiet corner and sit +down and rest." + +She answered nothing--she was flushed, and breathing quickly from the +excitement of the dance, and he paused on his way to pick up a light +wrap he found on one of the sofas, and put it round her shoulders. + +"You mustn't catch a chill," he went on. "But it's not a cold night--in +fact it's very close and sultry--almost like thunder. A little air will +be good for us." + +They went together, pacing along slowly--she meanwhile thinking of her +previous walk in that same garden!--what would he, Amadis de Jocelyn, +say of it and of her "mother" if he knew! He looked at her sideways now +and then, curiously moved by mingled pity, admiration and desire,--the +cruelty latent in every man made him long to awaken the first spark of +passion in that maidenly soul,--and with the full consciousness of a +powerful personality, he was perfectly aware that he could do so if he +chose. But he waited, playing with the fire of his own inclinations, +and talking lightly and charmingly of things which he knew would +interest her sufficiently to make her, in her turn, talk to him +naturally and candidly, thereby displaying more or less of her +disposition and temperament. With every word she spoke he found her +more and more fascinating--she had a quaint directness of speech which +was extremely refreshing after the half-veiled subtleties conveyed in +the often dubious conversation of the women he was accustomed to meet +in society--while there was no doubt she was endowed with extraordinary +intellectual grasp and capacity. Her knowledge of things artistic and +literary might, perhaps, have been termed archaic, but it was based +upon the principles which are good and true for all time--and as she +told him quite simply and unaffectedly of her studies by herself among +the old books which had belonged to the "Sieur Amadis" of Briar Farm, +he was both touched and interested. + +"So you made quite a friend of the Sieur Amadis!" he said. "He was your +teacher and guide! I'm jealous of him!" + +She laughed softly. "He was a spirit," she said--"You are a man." + +"Well, his spirit has had a good innings with you!" and, taking her +hand, he drew it within his arm--"I bear his name, and it's time I came +in somewhere!" + +She laughed again, a trifle nervously. + +"You think so? But you do come in! You are here with me now!" + +He bent his eyes upon her with an ardour he did not attempt to conceal, +and her heart leaped within her--a warmth like fire ran swiftly through +her veins. He heard her sigh,--he saw her tremble beneath his gaze. +There was an elf-like fascination about her child-like face and figure +as she moved glidingly beside him--a "belle dame sans merci" charm +which roused the strongly amorous side of his nature. He quickened his +steps a little as he led her down a sloping path, shut in on either +side by tall trees, where there was a seat placed invitingly in the +deepest shadow and where the dim uplifted moon cast but the faintest +glimmer, just sufficiently to make the darkness visible. + +"Shall we stay here a little while?" he said, in a low tone. + +She made no reply. Something vaguely sweet and irresistible overpowered +her,--she was barely conscious of herself, or of anything, save that +"Amadis de Jocelyn" was beside her. She had lived so long in her dream +of the old French knight, whose written thoughts and confessions had +influenced her imagination and swayed her mind since childhood, that +she could not detach herself from the idealistic conception she had +formed of his character,--and to her the sixteenth-century "Amadis" had +become embodied in this modern man of brilliant but erratic genius, +who, if the truth were told, had nothing idealistic about him but his +art, which in itself was more the outcome of emotionalism than +conviction. He drew her gently down beside him, feeling her quiver like +a leaf touched by the wind, and his own heart began to beat with a +pleasurable thrill. The silence around them seemed waiting for speech, +but none came. It was one of those tense moments on which sometimes +hangs the happiness or the misery of a lifetime--a stray thread from +the web of Chance, which may be woven into a smooth pattern or knotted +into a cruel tangle,--a freakish circumstance in which the human beings +most concerned are helplessly involved without any conscious +premonition of impending fate. Suddenly, yielding to a passionate +impulse, he caught her close in his arms and kissed her. + +"Forgive me!" he whispered--"I could not help it!" + +She put him gently back from her with two little hands that caressed +rather than repulsed him, and gazed at him with startled, tender eyes +in which a new and wonderful radiance shone,--while he in +self-confident audacity still held her in his embrace. + +"You are not angry?" he went on, in quick, soft accents. "No! Why +should you be? Why should not love come to you as to other women! Don't +analyse!--don't speak! There is nothing to be said--we know all!" + +Silently she clung to him, yielding more and more to the sensation of +exquisite joy that poured through her whole being like sunlight--her +heart beat with new and keener life,--the warm kindling blood burned +her cheeks like the breath of a hot wind--and her whole soul rose to +meet and greet what she in her poor credulousness welcomed as the crown +and glory of existence--love! Love was hers, she thought--at last!--she +knew the great secret,--the long delight that death itself could not +destroy,--her ideal of romance was realised, and Amadis de Jocelyn, the +brave, the true, the chivalrous, the strong, was her very own! +Enchanted with the ease of his conquest, he played with her pretty hair +as with a bird's wing, and held her against his heart, sensuously +gratified to feel her soft breast heaving with its pent-up emotion, and +to hear her murmured words of love confessed. + +"How I have wished and prayed that you might love me!" she said, +raising her dewy eyes to his in the darkness. "Is it good when God +grants one's prayers? I am almost afraid! My Amadis! It is a dream come +true!" + +He was amused at her fidelity to the romance which surrounded his name. + +"Dear child, I am not a 'knight of old'--don't think it!" he said. "You +mustn't run away with that idea and make me a kind of sixteenth-century +sentimentalist. I couldn't live up to it!" + +"You are more than a knight of old," she answered, proudly--"You are a +great genius!" + +He was embarrassed by her simple praise. + +"No," he answered--"Not even that--sweet soul as you are!--not even +that! You think I am--but you do not know. You are a clever, +imaginative little girl--and I love to hear you praise me--but--" + +Her lips touched his shyly and sweetly. + +"No 'buts!'" she said,--"I shall always stop your mouth if you put a +'but' against any work you do!" + +"In that way?" he asked, smiling. + +"Yes! In that way." + +"Then I shall put a 'but' to everything!" he declared. + +They laughed together like children. + +"Where is Miss Leigh all this while?" he queried. + +She started, awaking suddenly to conventions and commonplaces. + +"Poor little godmother! She must be wondering where I am! But I did not +leave her,--she left me when the Duke took charge of me--I lost sight +of her then." + +"Well, we must go and find her now"--and Jocelyn again folded his arms +closely round the dainty, elf-like figure in its moonlight-blue +draperies. "Innocent, look at me!" + +She lifted her eyes, and as she met his, glowing with the fervent fire +of a new passion, her cheeks grew hot and she was thankful for the +darkness. His lips closed on hers in a long kiss. + +"This is our secret!" he said--"You must not speak of it to anyone." + +"How could I speak of it?" she asked, wonderingly. + +He let her go from his embrace, and taking her hand began to walk +slowly with her towards the house. + +"You might do so," he continued--"And it would not be wise!--neither +for you in your career, nor for me in mine. You are famous,--your name +is being talked of everywhere--you must be very careful. No one must +know we are lovers." + +She thrilled at the word "lovers," and her hand trembled in his. + +"No one shall know," she said. + +"Not even Miss Leigh," he insisted. + +"If I say 'no one' of course I mean 'no one,'" she answered, +gently--"not even Miss Leigh." + +He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, relieved by this +assurance. He wanted his little "amour" to go on without suspicion or +interference, and he felt instinctively that if this girl made any sort +of a promise she would fulfil it. + +"You can keep a secret then?" he said, playfully--"Unlike most women!" + +She looked up at him, smiling. + +"Do men keep secrets better?" she asked. "I think not! Will you, for +instance, keep mine?" + +"Yours?" And for a moment he was puzzled, being a man who thought +chiefly of himself and his own pleasure for the moment. "What is your +secret?" + +She laughed. "Oh, 'Sieur Amadis'! You pretend not to know! Is it not +the same as yours? You must not tell anybody that I--I--" + +He understood-and pressed hard the little hand he held. + +"That you--well? Go on! I must not tell anybody--what?" + +"That I love you!" she said, in a tone so grave and sweet and +angelically tender, that for a second he was smitten with a sudden +sense of shame. + +Was it right to steal all this unspoilt treasure of love from a heart +so warm and susceptible? Was it fair to enter such an ivory castle of +dreams and break open all the "magic casements opening on the foam, Of +perilous seas in fairy lands forlorn"? He was silent, having no +response to give to the simple ardour of her utterance. What he felt +for her was what all men feel for each woman who in turn attracts their +wandering fancies--the desire of conquest and possession. He was moved +to this desire by the irritating fact that this girl had startled an +apathetic public on both sides of the Atlantic by the display of her +genius in the short space of two years--whereas he had been more than +fifteen years intermittently at work without securing any such fame. To +throw the lasso of Love round the flying Pegasus on which she rode so +lightly and securely, would be an excitement and amusement which he was +not inclined to forgo--a triumph worth attaining. But love such as she +imagined love to be, was not in his nature--he conceived of it merely +as a powerful physical attraction which exerted its influence between +two persons of opposite sexes and lasted for a certain time--then waned +and wore off--and he recognised marriage as a legal device to safeguard +a woman when the inevitable indifference and coldness of her mate set +in, making him no longer a lover, but a household companion of habit +and circumstance, lawfully bound to pay for the education of children +and the necessary expenses of living. In his inmost consciousness he +knew very well that Innocent was not of the ordinary feminine +mould--she had visions of the high and unattainable, and her ideals of +life were of that pure and transcendental quality which belongs to +finer elements unseen. The carnal mind can never comprehend +spirituality,--nevertheless, Jocelyn was a man cultured and clever +enough to feel that though he himself could not enter, and did not even +care to enter the uplifted spheres of thought, this strange child with +a gift of the gods in her brain, already dwelt in them, serenely +unconscious of any lower plane. And she loved him!--and he would, on +that ground of love, teach her many things she had never known--he +would widen her outlook,--warm her senses--increase her +perceptions--train her like a wild rose on the iron trellis of his +experience--while thus to instruct an unworldly soul in worldliness +would be for him an interesting and pleasurable pastime. + +"And I can make her happy"--was his additional thought--"in the only +way a woman is ever happy--for a little while!" + +All this ran through his mind as he held her hand a moment longer, till +the convincing music of the band and the brilliant lights of the house +warned them to break away from each other. + +"We had better go straight to the ball-room and dance in," he said. "No +one will have missed us long. We've only been absent about a quarter of +an hour." + +"So much in such a little time!" she said, softly. + +He smiled, answering the adoring look of her eyes with his own amorous +glance, and in another few seconds they were part of the brilliant +whirl of dancers now crowding the ball-room and swinging round in a +blaze of colour and beauty to the somewhat hackneyed strains of the +"Fruhlings Reigen." And as they floated and flew, the delight of their +attractiveness to each other drew them closer together till the sense +of separateness seemed lost and whelmed in a magnetic force of mutual +comprehension. + +When this waltz was finished she was claimed by many more partners, and +danced till she was weary,--then, between two "extras," she went in +search of Miss Leigh, whom she found sitting patiently in one of the +great drawing-rooms, looking somewhat pale and tired. + +"Oh, my godmother!" she exclaimed, running up to her. "I had forgotten +how late it is getting!" + +Miss Lavinia smiled cheerfully. + +"Never mind, child!" she said. "You are young and ought to enjoy +yourself. I am old, and hardly fit for these late assemblies--and how +very late they are too! When I was a girl we never stayed beyond +midnight--" + +"And is it midnight now?" asked Innocent, amazed, turning to her +partner, a young scion of the aristocracy, who looked as if he had not +been to bed for a week. + +He smiled simperingly, and glanced at his watch. + +"It's nearly two o'clock," he said. "In fact it's tomorrow morning!" + +Just then Jocelyn came up. + +"Are you going?" he inquired. "Well, perhaps it's time! May I see you +to your carriage?" + +Miss Leigh gratefully accepted this suggestion--and Innocent, smiling +her "good-night" to partners whom she had disappointed, walked with her +through the long vista of rooms, Jocelyn leading the way. They soon ran +the gauntlet of the ladies' cloak-room and the waiting mob of footmen +and chauffeurs that lined the long passage leading to the +entrance-hall, and Jocelyn, going out into the street succeeded in +finding their modest little hired motor-brougham and assisting them +into it. + +"Good-night, Miss Leigh!" he said, leaning on the door of the vehicle +and smiling at them through the open window--"Good-night, Miss +Armitage! I hope you are not very tired?" + +"I am not tired at all!" she answered, with a thrill of joy in her +voice like the note of a sweet bird. "I have been so very happy!" + +He smiled. His face was pale and looked unusually handsome,--she +stretched one little hand out to him. + +"Good-night, 'Sieur Amadis!'" + +He bent down and kissed it. + +"Good-night!" + +The motor began to move--another moment, and they were off. Innocent +sank back in the brougham with a sigh. + +"You are tired, child!--you must be!" said Miss Leigh. + +"No, godmother mine! That sigh was one of pleasure. It has been a most +wonderful evening!--wonderful!" + +"It was certainly very brilliant," agreed Miss Leigh. "And I'm glad you +were made so much of, my dear! That was as it ought to be. Lord Blythe +told me he had seldom met so charming a girl!" + +Innocent sat up suddenly. "Lord Blythe? Do you know him?" + +"No, I cannot say I really know him," replied Miss Leigh. "I've met him +several times--and his wife too--there was some scandal about her years +and years ago before she was married--nobody ever knew exactly what it +was, and her people hushed it up. I daresay it wasn't very much. Anyhow +Lord Blythe married her--and he's a very fine man with a great +position. I thought I saw you talking to Lady Blythe?" + +"Yes"--Innocent spoke almost mechanically--"I had a few minutes' +conversation with her." + +"She's very handsome," went on Miss Leigh. "She used to be quite +beautiful. A pity she has no children." + +Innocent was silent. The motor-brougham glided along. + +"You and Mr. Jocelyn seem to get on very well together," observed the +old lady, presently. "He is a very 'taking' man--but I wonder if he is +quite sincere?" + +Innocent's colour rose,--fortunately the interior of the brougham was +too dark for her face to be seen. + +"Why should he not be?" she asked--"Surely with his great art, he would +be more sincere than most men?" + +"Well, I hope so!" and Miss Leigh's voice was a little tremulous; "But +artists are very impressionable, and live so much in a world of their +own that I sometimes doubt whether they have much understanding or +sympathy with the world of other people! Even Pierce Armitage--who was +very dear to me--ran away with impressions like a child with toys. He +would adore a person one day--and hate him, or her, the next!"--and she +laughed softly and compassionately--"He would indeed, poor fellow! He +was rather like Shelley in his likes and dislikes--you've read all +about your Shelley of course?" + +"Indeed I have!" the girl answered,--"A glorious poet!--but he must +have been difficult to live with!" + +"Difficult, if not impossible!"--and the gentle old lady took her hand +and held it in a kind, motherly clasp--"You are a genius yourself--but +you are a human little creature, not above the sweet and simple ways of +life,--some of the poets and artists were and are in-human! Now Mr. +Jocelyn--" + +"HE is human!" said Innocent, quickly--"I'm sure of that!" + +"You are sure? Well, dear, you like him very much and you have made a +friend of him,--which is quite natural considering the long association +you have had with his name--such a curious and romantic +coincidence!--but I hope he won't disappoint you." + +Innocent laughed, happily. + +"Don't be afraid, you dear little godmother!" she said--"I don't expect +anything of him, so no disappointment is possible! Here we are!" + +The brougham stopped and they alighted. Opening the house-door with a +latch-key they entered, and pausing one moment in the drawing-room, +where the lights had been left burning for their return, Miss Leigh +took Innocent tenderly by the arm and pointed to the portrait on the +harpsichord. + +"There was a true genius!" she said--"He might have been the greatest +artist in England to-day if he had not let his impressions and +prejudices overmaster his judgment. You know--for I have told you my +story--that he loved me, or thought he did--and I loved him and knew I +did! There was the difference between us! He tired of me--all artists +tire of the one face--they want dozens!--and he lost his head over some +woman whose name I never knew. The result must have been fatal to his +career, for it stopped short just when he was succeeding;--for me, it +only left me resolved to be true to his memory till the end. But, my +child, it's a hard lot to be alone all one's days, with only the +remembrance of a past love to keep one's heart from growing cold!" + +There was a little sob in her voice,--Innocent, touched to the quick, +kissed her tenderly. + +"Why do you talk like this so sadly to-night?" she asked--"Has +something reminded you of--of HIM?" And she glanced half nervously +towards the portrait. + +"Yes," answered the old lady, simply--"Something has reminded me--very +much--of him! Good-night, dear little child! Keep your beautiful dreams +and ideals as long as you can! Sleep well!" + +She turned off the lights, and they went upstairs together to their +several rooms. + +Once alone, Innocent flung off her dainty ball attire,--released her +bright hair from the pins that held it bound in rippling waves about +her shapely head, and slipping on a loose white wrapper sat down to +think. She had to realise the unpleasing fact that against her own wish +and will she had become involved in mysteries,--secrets which she dared +not, for the sake of others, betray. Her parentage could not be +divulged, because her father was Pierce Armitage, the worshipped memory +of Miss Leigh's heart,--while her mother, Lady Blythe, occupied a high +social position which must not be assailed. And now--now, Amadis de +Jocelyn was her lover!--yet no one must know, because he did not wish +it. For some cause or other which she could not determine, he insisted +on secrecy. So she was meshed in nets of others' weaving, and could not +take a step to disentangle herself and stand clear. Of her own accord +she would have been frank and open as the daylight,--but from the +first, a forward fate appeared to have taken delight in surrounding her +with deceptions enforced by the sins of others. Her face burned as she +thought of Jocelyn's passionate kisses--she must hide all that joy!--it +had already become almost a guilty secret. He was the first man that +had ever kissed her since her "Dad" died,--the first that had ever +kissed her as a lover. Her mind flew suddenly and capriciously back to +Briar Farm--to Robin Clifford who had longed to kiss her, and yet had +refused to do so unless she could have loved him. She had never loved +him--no!--and yet the thought of him just now gave her a thrill of +remorseful tenderness. She knew in herself at last what love could +mean,--and with that knowledge she realised what Robin must have +suffered. + +"To love without return--without hope!" she mused--"Oh, it would be +torture!--to me, death! Poor Robin!" + +Poor Robin, indeed! He would not have dared to caress her with the wild +and tender audacity of Amadis de Jocelyn! + +"My love!" she whispered to the silence.--"My love!" she repeated, as +she knelt down to say her prayers, sending the adored and idealised +name up on vibrations of light to the throne of the Most High,--and "My +love!" were the last words she murmured as she nestled into her little +bed, her fair head on its white pillow looking like the head of one of +Botticelli's angels. Her own success,--her celebrity as a genius in +literature,--her dreams of fame--these now were all as naught!--less +than the clouds of a night or the mists of a morning--there was nothing +for her in earth or heaven save "My love!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Lord Blythe was sitting alone in his library. He was accustomed to sit +alone, and rather liked it. It was the evening after that of the +Duchess of Deanshire's reception; his wife had gone to another similar +"crush," but had graciously excused his attendance, for which he was +honestly grateful. He was old enough, at sixty-eight, to appreciate the +luxury of peace and quietness,--he had put on an old lounge coat and an +easy pair of slippers, and was thoroughly enjoying himself in a +comfortable arm-chair with a book and a cigar. The book was by "Ena +Armitage"--the cigar, one of a choice brand known chiefly to fastidious +connoisseurs of tobacco. The book, however, was a powerful rival to the +charm of the fragrant Havana--for every now and again he allowed the +cigar to die out and had to re-light it, owing to his fascinated +absorption in the volume he held. He was an exceedingly clever +man--deeply versed in literature and languages, and in his younger days +had been a great student,--he had read nearly every book of note, and +was as familiar with the greatest authors as with his greatest friends, +so that he was well fitted to judge without prejudice the merits of any +new aspirant to literary fame. But he was wholly unprepared for the +power and the daring genius which stamped itself on every page of the +new writer's work,--he almost forgot, while reading, whether it was man +or woman who had given such a production to the world, so impressed was +he by the masterly treatment of a simple subject made beautiful by a +scholarly and incisive style. It was literature of the highest +kind,--and realising this with every sentence he perused, it was with a +shock of surprise that he remembered the personality of the author--the +unobtrusive girl who had been the "show animal" at Her Grace of +Deanshire's reception and dance. + +"Positively, I can scarcely believe it!" he exclaimed sotto-voce--"That +child I met last night actually wrote this amazing piece of work! It's +almost incredible! A nice child too,--simple and perfectly +natural,--nothing of the blue-stocking about her. Well, well! What a +career she'll make!--what a name!--that is, if she takes care of +herself and doesn't fall in love, which she's sure to do! That's the +worst of women--God occasionally gives them brains, but they've +scarcely begun to use them when heart and sentiment step in and +overthrow all reason. Now, we men--" + +He paused,--thinking. There had been a time in his life--long ago, when +he was very young--when heart and sentiment had very nearly overthrown +reason in his own case--and sometimes he was inclined to regret that +such overthrow had been averted. + +"For the moment it is perhaps worth everything else!" he +mused--"But--for the moment only! The ecstasy does not last." + +His cigar had gone out again, and he re-lit it. The clock on the +mantelpiece struck twelve with a silvery clang, and almost at the same +instant he heard the rustle of a silk gown and a light footstep,--the +door opened, and his wife appeared. + +"Are you busy?" she enquired--"May I come in?" + +He rose, with the stately old-fashioned courtesy habitual to him. + +"By all means come in!" he said--"You have returned early?" + +"Yes." She loosened her rich evening cloak, lined with ermine, and let +it fall on the back of the chair in which she seated herself--"It was a +boresome affair,--there were recitations and music which I hate--so I +came away. You are reading?" + +"Not now"--and he closed the volume on the table beside him--"But I +HAVE been reading--that amazing book by the young girl we met at the +Deanshires' last night--Ena Armitage. It's really a fine piece of work." + +She was silent. + +"You didn't take to her, I'm afraid?" he went on--"Yet she seemed a +charming, modest little person. Perhaps she was not quite what you +expected?" + +Lady Blythe gave a sudden harsh laugh. + +"You are right! She certainly was not what I expected! Is the door well +shut?" + +Surprised at her look and manner, he went to see. + +"The door is quite closed," he said, rather stiffly. "One would think +we were talking secrets--and we never do!" + +"No!" she rejoined, looking at him curiously--"We never do. We are +model husband and wife, having nothing to conceal!" + +He took up his cigar which he had laid down for a minute, and with +careful minuteness flicked off the ash. + +"You have something to tell me," he remarked, quietly--"Pray go on, and +don't let me interrupt you. Do you object to my smoking?" + +"Not in the least." + +He stood with his back to the fireplace, a tall, stately figure of a +man, and looked at her expectantly,--she meanwhile reclined in a +cushioned chair with the folds of her ermine falling about her, like a +queen of languorous luxury. + +"I suppose," she began--"hardly anything in the social life of our day +would very much surprise or shock you--?" + +"Very little, certainly!" he answered, smiling coldly--"I have lived a +long time, and am not easily surprised!" + +"Not even if it concerned some one you know?" + +His fine open brow knitted itself in a momentary line of puzzled +consideration. + +"Some one I know?" he repeated--"Well, I should certainly be very sorry +to hear anything of a scandalous nature connected with the girl we saw +last night--she looked too young and too innocent--" + +"Innocent--oh yes!" and Lady Blythe again laughed that harsh laugh of +suppressed hysterical excitement--"She is innocent enough!" + +"Pardon! I thought you were about to speak of her, as you said she was +not what you expected--" + +He paused,--startled by the haggard and desperate expression of her +face. + +"Richard," she said--"You are a good man, and you hold very strong +opinions about truth and honour and all that sort of thing. I don't +believe you could ever understand badness--real, downright +badness--could you?" + +"Badness? ... in that child?" he exclaimed. + +She gave an impatient, angry gesture. + +"Dear me, you are perfectly obsessed by 'that child,' as you call her!" +she answered--"You had better know the truth then at once,--'that +child' is my daughter!" + +"Your daughter?--your--your--" + +The words died on his lips--he staggered slightly as though under a +sudden physical blow, and gripped the mantelpiece behind him with one +hand. + +"Good God!" he half whispered--"What do you mean?--you have had no +children--" + +"Not by you,--no!" she said, with a flash of scorn--"Not in marriage, +that church-and-law form of union!--but by love and passion--yes! +Stop!--do not look at me like that! I have not been false to you--I +have not betrayed you! Your honour has been safe with me! It was before +I met you that this thing happened." + +He stood rigid and very pale. + +"Before you met me?" + +"Yes. I was a silly, romantic, headstrong girl,--my parents were +compelled to go abroad, and I was left in the charge of one of my +mother's society friends--a thoroughly worldly, unprincipled woman +whose life was made up of intrigue and gambling. And I ran away with a +man--Pierce Armitage--" + +"Pierce Armitage!" + +The name broke from him like a cry of agony. + +"Yes--Pierce Armitage. Did you know him?" + +He looked at her with eyes in which there was a strange horror. + +"Know him? He was my best friend!" + +She shrugged her shoulders, and a slight weary smile parted her lips. + +"Well, you never told me,--I have never heard you mention his name. But +the world is a small place!--and when I was a girl he was beginning to +be known by a good many people. Anyhow, he threw up everything in the +way of his art and work, and ran away with me. I went quite +willingly--I took a maid whom we bribed,--we pretended we were married, +and we had a charming time together--a time of real romance, till he +began to get tired and want change--all men are like that! Then he +became a bore with a bad temper. He certainly behaved very well when he +knew the child was coming, and offered to marry me in real earnest--but +I refused." + +"You refused!" Lord Blythe echoed the words in a kind of stupefied +wonderment. + +"Of course I did. He was quite poor--and I should have been miserable +running about the world with a man who depended on art for a living. +Besides he was ceasing to be a lover--and as a husband he would have +been insupportable. We managed everything very well--my own people were +all in India--and my mother's friend, if she guessed my affair, said +nothing about it,--wisely enough for her own sake!--so that when my +time came I was able to go away on an easy pretext and get it all over +secretly. Pierce came and stayed in a hotel close at hand--he was +rather in a fright lest I should die!--it would have been such an +awkward business for him!--however, all went well, and when I had quite +recovered he took the child away from me, and left it at an old +farmhouse he had once made a drawing of, saying he would call back for +it--as if it were a parcel!" She laughed lightly. "He wrote and told me +what he had done and gave me the address of the farm--then he went +abroad, and I never heard of him again--" + +"He died," interposed Lord Blythe, slowly--"He died--alone and very +poor--" + +"So I was told," she rejoined, indifferently--"Oh yes! I see you look +at me as if you thought I had no heart! Perhaps I have not,--I used to +have something like one,--your friend Armitage killed it in me. Anyhow, +I knew the child had been adopted by the farm people as their own, and +I took no further trouble. My parents came home from India to inherit +an unexpected fortune, and they took me about with them a great +deal--they were never told of my romantic escapade!--then I met +you--and you married me." + +A sigh broke from him, but he said nothing. + +"You are sorry you did, I suppose!" she went on in a quick, reckless +way--"Anyhow, I tried to do my duty. When I heard by chance that the +old farmer who had taken care of the child was dead, I made up my mind +to go and see what she was like. I found her, and offered to adopt +her--but she wouldn't hear of it--so I let her be." + +Lord Blythe moved a little from his statuesque attitude of attention. + +"You told her you were her mother?" + +"I did." + +"And offered to 'adopt' your own child?" She gave an airy gesture. + +"It was the only thing to do! One cannot make a social scandal." + +"And she refused?" + +"She refused." + +"I admire her for it," said Lord Blythe, calmly. + +She shot an angry glance at him. He went on in cold, deliberate accents. + +"You were unprepared for the strange compensation you have +received?--the sudden fame of your deserted daughter?" + +Her hands clasped and unclasped themselves nervously. + +"I knew nothing of it! Armitage is not an uncommon name, and I did not +connect it with her. She has no right to wear it." + +"If her father were alive he would be proud that she wears +it!--moreover he would give her the right to wear it, and would make it +legal," said Lord Blythe sternly--"Out of old memory I can say that for +him! You recognised each other at once, I suppose, when I presented her +to you at the Duchess's reception?" + +"Of course we did!" retorted his wife--"You yourself saw that I was +rather taken aback,--it was difficult to conceal our mutual +astonishment--" + +"It must have been!" and a thin ironic smile hovered on his lips--"And +you carried it off well! But--the poor child!--what an ordeal for her! +You can hardly have felt it so keenly, being seasoned to hypocrisy for +so many years!" Her eyes flashed up at him indignantly. He raised his +hand with a warning gesture. + +"Permit me to speak, Maude! You can scarcely wonder that I am--well!--a +little shaken and bewildered by the confession you have made,--the +secret you have--after years of marriage--suddenly divulged. You +suggested--at the beginning of this interview--that perhaps there was +nothing in the social life of our day that would very much shock or +surprise me--and I answered you that I was not easily surprised--but--I +was thinking of others.--it did not occur to me that--that my own +wife--" he paused, steadying his voice,--then continued--"that my own +wife's honour was involved in the matter--" he paused again. "Sentiment +is of course out of place--nobody is supposed to feel anything +nowadays--or to suffer--or to break one's heart, as the phrase +goes,--that would be considered abnormal, or bad form,--but I had the +idea--a foolish one, no doubt!--that though you may not have married me +for love on your own part, you did so because you recognised the +love,--the truth--the admiration and respect--on mine. I was at any +rate happy in believing you did!--I never dreamed you married me for +the sake of convenience!--to kill the memory of a scandal, and +establish a safe position--" + +She moved restlessly and gathered her ermine cloak about her as though +to rise and go. + +"One moment!" he went on--"After what you have told me I hope you see +clearly that it is impossible we can live together under the same roof +again. If YOU could endure it, _I_ could not!" + +She sprang up, pale and excited. + +"What? You mean to make trouble? I, who have kept my own counsel all +these years, am to be disgraced because I have at last confided in you? +You will scandalise society--you will separate from me--" + +She stopped, half choked by a rising paroxysm of rage. + +He looked at her as he might have looked at some small angry animal. + +"I shall make no trouble," he answered, quietly--"and I shall not +scandalise society. But I cannot live with you. I will go away at once +on some convenient excuse--abroad--anywhere--and you can say whatever +you please of my prolonged absence. If I could be of any use or +protection to the girl I saw last night--the daughter of my friend +Pierce Armitage--I would stay, but circumstances render any such +service from me impossible. Besides, she needs no one to assist +her--she has made a position for herself--a position more enviable than +yours or mine. You have that to think about by way of--consolation?--or +reproach?" + +She stood drawn up to her full height, looking at him. + +"You cannot forgive me, then?" she said. + +He shuddered. + +"Forgive you! Is there a man who could forgive twenty years of +deliberate deception from the wife he thought the soul of honour? +Maude, Maude! We live in lax times truly, when men and women laugh at +principle and good faith, and deal with each other less honestly than +the beasts of the field,--but for me there is a limit!--a limit you +have passed! I think I could pardon your wrong to me more readily than +I can pardon your callous desertion of the child you brought into the +world--your lack of womanliness--motherliness!--your deliberate refusal +to give Pierce Armitage the chance of righting the wrong he had +committed in a headstrong, heart-strong rush of thoughtless +passion!--he WOULD have righted it, I know, and been a loyal husband to +you, and a good father to his child. For whatever his faults were he +was neither callous nor brutal. You prevented him from doing this,--you +were tired of him--your so-called 'love' for him was a mere selfish +caprice of the moment--and you preferred deceit and a rich marriage to +the simple duty of a woman! Well!--you may find excuses for +yourself,--I cannot find them for you! I could not remain by your side +as a husband and run the risk of coming constantly in contact, as we +did last night, with that innocent girl, placed as she is, in a +situation of so much difficulty, by the sins of her parents--her +mother, my wife!--her father, my dead friend! The position is, and +would be untenable!" + +Still she stood, looking at him. + +"Have you done?" she asked. + +He met her fixed gaze, coldly. + +"I have. I have said all I wish to say. So far as I am concerned the +incident is closed. I will only bid you good-night--and farewell!" + +"Good-night--and farewell!" she repeated, with a mocking drawl,--then +she suddenly burst into a fit of shrill laughter. "Oh dear, oh dear!" +she cried, between little screams of hysterical mirth--"You are so very +funny, you know! Like--what's-his-name?--Marius in the ruins of +Carthage!--or one of those antique classical bores with their household +gods broken around them! You--you ought to have lived in their +days!--you are so terribly behind the times!" She laughed recklessly +again. "We don't do the Marius and Carthage business now--life's too +full and too short! Really, Richard, I'm afraid you're getting very +old!--poor dear!--past sixty I know!--and you're quite prehistoric in +some of your fancies!--'Good-night!'--er--'and farewell!' Sounds so +stagey, doesn't it!" She wiped the spasmodic tears of mirth from her +eyes, and still shaking with laughter gathered up her rich ermine wrap +on one white, jewelled arm. "Womanliness--motherliness!--good Lord, +deliver us!--I never thought you likely to preach at me--if I had I +wouldn't have told you anything! I took you for a sensible man of the +world--but you are only a stupid old-fashioned thing after all! +Good-night!--and farewell!" + +She performed the taunting travesty of an elaborate Court curtsey and +passed him--a handsome, gleaming vision of satins, laces and glittering +jewels--and opening the door with some noise and emphasis, she turned +her head gracefully over her shoulder. Unkind laughter still lit up her +face and hard, brilliant eyes. + +"Good-night!--farewell!" she said again, and was gone. + +For a moment he stood inert where she left him--then sinking into a +chair he covered his face with his hands. So he remained for some +time--silently wrestling with himself and his own emotions. He had to +realise that at an age when he might naturally have looked for a +tranquil home life--a life tended and soothed into its natural decline +by the care and devotion of the wife he had undemonstratively but most +tenderly loved, he was suddenly cast adrift like the hulk of an old +battleship broken from its moorings, with nothing but solitude and +darkness closing in upon his latter days. Then he thought of the +girl,--his wife's child--the child too of his college chum and dearest +friend,--he saw, impressed like a picture on the cells of his brain, +her fair young face, pathetic eyes and sweet intelligence of +expression,--he remembered how modestly she wore her sudden fame, as a +child might wear a wild flower,--and, placed by her parentage in a +difficulty for which she was not responsible, she must have suffered +considerable pain and sorrow. + +"I will go and see her to-morrow," he said to himself--"It will be +better for her to know that I have heard all her sad little +history--then--if she ever wants a friend she can come to me without +fear. Ah!--if only she were MY daughter!" + +He sighed,--his handsome old head drooped,--he had longed for children +and the boon had been denied. + +"If she were my daughter," he repeated, slowly--"I should be a proud +man instead of a sorrowful one!" + +He turned off the lights in the library and went upstairs to his +bedroom. Outside his wife's door he paused a moment, thinking he heard +a sound,--but all was silent. Imagining that he probably would not +sleep he placed a book near his bedside--but nature was kind to his age +and temperament, and after about an hour of wakefulness and sad +perplexity, all ruffling care was gradually smoothed away from his +mind, and he fell into a deep and dreamless slumber. + +Meanwhile Lady Blythe had been disrobed by a drowsy maid whom she +sharply reproached for being sleepy when she ought to have been wide +awake, though it was long past midnight,--and dismissing the girl at +last, she sat alone before her mirror, thinking with some pettishness +of the interview she had just had with her husband. + +"Old fool!" she soliloquised--"He ought to know better than to play the +tragic-sentimental with me at his time of life! I thought he would +accept the situation reasonably and help me to tackle it. Of course it +will be simply abominable if I am to meet that girl at every big +society function--I don't know what I shall do about it! Why didn't she +stay in her old farm-house!--who could ever have imagined her becoming +famous! I shall go abroad, I think--that will be the best thing to do. +If Blythe leaves me as he threatens, I shall certainly not stay here by +myself to face the music! Besides, who knows?--the girl herself may +'round' on me when her head gets a little more swelled with success. +Such a horrid bore!--I wish I had never seen Pierce Armitage!" + +Even as she thought of him the vision came back to her of the handsome +face and passionate eyes of her former lover,--again she saw the +romantic little village by the sea where they had dwelt together as in +another Eden,--she remembered how he would hurry up from the shore +bringing with him the sketch he had been working at, eager for her eyes +to look at it, thrilling at her praise, and pouring out upon her such +tender words and caresses such as she had never known since those wild +and ardent days! A slight shiver ran through her--something like a pang +of remorse stung her hardened spirit. + +"And the child," she murmured--"The child--it clung to me and I kissed +it!--it was a dear little thing!" + +She glanced about her nervously--the room seemed full of wandering +shadows. + +"I must sleep!" she thought--"I am worried and out of sorts--I must +sleep and forget--" + +She took out of a drawer in her dressing-table a case of medicinal +cachets marked "Veronal." + +"One or two more or less will not hurt me," she said, with a pale, +forced smile at herself in the mirror--"I am accustomed to it--and I +must have a good long sleep!" + + ******** + + ****** + + **** + +She had her way. Morning came,--and she was still sleeping. Noon--and +nothing could waken her. Doctors, hastily summoned, did their best to +rouse her to that life which with all its pains and possibilities still +throbbed in the world around her--but their efforts were vain. + +"Suicide?" whispered one. + +"Oh no! Mere accident!--an overdose of veronal--some carelessness--quite +a common occurrence. Nothing to be done!" + +No!--nothing to be done! Her slumber had deepened into that strange +stillness which we call death,--and her husband, a statuesque and rigid +figure, gazed on her quiet body with tearless eyes. + +"Good-night!" he whispered to the heavy silence--"Good-night! Farewell!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +One of the advantages or disadvantages of the way in which we live in +these modern days is that we are ceasing to feel. That is to say we do +not permit ourselves to be affected by either death or misfortune, +provided these natural calamities leave our own persons unscathed. We +are beginning not to understand emotion except as a phase of bad +manners, and we cultivate an apathetic, soulless indifference to events +of great moment whether triumphant or tragic, whenever they do not +involve our own well-being and creature comforts. Whole boatloads of +fishermen may go forth to their doom in the teeth of a gale without +moving us to pity so long as we have our well-fried sole or grilled cod +for breakfast,--and even such appalling disasters as the wicked +assassination of hapless monarchs, or the wrecks of palatial +ocean-liners with more than a thousand human beings all whelmed at once +in the pitiless depths of the sea, leave us cold, save for the +uplifting of our eyes and shoulders during an hour or so,--an +expression of slight shock, followed by forgetfulness. Air-men, +recklessly braving the spaces of the sky, fall headlong, and are +smashed to mutilated atoms every month or so, without rousing us to +more than a passing comment, and a chorus of "How dreadful!" from +simpering women,--and the greatest and best man alive cannot hope for +long remembrance by the world at large when he dies. Shakespeare +recognised this tendency in callous human nature when he made his +Hamlet say-- + +"O heavens! Die two months ago and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope +a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year, but by 'r lady, +he must build churches then, or else shall he suffer not thinking on." + +Wives recover the loss of their husbands with amazing +rapidity,--husbands "get over" the demise of their wives with the +galloping ease of trained hunters leaping an accustomed fence--families +forget their dead as resolutely as some debtors forget their +bills,--and to express sorrow, pity, tenderness, affection, or any sort +of "sentiment" whatever is to expose one's self to derision and +contempt from the "normal" modernist who cultivates cynicism as a fine +art. Many of us elect to live, each one, in a little back-yard garden +of selfish interests--walled round carefully, and guarded against +possible intrusion by uplifted spikes of conventionalism,--the door is +kept jealously closed--and only now and then does some impulsive spirit +bolder than the rest, venture to put up a ladder and peep over the +wall. Shut in with various favourite forms of hypocrisy and cowardice, +each little unit passes its short life in mistrusting its neighbour +unit, and death finds none of them wiser, better or nearer the utmost +good than when they were first uselessly born. + +Among such vain and unprofitable atoms of life Lady Maude Blythe had +been one of the vainest and most unprofitable,--though of such "social" +importance as to be held in respectful awe by tuft-hunters and +parasites, who feed on the rich as the green-fly feeds on the rose. The +news of her sudden death briefly chronicled by the fashionable +intelligence columns of the press with the usual--"We deeply +regret"--created no very sorrowful sensation--a few vapid people idly +remarked to one another--"Then her great ball won't come +off!"--somewhat as if she had retired into the grave to avoid the +trouble and expense of the function. Cards inscribed--"Sympathy and +kind enquiries"--were left for Lord Blythe in the care of his dignified +butler, who received them with the impassiveness of a Buddhist idol and +deposited them all on the orthodox salver in the hall--and a few +messages of "Deeply shocked and grieved. Condolences"--by wires, not +exceeding sixpence each, were despatched to the lonely widower,--but +beyond these purely formal observances, the handsome brilliant society +woman dropped out of thought and remembrance as swiftly as a dead leaf +drops from a tree. She had never been loved, save by her two deluded +dupes--Pierce Armitage and her husband,--no one in the whole wide range +of her social acquaintance would have ever thought of feeling the +slightest affection for her. The first announcement of her death +appeared in an evening paper, stating the cause to be an accidental +overdose of veronal taken to procure sleep, and Miss Leigh, seeing the +paragraph by merest chance, gave a shocked exclamation-- + +"Innocent! My dear!--how dreadful! That poor Lady Blythe we saw the +other night is dead!" + +The girl was standing by the tea-table just pouring out a cup of tea +for Miss Leigh--she started so nervously that the cup almost fell from +her hand. + +"Dead!" she repeated, in a low, stifled voice. "Lady Blythe? Dead?" + +"Yes!--it is awful! That horrid veronal! Such a dangerous drug! It +appears she was accustomed to take it for sleep--and unfortunately she +took an over-dose. How terrible for Lord Blythe!" + +Innocent sat down, trembling. Her gaze involuntarily wandered to the +portrait of Pierce Armitage--the lover of the dead woman, and her +father! The handsome face with its dreamy yet proud eyes appeared +conscious of her intense regard--she looked and looked, and longed to +speak--to tell Miss Leigh all--but something held her silent. She had +her own secret now--and it restrained her from disclosing the secrets +of others. Nor could she realise that it was her mother--actually her +own mother--who had been taken so suddenly and tragically from the +world. The news barely affected her--nor was this surprising, seeing +that she had never entirely grasped the fact of her mother's +personality or existence at all. She had felt no emotion concerning +her, save of repulsion and dislike. Her unexpected figure had appeared +on the scene like a strange vision, and now had vanished from it as +strangely. Innocent was in very truth "motherless"--but so she had +always been--for a mother who deserts her child is worse than a mother +dead. Yet it was some few minutes before she could control herself +sufficiently to speak or look calmly--and her eyes were downcast as +Miss Leigh came up to the tea-table, newspaper in hand, to discuss the +tragic incident. + +"She was a very brilliant woman in society," said the gentle old lady, +then--"You did not know her, of course, and you could not judge of her +by seeing her just one evening. But I remember the time when she was +much talked of as 'the beautiful Maude Osborne'--she was a very +lively, wilful girl, and she had been rather neglected by her parents, +who left her in England in charge of some friends while they were in +India. I think she ran rather wild at that time. There was some talk of +her having gone off secretly somewhere with a lover--but I never +believed the story. It was a silly scandal--and of course it stopped +directly she married Lord Blythe. He gave her a splendid position,--and +he was devoted to her--poor man!" + +"Yes?" murmured Innocent, mechanically. She did not know what to say. + +"If she had been blessed with children--or even one child," went on +Miss Leigh--"I think it would have been better for her. I am sure she +would have been happier! He would, I feel certain!" + +"No doubt!" the girl answered in the same quiet tone. + +"My dear, you look very pale!" said Miss Leigh, with some anxiety--"Have +you been working too hard?" + +She smiled. + +"That would be impossible!" she answered. "I could not work too +hard--it is such happiness to work--one forgets!--yes--one forgets all +that one does not wish to remember!" + +The anxious expression still remained on Miss Lavinia's face,--but, +true to the instincts of an old-fashioned gentlewoman, she did not +press enquiries where she saw they might be embarrassing or unwelcome. +And though she now loved Innocent as much as if she had been her own +child, she never failed to remember that after all, the girl had earned +her own almost wealthy independence, and was free to do as she liked +without anybody's control or interference, and that though she was so +young she was bound to be in all respects untrammelled in her life and +actions. She went where she pleased--she had her own little hired +motor-brougham--she also had many friends who invited her out without +including Miss Leigh in the invitations, and she was still the "paying +guest" at the little Kensington house,--a guest who was never tired of +doing kindly and helpful deeds for the benefit of the sweet old woman +who was her hostess. Once or twice Miss Leigh had made a faint +half-hearted protest against her constant and lavish generosity. + +"My dear," she had said--"With all the money you earn now you could +live in a much larger house--you could indeed have a house of your own, +with many more luxuries--why do you stay here, showering advantages on +me, who am nothing but a prosy old body?--you could do much better!" + +"Could I really?" And Innocent had laughed and kissed her. "Well!--I +don't want to do any better--I'm quite happy as I am. One thing +is--(and you seem to forget it!)--that I'm very fond of you!--and when +I'm very fond of a person it's difficult to shake me off!" + +So she stayed on--and lived her life with a nun-like simplicity and +economy--spending her money on others rather than herself, and helping +those in need,--and never even in her dress, which was always +exquisite, running into vagaries of extravagance and follies of +fashion. She had discovered a little French dressmaker, whose husband +had deserted her, leaving her with two small children to feed and +educate, and to this humble, un-famous plier of the needle she +entrusted her wardrobe with entirely successful results. Worth, Paquin, +Doucet and other loudly advertised personages were all quoted as +"creators" of her gowns, whereat she was amused. + +"A little personal taste and thought go so much further in dress than +money," she was wont to say to some of her rather envious women +friends. "I would rather copy the clothes in an old picture than the +clothes in a fashion book." + +Odd fancies about her dead mother came to her when she was alone in her +own room--particularly at night when she said her prayers. Some +mysterious force seemed compelling her to offer up a petition for the +peace of her mother's soul,--she knew from the old books written by the +"Sieur Amadis" that to do this was a custom of his creed. She missed it +out of the Church of England Prayer-book, though she dutifully followed +the tenets of the faith in which Miss Leigh had had her baptised and +confirmed--but in her heart of hearts she thought it good and right to +pray for the peace of departed souls-- + +"For who can tell"--she would say to herself--"what strange confusion +and sorrow they may be suffering!--away from all that they once knew +and cared for! Even if prayers cannot help them it is kind to pray!" + +And for her mother's soul she felt a dim and far-off sense of +pity--almost a fear, lest that unsatisfied spirit might be lost and +wandering in a chaos of dark experience without any clue to guide or +any light to shine upon its dreadful solitude. So may the dead come +nearer to the living than when they also lived! + +Some three or four weeks after Lady Blythe's sudden exit from a world +too callous to care whether she stayed in it or went from it, Lord +Blythe called at Miss Leigh's house and asked to see her. He was +admitted at once, and the pretty old lady came down in a great flutter +to the drawing-room to receive him. She found him standing in front of +the harpsichord, looking at the portrait upon it. He turned quickly +round as she entered and spoke with some abruptness. + +"I must apologise for calling rather late in the afternoon," he +said--"But I could not wait another day. I have something important to +tell you--" He paused--then went on--"It's rather startling to me to +find that portrait here!--I knew the man. Surely it is Pierce Armitage, +the painter?" + +"Yes"--and Miss Leigh's eyes opened in a little surprise and +bewilderment--"He was a great friend of mine--and of yours?" "He was my +college chum"--and he walked closer to the picture and looked at it +steadfastly--"That must have been taken when he was quite a young +man--before--" He paused again,--then said with a forced +smile--"Talking of Armitage--is Miss Armitage in?" + +"No, she is not"--and the old lady looked regretful--"She has gone out +to tea--I'm sorry--" + +"It's just as well"--and Lord Blythe took one or two restless paces up +and down the little room--"I would rather talk to you alone first. +Yes!--that portrait of Pierce must have been taken in early days--just +about the time he ran away with Maude Osborne--" + +Miss Leigh gazed at him enquiringly. + +"With Maude Osborne?" + +"Yes--with Maude Osborne, who afterwards became my wife." + +Miss Leigh trembled and drew back, looking about her in a dazed way as +though seeking for some place to hide in. Lord Blythe saw her agitation. + +"I'm afraid I'm worrying you!" he said, kindly. "Sit down, +please,"--and he placed a chair for her. "We are both elderly folk and +shocks are not good for us. There!"--and he took her hand and patted it +gently--"As I was saying, that portrait must have been taken about +then--did he give it to you?" + +"Yes," she answered, faintly--"He did. We were engaged--" + +"Engaged! Good God! You?--to Pierce?--My dear lady, forgive me!--I'm +very sorry!--I had no idea--" + +But Miss Leigh composed herself very quickly. + +"Please do not mind me!" she said--"It all happened so very long ago! +Yes--Pierce Armitage and I were engaged--but he suddenly went away--and +I was told he had gone with some very beautiful girl he had fallen head +over ears in love with--and I never saw him again. But I never +reproached him--I--I loved him too well!" + +Silently Lord Blythe took the worn little hand and raised it to his +lips. + +"Pierce was more cruel than I thought was possible to him"--he said, at +last, very gently--"But--you have the best of him with you in--his +daughter!" + +"His daughter!" + +She sprang up, white and scared. + +He gripped her arm and held it fast to support her. + +"Yes," he said--"His daughter! That is what I have come to tell you! +The girl who lives with you--the famous author whose name is just now +ringing through the world is his child!--and her mother was my wife!" + +There was a little stifled cry--she dropped back in her chair and +covered her face with her hands to hide the tears that rushed to her +eyes. + +"Innocent!" she murmured, sobbingly--"His child!--Innocent!" + +He was silent, watching her, his own heart deeply moved. He thought of +her life of unbroken fidelity--wasted in its youth--solitary in its +age--all for the sake of one man. Presently, mastering her quiet +weeping, she looked up. + +"Does she--the dear girl!--does she know this?" she asked, in a half +whisper. + +"She has known it all the time," he answered--"She knew who her mother +was before she came to London--but she kept her own counsel--I think to +save the honour of all concerned. And she has made her name famous to +escape the reproach of birth which others fastened upon her. A brave +child!--it must have been strange to her to find her father's portrait +here--did you ever speak of him to her?" + +"Often!" replied Miss Leigh. "She knows all my story!" + +He smiled, very kindly + +"No wonder she was silent!" he said. + +Just then they heard the sound of a latch-key turning in the lock of +the hall door--there was a light step in the passage--they looked at +one another half in wonder, half in doubt. A moment more and Innocent +entered, radiant and smiling. She stopped on the threshold, amazed at +the sight of Lord Blythe. + +"Why, godmother"--she began. Then, glancing from one to the other, her +cheeks grew pale--she hesitated, instinctively guessing at the truth. +Lord Blythe advanced and took her gently by both hands. + +"Dear child, your secret is ours!" he said, quietly. "Miss Leigh knows, +and _I_ know that you are the daughter of Pierce Armitage, and that +your mother was my late wife. No one can be dearer to us both than you +are--for your father's sake!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Startled and completely taken aback, she let her hands remain passively +in his for a moment,--then quietly withdrew them. A hot colour rushed +swiftly into her cheeks and as swiftly receded, leaving her very pale. + +"How can you know?" she faltered--"Who has told you?" + +"Your mother herself told me on the night she died," he answered--"She +gave me all the truth of herself,--at last--after long years!" + +She was silent--standing inert as though she had received a numbing +blow. Miss Leigh rose and came tremblingly towards her. + +"My dear, my dear!" she exclaimed--"I wish I had known it all +before!--I might have done more--I might have tried to be kinder--" + +The girl sprang to her side and impulsively embraced her. + +"You would have tried in vain!" she said, fondly, "No one on earth +could have been kinder than my beloved little godmother! You have been +the dearest and best of friends!" + +Then she turned towards Lord Blythe. + +"It is very good of you to come here and say what you have said"--and +she spoke in soft, almost pathetic accents--"But I am sorry that anyone +knows my story--it is no use to know it, really! I should have always +kept it a secret--for it chiefly concerns me, after all,--and why +should my existence cast a shadow on the memory of my father? Perhaps +you may have known him--" + +"I knew him and loved him!" said Lord Blythe, quickly. + +She looked at him with wistful, tear-wet eyes. + +"Well then, how hard it must be for you to think that he ever did +anything unworthy of himself!" she said--"And for this dear lady it is +cruel!--for she loved him too. And what am I that I should cause all +this trouble! I am a nameless creature--I took his name because I +wanted to kindle a little light of my own round it--I have done that! +And then I wanted to guard his memory from any whisper of scandal--will +you help me in this? The secret must still be kept--and no one must +ever know I am his daughter. For though your wife is dead her name must +not be shamed for the long ago sin of her youth--nor must I be branded +as what I am--base-born." + +Profoundly touched by the simple straightforward eloquence of her +appeal, Lord Blythe went up to her where she stood with one arm round +Miss Leigh. + +"My dear child," he said, earnestly--"believe me, I shall never speak +of your parentage or give the slightest hint to anyone of the true +facts of your history--still less would I allow you to be lightly +esteemed for what is no fault of your own. You have made a brilliant +name and fame for yourself--you have the right to that name and fame. I +came here to-day for two reasons--one to tell you that I was fully +acquainted with all you had endured and suffered--the other to ask if +you will let me be your guardian--your other father--and give me some +right to shelter you from the rough ways of the world. I may perhaps in +this way make some amends to you for the loss of mother-love and +father-love--I would do my best--" + +He stopped--a little troubled by unusual emotion. Innocent, drawing her +embracing arm away from Miss Leigh, looked at him with wondering, +grateful eyes. + +"How good you are!" she said, softly--"You would take care of me--you +with your proud name and place!--and I--the poor, unfortunately born +child of your dead friend! Ah, you kind, gentle heart!--I thank +you!--but no!--I must not accept such a sacrifice on your part--" + +"It would be no sacrifice"--he interrupted her, eagerly--"No, +child!--it would be pure selfishness!--for I'm getting old and am +lonely--and--and I want someone to look after me!" He laughed a little +awkwardly. "Why not come to me and be my daughter?" + +She smiled--caught his hand and kissed it. + +"I will be a daughter to you in affection and respect," she said--"But +I will not take any benefits from you--no, none! Oh, I know well all +you could and would do for me!--you would place me in the highest ranks +of that society where you are a leader, and you would surround me with +so many advantages and powerful friends that I should forget my duty, +which is to work for myself, and owe nothing to any man! Dear, kind +Lord Blythe!--do not think me ungrateful! But I have made my own little +place in the world, and I must keep it--independently! Am I not right, +my godmother?" + +Miss Leigh looked at her anxiously, and sighed. + +"My dear, you must think well about it," she said--"Lord Blythe would +care for you as his own child, I am sure--and his home would be a safe +and splendid one for you--but there!--do not ask ME!" and the old lady +wiped away one or two trickling tears from her eyes--"I am +selfish!--and now I know you are Pierce's daughter I want to keep you +for myself!--to have you near me!--to look at you and love you!--" + +Her voice broke--her gaze instinctively wandered to the portrait of the +man whose memory she had cherished so long and so fondly. + +"What did you think--what must you have thought the first day you came +here when I asked you if you were any relation to Pierce Armitage, and +told you that was his portrait!" she said, wistfully. + +"I thought that God had guided me to you," the girl answered, in soft, +grave accents--"And that my father's spirit had not forsaken me!" + +There was a moment's silence. Then she spoke more lightly-- + +"Dear Lord Blythe," she said--"Now that you know so much may I tell you +my own story? It will not take long! Come and sit here--yes!"--and she +placed a comfortable arm-chair for him, while she drew Miss Leigh +gently down on the sofa and sat next to her--"It is nothing of a +story!--my little life is not at all like the lives lived by all the +girls of my age that I have ever met or seen--it's all in the past, as +it were,--the old, very old past!--as far back as the days of +Elizabeth!" + +She laughed, but there were tears in her eyes--she brushed them away +and holding Miss Leigh's hand in her own, she told with simple truth +and directness the narrative of her childhood's days--her life on +Briar Farm--how she had been trained by Priscilla to bake, and brew, +and wash and sew,--and how she had found her chief joy and relaxation +from household duties in the reading of the old books she had found +stowed away in the dower-chests belonging to the "Sieur Amadis de +Jocelin." + +As she pronounced the name with an unconsciously tender accentuation +Lord Blythe interrupted her. + +"Why, that's a curious thing! I know a rather clever painter named +Amadis de Jocelyn--and surely you were dancing with him on the evening +I first met you?" + +A wave of rosy colour swept over her cheeks. + +"Yes!--that is what I was just going to tell you!" she said. "He is +another Amadis de Jocelyn!--and he is actually connected with a branch +of the same family! HIS ancestor was the brother of that very Amadis +who lies buried at Briar Farm! Is it not strange that I should have met +him!--and he is going to paint my portrait!" + +"Is he indeed!" and Lord Blythe did not look impressed--"I thought he +was a landscape man." + +"So he is," she explained, with eagerness--"But he can do +portraits--and he wishes to make a picture of me, because I have been a +student of the books written by one of his ancient line. Those books +taught me all I know of literature. You see, it is curious, isn't it?" + +"It is," he agreed, rather hesitatingly--"But I've never quite liked +Jocelyn--he's clever--yet he has always struck me as being intensely +selfish,--a callous sort of man--many artists are." + +Her eyes drooped, and her breath came and went quickly. + +"I suppose all clever men get self-absorbed sometimes!" she said, with +a quaint little air of wisdom--"But I don't think he is really +callous--" She broke off, and laughed brightly--"Anyhow we needn't +discuss him--need we? I just wanted to tell you what an odd experience +it has been for me to meet and to know someone descended from the +family of the old French knight whose spirit was my instructor in +beautiful things! The little books of his own poems were full of +loveliness--and I used to read them over and over again. They were all +about love and faith and honour--" + +"Very old-fashioned subjects!" said Lord Blythe, with a slight +smile--"And not very much in favour nowadays!" + +Miss Leigh looked at him questioningly. + +"You think not?" she said. + +He gave a quick sigh. + +"It is difficult to know what to think," he answered--"But I have lived +a long life--long enough to have seen the dispersal of many illusions! +I fear selfishness is the keynote of the greater part of humanity. +Those who do the kindest deeds are invariably the worst rewarded--and +love in its highest form is so little known that it may be almost +termed non-existent. You"--and he looked at Innocent--"you write in a +very powerful and convincing way about things of which you can have had +no real experience--and therein lies your charm! You restore the lost +youth of manhood by idealisation, and you compel your readers to +'idealise' with you--but 'to idealise' is rather a dangerous verb!--and +its conjugation generally means trouble and disaster. Ideals--unless +they are of the spiritual kind unattainable on this planet--are apt to +be very disappointing." + +Innocent smiled. + +"But love is an ideal which cannot disappoint, because it is +everlasting!" she said, almost joyously. "The story of the old French +knight is, in its way, a proof of that. He loved his ideal all his +life, even though he could not win her." + +"Very wonderful if true!" he answered--"But I cannot quite believe it! +I am too familiar with the ways of my own sex! Anyhow, dear child, I +should advise you not to make too many ideals apart from the characters +in the books you write. Fortunately your special talent brings you an +occupation which will save you from that kind of thing. You have +ambition as an incentive, and fame for a goal." + +She was silent for a moment. In relating the story of her life at Briar +Farm she had not spoken of Robin Clifford,--some instinct told her that +the sympathies of her hearers might be enlisted in his favour, and she +did not want this. + +"Well, now you know what my 'literary education' has been," she went +on--"Since I came to London I have tried to improve myself as much as I +can--and I have read a great many modern books--but to me they seem to +lack the real feeling of the old-time literature. For instance, if you +read the account of the battle of the Armada by a modern historian it +sounds tame and cold,--but if you read the same account in Camden's +'Elizabeth'--the whole scene rises before you,--you can almost see +every ship riding the waves!" + +Her cheeks glowed and her eyes shone,--Lord Blythe smiled approvingly. + +"I see you are an enthusiast!" he said--"And you could not have better +teachers than the Elizabethans. They lived in a great age and they were +great men. Our times, though crowded with the splendid discoveries of +science, seem small and poor compared to theirs. If you ever come to +me, I can give you the run of a library where you will find many +friends." + +She thanked him by a look, and he went on-- + +"You will come and see me often, will you not?--you and Miss +Leigh--by-and-by, when the conventional time of mourning for my poor +wife is over. Make my house your second home, both of you!--and when I +return from Italy--" + +"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, impulsively--"Are you going to Italy?" + +"For a few weeks--yes!--will you come with me--you and your godmother?" + +His old heart beat,--a sudden joy lighted his eyes. It would have been +like the dawn of a new day to him had she consented, but she shook her +fair little head decisively. + +"I must not!" she said-"-I am bound to finish some work that I have +promised. But some day--ah, yes!--some day I should love to see Italy!" + +The light went slowly from his face. + +"Some day!--well!--I hope I may live to be with you on that 'some day.' +I ought not to leave London just now--but the house is very lonely--and +I think I am best away for a time--" + +"Much best!" said Miss Leigh, sympathetically--"And if there is +anything we can do--" + +"Yes--there is one thing that will please me very much," said Lord +Blythe, drawing from his pocket a small velvet case--"I want my friend +Pierce's daughter to wear this--it was my first gift to her mother." +Here he opened the case and showed an exquisite pendant, in the shape +of a dove, finely wrought in superb brilliants, and supported on a thin +gold chain. "I gave it as an emblem of innocence"--a quick sigh escaped +him--"I little knew!--but you, dear girl, are the one to wear it now! +Let me fasten it round your neck." + +She stooped forward, and he took a lingering pleasure in putting the +chain on and watching the diamonds flash against her fair skin. She was +too much moved to express any worded thanks--it was not the value or +the beauty of the gift that touched her, but its association and the +way it was given. And then, after a little more desultory conversation, +he rose to go. + +"Remember!" he said, taking her tenderly by both hands--"Whenever you +want a home and a father, both are ready and waiting for you!" And he +kissed her lightly on the forehead. "You are famous and independent, +but the world is not always kind to a clever woman even when she is +visibly known to be earning her own living. There are always spiteful +tongues wagging in the secret corners and byways, ready to assert that +her work is not her own and that some man is in the background, helping +to keep her!" + +He then shook hands warmly with Miss Leigh. + +"If she ever comes to me"--he went on--"you are free to come with +her--and be assured of my utmost friendship and respect. I shall feel I +am in some way doing what I know my old friend Pierce Armitage would, +in his best moments, approve, if I can be of the least service to you. +You will not forget?" + +Miss Leigh was too overcome by the quiet sweetness and dignity of his +manner to murmur more than a few scarcely audible words of gratitude in +reply--and when at last he took his leave, she relieved her heart by +throwing her arms round Innocent and having what she called "a good +cry." + +"And you Pierce's child!" she half laughed, half sobbed--"Oh, how could +he leave you at that farm!--poor little thing!--and yet it might have +been much worse--" + +"Indeed I should think so!" and Innocent soothed her fondly with the +tenderest caresses--"Very much worse! Why, if I had not been left at +Briar Farm, I should never have known Dad!--and he was one of the best +of men--and I should never have learned how to think, and write my +thoughts, from the teaching of the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!" + +There was a little thrill of triumph in her voice--and Miss Leigh, +wiping away her tears, looked at her timidly and curiously. + +"How you dwell on the memory of that French knight!" she said. "When +are you going to have your portrait painted by the modern Amadis?" + +Innocent smiled. + +"Very soon!" she answered--"We are to begin our sittings next week. I +am to wear a white frock--and I told him about my dove Cupid, and how +it used to fly from the gables of the house to my hand--and he is going +to paint the bird as well as me!" + +She laughed with the joy of a child. + +"Fancy! Cupid will be there!" + +"Cupid?" echoed Miss Leigh, wonderingly. + +"Yes--Cupid!--usually known as the little god of love,--but only a dove +this time!--so much more harmless than the god!" + +Miss Leigh touched the diamond pendant at the girl's neck. + +"You have a dove there now," she said--"All in jewels! And in your +heart, dear child, I pray there is a spiritual dove of holy purity to +guard you from all evil and keep your sweet soul safe and clean!" + +A startled look came into the girl's soft grey-blue eyes,--a deep flush +of rose flew over her cheeks and brow. + +"A blessing or a warning, godmother mine?" she said. + +Miss Leigh drew her close in her arms and kissed her. + +"Both!" she answered, simply. + +There was a moment's silence. + +Then Innocent, her face still warm with colour, walked close up to the +harpsichord where her father's picture stood. + +"Let us talk of HIM!" she said--"Now that you know I am his daughter, +tell me all you remember of him!--how he spoke, how he looked!--what +sort of pictures he painted--and what he used to say to you! He loved +you once, and I love you now!--so you must tell me everything!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Fame, or notoriety, whichever that special noise may be called when the +world like a hound "gives tongue" and announces that the quarry in some +form of genius is at bay, is apt to increase its clamour in proportion +to the aloofness of the pursued animal,--and Innocent, who saw nothing +remarkable in remaining somewhat secluded and apart from the ordinary +routine of social life so feverishly followed by more than half her +sex, was very soon classified as "proud"--"eccentric"--"difficult" and +"vain," by idle and ignorant persons who knew nothing about her, and +only judged her by their own limited conceptions of what a successful +author might or could possibly be like. Some of these, more foolish +than the rest, expressed themselves as afraid or unwilling to meet +her--"lest she should put them into her books"--this being a common +form of conceit with many individuals too utterly dull and +uninteresting to "make copy" for so much as the humblest paragraphist. +It was quite true that she showed herself sadly deficient in the +appreciation of society functions and society people,--to her they +seemed stupid and boresome, involving much waste of precious time,--but +notwithstanding this, she was invited everywhere, and the accumulation +of "R.S.V.P." cards on her table and desk made such a formidable heap +that it was quite a business to clear them, as she did once a week, +with the assistance of the useful waste-paper basket. As a writer her +popularity was unquestionable, and so great and insistent was the +public demand for anything from her pen that she could command her own +terms from any publishing quarter. Her good fortune made very little +effect upon her,--sometimes it seemed as if she hardly realised or +cared to realise it. She had odd, almost child-like ways of spending +some of her money in dainty "surprise" gifts to her friends--that is to +say, such friends as had shown her kindness,--beautiful flowers and +fruit for invalids--choice wines for those who needed yet could not +afford them,--a new drawing-room carpet for Miss Leigh, which was, in +the old lady's opinion, a most important and amazing affair!--costly +furs, also for Miss Leigh,--and devices and adornments of all sorts for +the pleasure, beauty or comfort of the house--but on herself personally +she spent nothing save what was necessary for such dress and appearance +as best accorded with her now acknowledged position. Dearly as she +would have loved to shower gifts and benefits on the inhabitants of +never-forgotten Briar Farm, she knew that if she did anything of the +kind poor lonely old Priscilla Friday and patiently enduring Robin +Clifford were more likely to be hurt than gratified. For a silence had +fallen between that past life, which had been like a wild rose +blossoming in a country lane, and the present one, which resembled a +wonderful orchid flower, flaming in heat under glass,--and though she +wrote to Robin now and again, and he replied, his letters were +restrained and formal--almost cold. He knew too well how far she was +removed from him by more than distance, and bravely contented himself +with merely giving her such news of the farm and her former home +surroundings as might awaken her momentary interest without recalling +too many old memories to her mind. + +She seemed, and to a very great extent she was, unconscious of the +interest and curiosity both her work and her personality excited--the +more so now as the glamour and delight of her creative imagination had +been obscured by what she considered a far greater and more lasting +glory--that of love!--the golden mirage of a fancied sun, which for a +time had quenched the steadier shining of eternal stars. Since that +ever memorable night when he had suddenly stormed the fortress of her +soul, and by the mastery of a lover's kiss had taken full possession, +Amadis de Jocelyn had pursued his "amour" with admirable tact, +cleverness and secrecy. He found a new and stimulating charm in making +love to a tender-hearted, credulous little creature who seemed truly +"of such stuff as dreams are made of"--and to a man of his particular +type and temperament there was an irresistible provocation to his +vanity in the possibility of being able to lure her gradually and +insidiously down from the high ground of intellectual ambition and +power to the low level of that pitiful sex-submission which is +responsible for so much more misery than happiness in this world. +Little by little, under his apparently brusque and playful, but really +studied training, she began to think less and less of her work,--the +books she had loved to read and refer to, insensibly lost their +charm,--she went reluctantly to her desk, and as reluctantly took up +her pen,--what she had written already, appeared to her utterly +worthless,--and what she attempted to write now was to her mind poor +and unsatisfying. She was not moved by the knowledge, constantly +pressed upon her, that she was steadily rising, despite herself, to the +zenith of her career in such an incredibly swift and brilliant way as +to be the envy of all her contemporaries,--she was hardly as grateful +for her honours as weary of them and a little contemptuous. What did it +all matter to her when half of her once busy working mornings were now +often passed in the studio of Amadis de Jocelyn! He was painting a +full-length portrait of her--a mere excuse to give her facilities for +visiting him, and ensure his own privacy and convenience in receiving +her--and every day she went to him, sometimes late in the afternoons as +well as the mornings, slipping in and out familiarly and quite +unnoticed, for he had given her a key to the private door of his +studio, which was reached through a small, deeply shaded garden, +abutting on an old-fashioned street near Holland Park. She could enter +at any time, and thought it was the customary privilege accorded by an +artist to his sitter, while it saved the time and trouble of the +rheumatic "odd man" or servant whose failing limbs were slow to respond +to a summons at the orthodox front entrance. She would come in, dressed +in her simple navy blue serge walking costume, and then in a little +room just off the studio would change and put on the white dress which +her lover had chosen as the most suitable for his purpose, and which he +called the "portrait gown." It was simple, and severely Greek, made of +the softest and filmiest material which fell gracefully away in +enchanting folds from her childishly rounded neck and arms,--it gave +her the appearance of a Psyche or an Ariadne,--and at the first +sitting, when he had posed her in several attitudes before attempting +to draw a line, she had so much sweet attractiveness about her that he +was hardly to be blamed for throwing aside all work and devoting +himself to such ardent delight in woman's fairness as may sometimes +fall to the lot of man. While moving from one position to another as he +suggested or commanded, she had playfully broken off one flower from a +large plant of "marguerite" daisies growing in a quaint Japanese pot, +close at hand, and had begun pulling off the petals according to the +old fanciful charm--"Il m'aime!--un peu!--beaucoup!--passionement!--pas +du tout!" He stopped her at the word "passionement," and caught her in +his arms. + +"Not another petal must be plucked!" he whispered, kissing her soft +warm neck--"I will not have you say 'Pas du tout!'" + +She laughed delightedly, nestling against him. + +"Very well!" she said--"But suppose--" + +"Suppose what?" + +"Suppose it ever came to that?"--and she sighed as she spoke--"Then the +last petal must fall!" + +"Do you think it ever will or can come to that?" he asked, pressing a +kiss on the sweet upturned lips--"Does it seem like it?" + +She was too happy to answer him, and he was too amorous just then to +think of anything but her soft eyes, dewy with tenderness--her white, +ivory-smooth skin--her small caressing hands, and the fine bright +tendrils of her waving hair--all these were his to play with as a child +plays with beautiful toys unconscious of or indifferent to their value. + +Many such passages of love occupied their time--though he managed to +make a good show of progressive work after the first rough outline +drawing of the picture was completed. He was undeniably a genius in his +way, uncertain and erratic of impulse, but his art was strong because +its effects were broad and simple. He had begun Innocent's portrait out +of the mere desire to have her with him constantly,--but as day after +day went on and the subject developed under his skilled hand and brush +he realised that it would probably be "the" picture of the Salon in the +following year. As this conviction dawned upon him, he took greater +pains, and worked more carefully and conscientiously with the happiest +results, feeling a thrill of true artistic satisfaction as the picture +began to live and smile in response to his masterly touch and +treatment. Its composition was simple--he had drawn the girl as though +she were slowly advancing towards the spectator, giving her figure all +the aerial grace habitual to it by nature,--one little daintily shaped +hand held a dove lightly against her breast, as though the bird had +just flown there for protection from its own alarm,--her face was +slightly uplifted,--the lips smiled, and the eyes looked straight out +at the world with a beautiful, clear candour which was all their own. +Yet despite the charm and sweetness of the likeness there was a strange +pathos about it,--a sadness which Jocelyn had never set there by his +own will or intention. + +"You are a puzzling subject," he said to her one day--"I wanted to give +you a happy expression--and yet your portrait is actually growing +sad!--almost reproachful! ... do you look at me like that?" + +She opened her pretty eyes wonderingly. + +"Amadis! Surely not! I could not look sad when I am with you!--that is +impossible!" + +He paused, palette in hand. + +"Nor reproachful?" + +"How? When I have nothing to reproach you for?" she answered. + +He put his palette aside and came and sat at her feet on the step of +the dais where he had posed her. + +"You may rest," he said, smiling up at her--"And so may I." She sat +down beside him and he folded her in his arms. "How often we rest in +this way, don't we!" he murmured--"And so you think you have nothing to +reproach me for! Well,--I'm not so sure of that--Innocent!" + +She looked at him questioningly. + +"Are you talking nonsense, my 'Sieur Amadis'?--or are you serious?" she +asked. + +"I am quite serious--much more serious than is common with me," he +replied, taking one of her hands and studying it as the perfect model +it was--"I believe I am involving you in all sorts of trouble--and you, +you absurd little child, don't see it! Suppose Miss Leigh were to find +out that we make the maddest love to each other in here--you all alone +with me--what would she say?" + +"What COULD she say?" Innocent demanded, simply--"There is no +harm!--and I should not mind telling her we are lovers." + +"I should, though!" was his quick thought, while he marvelled at her +unworldliness. + +"Besides"--she continued--"she has no right over me." + +"Who HAS any right over you?" he asked, curiously. + +She laughed, softly. + +"No one!--except you!" + +"Oh, hang me!" he exclaimed, impatiently--"Leave me out of the +question. Have you no father or mother?" + +She was a little hurt at his sudden irritability. + +"No," she answered, quietly--"I have often told you I have no one. I am +alone in the world--I can do as I like." Then a smile brightened her +face. "Lord Blythe would have me as a daughter if I would go to him." + +He started and loosened her from his embrace. + +"Lord Blythe! That wealthy old peer! What does he want with you?" + +"Nothing, I suppose, but the pleasure of my company!" and she +laughed--"Doesn't that seem strange?" + +He rose and went back to work at his easel. + +"Rather!" he said, slowly--"Are you going to accept his offer?" + +Her eyes opened widely. + +"I? My Amadis, how can you think it? I would not accept it for all the +world! He would load me with benefits--he would surround me with +luxuries--but I do not want these. I like to work for myself and be +independent." He laid a brush lightly in colour and began to use it +with delicate care. + +"You are not very wise," he then said--"It's a great thing for a young +girl like you who are all alone in the world, to be taken in hand by +such a man as Blythe. He's a statesman,--very useful to his +country,--he's very rich and has a splendid position. His wife's sudden +death has left him very lonely as he has no children,--you could be a +daughter to him, and it would be a great leap upwards for you, socially +speaking. You would be much better off under his care than scribbling +books." + +She drew a sharp breath of pain,--all the pretty colour fled from her +cheeks. + +"You do not care for me to scribble books!" she said, in low, stifled +accents. + +He laughed. + +"Oh, I don't mind!--I never read them,--and in a way it amuses me! You +are such an armful of sweetness--such a warm, nestling little bird of +love in my arms!--and to think that you actually write books that the +world talks about!--the thing is so incongruous--so 'out of drawing' +that it makes me laugh! I don't like writing women as a rule--they give +themselves too many airs to please me--but you--" + +He paused. + +"Well, go on," she said, coldly. + +He looked at her, smiling. + +"You are cross? Don't be cross,--you lose your enchanting expression! +Well--you don't give yourself any airs, and you seem to play at +literature like a child playing at a game: of course you make money by +it,--but--you know better than I do that the greatest writers"--he +emphasized the word "greatest" slightly--"never make money and are +never popular." + +"Does failure constitute greatness?" she asked, with a faintly +satirical inflection in her sweet voice which he had never heard before. + +"Sometimes--in fact pretty often," he replied, dabbing his brush busily +on his canvas--"You should read about great authors--" + +"I HAVE read about them," she said--"Walter Scott was popular and made +money,--Charles Dickens was popular and made money--Thackeray was +popular and made money--Shakespeare himself seemed to have had the one +principal aim of making sufficient money enough to live comfortably in +his native town, and he was 'popular' in his day--indeed he 'played to +the gallery.' But he was not a 'failure'--and the whole world +acknowledges his greatness now, though in his life-time he was +unconscious of it." + +Surprised at her quick eloquence, he paused in his work. + +"Very well spoken!" he remarked, condescendingly--"I see you take a +high view of your art! But like all women, you wander from the point. +We were talking of Lord Blythe--and I say it would be far better for +you to be--well!--his heiress!--for he might leave you all his +fortune--than go on writing books." + +Her lips quivered: despite her efforts, tears started to her eyes. He +saw, and throwing down his brush came and knelt beside her, passing his +arm round her waist. + +"What have I said?" he murmured, coaxingly--"Innocent--sweet little +love! Forgive me if I have--what?"--and he laughed softly--"rubbed you +up the wrong way!" + +She forced a smile, and her delicate white hands wandered caressingly +through his hair as he laid his head against her bosom. + +"I am sorry!" she said, at last--"I thought--I hoped--you might be +proud of my work, Amadis! I was planning it all for that! You see"--she +hesitated--"I learned so much from the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin--the +brother of your ancestor!--that I have been thinking all the time how I +could best show you that I was worthy of his teaching. The world--or +the public--you know the things they say of me--but I do not want their +praise. I believe I could do something really great if YOU cared!--for +now it is only to please you that I live." + +A sense of shame stung him at this simple avowal. + +"Nonsense!" he said, almost brusquely--"You have a thousand other +things to live for--you must not think of pleasing me only. Besides I'm +not very--keen on literature,--I'm a painter." + +"Surely painting owes something to literature?" she queried--"We should +not have had all the wonderful Madonnas and Christs of the old masters +if there had been no Bible!" + +"True!--but perhaps we could have done without them!" he said, +lightly--"I'm not at all sure that painting would not have got on just +as well without literature at all. There is always nature to +study--sky, sea, landscape and the faces of lovely women and +children,--quite enough for any man. Where is Lord Blythe now?" + +"In Italy," she replied--"He will be away some months." + +She spoke with constraint. Her heart was heavy--the hopes and ambitions +she had cherished of adding lustre to her fame for the joy and pride of +her lover, seemed all crushed at one blow. She was too young and +inexperienced to realise the fact that few men are proud of any woman's +success, especially in the arts. Their attitude is one of amused +tolerance when it is not of actual sex-jealousy or contempt. Least of +all can any man endure that the woman for whom he has a short spell of +passionate fancy should be considered notable, or in an intellectual +sense superior to himself. He likes her to be dependent on him alone +for her happiness,--for such poor crumbs of comfort he is pleased to +give her when the heat of his first passion has cooled,--but he is not +altogether pleased when she has sufficient intelligent perception to +see through his web of subterfuge and break away clear of the +entangling threads, standing free as a goddess on the height of her own +independent attainment. Innocent's idea of love was the angelic dream +of truth and everlastingness set forth by poets, whose sweet singing +deludes themselves and others,--she was ready to devote all the unique +powers of her mind and brain to the perfecting of herself for her +lover's delight. She wished to be beautiful, brilliant, renowned and +admired, simply that he might take joy in knowing that this beautiful, +brilliant, renowned and admired creature was HIS, body and +soul--existing solely for him and content to live only so long as he +lived, to work only so long as he worked,--to be nothing apart from his +love, but to be everything he could desire or command while his love +environed her. She thought of the eternal union of souls,--while he had +no belief in the soul at all, his half French materialism persuading +him that there was nothing eternal. And like all men of his type he +estimated her tenderness for him, her clinging arms, and the lingering +passion of her caresses, to be chiefly the outflow of pleased +vanity--the kittenish satisfaction of being stroked and fondled--the +sense of her own sex-attractiveness,--but of anything deep and closely +rooted in the centre of a more than usually sensitive nature he had not +the faintest conception, taking it for granted that all women, even +clever ones, were more or less alike, easily consoled by new millinery +when lovers failed. + +Sometimes, during the progress of their secret amour, a thrill of +uneasiness and fear ran coldly through her veins--a wondering doubt +which she repelled with indignation whenever it suggested itself. +Amadis de Jocelyn was and must be the very embodiment of loyalty and +honour to the woman he loved!--it could not be otherwise. His +tenderness was ardent,--his passion fiery and eager,--yet she +wondered--timidly and with deep humiliation in herself for daring to +think so far--why, if he loved her so much as he declared, did he not +ask her to be his wife? She supposed he would do so,--though she had +heard him depreciate marriage as a necessary evil. Evidently he had his +own good reasons for deferring the fateful question. Meanwhile she made +a little picture-gallery of ideal joys in her brain,--and one of her +fancies was that when she married her Amadis she would ask Robin +Clifford to let her buy Briar Farm. + +"He could paint well there!" she thought, happily, already seeing in +her mind's eye the "Great Hall" transformed into an artist's +studio--"and I almost think _I_ could carry on the farm--Priscilla +would help me,--and we know just how Dad liked things to be +done--if--if Robin went away. And the master of the house would again +be a true Jocelyn!" + +The whole plan seemed perfectly natural and feasible. Only one obstacle +presented itself like a dark shadow on the brightness of her dream--and +that was her own "base" birth. The brand of illegitimacy was upon +her,--and whereas once she alone had known what she judged to be a +shameful secret, now two others shared it with her--Miss Leigh and Lord +Blythe. They would never betray it--no!--but they could not alter what +unkind fate had done for her. This was one reason why she was glad that +Amadis de Jocelyn had not as yet spoken of their marriage. + +"For I should have to tell him!" she thought, woefully--"I should have +to say that I am the illegitimate daughter of Pierce Armitage--and +then--perhaps he would not marry me--he might change--ah no!--he could +not!--he would not!--he loves me too dearly! He would never let me +go--he wants me always! We are all the world to each other!--nothing +could part us now!" + +And so the time drifted on--and with its drifting her work drifted too, +and only one all-absorbing passion possessed her life with its close +and consuming fire. Amadis de Jocelyn was an expert in the seduction of +a soul--little by little he taught her to judge all men as worthless +save himself, and all opinions unwarrantable and ill-founded unless he +confirmed them. And, leading her away from the contemplation of high +visions, he made her the blind worshipper of a very inadequate idol. +She was happy in her faith, and yet not altogether sure of happiness. +For there are two kinds of love--one with strong wings which lift the +soul to a dazzling perfection of immortal destiny,--the other with +gross and heavy chains which fetter every hope and aspiration and drag +the finest intelligence down to dark waste and nothingness. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +In affairs of love a woman is perhaps most easily ensnared by a man who +can combine passion with pleasantry and hot pursuit with social tact +and diplomacy. Amadis de Jocelyn was an adept at this kind of thing--he +was, if it may be so expressed, a refined libertine, loving women from +a purely physical sense of attraction and pleasure conveyed to himself, +and obtusely ignorant of the needs or demands of their higher natures. +From a mental or intellectual standpoint all women to him were alike, +made to be "managed" alike, used alike, and alike set aside when their +use was done with. The leaven of the Jew or the Turk was in the +temperament of this descendant of a long line of French nobles, who had +gained their chief honours by killing men, ravishing women and +plundering their neighbours' lands--though occasional flashes of +bravery and chivalry had glanced over their annals in history like the +light from a wandering will o' the wisp flickering over a morass. +Gifted in his art, but wholly undisciplined in his nature, he had lived +a life of selfish aims to selfish ends, and in the course of it had +made love to many women,--one especially, on whose devoted affections +he had preyed like an insect that ungratefully poisons the flower from +which it has sucked the honey. This woman, driven to bay at last by his +neglect and effrontery, had roused the scattered forces of her pride +and had given him his conge--and he had been looking about for a fresh +victim when he met Innocent. She was a complete novelty to him, and +stimulated his more or less jaded emotions,--he found her quaint and +charming as a poet's dream of some nymph of the woodlands,--her manner +of looking at life and the things of life was so deliciously +simple--almost mediaeval,--for she believed that a man should die +rather than break his word or imperil his honour, which to Jocelyn was +such a primitive state of things as to seem prehistoric. Then there was +her fixed and absurd "fancy" about the noble qualities and manifold +virtues of the French knight who had served the Duc d'Anjou,--and who +had been to her from childhood a kind of lover in the spirit,--a being +whom she had instinctively tried to serve and to please; and he had +sufficient imagination to understand and take advantage of the feeling +aroused in her when she had met one of the same descent, and bearing +the same name, in himself. He had run through the gamut of many +emotions and sentiments,--he had joined one or two of the new schools +of atheism and modernism started by certain self-opinionated young +University men, and in the earlier stages of his career had in the +cock-sure impulse of youth designed schemes for the regeneration of the +world, till the usual difficulties presented themselves as opposed to +such vast business,--he had associated himself with men who followed +what is called the "fleshly school" of poetry and art generally, and +had evolved from his own mentality a comfortable faith of which the +chief tenet was "Self for Self"--a religion which lifts the mind no +higher than the purely animal plane;--and in its environment of +physical consciousness and agreeable physical sensations, he was +content to live. + +With such a temperament and disposition as he possessed, which swayed +him hither and thither on the caprice or impulse of the moment, his +intentions toward Innocent were not very clear even to himself. When he +had begun his "amour" with her he had meant it to go just as far as +should satisfy his own whim and desire,--but as he came to know her +better, he put a check on himself and hesitated as one may hesitate +before pulling up a rose-bush from its happy growing place and flinging +it out on the dust-heap to die. She was so utterly unsuspicious and +unaware of evil, and she had placed him on so high a pedestal of +honour, trusting him with such perfect and unquestioning faith, that +for very manhood's sake he could not bring himself to tear the veil +from her eyes. Moreover he really loved her in a curious, haphazard way +of love,--more than he had ever loved any one of her sex,--and, when +in her presence and under her influence, he gained a glimmering of +consciousness of what love might mean in its best and purest sense. + +He laughed at himself however for this very thought. He had always +pooh-pooh'd the idea of love as having anything divine or uplifting in +its action,--nevertheless in his more sincere moments he was bound to +confess that since he had known Innocent his very art had gained a +certain breadth and subtlety which it had lacked before. It was a +pleasure to him to see her eyes shine with pride in his work, to hear +her voice murmur dulcet praises of his skill, and for a time he took +infinite pains with all his subjects, putting the very best of himself +into his drawing and colouring with results that were brilliant and +convincing enough to ensure success for all his efforts. +Sometimes--lost in a sudden fit of musing--he wondered how his life +would shape itself if he married her? He had avoided marriage as a man +might avoid hanging,--considering it, not without reason, the possible +ruin of an artist's greater career. Among many men he had known, men of +undoubted promise, it had proved the fatal step downward from the high +to the low. One particular "chum" of his own, a gifted painter, had +married a plump rosy young woman with "a bit o' money," as the country +folks say,--and from that day had been steadily dragged down to the +domestic level of sad and sordid commonplace. Instead of studying form +and colour, he was called upon to examine drains and superintend the +plumber, mark house linen and take care of the children--his wife +believing in "making a husband useful." Of regard for his art or +possible fame she had none,--while his children were taught to regard +his work in that line as less important than if he had been a +bricklayer at so much pence the hour. + +"Children!" thought Jocelyn--"Do I want them? ... No--I think not! +They're all very well when they're young--really young!--two to five +years old is the enchanting age,--but, most unfortunately, they grow! +Yes!--they grow,--often into hideous men and women--a sort of human +vultures sitting on their fathers' pockets and screaming 'Give! Give!' +The prospect does not attract me! And she?--Innocent? I don't think I +could bear to watch that little flower-like face gradually enlarging +into matronly lines and spreading into a double chin! Those pretty eyes +peering into the larder and considering the appearance of uncooked +bacon! Perish the thought! One might as well think of Shakespeare's +Juliet paying the butcher's bill, or worse still, selecting the +butcher's meat! Forbid it, O ye heavens! Of course if ideals could be +realised, which they never are, I can see myself wedded for pure love, +without a care, painting my pictures at ease, with a sweet woman +worshipping me, ever at my beck and call, and shielding me from trouble +with all the tender force of her passionate little soul!--but +commonplace life will net fit itself into these sort of beatific +visions! Babies, and the necessary provision of food and clothes and +servants--this is what marriage means--love having sobered down to a +matter-of-fact conclusion. No--no! I will not marry her! It would be +like catching a fairy in the woods, cutting off its sunbeam wings and +setting it to scrub the kitchen floor!" + +It was curious that while he pleased himself with this fanciful +soliloquy it did not occur to him that he had already caught the "fairy +in the woods," and ever since the capture had been engaged in cutting +off its "sunbeam wings" with all a vivisector's scientific +satisfaction. And in his imaginary pictures of what might have been if +"ideals" were realised, he did not for a moment conceive HIMSELF as +"worshipping" the woman who was to worship HIM, or as being at HER +"beck and call," or as shielding HER from trouble--oh no! He merely +considered himself, and how she would care for HIM,--never once did he +consider how he would care for HER. + +Meanwhile things went on in an outwardly even and uneventful course. +Innocent worked steadily to fulfil certain contracts into which she had +entered with the publishers who were eager to obtain as much of her +work as she could give them,--but she had lost heart, and her once +soaring ambition was like a poor bird that had been clumsily shot at, +and had fallen to the ground with a broken wing. What she had dreamed +of as greatness, now seemed vain and futile. The "Amadis de Jocelin" of +the sixteenth century had taught her to love literature--to believe in +it as the refiner of thought and expression, and to use it as a charm +to inspire the mind and uplift the soul,--but the Amadis de Jocelyn of +the twentieth had no such lessons to teach. Utterly lacking in +reverence for great thinkers, he dismissed the finest passages of +poetry or prose from his consideration with light scorn as "purple +patches," borrowing that hackneyed phrase from the lower walks of the +press,--the most inspired writers, both of ancient and modern times, +came equally under the careless lash of his derision,--so that +Innocent, utterly bewildered by his sweeping denunciation of many +brilliant and famous authors, shrank into her wounded self with pain, +humiliation and keen disappointment, feeling that there was certainly +no chance for her to appeal to him in any way through the thoughts she +cherished and expressed with truth and fervour to a listening world. +That world listened--but HE did not!--therefore the world seemed +worthless and its praise mere mockery. She had no vanity to support +her,--she was not "strong-minded" enough to oppose her own +individuality to that of the man she loved. And so she began to droop a +little,--her bright and ardent spirit sank like a sinking flame,--much +to the concern of Miss Leigh, who watched her with a jealous tenderness +of love beyond all expression. The child of Pierce Armitage, lawfully +or unlawfully begotten, was now to her the one joy of existence,--the +link that fastened her more closely to life,--and she worried herself +secretly over the evident listlessness, fatigue and depression of the +girl who had so lately been the very embodiment of happiness. But she +did not like to ask questions,--she knew that Innocent had a very +resolute mind of her own, and that if she elected to remain silent on +any subject whatsoever, nothing, not even the most affectionate appeal, +would induce her to speak. + +"You will not let her come to any harm, Pierce!" murmured the old lady +prayerfully one day, standing before the portrait of her former and +faithless lover--"You will step in if danger threatens her!--yes, I am +sure you will! You will guide and help her again as you have guided and +helped her before. For I believe you brought her to me, Pierce!--yes, I +am sure you did! In that other world where you are, you have learned +how much I loved you long ago!--how much I love you now!--and how I +love your child for your sake as well as for her own! All wrongs and +mistakes are forgiven and forgotten, Pierce! and when we meet again we +shall understand!" + +And with her little trembling worn hands she set a rose, just opening +its deep red heart-bud into flower, in a crystal vase beside the +portrait as a kind of votive offering, with something of the same +superstitious feeling that induces a devout Roman Catholic to burn a +candle before a favourite saint, in the belief that the spirit of the +dead man heard her words and would respond to them. + +Just at this time, Innocent went about a good deal among the few +friends who had learned to know her well and to love her accordingly. +Lord Blythe was still away, having prolonged his tour in order to enjoy +the beauty of the Italian lakes in autumn. Summer in England was +practically over, but the weather was fine and warm still, and +country-house parties, especially in Scotland, were the order of the +day. The "social swim" was subsiding, and what are called "notable" +people were beginning to leave town. Once or twice, infected by the +general exodus, Innocent thought of going down to Briar Farm just for a +few days as a surprise to Priscilla--but a feeling for Robin held her +back. It would be needless unkindness to again vex his mind with the +pain of a hopeless passion. So she paid a few casual visits here and +there, chiefly at houses where Amadis de Jocelyn was also one of the +invited guests. She was made the centre of a considerable amount of +adulation, which did not move her to any sort of self-satisfaction, +because in the background of her thoughts there was always the light +jest and smile of her lover, who laughed at praise, except, be it here +said, when it was awarded to himself. Then he did not laugh--he assumed +a playful humility which, being admirably acted, almost passed for +modesty. But if by chance he had to listen to any praise of "Ena +Armitage" as author or woman, he changed the subject as soon as he +could conveniently do so without brusquerie. And very gradually it +dawned upon her that he took no pride in her work or in the position +she had won, and that he was more reluctant than glad to hear her +praised. He seemed to prefer she should be unnoticed, save by himself, +and more or less submissive to his will. Had she been worldly-wise, she +would by every action have moved a silent protest against this, his +particular form of sex-dominance, but she was of too loving a nature to +dispute any right of command he chose to assume. Other men, younger and +far higher in place and position than Jocelyn, admired her, and made +such advances as they dared, finding her very coldness attractive, +united as it was to such sweetness of manner as few could resist, but +they had no chance with her. Once or twice some of her women friends +had sounded her on the subject of love and lovers, and she had put +aside all their questions with a smile. "Love is not to be talked +about," she had said--"It is like God, served best in silence." + +But by scarcely perceptible degrees, busy rumour got hold of a thread +or two of the clue leading to the labyrinth of her mystery,--people +nodded mysteriously at each other and began to whisper +suggestions--suggestions which certainly did not go very far, but just +floated in the air like bits of thistledown. + +"She is having her portrait painted, isn't she?" + +"Yes--by that man with the queer name--Amadis de Jocelyn." + +"Has she given him the commission?" + +"Oh no! I believe not. He's painting it for the French Salon." + +"Oh!" + +Then there would follow a silence, with an exchange of smiles all +round. And presently the talk would begin again. + +"Will it be a 'case,' do you think?" + +"A 'case'? You mean a marriage? Oh dear no! Jocelyn isn't a marrying +man." + +"Isn't she a little--er--well!--a little taken with him?" + +"Perhaps! Very likely! Clever women are always fools on one point--if +not on several!" + +"And he? Isn't he very attentive?" + +"Not more so than he has been and is to dozens of other women. He's too +clever to show her any special attention--it might compromise him. He's +a man that takes care of Number One!" + +So the gossip ran,--and only Jocelyn himself caught wind of it +sufficiently to set him thinking. His "affaire de coeur" had gone far +enough,--and he realised that the time had come for him to beat a +retreat. But how to do it? The position was delicate and difficult. If +Innocent had been an ordinary type of woman, vain and selfish, fond of +frivolities and delighting in new conquests, his task would have been +easy,--but with a girl who believed in love as the ultimatum of all +good, and who trusted her lover with implicit faith as next in order of +worship to God, what was to be done? + +"We talk a vast amount of sentimental rubbish about women being pure +and faithful!" he soliloquised--"But when they ARE pure and faithful we +are more bored with them than if they were the worst women in town!" + +He had however one subject of congratulation for which he +metaphorically patted himself on the back as being "a good boy"--he had +not gone to such extremes in his love-affair as could result in what is +usually called "trouble" for the girl. He had left her unscathed, save +in a moral and spiritual sense. The sweet body, with its delicate +wavering tints of white and rose was as the unspoilt sheath of a +lily-bud,--no one could guess that within the sheath the lily itself +was blighted and slowly withering. One may question whether it is not a +more cruel thing to seduce the soul than the body,--to crush all the +fine faiths and happy illusions of a fair mind and leave them scorched +by a devastating fire whose traces shall never be obliterated. Amadis +de Jocelyn would have laughed his gayest and most ironical laugh at the +bare possibility of such havoc being wrought by the passion of love +alone. + +"What's the use of loving or remembering anything?" he would +exclaim--"One loves--one tires of love!--and by-and-by one forgets that +love ever existed. I look forward to the time when my memory shall +dwell chiefly on the agreeable entremets of life--a good dinner--a +choice cigar! These things never bother you afterwards,--unless you +eat too much or smoke too much,--then you have headache and +indigestion--distinctly your own fault! But if you love a woman for a +time and tire of her afterwards she always bothers you!--reminding you +of the days when you 'once' loved her with persistent and dreadful +monotony! I believe in forgetting,--and 'letting go.'" + +With these sentiments, which were the true outcome of his real self, it +was not and never would be possible for him to conceive that with +certain high and ultra-sensitive natures love is a greater necessity +than life itself, and that if they are deprived of the glory they have +been led to imagine they possessed, nothing can make compensation for +what to them is eternal loss, coupled with eternal sorrow. + +Meanwhile Innocent's portrait on which he had worked for a considerable +time was nearly completed. It was one of the best things he had ever +done, and he contemplated it with a pleasant thrill of artistic +triumph, forgetting the "woman" entirely in satisfied consideration of +the "subject." As a portrait he realised that it would be the crown of +the next year's Salon, bearing comparison with any work of the greater +modern masters. He was however a trifle perplexed, and not altogether +pleased at the expression, which, entirely away from his will and +intention, had insensibly thrown a shadow of sadness on the face,--it +had come there apparently of itself, unbidden. He had been particularly +proud of his success in the drawing of the girl's extremely sensitive +mouth, for he had, as he thought, caught the fleeting sweetness of the +smile which was one of her greatest charms,--but now, despite his +pains, that smile seemed to lose itself in the sorrow and pathos of an +unspoken reproach, which, though enthralling and appealing to the +beholder as the look of the famous "Mona Lisa," had fastened itself as +it were on the canvas without the painter's act or consent. He was +annoyed at this, yet dared not touch it in any attempt to alter what +asserted itself as convincingly finished,--for the picture was a fine +work of art and he realised that it would add to his renown. + +"I shall not name it as the portrait of a living woman," he said to +himself--"I shall call it simply--'Innocent.'" + +As he thought this, the subject of the painting herself entered the +studio. He turned at the sound of the door opening, and caught a +strange new impression of her,--an impression that moved him to a touch +of something like fear. Was she going to be tiresome, he +wondered?--would she make him a "scene"--or do something odd as women +generally did when their feelings escaped control? Her face was very +pale--her eyes startlingly bright,--and the graceful white summer frock +she wore, with soft old lace falling about it, a costume completed in +perfection by a picturesque Leghorn hat bound with black velvet and +adorned with a cluster of pale roses, made her a study worthy the brush +of many a greater artist than Amadis de Jocelyn. His quick eye noted +every detail of her dainty dress and fair looks as he went to meet her +and took her in his arms. She clung to him for a moment--and he felt +her tremble. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, with unconscious sharpness--"Is anything +wrong?" + +She put him away from her tenderly and looked up smiling--but there was +a sparkling dew in her eyes. + +"No, my Amadis! Nothing wrong!" + +He heaved a quick sigh of relief. + +"Thank heaven! You looked at me as if you had a grievance--all women +have grievances--but they should keep them to themselves." + +She gave the slightest little shrug of her shoulders; then went and sat +on the highest step of the familiar dais where she had posed for her +picture, and waited a moment. He did not at once come to sit beside her +as he had so often done--he stood opposite his easel, looking at her +portrait but not at her. + +"I have no grievance," she said then, making an effort to steady her +voice, which trembled despite herself--"And if I had I should not vex +you with it. But--when you can quite spare the time I should like a +quiet little talk with you." + +He looked round at her with a kind smile. + +"Just what I want to have with you! 'Les beaux esprits se +rencontrent'--and we both want exactly the same thing! Dear little +girl, how sensible you are! Of course we must talk--about the future." + +A lovely radiance lit up her face. + +"That is what I thought you would wish," she said--"Now that the +portrait is finished." + +"Well,--all but a touch or two," he rejoined--"I shall ask a few people +to come here and see it before it leaves London. Then it must be +property packed in readiness for Paris before--before I go--" + +Her eyes opened in sudden terrified wonderment. + +"Before you go--where?" + +He laughed a little awkwardly. + +"Oh--only a short journey--on business--I will explain when we have our +talk out--not now--in a day or two--" + +He left the easel, and coming to where she sat, lifted her in his arms +and folded her close to his breast. + +"You sweet soul!" he murmured--"You little Innocent! You are so pretty +to-day!--you madden me--" + +He unfastened her hat and put it aside,--then drawing her closer, +showered quick eager kisses on her lips, eyes and warm soft neck. He +felt her heart beating wildly and her whole body trembling under his +gust of passion. + +"You love me--you truly love me?" she questioned, between little sighs +of pleasure--"Tell me!--are you sure?" + +"Am I not proving it?" he answered--"Does a man behave like this if he +does not love?" + +"Ah, yes!" And she looked up with a wild piteousness in her sweet +eyes--"A man will behave like this to any woman!" + +He loosened his clasp of her, astonished--then laughed. + +"Where did you learn that?" he asked--"Who told you men were so +volatile?" + +"No one!"--and her caressing arms fell away from him--"My Amadis, you +find it pleasant to kiss and to embrace me for the moment--but perhaps +not always will you care! Love--real love is different--" + +"What do YOU mean by love?" he asked still smiling. + +She sighed. + +"I can hardly tell you," she said--"But one thing I DO know--love would +never hurt or wrong the thing it loved! Words, kisses, embraces--they +are just the sweet outflow of a great deep!--but love is above and +beyond all these, like an angel living with God!" + +He was silent. + +She came up to him and laid her little hand timidly on his arm. + +"It is time we were quite sure of that angel, my Amadis!" she said--"We +ARE sure--but--" + +He looked her full and quietly in the eyes. + +"Yes, child!" he answered--"It is time! But I cannot talk about angels +or anything else just now--it is growing late in the afternoon and you +must not stay here too long. Come to-morrow or next day, and we'll +consult together as to what is best to be done for your happiness--" + +"For yours!" she interposed, gently. + +He smiled, curiously. + +"Very well! As you will! For mine!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Lord Blythe stood at the open window of his sitting-room in the Grand +Hotel at Bellaggio--a window opening out to a broad balcony and +commanding one of the most enchanting views of the lake and mountains +ever created by Divine Beneficence for the delight of man. The heavenly +scene, warm with rich tints of morning in Italy, glowed like a jewel in +the sun: picturesque boats with little red and blue awnings rocked at +the edge of the calm lake, in charge of their bronzed and red-capped +boatmen, waiting for hire,--the air was full of fragrance, and every +visible thing appealed to beauty-loving eyes with exquisite and +irresistible charm. His attention, however, had wandered far from the +enjoyable prospect,--he was reading and re-reading a letter he had just +received from Miss Leigh, in which certain passages occurred which +caused him some uneasiness. On leaving England he had asked her to +write regularly, giving him all the news of Innocent, and she had +readily undertaken what to her was a pleasing duty. His thoughts were +constantly with the little house in Kensington, where the young +daughter of his dead friend worked so patiently to bring forth the +fruits of her genius and live independently by their results, and his +intense sympathy for the difficult position in which she had been +placed through no fault of her own and the courage with which she had +surmounted it, was fast deepening into affection. He rather encouraged +this sentiment in himself with the latent hope that possibly when he +returned to England she might still be persuaded to accept the position +he was so ready to offer her--that of daughter to him and heiress,--and +just now he was troubled by an evident anxiety which betrayed itself in +Miss Leigh's letter--anxiety which she plainly did her best to conceal, +but which nevertheless made itself apparent. + +"The dear child works incessantly," she wrote, "but she is very quiet +and seems easily tired. She is not as bright as she used to be, and +looks very pale, so that I fear she is doing too much, though she says +she is perfectly well and happy. We had a call from Mr. John Harrington +the other afternoon--I think you know him--and he seemed quite to think +with me that she is over-working herself. He suggested that I should +persuade her to go for a change somewhere, either with me or with other +friends. I wonder if you would care for us to join you at the Italian +Lakes? If you would I might be able to manage it. I have not mentioned +the idea to her yet, as I know she is finishing some work--but she +tells me it will all be done in a few days, and that then she will take +a rest. I hope she will, for I'm sure she needs it." + +Another part of the letter ran as follows:-- + +"I rather hesitate to mention it, but I think so many prolonged +sittings for her portrait to that painter with the strange name, Amadis +de Jocelyn, have rather tired her out. The picture is finished now, and +I and a few friends went to see it the other day. It is a most +beautiful portrait, but very sad!--and it is wonderful how the likeness +of her father as he was in his young days comes out in her face! She +and Mr. de Jocelyn are very intimate friends--and some people say he is +in love with her! Perhaps he may be!--but I do hope she is not in love +with HIM!" + +Lord Blythe took off his spectacles, folded up the letter and put it in +his pocket. Then he looked out towards the lake and the charming +picture it presented. How delightful it would be to see Innocent in one +of those dainty boats scattered about near the water's edge, revelling +with all the keenness of a bright, imaginative temperament in the +natural loveliness around her! Young, and with the promise of a +brilliant career opening out before her, happiness seemed ready and +waiting to bless and to adorn the life of the little deserted girl who, +left alone in the world, had nevertheless managed to win the world's +hearing through the name she had made for herself--yet now--yes!--now +there was the cruel suggestion of a shadow--an ugly darkness like a +black cloud, blotting the fairness of a blue sky,--and Blythe felt an +uncomfortable sense of premonition and wrong as the thought of Amadis +de Jocelyn came into his head and stayed there. What was he that he +should creep into the unspoiled sphere of a woman's opening life? A +painter, something of a genius in his line, but erratic and unstable in +his character,--known more or less for several "affairs of gallantry" +which had slipped off his easy conscience like water off a duck's +back,--not a highly cultured man by any means, because ignorant of many +of the finer things in art and letters, and without any positively +assured position. Yet, undoubtedly a man of strong physical magnetism +and charm--fascinating in his manner, especially on first acquaintance, +and capable of overthrowing many a stronger citadel than the tender +heart of a sensitive girl like Innocent, who by a most curious +mischance had been associated all her life with the romance of his +medieval name and lineage. + +"Yes--of course she must come out here," Blythe decided, after a few +minutes' cogitation. "I'll send a wire to Miss Leigh this morning and +follow it up by a letter to the child herself, urging her to join me. +The change and distraction will perhaps save her from too much +association with Jocelyn,--I do not trust that man--never have trusted +him! Poor little girl! She shall not have her spirit broken if I can +help it." + +He stayed yet another few minutes at the open window, and taking out a +cigar from his case began to light it. While doing this his eye was +suddenly caught by the picturesque, well-knit figure of a man sitting +easily on a step near the clustering boats gathered close to the +hotel's special landing place. He was apparently one of the many +road-side artists one meets everywhere about the Italian Lakes, ready +to paint a sunset or moonlight on Como or Maggiore on commission at +short notice for a few francs. He was not young--his white hair and +grizzled moustache marked the unpleasing passage of resistless +time,--yet there was something lissom and graceful about him that +suggested a kind of youth in age. His attire consisted of much worn +brown trousers and a loose white shirt kept in place by a red +belt,--his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, displaying thin +brown muscular arms, expressive of energy, and he wore a battered brown +hat which might once have been of the so-called "Homburg" shape, but +which now resembled nothing ever seen in the way of ordinary head-gear. +He was busily engaged in sketching a view of the lake and the opposite +mountains, evidently to the order of some fashionably dressed women who +stood near him watching the rapid and sure movements of his brush--he +had his box of water-colours beside him, and smiled and talked as he +worked. Lord Blythe watched him with lively interest, while enjoying +the first whiffs of his lately lit cigar. + +"A clever chap, evidently!" he thought. "These Italians are all artists +and poets at heart. When those women have finished with him I'll get +him to do a sketch for me to send to Innocent--just to show her the +loveliness of the place. She'll be delighted! and it may tempt her to +come here." + +He waited a few minutes longer, till he saw the artist hand over the +completed drawing to his lady patrons, one of whom paid him with a +handful of silver coin. Something in the bearing and attitude of the +man as he rose from the step where he had been seated and lifted his +shapeless brown hat to his customers in courteous acknowledgment of +their favours as they left him, struck Blythe with an odd sense of +familiarity. + +"I must have seen him somewhere before," he thought. "In Venice, +perhaps--or Florence--these fellows are like gipsies, they wander about +everywhere." + +He sauntered out of the Hotel into the garden and from the garden down +to the landing-place, where he slowly approached the artist, who was +standing with his back towards him, slipping his lately earned francs +into his trouser pocket. Several sample drawings were set up in view +beside him,--lovely little studies of lake and mountain which would +have done honour to many a Royal Academician, and Blythe paused, +looking at these with wonder and admiration before speaking, unaware +that the artist had taken a backward glance at him of swift and more or +less startled recognition. + +"You are an admirable painter, my friend!" he said, at last--speaking +in Italian of which he was a master. "Your drawings are worth much more +than you are asking for them. Will you do one specially for me?" + +"I've done a good many for you in my time, Blythe!" was the +half-laughing answer, given in perfect English. "But I don't mind doing +another." + +And he turned round, pushing his cap off his brows, and showing a +wonderfully handsome face, worn with years and privation, but fine and +noble-featured and full of the unquenchable light which is given by an +indomitable and enduring spirit. + +Lord Blythe staggered back and caught at the handrail of the landing +steps to save himself from falling. + +"My God!" he gasped. "You! You, of all men in the world! You!--you, +Pierce Armitage!" + +And he stared wildly, his brain swimming,--his pulses beating +hammer-strokes--was it--could it be possible? The artist in brown +trousers and white shirt straightened himself, and instinctively sought +to assume a less tramp-like appearance, looking at his former friend +meanwhile with a half-glad, half-doubtful air. + +"Well, well, Dick!" he said, after a moment's pause--"Don't take it +badly that you find me pursuing my profession in this peripatetic +style! It's a nice life--better than being a pavement artist in +Pimlico! You mustn't be afraid! I'm not going to claim acquaintance +with you before the public eye--you, a peer of the realm, Dick! No, no! +I won't shame you..." + +"Shame me!" Blythe sprang forward and caught his hand in a close warm +grip. "Never say that, Pierce! You know me better! Thank God you are +here--alive!--thank God I have met you!--" + +He stopped, too overcome to say another word, and wrung the hand he +held with unconscious fervour, tears springing to his eyes. The two +looked full at each other, and Armitage smiled a little confusedly. + +"Why, Dick!" he began,--then turning his head quickly he glanced up at +the clear blue sky to hide and to master his own emotion--"I believe we +feel like a couple of sentimental undergrads still, Dick in spite of +age and infirmities!" + +He laughed forcedly, while Blythe, at last releasing his hand, took him +by the arm, regardless of the curious observation of some of the hotel +guests who were strolling about the garden and terraces. + +"Come with me, Pierce," he said, in hurried nervous accents--"I have +news for you--such news as you cannot guess or imagine. Put away all +those drawings and come inside the hotel--to my room--" "What? In this +guise?" and Armitage shook his head--"My dear fellow, your enthusiasm +is running away with you! Besides--there is some one else to consider--" + +"Some one else? Whom do you mean?" demanded Blythe with visible +impatience. + +Armitage hesitated. + +"Your wife," he said, at last. + +Blythe looked him steadily in the eyes. + +"My wife is dead." + +"Dead!" Armitage loosened his arm from the other's hold, and stood +inert as though he had received a numbing blow. "Dead! When did she +die?" + +In a few words Blythe told him. + +Armitage heard in silence. Mechanically he began to collect his +drawings and put them in a portfolio. His face was pale under its +sun-browned tint,--his expression almost tragic. Lord Blythe watched +him for a moment, moved by strong heart-beats of affection and +compassion. + +"Pierce," he then said, in a low tone--"I know everything!" + +Armitage turned on him sharply. + +"You--you know?--What?--How?--" + +"She--Maude--told me all," said Blythe, gently--"And I think--your +wrong to her--was not so blameworthy as her wrong to you! But I have +something to tell you of one whose wrong is greater than hers or +yours--one who is Innocent!" + +He emphasised the name, and Armitage started as though struck with a +whip. + +"Innocent!" he muttered--"The child--yes!--but I couldn't make enough +to send money for it after a while--I paid as long as I could--" + +He trembled,--his fine eyes had a strained look of anguish in them. + +"Not dead too?" he said--"Surely not--the people at the farm had a good +name--they would not be cruel to a child--" + +Blythe gripped him by the arm. + +"Come," he said--"We cannot talk here--there are too many people +about--I must have you to myself. Never mind your appearance--many an +R. A. cuts a worse figure than you do for the sake of 'pose'! You are +entirely picturesque"--and he relieved his pent-up feelings by a +laugh--"And there's nothing strange in your coming to my room to see +the particular view I want from my windows." + +Thus persuaded, Armitage gathered his drawings and painting materials +together, and followed his friend, who quickly led the way into the +Hotel. The gorgeously liveried hall-porter nodded familiarly to the +artist, whom he had seen for several seasons selling his work on the +landing, and made a good-natured comment on his "luck" in having +secured the patronage of a rich English "Milor," but otherwise little +notice was taken of the incongruous couple as they passed up the stairs +to "Milor's" private rooms on the first floor, where, as soon as they +entered, Blythe shut and locked the door. + +"Now, Pierce, I have you!" he said, affectionately taking him by the +shoulders and pushing him towards a chair. "Why, in heaven's name, did +you never let me know you were alive? Everyone thought you were dead +years and years ago!" + +Armitage sat down, and taking off his cap, passed his hand through his +thick crop of silvery hair. + +"I spread that report myself," he said. "I wanted to get out of it +all--to give up!--to forget that such a place as London existed. I was +sick to death of it!--of its conventions, and vile hypocrisies--its +'bounders' in art as in everything else!--besides, I should have been +in the way--Maude was tired of me--" + +He broke off, with an abstracted look. + +"You know all about it, you say?" he went on after a pause--"She told +you--" + +"She told me the night she died," answered Blythe quietly--"After a +silence of nearly twenty years!" + +Armitage gave a short, sharp sigh. "Women are strange creatures!" he +said. "I don't think they know when they are loved. I loved her--much +more than she knew,--she seemed to me the most beautiful thing on +earth!--and when she asked me to run away with her--" + +"She asked you?" + +"Yes--of course! Do you think I would have taken her against her own +wish and will? She suggested and planned the whole thing--and I was mad +for her at the time--even now those weeks we passed together seem to me +the only real living of my life! I thought she loved me as I loved +her--and if she had married me, as I begged her to do, I believe I +should have done something as a painter,--something great, I mean. But +she got tired of my 'art-jargon,' as she called it--and she couldn't +bear the idea of having to rough it a bit before I could hope to make +any large amount of money. Then I was disappointed--and I told her +so--and SHE was disappointed, and she told ME so--and we +quarrelled--but when I heard a child was to be born, I urged her again +to marry me--" + +"And she refused?" interposed Blythe. + +"She refused. She said she intended to make a rich marriage and live in +luxury. And she declared that if I ever loved her at all, the only way +to prove it was to get rid of the child. I don't think she would have +cared if I had been brute enough to kill it." + +Blythe gave a gesture of horror. + +"Don't say that, man! Don't think it!" + +Armitage sighed. + +"Well, I can't help it, Blythe! Some women go callous when they've had +their fling. Maude was like that. She didn't care for me any more,--she +saw nothing in front of her but embarrassment and trouble if her affair +with me was found out--and as it was all in my hands I did the best I +could think of,--took the child away and placed it with kind country +folks--and removed myself from England and out of Maude's way +altogether. The year after I came abroad I heard she had married +you,--rather an unkind turn of fate, you being my oldest friend! and +this was what made me resolve to 'die'--that is, to be reported dead, +so that she might have no misgivings about me or my turning up +unexpectedly to cause you any annoyance. I determined to lose myself +and my name too--no one knows me here as Pierce Armitage,--I'm Pietro +Corri for all the English amateur art-lovers in Italy!" + +He laughed rather bitterly. + +"I think I lost a good deal more than myself and my name!" he went on. +"I believe if I had stayed in England I should have won something of a +reputation. But--you see, I really loved Maude--in a stupid man's way +of love,--I didn't want to worry her or remind her of her phase of +youthful madness with me--or cause scandal to her in any way--" + +"But did you ever think of the child?" interrupted Blythe, suddenly. + +Armitage looked up. + +"Think of it? Of course I did! The place where I left it was called +Briar Farm,--a wonderful old sixteenth-century house--I made a drawing +of it once when the apple-blossom was out--and the owner of it, known +as Farmer Jocelyn, had a wonderful reputation in the neighbourhood for +integrity and kindness. I left the child with him--one stormy night in +autumn--saying I would come back for it--of course I never did--but for +twelve years I sent money for it from different places in Europe--and +before I left England I told Maude where it was, in case she ever +wanted to see it--not that such an idea would ever occur to her! I +thought the probabilities were that the farmer, having no children of +his own, would be likely to adopt the one left on his hands, and that +she would grow up a happy, healthy country lass, without a care, and +marry some good, sound, simple rustic fellow. But you know everything, +I suppose!--or so your looks imply. Is the child alive?" + +Lord Blythe held up his hand. + +"Now, Pierce, it is my turn," he said--"Your share in the story I +already knew in part--but one thing you have not told me--one wrong you +have not confessed." + +"Oh, there are a thousand wrongs I have committed," said Armitage, with +a slight, weary gesture. "Life and love have both disappointed me--and +I suppose when that sort of thing happens a man goes more or less to +the dogs--" + +"Life and love have disappointed a good many folks," said +Blythe--"Women perhaps more than men. And one woman especially, who +hardly merited disappointment--one who loved you very truly, +Pierce!--have you any idea who it is I mean?" + +Armitage moved restlessly,--a slight flush coloured his face. + +"You mean Lavinia Leigh?" he said--"Yes--I behaved like a cad. I know +it! But--I could not help myself. Maude drew me on with her lovely eyes +and smile! And to think she is dead!--all that beauty in the +grave!--cold and mouldering!" He covered his eyes with one hand, and a +visible tremor shook him. "Somehow I have always fancied her as young +as ever and endowed with a sort of earthly immortality! She was so +bright, so imperious, so queen-like! You ask me why I did not let you +know I was living? Blythe, I would have died in very truth by my own +hand rather than trouble her peace in her married life with you!" He +paused--then glanced up at his friend, with the wan flicker of a +smile--"And--do you know Lavinia Leigh?" + +"I do," answered Blythe--"I know and honour her! And--your daughter is +with her now!" + +Armitage sprang up. + +"My daughter! With Lavinia! No!--impossible--incredible!--" + +"Sit down again, Pierce," and Lord Blythe himself drew up a chair close +to Armitage--"Sit down and be patient! You know the lines--'There's a +divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will'? Divinity +has worked in strange ways with you, Pierce!--and still more strangely +with your child. Will you listen while I tell you all?" + +Armitage sank into his chair,--his hands trembled--he was greatly +agitated,--and his eyes were fixed on his friend's face in an eager +passion of appeal. + +"I will listen as if you were an angel speaking, Dick!" he said. "Let +me know the worst!--or the best--of everything!" + +And Blythe, in a low quiet voice, thrilled in its every accent by the +affection and sympathy of his honest spirit, told him the whole story +of Innocent--of her sweetness and prettiness--of her grace and +genius--of the sudden and brilliant fame she had won as "Ena +Armitage"--of the brief and bitter knowledge she had been given of her +mother--of her strange chance in going straight to the house of Miss +Leigh when she travelled alone and unguided from the country to +London--and lastly of his own admiration for her courage and +independence, and his desire to adopt her as a daughter in order to +leave her his fortune. + +"But now you have turned up, Pierce, I resign my hopes in that +direction!" he concluded, with a smile. "You are her father!--and you +may well be proud of such a daughter! And there is a duty staring you +in the face--a duty towards her which, when once performed, will +release her from a good deal of pain and perplexity--you know what it +is?" + +"Rather!" and Armitage rose and began pacing to and fro--"To +acknowledge and legalise her as my child! I can do this now--and I +will! I can declare she was born in wedlock, now Maude is dead--for no +one will ever know. The real identity of her mother"--he paused and +came up to Blythe, resting his hands on his shoulders--"the real +identity of her mother is and shall ever be OUR secret!" + +There was a pause. Then Armitage's mellow musical voice again broke the +silence. + +"I can never thank you, Blythe!" he said--"You blessed old man as you +are! You seem to me like a god disguised in a tweed suit! You have +changed life for me altogether! I must cease to be a wandering scamp on +the face of the earth!--I must try to be worthy of my fair and famous +daughter! How strange it seems! Little Innocent!--the poor baby I left +to the mercies of a farm-yard training!--for her I must become +respectable! I think I'll even try to paint a great picture, so that +she isn't ashamed of her Dad! What do you say? Will you help me?" + +He laughed,--but there were great tears in his eyes. They clasped hands +silently. + +Then Lord Blythe spoke in a light tone. + +"I'll wire to Miss Leigh this morning," he said. "I'll ask her to come +out here with Innocent as soon as possible. I won't break the news of +YOU to them yet--it would quite overpower Miss Leigh--it might almost +kill her--" + +"Why, how?" asked Armitage. + +"With joy!" answered Blythe. "Hers is a faithful soul!" + +He waited a moment--then went on: + +"I'll prepare the way cautiously in a letter--it would never do to +blurt the whole thing out at once. I'll tell Innocent I have a very +great and delightful surprise awaiting her--" + +"Oh, very great and delightful indeed!" echoed Armitage with a sad +little laugh. "The discovery of a tramp father with only a couple of +shirts to his back and a handful of francs in his pocket!" + +"My dear chap, what does that matter?" and Blythe gave him a light +friendly blow on the shoulder. "We can put all these exterior matters +right in no time. Trust me!--Are we not old friends? You have come back +from death, as it seems, just when your child may need you--she DOES +need you--every young girl needs some protector in this world, +especially when her name has become famous, and a matter of public talk +and curiosity. Ah! I can already see her joy when she throws her arms +around your neck and says 'My father!' I would gladly change places +with you for that one exquisite moment!" + +They stayed together all that day and night. Lord Blythe sent his wire +to Miss Leigh, and wrote his letter,--then both men settled down, as it +were, to wait. Armitage went off for two days to Milan, and returned +transformed in dress, looking the very beau-ideal of an handsome +Englishman,--and the people at Bellaggio who had known him as the +wandering landscape painter "Pietro Corri" failed to recognise him now +in his true self. + +"Yes," said Blythe again, with the fine unselfishness which was part of +his nature, when at the end of one of their many conversations +concerning Innocent, he had gone over every detail he could think of +which related to her life and literary success--"When she comes she +will give you all her heart, Pierce! She will be proud and glad,--she +will think of no one but her beloved father! She is like that! She is +full of an unspent love--you will possess it all!" + +And in his honest joy for the joy of others, he never once thought of +Amadis de Jocelyn. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +It was a gusty September afternoon in London, and autumn had given some +unpleasing signs of its early presence in the yellow leaves that flew +whirling over the grass in Kensington Gardens and other open spaces +where trees spread their kind boughs to the rough and chilly wind. A +pretty little elm in Miss Leigh's tiny garden was clothed in gold +instead of green, and shook its glittering foliage down with every +breath of air like fairy coins minted from the sky. Innocent, leaning +from her study window, watched the falling brightness with an unwilling +sense of pain and foreboding. + +"Summer is over, I'm afraid!" she sighed--"Such a wonderful summer it +has been for me!--the summer of my life--the summer of my love! Oh, +dear summer, stay just a little longer!" + +And the verse of a song, sung so often as to have become hackneyed, +rang in her ears-- + +"Falling leaf and fading tree, Lines of white in a sullen sea, Shadows +rising on you and me--The swallows are making them ready to fly, +Wheeling out on a windy sky: Good-bye, Summer! Good-bye, good-bye!" + +She shivered, and closed the window. She was dressed for going out, and +her little motor-brougham waited for her below. Miss Leigh had gone to +lunch and to spend the afternoon with some old friends residing out of +town,--an unusual and wonderful thing for her to do, as she seldom +accepted invitations now where Innocent was not concerned,--but the +people who had asked her were venerable folk who could not by the laws +of nature be expected to live very much longer, and as they had known +Lavinia Leigh from girlhood she considered it somewhat of a duty to go +and see them when, as in this instance, they earnestly desired it. +Moreover she knew Innocent had her own numerous engagements and was +never concerned at being left alone--especially on this particular +afternoon when she had an appointment with her publishers,--and another +appointment afterwards, of which she said nothing, even to herself. She +had taken more than usual pains with her attire, and looked her +sweetest in a soft dove-coloured silk gown gathered about her slight +figure in cunning folds of exquisite line and drapery, while the tender +gold of her hair shone like ripening corn from under the curved brim of +a graceful "picture" hat of black velvet, adorned with one drooping +pale grey plume. A small knot of roses nestled among the delicate lace +on her bodice, and the diamond dove-pendant Lord Blythe had given her +sparkled like a frozen sunbeam against the ivory whiteness of her +throat. She glanced at herself in the mirror with a smile,--wondering +if "he" would be pleased with her appearance,--"he" had been what is +called "difficult" of late, finding fault with some of the very points +of her special way of dress which he had once eagerly admired. But she +attributed his capricious humour to fatigue and irritability from +"over-strain"--that convenient ailment which is now-a-days brought in +as a disguise for mere want of control and bad temper. "He has been +working so hard to finish his portrait of me!" she thought, +tenderly--"Poor fellow!--he must have got quite tired of looking at my +face!" + +She glanced round her study to see that everything was in order--and +then took up a neatly tied parcel of manuscript--her third +book--completed. She had a fancy--one of many, equally harmless,--that +she would like to deliver it herself to the publishers rather than send +it by post, on this day of all days, when plans for the future were to +be discussed with her lover and everything settled for their mutual +happiness. Her heart grew light with joyous anticipation as she ran +downstairs and nodded smilingly at the maid Rachel, who stood ready at +the door to open it for her passing. + +"If Miss Leigh comes home before I do, tell her I will not be long," +she said, as she stepped into her brougham and was whirled away. At the +office of her publishers she was expected and received with eager +homage. The head of the firm took the precious packet of manuscript +from her hand with a smile of entire satisfaction. + +"You are up to your promised time, Miss Armitage!" he said, +kindly--"And you must have worked very hard. I hope you'll give +yourself a good long rest now?" + +She laughed, lightly. + +"Oh, well!--perhaps!" she answered--"If I feel I can afford it! I want +to work while I'm young--not to rest. But I think Miss Leigh would like +a change--and if she does I'll take her wherever she wishes to go. She +is so kind to me!--I can never do enough for her!" + +The publisher looked at her sweet, thoughtful face curiously. + +"Do you never think of yourself?" he asked--"Must you always plan some +pleasure for others?" + +She glanced at him in quick surprise. + +"Why, of course!" she replied--"Pleasure for others is the only +pleasure possible to me. I assure you I'm quite selfish!--I'm greedy +for the happiness of those I love--and if they can't or won't be happy +I'm perfectly miserable!" + +He smiled,--and when she left, escorted her himself out of his office +to her brougham with a kind friendliness that touched her. + +"You won't let me call you a brilliant author," he said, as he shook +hands with her--"Perhaps it will please you better if I say you are a +true woman!" + +Her eyes flashed up a bright gratitude,--she waved her hand in +parting--as the brougham glided off. And never to his dying day did +that publisher and man of hard business detail forget the radiance of +the face that smiled at him that afternoon,--a face of light and youth +and loveliness, as full of hope and faith as the face of a pictured +angel kneeling at the feet of the Madonna with heaven's own glory +encircling it in gold. + +The quick little motor-brougham seemed unusually slow-going that +afternoon. Innocent, with her full happy heart and young pulsing blood, +grew impatient with its tardy progress, yet, as a matter of fact, it +travelled along at its most rapid speed. The well-known by-street near +Holland Park was reached at last, and while the brougham went off to an +accustomed retired corner chosen by the chauffeur to await her +pleasure, she pushed open the gate of the small garden leading to the +back entrance of Jocelyn's studio--a garden now looking rather damp and +dreary, strewn as it was with wet masses of fallen leaves. It was +beginning to rain--and she ran swiftly along the path to the familiar +door which she opened with her private key. Jocelyn was working at his +easel--he heard the turn of the lock and looked round. She entered, +smiling--but he did not at once go and meet her. He was finishing off +some special touch of colour over which he bent with assiduous +care,--and she was far too unselfishly interested in his work to +disturb him at what seemed to be an anxious moment. So she waited. + +Presently he spoke, with a certain irritability in his tone. + +"Are you there? I wish you would come forward where I can see you!" + +She laughed--a pretty rippling laugh of kindly amusement. + +"Amadis! If you are a true Knight, it is you who should turn round and +look at me for yourself!" + +"But I am busy," he said, with the same sharpness of voice--"Surely you +see that?" + +She made no answer, but moved quietly to a position where she stood +facing him at about an arm's length. Never had she made a prettier +picture than in that attitude of charming hesitation, with a tender +little smile on her pretty mouth and a wistful light in her eyes. He +laid down his palette and brushes. + +"I must give up work for to-day," he said--and going to her he took her +in his arms--"You are too great an attraction for me to resist!" He +kissed her lightly, as he would have kissed a child. "You are very +fascinating this afternoon! Are you bent on some new conquest?" + +She gave him a sweet look. + +"Why will you talk nonsense, my Amadis!" she said--"You know I never +wish for 'conquests' as you call them,--I only want you! Nothing but +you!" + +With his arm about her he drew her to a corner of the studio, half +curtained, where there was a double settee or couch, comfortably +cushioned, and here he sat down still holding her in his embrace. + +"You only want me!--Nothing but me!" he repeated, softly--"Dear little +Innocent!--Ah!--But I fear I am just what you cannot have!" + +She smiled, not understanding. + +"What do you mean?" she asked--"You always play with me! Are you not +all mine as I am all yours?" + +He was silent. Then he slowly withdrew his arm from her waist. + +"Now, child," he said--"listen to me and be good and sensible! You know +this cannot go on." + +She lifted her eyes trustfully to his face. + +"What cannot go on?" she queried, as softly as though the question were +a caress. + +He moved restlessly. + +"Why--this--this love-making, of ours! We mustn't give ourselves over +to sentiment--we must be normal and practical. We must look the thing +squarely in the face and settle on some course that will be best and +wisest for us both--" + +She trembled a little. Something cold and terrifying began to creep +through her blood. + +"Yes--I know," she faltered, nervously--"You said--you said we would +arrange everything together to-day." + +"True! So I did! Well, I will!" He drew closer to her and took her +little hand in his own. "You see, dear, we can't live on the heights of +ecstasy for ever" and he smiled,--a forced, ugly smile--"We've had a +very happy time together, haven't we?"--and he was conscious of a +certain nervousness as he felt her soft little body press against him +in answer--"But the time has come for us to think of other +things--other interests--your career,--my future--" + +She looked up at him in sudden alarm. + +"Amadis!" she said--"What is it? You frighten me!--you speak so +strangely! What do you mean?" + +"Now if you are unreasonable I shall go away!" he said, with sudden +harshness, dropping her hand--"I shall leave you here by yourself +without another word!" + +She turned deathly pale--then flushed a faint crimson--a sense of giddy +faintness overcame her,--she put up her hands to her head tremblingly, +and loosening her hat took it off as though its weight oppressed her. + +"I--I am not unreasonable, Amadis," she faltered--"only--I don't +understand--" + +"Well, you ought to understand," he answered, heatedly--"A clever +little woman like you who writes books should not want any explanation. +You ought to be able to grasp the whole position at a glance!" + +Her breath came and went quickly--she tried to smile. + +"I'm afraid I'm very stupid then," she answered, gently--"For I can +only see that you seem angry with me for nothing." + +He took her hand again. + +"Dear little goose, I am not angry," he said--"If you were to make me a +'scene' I SHOULD be angry--very angry! But you won't do that, will you? +It would upset my nerves. And you are such a wise, independent little +person that I feel quite safe with you. Well, now let us talk +sensibly,--I've a great deal to tell you. In the first place, I'm going +to Algiers." + +Her lips were dry and stiff, but she managed to ask-- + +"When?" + +"Oh, any time!--to-morrow... next day--before the week is over, +certainly. There are some fine subjects out there that I want to +paint--and I feel I could do good work--" + +Her hand in his contracted a little,--she instinctively withdrew it... +then she heard herself speaking as though it were someone else a long +way off. + +"When are you coming back?" + +"Ah!--That's my own affair!" he answered carelessly--"In the spring +perhaps,--perhaps not for a year or two--" + +"Amadis!" + +The name sprang from her lips like the cry of an animal wounded to +death. She rose suddenly from his side and stood facing him, swaying +slightly like a reed in a cruel wind. + +"Well!" he rejoined--"You say 'Amadis' as though it hurt you! What now?" + +"Do you mean," she said, faintly--"by--what--you--say,--do you +mean--that we are--to part?" + +The strained agony in her eyes compelled him to turn his own away. He +got up from the settee and left her where she stood. + +"We must part sooner or later," he answered, lightly--"surely you know +that?" + +"Surely I know that!" she repeated, with a bewildered look,--then +running to him, she caught his arm--"Amadis! Amadis! You don't mean +it!--say you don't mean it!--You can't mean it, if you love me! ... Oh, +my dearest!--if you love me! ..." + +She stopped, half choked by a throbbing ache in her throat,--and +tottered against him as though about to fall. Alarmed at this he caught +her round the waist to support her. + +"Of course I love you!" he said, hurriedly--"When you are good and +reasonable!--not when you behave like this! If I DON'T love you, it +will be quite your own fault--" + +"My own fault?" she murmured, sobbingly--"My own fault? Amadis! What +have I done?" + +"What have you done? It's what you are doing that matters! Giving way +to temper and making me uncomfortable! Do you call that 'love'?" + +She dropped her hand from his arm and drew herself away from him. She +was trembling from head to foot. + +"Please--please don't misunderstand me!" she stammered, like a +frightened child--"I--I have no temper! I--I--feel nothing--I only want +to please you--to know what you wish--" + +She broke off--her eyes, lifted to his, had a strange, wild stare, but +he was too absorbed in his own particular and personal difficulty to +notice this. He went on, speaking rapidly-- + +"If you want to please me you will first of all be perfectly normal," +he said--"Make up your mind to be calm and good-natured. I cannot stand +an emotional woman all tantrums and tears. I like good sense and good +manners. You ought to have both, with all the books you have read--" + +She gave a sudden low laugh, empty of mirth. + +"Books!" she echoed--and raising her arms above her head she let them +drop again at her sides with a gesture of utter abandonment. "Ah yes! +Books! Books by the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!" + +Her hair was ruffled and fell about her face,--her cheeks had flamed +into a feverish red. The tragic beauty of her expression annoyed him. + +"Your hair is coming down," he said, with a coldly critical +smile--"You look like a Bacchante!" + +She paid no attention to this remark. She was apparently talking to +herself. + +"Books!" she said again--"Such sweet love-letters and poems by the +Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!" + +He grew impatient. + +"You're a silly child!" he said--"Are you going to listen to me or not?" + +She gazed at him with an almost awful directness. + +"I am listening!" she answered. + +"Well, don't be melodramatic while you listen!" he retorted--"Be +normal!" + +She was silent, still gazing fixedly at him. + +He turned his eyes away, and taking up one of his brushes, dipped it in +colour and made a great pretence of working in a bit of sky on his +canvas. + +"You see, dear child," he resumed, with an unctuous air of patient +kindness--"your ideas of love and mine are totally different. You want +to live in a paradise of romance and tenderness--I want nothing of the +sort. Of course, with a sweet caressable creature like you it's very +pleasant to indulge in a little folly for a time,--and we've had quite +four months of the 'divine rapture' as the poets call it,--four months +is a long time for any rapture to last! You have--yes!--you have amused +me!--and I've made you happy--given you something to think about +besides scribbling and publishing--yes--I'm sure I have made you +happy--and,--what is much more to my credit--I have taken care of you +and left you unharmed. Think of that! Day after day I have had you here +entirely in my power!--and yet--and yet"--here he turned his cold blue +eyes upon her with an under-gleam of mockery in their steely +light--"you are still--Innocent!" + +She did not move--she scarcely seemed to breathe. + +"That is why I told you it would be a good thing for you if you +accepted Lord Blythe's offer,--in his great position he would be able +to marry you well to some rich fellow with a title"--he went on, +easily. "Now I am not a marrying man. Domestic bliss would not suit me. +I have sometimes thought it would hardly suit YOU!" + +She stirred slightly, as though some invisible creature had touched +her, and held up one little trembling hand. + +"Stop!" she said, and her voice though faint was clear and steady--"Do +you think--can you imagine that I am of so low and common a nature as +to marry any man, after--" She paused, struggling with herself. + +"After what?" he queried, smilingly. + +She shuddered, as with keenest cold. + +"After your kisses!" she answered--"After your embraces which have held +me away from everything save you!--After your caresses--oh God!--after +all this,--do you think I would shame my body and perjure my soul by +giving myself to another man?" + +He almost laughed at her saintly idea of a lover's chastity. + +"Every woman would!" he declared--"And I'm sure every woman does!" + +She looked straight before her into vacancy. + +"I am not 'every woman,'" she said, slowly--"I am only one unhappy +girl!" + +He was still dabbing colour on his canvas, but now threw down his brush +and came to her. + +"Dear child, why be tragic?" he said--"Life is such a pleasant thing +and holds so much for both of us! I shall always love you--if you're +good!" and he laughed, pleasantly--"and you can always love ME--if you +like! But I cannot marry you--I have never thought of such a thing! +Marriage would not suit me at all. I know, of course, what YOU would +like. You would like a grand wedding with lots of millinery and +presents, and then a honeymoon at your old Briar Farm--in fact, I +daresay you'd like to buy Briar Farm and imprison me there for life, +along with the dust and ashes of my ancestor's long-lost brother--but I +shouldn't like it! No, child!--not even you, attractive as you are, +could turn me into a Farmer Jocelyn!" + +He tried to take her in his arms, but she drew herself back from him. + +"You speak truly," she said, in a measured, lifeless tone--"Nothing +could turn you into a Farmer Jocelyn. For he was an honest man!" + +He winced as though a whip had struck him, and an ugly frown darkened +his features. + +"He would not have hurt a dog that trusted him," she went on in the +same monotonous way--"He would not have betrayed a soul that loved him!" + +All at once the unnatural rigidity of her face broke up into piteous, +terrible weeping, and she flung herself at his feet. + +"Amadis, Amadis!" she cried. "It is not--it cannot be you who are so +cruel!--no, no!--it is some devil that speaks to me--not you, not you, +my love, my heart! Oh, say it isn't true!--say it isn't true! Have +mercy--mercy! I love you, I love you! You are all my life!--I cannot +live without you! Amadis!" + +Vexed and frightened for himself at her sudden wild abandonment of +grief, he stooped, and gripping her by the arm tried to draw her up +from the floor. + +"Be quiet!" he said, roughly--"I will not have a scandal here in my +studio! You'll bring my man-servant up in a moment with your stupid +noise! I'm ashamed of you!--screaming and crying like a virago! If you +make this row I shall go away!" + +"Oh, no, no, no!--do not go away!" she moaned, sobbingly--"Have some +little pity! Do not leave me, Amadis! Is everything forgotten so soon? +Think for a moment what you have said to me!--what you have been to me! +I thought you loved me, dear!--yes, I thought you loved me!--you told +me so!" And she held up her little hands to him folded as in prayer, +the tears raining down her cheeks--"But if for some fault of mine you +do not love me any more, kill me now--here--just where I am!--kill me, +Amadis!--or tell me to go away and kill myself--I will obey you!--but +don't--don't send me into the empty darkness of life again all alone! +Oh, no, no! Let me die rather than that!--you would not think unkindly +of me if I were dead!" + +He took her uplifted hands in his own--he began to be "artistically" +interested,--with the same sort of interest Nero might have felt while +watching the effects of some new poison on a tortured slave,--and a +slight, very slight sense of regret and remorse tugged at his tough +heart-strings. + +"I should think of you exactly as I do now," he said, resolutely--"If +you were to kill yourself I should not pity you in the least! I should +say that though you were a bit of a clever woman, you were much more of +a fool! So you would gain nothing that way! You see, I'm sane and +sensible--you are not. You are excited and hysterical--and don't know +what you are talking about. Yes, child!--that's the fact!" He patted +the hands he held consolingly, and then let them go. "I wish you'd get +up from the floor and be reasonable! The position is quite simple and +clear. We've had an ideal time of it together--but isn't it Shakespeare +who says 'These violent delights have violent ends'? My work calls me +to Algiers--yours keeps you in London--therefore we must part--but we +shall meet again--some day--I hope..." + +She slowly rose to her feet,--her sobbing ceased. + +"Then--you never loved me?" she said--"It was all a lie?" + +"I never lie," he answered, coldly--"I loved you--for the time being. +You amused me." + +"And for your 'amusement' you have ruined me?" + +"Ruined you?" He turned upon her in indignant protest--"You must be +mad! You have been as safe with me as in the arms of your mother--" + +At this she laughed,--a shrill little laugh with tears submerging it. + +"You may laugh, but it is true!" he went on, in a righteously aggrieved +tone--"I have done you no harm,--on the contrary, you have to thank me +for a great deal of happiness--" + +She gave a tragic gesture of eloquent despair. + +"Oh, yes, I have to thank you!" she said, and her voice now vibrated +with intense and passionate sorrow--"I have to thank you for so +much--for so very much indeed! You have been so kind and good! Yes! And +you have never thought of yourself or your own pleasure at all--but +only of me! And I have been as safe with you as in my mother's arms, +... yes!--you have been quite as careful of me as she was!" And a wan +smile flitted over her agonised face--"All this I have to thank you +for!--but you have ruined me just the same--not my body, but my soul!" + +He looked at her,--she returned his gaze unflinchingly with eyes that +glowed like burning stars--and he thought she was, as he put it to +himself, "calming down." He laughed, a little uneasily. + +"Soul is an unknown quantity," he said--"It doesn't count." + +She seemed not to hear him. + +"You have ruined my soul!" she repeated steadily--"You have stolen it +from God--you have made it all your own--for your 'amusement'! What +remainder of life have you left to me? Nothing! I have no hope, no +faith, no power to work--no ambition to fulfil--no dreams to realise! +You gave me love--as I thought!--and I lived; you take love from me, +and I die!" + +He bent his eyes upon her with a kind, almost condescending +gentleness,--his personal vanity was immense, and the utter humiliation +of her love for him flattered the deep sense he had of his own value. + +"Dear little goose, you will not die!" he said--"For heaven's sake have +done with all this sentimental talk!--I am not a man who can tolerate +it. You are such a pleasant creature when you are cheerful and +self-possessed,--so bright and clever and companionable--and there is +no reason why we shouldn't make love to each other again as often as we +like,--but change and novelty are good for both of us. Come!--kiss +me!--be a good child--and let us part friends!" + +He approached her,--there was a smile on his lips--a smile in which +lurked a suspicion of mockery as well as victorious self-satisfaction. +She saw it--and swiftly there came swooping over her brain the horrible +realisation of the truth--that it was all over!--that never, never +again would she be able to dwell on the amorous looks and words and +love-phrases of HER "Amadis de Jocelyn!"--that no happy future was in +store for her with him--that he had no interest whatever in her +cherished memories of Briar Farm, and that he would never care to +accept the right of dwelling there even if she secured it for +him,--moreover, that he viewed her very work with indifference, and had +no concern as to her name or fame--so that everything--every pretty +fancy, every radiant hope, every happy possibility was at an end. Life +stretched before her dreary as the dreariest desert--for her, whose +nature was to love but once, there was no gleam of light in all the +world's cruel darkness! A red mist swam before her eyes--black clouds +seemed descending upon her and whirling round about her--she looked +wildly from right to left, as though seeking to escape from some +invisible pursuer. Startled at her expression Jocelyn tried to hold +her--but she shook him off. She made a few unsteady steps along the +floor. + +"What is it?" he said--"Innocent--don't stare like that!" + +She smiled strangely and nodded at him--she was fingering the plant of +marguerite daisies that stood in its accustomed place between the easel +and the wall. She plucked a flower and began hurriedly stripping off +its petals. + +"'Il m'aime--un peu!--beaucoup--passionement--pas du tout!' Pas du +tout!" she cried--"Amadis! Amadis de Jocelyn! You hear what it says? +Pas du tout! You promised it should never come to that!--but it has +come!" + +She threw away the stripped flower, ... there was a quick hot throbbing +behind her temples--she put up her hands--then all suddenly a sharp +involuntary scream broke from her lips. He sprang towards her to seize +and silence her--she stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth. + +"I'm sorry!" she panted--"Forgive!--I couldn't help +it!--Amadis--Amadis!--" + +And she flung herself against his breast. Her eyes, large and +feverishly brilliant, searched his face for any sign of tenderness, and +searched in vain. + +"Say it isn't true!" she whispered--"Amadis--oh my love, say it isn't +true!" Her little hands caressed him--she drew his head down towards +her and her pleading kiss touched his lips. "Say that you didn't really +mean it!--that you love me still--Amadis!--you could not be cruel!--you +will not break my heart!--" + +But he was too angry to be pitiful. Her scream had infuriated him--he +thought it would alarm the street, bring up the servant, and give rise +to all sorts of scandal in which he might be implicated, and he roughly +loosened her clinging arms from his neck and pushed her from him. + +"Break your heart!" he exclaimed, bitterly--"I wish I could break your +temper! You behave like a madwoman; I shall go away to my room! When I +come back I expect to find you calm, and reasonable--or else, gone! +Remember!" + +She stood gazing at him as though petrified. He swung past her rapidly, +and opening the principal door of the studio passed through it and +disappeared. She ran to it--tried to open it--it was locked on the +other side. She was alone. + +She looked about her bewildered, like a child that has lost its way. +She saw her pretty little velvet hat on the settee where she had left +it, and in a trembling hurry she put it on--then paused. Going on +tip-toe to the easel, she looked vaguely at her own portrait and smiled. + +"You must be good and reasonable!" she said, waving her hand to +it--"When you have lost every thing in the world, you must be calm! You +mustn't think of love any more!--that's only a fancy!--you mustn't--no, +you mustn't have any fancies or your dove will fly away! You are +holding it to your heart just now--and it seems quite safe--but it will +fly away presently--yes!--it will fly away!" + +She lifted the painter's palette and looked curiously at it,--then took +up the brush, moist with colour, which Jocelyn had lately used. Softly +she kissed its handle and laid it down again. Then she waited, with a +puzzled air, and listened. There was no sound. Another moment, and she +moved noiselessly, almost creepingly to the little private door by +which she had always entered the studio, and unlocking it, slipped out +leaving the key in the lock. It was raining heavily, but she was not +conscious of this,--she had no very clear idea what she was doing. +There was a curious calm upon her,--a kind of cold assertiveness, like +that of a dying person who has strength enough to ask for some dear +friend's presence before departing from life. She walked steadily to +the place where her motor-brougham waited for her, and entered it. The +chauffeur looked at her for orders. + +"To Paddington Station," she said--"I am going out of town. Stop at the +first telegraph office on your way." + +The man touched his hat. He thought she seemed very ill, but it was his +place to obey instructions, not to proffer sympathy. At the telegraph +office she got out, moving like one in a dream and sent a wire to Miss +Leigh. + +"Am staying with friends out of town. Don't wait up for me." + +Back to the brougham she went, still in a dream-like apathy, and at +Paddington dismissed the chauffeur. + +"If I want you in the morning, I will let you know," she said, with +matter-of-fact composure, and turning, was lost at once in the crowd of +passengers pouring into the station. + +The man was for a moment puzzled by the paleness of her face and the +wildness of her eyes, but like most of his class, made little effort to +think beyond the likelihood of everything being "all right to-morrow," +and went his way. + +Meanwhile Miss Leigh had returned to her house to find it bereft of its +living sunshine. There were two telegrams awaiting her,--one from Lord +Blythe, urging her to start at once with Innocent for Italy--the other +from Innocent herself, which alarmed her by its unusual purport. In all +the time she had lived with her "god-mother" the girl had never stayed +away a night, and that she was doing so now worried and perplexed the +old lady to an acute degree of nervous anxiety. John Harrington +happened to call that evening, and on hearing what had occurred, became +equally anxious with herself, and, moved by some curious instinct, +went, on his way home, to Jocelyn's studio to ascertain if Innocent had +been there that afternoon. But he knocked and rang at the door in +vain,--all was dark and silent. Amadis de Jocelyn was a wise man in his +generation. When he had returned to confront Innocent again and find +her, as he had suggested, either recovered from her "temper" and "calm +and reasonable"--or else "gone"--he had rejoiced to see that she had +accepted the latter alternative. There was no trace of her save the +unlocked private door of the studio, which he now locked, putting the +key in his pocket. He gave a long breath of relief--a sort of "Thank +God that's over!"--and arranged his affairs of both art and business +with such dispatch as to leave for Paris in peace and comfort by the +night boat-train. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +That evening the fitful and gusty wind increased to a gale which swept +the land with devastating force, breaking down or uprooting great trees +that had withstood the storms of centuries, and torrential rain fell, +laying whole tracts of country under water. All round the coast the sea +was lashed into a tossing tumult, the waves rolling in like great green +walls of water streaked with angry white as though flashed with +lightning, and the weather reports made the usual matter-of-fact +statement that "Cross-Channel steamers made rough passages." Winds and +waves, however, had no disturbing effect on the mental or physical +balance of Amadis de Jocelyn, who, wrapped in a comfortable fur-lined +overcoat, sat in a sheltered corner on the deck of the Calais boat, +smoking a good cigar and congratulating himself on the ease with which +he had slipped out of what threatened to have been a very unpleasant +and embarrassing entanglement. + +"If she were an ordinary sort of girl it wouldn't matter so much," he +thought--"She would be practical, with sufficient vanity not to +care,--she would see more comedy than tragedy in the whole thing. But +with her romantic ideas about love, and her name in everybody's mouth, +I might have got into the devil's own mess! I wonder where she went to +when she left the studio? Straight home, I suppose, to Miss +Leigh,--will she tell Miss Leigh? No--I think not!--she's not likely to +tell anybody. She'll keep it all to herself. She's a silly little +fool!--but she's--she's loyal!" + +Yes, she was loyal! Of that there could be no manner of doubt. Callous +and easy-going man of the world as he had ever been and ever would be, +the steadfast truth and tender devotion of the poor child moved him to +a faint sense of shamed admiration. On the inky blackness of the night +he saw her face, floating like a vision,--her little uplifted, praying +hands,--he heard her voice, piteously sweet, crying "Amadis! Amadis! +Say you didn't mean it!--say it isn't true!--I thought you loved me, +dear!--you told me so!" + +The waves hissed round the rolling steamer, and every now and again +white tongues of foam darted at him from the crests of the heaving +waters, yet amid all the shattering roar and turbulence of the storm, +he could not get the sound of that pleading voice out of his ears. + +"Silly little fool!" he repeated over and over again with inward +vexation--"Nothing could be more absurd than her way of looking at life +as though it was only made for love! Yet--she suited her name!--she was +really the most 'innocent' creature I have ever known! And--and--she +loved me!" + +The sea and the wind shrieked at him as the vessel plunged heavily on +her difficult way--his nerves, cool as they were, seemed to himself on +edge: and at certain moments during that Channel passage he felt a pang +of remorse and pity for the young life on which he had cast an +ineffaceable shadow,--a life instinct with truth, beauty, and +brightness, just opening out as it were into the bloom of fulfilled +promise. He had not "betrayed" her in the world's vulgar sense of +betrayal,--he had not wronged her body--but he had done far worse,--he +had robbed her of her peace of mind. Little by little he had stolen +from the flower of her life its honey of sweet content,--he had checked +the active impulses of her ambition, and as they soared upwards like +bright birds to the sun, had brought them down, to the ground, slain +with a mere word of light mockery,--he had led her to judge all things +of no value save himself,--and when he had attained to this end he had +destroyed her last dream of happiness by voluntarily proving his own +insincerity and worthlessness. + +"It has all been her own fault," he mused, trying to excuse and to +console himself--"She fell into my arms as easily as a ripe peach falls +at a touch--that childish fancy about 'Amadis de Jocelin' did the +trick! Curious!--very curious that a sixteenth-century member of my own +family tree should be mixed up in my affair with this girl! Of course +she'll say nothing,--there's nothing to say! We've kept our secret very +well, and except for a few playful suggestions and hints dropped here +and there, nobody knows we were in love with each other. Then--she's +got her work to do,--it isn't as if she were an idle woman without an +occupation,--and she'll think it down and live it down. Of course she +will! I'm worrying myself quite needlessly! It will be all right. And +as she doesn't go to her Briar Farm now, I daresay she'll even forget +her fetish of a knight, the 'Sieur Amadis de Jocelin'!" + +He laughed idly, amused as he always had been at the romantic ideal she +had made of the old French knight who had so strangely turned out to be +the brother of his own far-away ancestor,--and then, on landing at +Calais, was soon absorbed in numerous other thoughts and interests, and +gradually dismissed the whole subject from his mind. After all, for him +it was only one "little affair" out of at least a dozen or more, which +from time to time had served to entertain him and provide a certain +stimulus for his artistic emotions. + +The storm had it all its own way in the fair English country,--sweeping +in from the sea it tore over hill and dale with haste and fury, working +terrible havoc among the luxuriant autumnal foliage and bringing down +whirling wet showers of gold and crimson leaves. Round Briar Farm it +raged all day long, tearing away from the walls one giant branch of the +old "Glory" rose and snapping it off at its stem. Robin Clifford, +coming home from the fields in the late afternoon, saw the fallen bough +covered with a scented splendour of late roses, and lifting it tenderly +carried it into the house, thinking somewhat sadly that in the old days +Innocent would have been grieved had she seen such havoc made. Setting +it in a big brown jar full of water, he put it in the entrance hall +where its shoots reached nearly to the ceiling, and Priscilla Priday +exclaimed at the sight of it-- + +"Eh, eh, is the old rose-tree broken, Mister Robin! That's never +happened before in all the time I've been 'ere! I don't like the looks +of it!--no, Mister Robin, I don't!" + +"It's only one of the bigger branches," answered Robin soothingly. "The +rose-tree itself is all right--I don't think any storm can hurt +that--it's too deeply rooted. This was certainly a very fine branch, +but it must have got loosened by the wind." + +Even as he spoke a fierce gust swept over the old house with a sound +like a scream of wrath and agony, and a furious torrent of rain emptied +itself as though from a cloud-burst, half drowning the flower-beds and +for the moment making a pool of the court-yard. Priscilla hurried to +see that all the windows were shut and the doors well barred, and when +evening closed in the picturesque gables of the roof were but a black +blur in the almost incessant whirl of rain. + +As the night deepened the storm grew worse, and the howling of the wind +through the cracks and crannies of the ancient building was like the +noise of wild animals clamouring for food. Priscilla and Robin Clifford +sat together in the kitchen,--the most comfortable apartment to be in +on such an unkind night of elemental uproar. It had become more or less +their living-room since Innocent's departure, for Robin could not bear +to sit in the "best parlour," as it was called, now that there was no +one to share its old-world charm and comfort with him,--and when +Priscilla's work was done, and everything was cleared and the other +servants gone to their beds, he preferred to bring his book and pipe +into the kitchen, and sit in an old cushioned arm-chair on one side of +the fire-place, while Priscilla sat on the other, mending the +house-linen, both of them talking at intervals of the past, and of the +happy and unthinking days when Farmer Jocelyn had been alive and well, +and when Innocent was like a fairy child flitting over the meadows with +her light and joyous movements, her brown-gold hair flying loose like a +trail of sunbeams on the wind, her face blossoming into rose-and-white +loveliness as a flower blossoms on its slender stem,--her voice +carrying sweet cadences through the air and making music wherever it +rang. Latterly, however, they had not spoken so much of her,--the fame +of her genius and the sudden leap she had made into a position of +public note and brilliancy had somewhat scared the simple soul of +Priscilla, who felt that the child she had reared from infancy had been +taken by some strange and not to be contested fate away, far out of her +reach,--while Robin--whose experiences at Oxford had taught him that +persons of his own sex attaining to even a mild literary celebrity were +apt to become somewhat "touch-me-not" characters--almost persuaded +himself that perhaps Innocent, sweet and ideally simple of nature as he +had ever known her to be, might, under the influence of her rapid +success and prosperity, change a little (and such change, he thought, +would be surely natural!)--if only just as much as would lessen by ever +so slight a degree her former romantic passion for the home of her +childhood. And,--lurking sometimes at the back of all his thoughts +there crept the suggestive shadow of "Amadis de Jocelyn,"--not the +French Knight of old, but the French painter, of whom she had told him +and of whose very existence he had a strange and secret distrust. + +On this turbulent night the old kitchen looked very peaceful and +home-like,--the open fire burned brightly, flashing its flame-light +against the ceiling's huge oak beams--everything was swept clean and +polished to the utmost point of perfection,--and the table on which +Robin rested the book he was reading was covered with a tapestried +cloth, embroidered in many colours, dark and bright contrasted +cunningly, with an effect that was soothing and restful to the eyes. In +the centre there was placed a quaintly shaped jar of old brown lustre +which held a full tall bunch of golden-rod and deep wine-coloured +dahlias,--a posy expressing autumn with a greater sense of gain than +loss. Robin was reading with exemplary patience and considerable +difficulty one of the old French poetry books belonging to the "Sieur +Amadis de Jocelin," and Priscilla's small glittering needle flew in and +out the open-work stitchery of a linen pillow-slip she was mending as +deftly as any embroideress of Tudor times. Over the old, crabbed yet +delicately fine writing of the "Sieur" whose influence on Innocent's +young mind had been so pronounced and absolute, and in Robin's opinion +so malign, he pored studiously, slowly mastering the meaning of the +verses, though written in a language he had never cared to study. He +was conscious of a certain suave sweetness and melancholy in the swing +of the lines, though they did not appeal to him very forcibly. + + "En un cruel orage + On me laisse perir; + En courant au naufrage + Je vois chacun me plaindre et mil me secourir, + Felicite passee + Qui ne peux revenir + Tourment de ma pensee + Que n'ai-je en te perdant perdu le souvenir! + Le sort, plein d'injustice + M'ayant enfin rendu + Ce reste un pur supplice, + Je serais plus heureux si j'avais tout perdu!" + +A sudden swoop of the wind shook the very rafters of the house as +though some great bird had grasped it with beak and talons, and +Priscilla stopped her swift needle, drawing it out to its full length +of linen thread and holding it there. A strange puzzled look was on her +face--she seemed to be listening intently. Presently, taking off her +spectacles, she laid them down, and spoke in a half whisper: + +"Mister Robin! Robin, my dear!" + +He looked up, surprised at the grave wistfulness and wonder of her old +eyes. + +"Yes, Priscilla?" + +"I'm thinkin' my time is drawin' short, dear lad!" she said, +slowly--"I've got a call, an' I'll not be much longer here! That's a +warnin' for me--" + +"A warning? Priscilla, what do you mean?" + +Drawing in her needle and thread, she pricked it through the linen she +held and looked full at him. + +"Didn't ye hear it?" she asked. + +A sudden chill crept through the young man's blood,--there was +something so wan and mournful in her expression. + +"Dear Priscilla, you are dreaming! Hear what?" + +She lifted one brown wrinkled hand with a gesture of attention. + +"The crying of the child!" she answered--"Crying, crying, crying! +Crying for me!" + +Robin held his breath and listened. The wind had for the moment +lessened in violence, and its booming roar had dropped to a moaning +sigh. Now and again there was a pause that was almost silence, and +during one of these intervals he fancied--but surely it was only +fancy!--that he actually did hear a faint human cry. He looked at +Priscilla questioningly and in doubt,--she met his eyes with a fixed +and solemn resignation in her own. + +"It's as I tell you," she said--"My time has come! It's for me the +child is calling--just as she used to call whenever she wanted +anything." + +Robin rose slowly and moved a step or two towards the door. The storm +was gathering fresh force, and heavy rain pattered against the windows +making a continuous steely sound like the clashing of swords. Straining +his ears to close attention, he waited,--and all at once as he stood in +suspense and something of fear, a plaintive sobbing wail crept thinly +above the noise of the wind. + +"Priscilla! ... Priscilla!" There was no mistaking the human voice this +time--and Priscilla got up from where she sat, though trembling so much +that she had to lean one hand on the table to steady herself. + +"Ye heard THAT, surely!" she said. + +Robin answered her by a look. His heart beat thickly,--an awful fear +beset him, paralysing his energies. Was Innocent dead? Was that pitiful +wail the voice of her departed spirit crying at the door of her +childhood's home? + +"Priscilla! ... Oh, Priscilla!" + +The old woman straightened her bent figure and lifted her head. + +"Mister Robin, I must answer that call!" she said--"Storm or rain, +we've no right to sit here with the child's voice crying and the old +house shut and barred against her! We must open the door!" + +He could not speak--but he obeyed her gesture, and went quickly out of +the kitchen into the adjacent hall,--there he unbarred and unlocked the +massive old entrance door and threw it open. A sheet of rain flung +itself in his face, and the wind was so furious that for a moment he +could scarcely stand. Then, recovering himself, he peered into the +darkness and could see nothing,--till all at once he became vaguely +aware of a small dark object crouching in one corner of the deep porch +like a frightened animal or a lost child. He stooped and touched it--it +was wet and clammy--he grasped it more firmly, and it moved under his +hand shudderingly and lifted itself, turning a white face up to the +light that streamed out from the hall--a face wan and death-like, but +still the face he had ever thought the sweetest in the world--the face +of Innocent! With a loud cry of mingled terror and rapture, he caught +her up and held her to his heart. + +"Innocent!--My little love!--Innocent!" + +She made no answer--no sort of resistance. Her little body hung heavily +in his arms--her head drooped helplessly against his shoulder. + +"Priscilla!" he called--"Priscilla!" + +Priscilla was already beside him--she had hurried into the hall +directly she heard his exclamation of fear and amazement, and now as +she saw him carrying the forlorn little burden tenderly along she threw +up her hands with a piteous, almost despairing gesture. + +"God save us all!--It's the child herself!" she exclaimed--"Mercy on +the poor lamb!--what can have happened to her?--she's half drowned with +rain!" + +As quickly as Robin's strong arms could bear her, she was carried +gently into the kitchen and laid in Robin's own deep arm-chair by the +fire. Roused to immediate practical service and with all her +superstitious terrors at an end, old Priscilla took off a soaked little +velvet hat and began to unfasten a wet mass of soft silk that clung +round the fragile little figure. + +"Go and bar the door fast, Mister Robin, my dear!" she said, looking up +at the young man's pale, agonised face,--"We don't want any one comin' +in here to see the child in trouble!--besides, the wind's enough to +scare a body to death! Poor lamb, poor lamb!--where she can have come +from the good Lord only knows! It's for all the world like the night +when she was left here, long ago! Lock and bar the door, dearie, and +get me some of that precious old wine out of the cupboard in the best +parlour." Here her active fingers came upon the glittering diamond +pendant in the shape of a dove that hung by its slender gold chain +round Innocent's neck. She unclasped it, looking at it +wonderingly--then she handed it to Robin who regarded it with sombre, +grudging eyes. Was it a love-gift?--and from whom? + +"And while you're about helping me," went on Priscilla--"you might go +to the child's room and fetch me that old white woolly gown she used to +wear--it's warm and soft, and we'll put it on her and wrap her in a +blanket when she comes to herself. She'll be all right presently." + +Like a man in a moving dream he obeyed, and while he went on his +errands Priscilla managed to get off some of the dripping garments +which clung to the girl's slight form as closely as the wrappings of a +shroud. Chafing the small icy hands, she smoothed the drenched fair +hair, loosening its pins and combs, and spreading it out to dry, +murmuring fond words of motherly pity and tenderness while the tears +trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. + +"My poor baby!--my pretty child!" she murmured--"What has broken her +like this?--The world's been too rough for her--I misdoubt me if her +fancies about love an' the like o' that nonsense aren't in the +mischief,--but praise the Lord that's brought her home again, an' if so +be it pleases Him we'll keep her home!" + +As she thought this, Innocent suddenly opened her eyes. Beautiful, wild +eyes that stared at her wonderingly without recognition. + +"Amadis!" The voice was thin and faint, but exquisitely tender. +"Amadis! How kind you are! Ah, yes!--at last!--I was sure you did not +mean to be cruel--I knew you would come back and be good to me again! +My Amadis!--You ARE good!--you could not be anything else but good and +true!" She laughed weakly and went on more rapidly--"It is +raining--yes! Oh, yes--raining very much!--such a cold, sharp rain! +I've walked quite a long way--but I felt I must come back to you, +Amadis!--just to ask you once more to say a kind word-to kiss me..." + +She closed her eyes again and her head fell back on the pillow of the +chair in which she lay. Priscilla's heart sank. + +"She doesn't know what she's talking about, poor lamb!" she +thought,--"Just wandering and off her head!--and fancying things about +that old French knight again!" + +Here Robin entered, and stood a moment, lost in a maze of enchanted +misery at the sight of the pitiful little half-disrobed figure in the +chair, till Priscilla took the white garment he had been sent to fetch +out of his passive hand. + +"There, dear lad, don't look like that!" she said. "Go, and come back +in a few minutes with the wine--we'll be ready for you then. Cheer +up!--she's opened her pretty eyes once--she'll open them again directly +and smile at you!" + +He moved away slowly with an aching heart, and a tightness in his +throat that impelled him to cry like a woman. Innocent!--little +Innocent!--she who had once been all brightness and gaiety,--was this +desolate, half-dying, stricken creature the same girl? Ah, no! Not the +same! Never the same any more! Some numbing blow had smitten her,--some +withering fire had swept over her, and she was no longer what she once +had been. This he felt by a lover's intuition,--intuition keener and +surer than all positive knowledge; and not the faintest hope stirred +within him that she would ever shake off the trance of that +death-in-life into which she had been plunged by some as yet unknown +disaster--unknown to him, yet dimly guessed. Meanwhile Priscilla's +loving task was soon done, and Innocent was clothed, warm and dry, in +one of the old hand-woven woollen gowns she had been accustomed to wear +in former days, and a thick blanket was wrapped cosily round her. She +was still more or less unconscious, but the reviving heat gradually +penetrated her body, and she began to sigh and move restlessly. She +opened her eyes again and fixed them on the bright fire. Robin came in +with the glass of wine, and Priscilla held it to her lips, forcing her +to swallow a few drops. + +The strong cordial started a little pulse of warmth in her failing +blood, and she made an effort to sit up. She looked vaguely round +her,--then her wandering gaze fixed itself on Priscilla's anxious old +face, and a faint smile, more pitiful than tears, trembled on her lips. + +"Priscilla!" she said--"I believe it is Priscilla I Oh, dear Priscilla! +I called you but you would not hear or answer me!" + +"Oh, my lamb, I heard ye right enough!"--and Priscilla fondled and +warmed the girl's passive hands--"But I couldn't think it was +yourself--I thought I was dreaming--" + +"So did I!" she answered feebly--"I thought I was dreaming...yes!--I +have been dreaming such a long, long time! All dreams! I have walked +through the rain--it was very dark and the wind was cold and cruel--but +I walked on and on--I don't know how I came--but I wanted to get home +to Briar Farm--do you know Briar Farm?" + +Stricken to the soul by the look of the wistful eyes expressing a mind +in chaos, Priscilla answered gently--"You're in Briar Farm now, +dearie!--Surely you know you are! This is your own old home--don't you +know it?--don't you remember the old kitchen?--of course you do! There, +there!--look up and see!" + +She lifted her head and gazed about her in a lost way. + +"No!" she murmured--"I wish I could believe it, but I cannot. I believe +nothing now. It is all strange to me--I have lost the way home, and I +shall never find it--never--never!" Here she suddenly pointed to Robin +standing aloof in utter misery. + +"Who is that?" she asked. + +Irresistibly impelled by love, fear, and pity, he came and knelt beside +her. + +"It's Robin!" he said--"Dear Innocent, don't you know me?" + +She touched his hair with one little hand, smiling like a pleased child. + +"Robin?" she queried--"Oh, no!--you cannot be Robin--he is ever so many +miles away!" She looked at him curiously,--then laughed, a cold, +mirthless little laugh. "I thought for a moment you might be +Amadis--his hair is like yours, thick and soft--you know him, of +course--he is the great painter, Amadis de Jocelyn--all the world has +heard of him! He went out just now and shut the door and locked it--but +he will come back--yes!--he will come back!" + +Robin heard and understood--the whole explanation of her misery +suddenly flashed on his mind, and inwardly he cursed the man who had +wreaked such havoc on her trusting soul. All at once she sprang up with +a wild cry. + +"He will come back--he must come back! Amadis!--Amadis!--you will not +leave me all alone?--No, no, you cannot be so cruel!" She stretched out +her arms as though to embrace some invisible treasure in the +air--"Priscilla! ... Priscilla!" Then as Priscilla took her gently +round the waist and tried to calm her she began to laugh again. "The +old motto!--you remember it?--the motto of the Sieur Amadis de +Jocelin!--'Mon coeur me soutien!' You know what it means--'My heart +sustains me.' Yes--and you know why his heart is so strong? Because it +is made of stone! A stone heart can sustain anything!--it is hard and +firm and cold--no rain, no tears can soften it!--no flowers ever grow +on it--it does not beat--it feels nothing--nothing!"--and her hands +dropped wearily at her sides. "It is not like MY heart! my heart burns +and aches--it is a foolish heart, and my brain is a foolish brain--I +cannot think with it--it is all dark and confused! And I have no one to +help me--I am all alone in the world!" + +"Innocent!" cried Robin passionately--"Oh, my love, my darling!--try to +recall your dear wandering mind! You are here in the old home you used +to love so well--you are not alone--you never shall be alone any more. +I am with you to love you and take care of you--I have loved you +always--I shall love you till I die!" + +She looked at him with a sudden smile. + +"Robin!--It is Robin!--you poor boy! You always talked like that!--but +you must not love me,--I have no love to give you--I would make you +happy if I could, but I cannot!" + +A violent shudder as of icy cold shook her limbs--she stretched out her +hands pitifully. + +"Would you take me somewhere to sleep?" she murmured--"I am very tired! +And when he comes you will wake me--I will not keep him a moment +waiting! Tell him I am quite well--and that I knew he did not mean to +be unkind--" + +Her voice broke--she tottered and nearly fell. Robin caught her in his +arms and laid her gently back in the chair, where she seemed to lapse +into unconsciousness. He turned a white, desperate face on Priscilla. + +"What is to be done?" he asked,--"Shall I go for the doctor?" + +Priscilla shook her head. + +"The doctor would be no use," she answered--"She's just fairly worn out +and wants rest. Her little room is ready,--I've kept it aired, and the +bed made warm and cosy ever since she went away--lest she should ever +come back sudden like... could you carry her up, d'ye think? She'll be +better in her bed--and she would come to herself quicker." + +Gently and with infinite tenderness he lifted the girl as though she +were a baby and carried her lightly up the broad oak staircase, +Priscilla leading the way--and soon they brought her into her own room, +unchanged since she had occupied it, and kept by Priscilla's loving and +half superstitious care ready for her return at any moment. Laying her +down on her little bed, Robin left her, though hardly able to tear +himself away, and going downstairs again he flung himself into a chair +and wept like a child for the ruin and wreck of the fair young life +which might have been the joy and sunshine of his days! + +"Amadis de Jocelyn!" he muttered--"A curse on him! Why should the +founder of this house bring evil on us?--Rising up like a ghost to +overshadow us and spoil our happiness?--Let the house perish and all +its traditions if it must be so, rather than that she should +suffer!--for she is innocent!" + +Yes--she was quite innocent,--the little "base-born" intruder on the +unbroken line and history of the Jocelyns!--and yet--it was with a kind +of horror that the memory of that unbroken line and history recurred to +him. Was there--could there be anything real in the long prevalent idea +that if the direct line of the Jocelyns were broken, the peace and +prosperity so long attendant on the old farm would be at an end? He put +the thought away with a sense of anger. + +"No, no! She could only bring joy wherever she went--no matter who her +parents were, or how she was born, my poor little one!--she has +suffered for no fault at all of her own!" + +He listened to the dying clamour of the storm--the wind still careered +round the house, making a noise like the beating wings of a great bird, +but the rain was ceasing and there was a deeper sense of quiet. An +approaching step startled him--he looked up and saw Priscilla. She +smiled encouragingly. + +"Cheer up, Mister Robin!" she said. ... "She is much better--she knows +where she is now, bless her heart!--and she's glad to be at home. Let +her alone--and if she 'as a good sleep she'll be a'most herself again +in the morning. I'll leave my bedroom door open all night--an' I'll be +lookin' in at 'er when she doesn't know it, watchin' her lovin' like +for all I'm worth! ... so don't ye worry, my lad!--there's a good God +in Heaven an' it'll all come right!" + +Robin took her rough work-worn hands and clasped them in his own. + +"Bless you, you dear woman!" he said, huskily. "Do you really think so? +Will she be herself again?--our own dear little Innocent?" + +"Of course she will!" and Priscilla blinked away the tears in her +eyes--"An' you'll mebbe win 'er yet!--The Lord's ways are ever +wonderful an' past findin' out--" + +A clear voice calling from the staircase interrupted them. + +"Priscilla! Robin!" + +Running to answer the summons, they saw Innocent at the top of the +stairs, a little vision of pale, smiling sweetness, in her white wool +wrapper--her hair falling loose over her shoulders. She kissed her +hands to them. + +"Only to say good-night!" she said,--"I know just where I am now!--it +was so foolish of me to forget! I am at home--and this is Briar +Farm--and I feel almost well and--happy! Robin!" + +He sprang up the stairs and, kneeling, took one of her hands and kissed +it. + +"That's my true knight!" she said. "Dear Robin! You deserve everything +good--and if it will give you joy I will marry you!" + +"Marry me!" he cried, scarcely believing his ears--"Innocent! You +will?--Dearest little love, you will?" + +She looked down upon him where he knelt, like some small compassionate +angel. + +"Yes--I will!--To please you and Dad!--Tomorrow if you like! But you +must say good-night now and let me sleep!" + +He kissed her hand again. + +"Good-night, sweet!" + +She started--and drew her hand away. + +"He said that once,--and once--in a letter--he wrote it. It seemed to +me beautiful!--'Good-night, sweet!'" She waited as if to think a +moment, then-- + +"Good-night!" again she said--"Do not be anxious about me--I shall +sleep well! Good-night!" + +She waved her hand once more, and disappeared like a little white +phantom in the dark corridor. + +"Does she mean it, do you think?" asked Robin, turning eagerly to +Priscilla--"Will she marry me, after all?" + +"I shouldn't wonder!" and the old woman nodded sagaciously--"Let her +sleep on it, lad!--an' you sleep on it, too!--The storm's nigh +over--an' mebbe our dark cloud 'as a silver lining!" + +Half-an-hour later on she went to her own bed--and on the way thought +she would peep into Innocent's room and see how she fared--but the +door was locked. Vexed at her own lack of foresight in not possessing +herself of the key before the girl had been carried to her room, she +left her own door open that she might be ready in case of any call--and +for a long time she lay awake watchfully, thinking and wondering what +the next day would bring forth--till at last anxiety and bewilderment +of mind were overcome by sheer fatigue and she slept. Not so Robin +Clifford. Excited and full of new hope which he hardly dared breathe to +himself, he made no attempt to rest--but paced his room up and down, up +and down, like a restless animal in a cage, waiting with hardly +endurable impatience for the dawn. Thoughts chased each other in his +brain too quickly to evolve any practical order out of them,--he tried +to plan out what he would do with the coming day--how he would let the +farm people know that Innocent had returned--how he would send a +telegram to her friend Miss Leigh in London to say she was safe in her +old home--and then the recollection of her literary success swept over +his mind like a sort of cloud--her fame!--the celebrity she had won in +that wider world outside Briar Farm--was it fair or honest to her that +he should take advantage of her weak and half-distraught condition and +allow her to become his wife?--she, whose genius was already +acknowledged by a wide and discerning public, and who might be +considered as only at the beginning of a brilliant and prosperous +career? + +"For, after all, I am only a farmer," he said--"And with the friends +she has made for herself she might marry any one! The best way for me +will be to give her time--time to recover from this--this terrible +trouble she seems to have on her mind--this curse of that fancy for +Amadis de Jocelyn!--by Heaven, I'd kill him without a minute's grace if +I had him in my power!" + +Still pacing to and fro and thinking, he wore the slow hours away, and +at last the grey peep of a misty, silvery dawn peered through his +window. He threw the lattice open and leaned out--the scent of the wet +fields and trees after the night's storm was sweet and refreshing, and +copied his heated blood. He reviewed the whole situation with greater +calmness,--and decided that he must not be selfish enough to grasp at +the proffered joy of marriage with the only woman he had ever loved +unless he could be made sure that it would be for her own happiness. + +"Just now she hardly knows what she is saying or doing," he mused, +sadly--"Some great disappointment has broken her spirit and she is +wounded and in pain,--but when she is quite herself and has mastered +her grief, she will see things in a different light--she will realise +the fame she has won,--the brilliant name she has made--yes!--she must +think of all this--she must not wrong herself or injure her position by +marrying me!" + +The silver-grey dawn brightened steadily, and in the eastern sky long +folds of silky mist began to shred away in thin strips of delicate +vapour showing peeps of pale amber between,--fitful touches of faint +rose-colour flitted here and there against the gold,--and with a sense +of relief that the day was at last breaking and that the sky showed +promise of the sun, he left his room, and stepping noiselessly into the +outside corridor, listened. Priscilla's door was wide open--and as he +passed he looked in,--she was fast asleep. He could not hear a +sound,--and though he walked on cautious tip-toe along the little +passage which led to the room where Innocent slept and waited there a +minute or two, straining his ears for any little sigh, or sob, or +whisper, none came;--all was silent. Quietly he went downstairs, and, +opening the hall door, stepped out into the garden. Every shrub and +plant was dripping with wet--many were beaten down and broken by the +fury of the night's storm, and there was more desolation than beauty in +the usually well-ordered and carefully-tended garden. The confusion of +fallen flowers and trailing stems made a melancholy impression on his +mind,--at another time he would scarcely have heeded what was, after +all, only the natural havoc wrought by high winds and heavy rains,--but +this morning there seemed to be more than the usual ruin. He walked +slowly round to the front of the house--and there looked up at the +projecting lattice window of Innocent's room. It was wide open. +Surprised, he stopped underneath it and looked up, half expecting to +see her,--but only a filmy white curtain moved gently with the first +stirrings of the morning air. He stood a moment or two irresolute, +recalling the night when he had climbed up by the natural ladder of the +old wistaria and had heard her tell the plaintive little story of her +"base-born" condition, with tears in her eyes, and the pale moonshine +lighting up her face like the face of an angel in a dream. + +"And she had written her first book already then!" he thought--"She had +all that genius in her and I never knew!" + +A deeper brightness in the sky began to glow, and a light spread itself +over the land--the sun was rising. He looked towards the low hills in +the east, and saw the golden rim lifting itself like the edge of a cup +above the horizon,--and as it ascended higher and higher, some fleecy +white clouds rolled softly away from its glittering splendour, showing +glimpses of tenderest ethereal blue. A still and solemn beauty invested +all the visible scene,--a sacred peace--the peace of an obedient and +law-abiding nature wherein man alone creates strange discord. Robin +looked long and lovingly at the fair prospect,-the wide meadows, the +stately trees warmly tinted with autumnal glory, and thought-- + +"Could she be happier than here?--safe in the arms of love?--safe and +sheltered from all trouble in the home she once idolised?" + +He would not answer his own inward query--and suddenly the fancy seized +him to call her by name, as he had called her on that moonlit night +long ago, and persuade her to look out on the familiar fields shining +in the sunlight of the morning. + +"Innocent!" + +There was no answer. + +He called a little louder-- + +"Innocent!" + +Still silence. A robin hopped out from the cover of wet leaves and +peered at him questioningly with its bold bright eye. Acting on an +irresistible impulse he set his foot on the gnarled root of the old +wistaria and started to climb to the window-sill. Three minutes +sufficed him to reach it--he looked into the little room,--the room +which had formerly been the study of the "Sieur Amadis de Jocelin"--and +there seated at the old oak table with her head bowed down upon her +hands and her hair covering her as with a veil, was Innocent. The +sunlight flashed brightly in upon her--and immediately above her the +golden beams traced out as with a pencil of light the arms of the old +French knight with the faded rose and blue of his shield and motto +illumining with curiously marked distinctness the words he himself had +carved beneath his own heraldic emblems: + +"Who here seekynge Forgetfulness Did here fynde Peace!" + +She was very strangely still,--and a cold fear suddenly caught at +Robin's heart and half choked his breath. + +"Innocent!" he cried. Then, leaping into the room like a man in sudden +frenzy, he rushed towards that motionless little figure--threw his arms +about it--lifted it--caressed it... + +"Innocent! Look at me! Speak to me!" + +The fair head fell passively back against his shoulder with all its +wealth of rippling hair--the fragile form he clasped was helpless, +lifeless, breathless!--and with a great shuddering sob of agony, he +realised the full measure of his life's despair. Innocent was +dead!--and for her, as for the "Sieur Amadis," the quaint words shining +above her in the morning sunlight were aptly fitted-- + +"Who here seekynge Forgetfulness Did here fynde Peace!" + + . . . . . . . + +Many things in life come too late to be of rescue or service, and +justice is always tardy in arrival. Too late was Pierce Armitage, after +long years of absence, to give his innocent child the simple heritage +of a father's acknowledgment; he could but look upon her dead face and +lay flowers on her in her little coffin. The world heard of the sudden +death of the young and brilliant writer with a faintly curious +concern--but soon forgot that she had ever existed. No one knew, no one +guessed the story of her love for the French painter, Amadis de +Jocelyn--he was abroad at the time of her death, and only three persons +secretly connected him with the sorrow of her end--and these were Lord +Blythe, Miss Leigh and Robin Clifford. Yet even these said nothing, +restrained by the thought of casting the smallest scandal on the sweet +lustre of her name. And Amadis de Jocelyn himself?--had he no +regret?--no pity? If the truth must be told, he was more relieved than +pained,--more flattered than sorry! The girl had died for +him,--well!--that was more or less a pleasing result of his power! She +was a silly child--obsessed by a "fancy"--it was not his fault if he +could not live up to that "fancy"--he liked "facts." His picture of her +was the success of the Salon that year, and he was admired and +congratulated,--this was enough for him. + +"One of your victims, Amadis?" asked a vivacious society woman he knew, +critically studying the portrait on the first day of its exhibition. + +He nodded, smilingly. + +"Really? And yet--Innocent?" + +He nodded again. + +"Very much so! She is dead!" + + . . . . . . . + +Sorrow and joy, strangely intermingled, divided the last years of life +for good Miss Leigh. The shock of the loss and death of the girl to +whom she had become profoundly attached, followed by the startling +discovery that her old lover Pierce Armitage was alive, proved almost +too much for her frail nerves--but her gratitude to God for the joy of +seeing the beloved face once again, and hearing the beloved voice, was +so touching and sincere that Armitage, smitten to the heart by the +story of her long fidelity and her tenderness for his forsaken +daughter, offered to marry her, earnestly praying her to let him share +life with her to the end. This she gently refused,--but for the rest of +her days she--with him and Lord Blythe--made a trio of friends,--a +compact of affection and true devotion such as is seldom known in this +work-a-day world. They were nearly always together,--and the memory of +Innocent, with her young life's little struggle against fate ending so +soon in disaster, was a link never to be broken save by death, which +breaks all. + + + + +L'ENVOI + +A few evenings since, I who have written this true story of a young +girl's romantic fancy, passed by Briar Farm. The air was very still, +and a red sun was sinking in a wintry sky. The old Tudor farmhouse +looked beautiful in the clear half-frosty light--but the trees in the +old bye road were leafless, and though the courtyard gate stood open +there were no flowers to be seen beyond, and no doves flying to and fro +among the picturesque gables. I knew, as I walked slowly along, that +just a mile distant, in the small churchyard of the village, Innocent, +the "base-born" child of sorrow, lay asleep by her "Dad," the last of +the Jocelyns,--I knew also that not far off from their graves, the +mortal remains of the faithful Priscilla were also resting in +peace--and I felt, with a heavy sadness at my heart, that the fame of +the old house was wearing out and that presently its tradition, like +many legendary and romantic things, would soon be forgotten. But just +at the turn of a path, where a low stile gives access to the road, I +saw a man standing, his arms folded and leaning on the topmost bar of +the stile--a man neither old nor young, with a strong quiet face, and +almost snow-white hair--a man quite alone, whose attitude and bearing +expressed the very spirit of solitude. I knew him for the master of the +farm--a man greatly honoured throughout the neighbourhood for justice +and kindness to all whom he employed, but also a man stricken by a +great sorrow for which there can be no remedy. + +"Will he never marry?" I thought,--but as I put the question to myself +I dismissed it almost as a blasphemy. For Robin Clifford is one of +those rarest souls among men who loves but once, and when love is lost +finds it not again. Except,--perhaps?--in a purer world than ours, +where our "fancies" may prove to have had a surer foundation than our +"facts." + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Innocent, by Marie Corelli + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INNOCENT *** + +***** This file should be named 5165.txt or 5165.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/6/5165/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/5165.zip b/5165.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef9c552 --- /dev/null +++ b/5165.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..44e066d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5165 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5165) diff --git a/old/nncnt10.txt b/old/nncnt10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b29005 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nncnt10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15456 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Innocent, by Marie Corelli +#10 in our series by Marie Corelli + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Innocent + Her Fancy and His Fact + +Author: Marie Corelli + +Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5165] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on May 27, 2002] +[Date last updated: July 18, 2005] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INNOCENT *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + +INNOCENT + +Her Fancy and His Fact + + +By MARIE CORELLI + + +Author of "God's Good Man," "The Treasure of Heaven," Etc. + + + + +BOOK ONE: HER FANCY + + + + +INNOCENT + + +BOOK ONE + +CHAPTER I + +The old by-road went rambling down into a dell of deep green +shadow. It was a reprobate of a road,--a vagrant of the land,-- +having long ago wandered out of straight and even courses and +taken to meandering aimlessly into many ruts and furrows under +arching trees, which in wet weather poured their weight of +dripping rain upon it and made it little more than a mud pool. +Between straggling bushes of elder and hazel, blackberry and +thorn, it made its solitary shambling way, so sunken into itself +with long disuse that neither to the right nor to the left of it +could anything be seen of the surrounding country. Hidden behind +the intervening foliage on either hand were rich pastures and +ploughed fields, but with these the old road had nothing in +common. There were many things better suited to its nature, such +as the melodious notes of the birds which made their homes year +after year amid its bordering thickets, or the gathering together +in springtime of thousands of primroses, whose pale, small, elfin +faces peeped out from every mossy corner,--or the scent of secret +violets in the grass, filling the air with the delicate sweetness +of a breathing made warm by the April sun. Or when the thrill of +summer drew the wild roses running quickly from the earth skyward, +twining their stems together in fantastic arches and tufts of deep +pink and flush-white blossom, and the briony wreaths with their +small bright green stars swung pendent from over-shadowing boughs +like garlands for a sylvan festival. Or the thousands of tiny +unassuming herbs which grew up with the growing speargrass, +bringing with them pungent odours from the soil as from some deep- +laid storehouse of precious spices. These choice delights were the +old by-road's peculiar possession, and through a wild maze of +beauty and fragrance it strayed on with a careless awkwardness, +getting more and more involved in tangles of green,--till at last, +recoiling abruptly as it were upon its own steps, it stopped short +at the entrance to a cleared space in front of a farmyard. With +this the old by-road had evidently no sort of business whatever, +and ended altogether, as it were, with a rough shock of surprise +at finding itself in such open quarters. No arching trees or +twining brambles were here,--it was a wide, clean brick-paved +place chiefly possessed by a goodly company of promising fowls, +and a huge cart-horse. The horse was tied to his manger in an open +shed, and munched and munched with all the steadiness and goodwill +of the sailor's wife who offended Macbeth's first witch. Beyond +the farmyard was the farmhouse itself,--a long, low, timbered +building with a broad tiled roof supported by huge oaken rafters +and crowned with many gables,--a building proudly declaring itself +as of the days of Elizabeth's yeomen, and bearing about it the +honourable marks of age and long stress of weather. No such +farmhouses are built nowadays, for life has become with us less +than a temporary thing,--a coin to be spent rapidly as soon as +gained, too valueless for any interest upon it to be sought or +desired. In olden times it was apparently not considered such +cheap currency. Men built their homes to last not only for their +own lifetime, but for the lifetime of their children and their +children's children; and the idea that their children's children +might possibly fail to appreciate the strenuousness and worth of +their labours never entered their simple brains. + +The farmyard was terminated at its other end by a broad stone +archway, which showed as in a semi-circular frame the glint of +scarlet geraniums in the distance, and in the shadow cast by this +embrasure was the small unobtrusive figure of a girl. She stood +idly watching the hens pecking at their food and driving away +their offspring from every chance of sharing bit or sup with +them,--and as she noted the greedy triumph of the strong over the +weak, the great over the small, her brows drew together in a +slight frown of something like scorn. Yet hers was not a face that +naturally expressed any of the unkind or harsh emotions. It was +soft and delicately featured, and its rose-white tints were +illumined by grave, deeply-set grey eyes that were full of wistful +and questioning pathos. In stature she was below the middle height +and slight of build, so that she seemed a mere child at first +sight, with nothing particularly attractive about her except, +perhaps, her hands. These were daintily shaped and characteristic +of inbred refinement, and as they hung listlessly at her sides +looked scarcely less white than the white cotton frock she wore. +She turned presently with a movement of impatience away from the +sight of the fussy and quarrelsome fowls, and looking up at the +quaint gables of the farmhouse uttered a low, caressing call. A +white dove flew down to her instantly, followed by another and yet +another. She smiled and extended her arms, and a whole flock of +the birds came fluttering about her in a whirl of wings, perching +on her shoulders and alighting at her feet. One that seemed to +enjoy a position of special favouritism, flew straight against her +breast,--she caught it and held it there. It remained with her +quite contentedly, while she stroked its velvety neck. + +"Poor Cupid!" she murmured. "You love me, don't you? Oh yes, ever +so much! Only you can't tell me so! I'm glad! You wouldn't be half +so sweet if you could!" + +She kissed the bird's soft head, and still stroking it scattered +all the others around her by a slight gesture, and went, followed +by a snowy cloud of them, through the archway into the garden +beyond. Here there were flower-beds formally cut and arranged in +the old-fashioned Dutch manner, full of sweet-smelling old- +fashioned things, such as stocks and lupins, verbena and +mignonette,--there were box-borders and clumps of saxifrage, +fuchsias, and geraniums,--and roses that grew in every possible +way that roses have ever grown, or can ever grow. The farmhouse +fronted fully on this garden, and a magnificent "Glory" rose +covered it from its deep black oaken porch to its highest gable, +wreathing it with hundreds of pale golden balls of perfume. A real +"old" rose it was, without any doubt of its own intrinsic worth +and sweetness,--a rose before which the most highly trained +hybrids might hang their heads for shame or wither away with envy, +for the air around it was wholly perfumed with its honey-scented +nectar, distilled from peaceful years upon years of sunbeams and +stainless dew. The girl, still carrying her pet dove, walked +slowly along the narrow gravelled paths that encircled the flower- +beds and box-borders, till, reaching a low green door at the +further end of the garden, she opened it and passed through into a +newly mown field, where several lads and men were about busily +employed in raking together the last swaths of a full crop of hay +and adding them to the last waggon which stood in the centre of +the ground, horseless, and piled to an almost toppling height. One +young fellow, with a crimson silk tie knotted about his open +shirt-collar, stood on top of the lofty fragrant load, fork in +hand, tossing the additional heaps together as they were thrown up +to him. The afternoon sun blazed burningly down on his uncovered +head and bare brown arms, and as he shook and turned the hay with +untiring energy, his movements were full of the easy grace and +picturesqueness which are often the unconscious endowment of those +whose labour keeps them daily in the fresh air. Occasional bursts +of laughter and scraps of rough song came from the others at work, +and there was only one absolutely quiet figure among them, that of +an old man sitting on an upturned barrel which had been but +recently emptied of its home-brewed beer, meditatively smoking a +long clay pipe. He wore a smock frock and straw hat, and under the +brim of the straw hat, which was well pulled down over his +forehead, his filmy eyes gleamed with an alert watchfulness. He +seemed to be counting every morsel of hay that was being added to +the load and pricing it in his mind, but there was no actual +expression of either pleasure or interest on his features. As the +girl entered the field, and her gown made a gleam of white on the +grass, he turned his head and looked at her, puffing hard at his +pipe and watching her approach only a little less narrowly than he +watched the piling up of the hay. When she drew sufficiently near +him he spoke. + +"Coming to ride home on last load?" + +She hesitated. + +"I don't know. I'm not sure," she answered. + +"It'll please Robin if you do," he said. + +A little smile trembled on her lips. She bent her head over the +dove she held against her bosom. + +"Why should I please Robin?" she asked. + +His dull eyes sparkled with a gleam of anger. + +"Please Robin, please ME," he said, sharply--"Please yourself, +please nobody." + +"I do my best to please YOU, Dad!" she said, gently, yet with +emphasis. + +He was silent, sucking at his pipe-stem. Just then a whistle +struck the air like the near note of a thrush. It came from the +man on top of the haywaggon. He had paused in his labour, and his +face was turned towards the old man and the girl. It was a +handsome face, lighted by a smile which seemed to have caught a +reflex of the sun. + +"All ready, Uncle!" he shouted--"Ready and waiting!" + +The old man drew his pipe from his mouth. + +"There you are!" he said, addressing the girl in a softer tone,-- +"He's wanting you." + +She moved away at once. As she went, the men who were raking in +the last sweepings of the hay stood aside for her to pass. One of +them put a ladder against the wheel of the waggon. + +"Going up, miss?" he asked, with a cheerful grin. + +She smiled a response, but said nothing. + +The young fellow on top of the load looked down. His blue eyes +sparkled merrily as he saw her. + +"Are you coming?" he called. + +She glanced up. + +"If you like," she answered. + +"If I like!" he echoed, half-mockingly, half-tenderly; "You know I +like! Why, you've got that wretched bird with you!" + +"He's not a wretched bird," she said,--"He's a darling!" + +"Well, you can't climb up here hugging him like that! Let him go, +--and then I'll help you." + +For all answer she ascended the ladder lightly without assistance, +still holding the dove, and in another minute was seated beside +him. + +"There!" she said, as she settled herself comfortably down in the +soft, sweet-smelling hay. "Now you've got your wish, and I hope +Dad is happy." + +"Did he tell you to come, or did you come of your own accord?" +asked the young man, with a touch of curiosity. + +"He told me, of course," she answered; "I should never have come +of my own accord." + +He bit his lip vexedly. Turning away from her he called to the +haymakers: + +"That'll do, boys! Fetch Roger, and haul in!" + +The sun was nearing the western horizon and a deep apricot glow +warmed the mown field and the undulating foliage in the far +distance. The men began to scatter here and there, putting aside +their long wooden rakes, and two of them went off to bring Roger, +the cart-horse, from his shed. + +"Uncle Hugo!" + +The old man, who still sat impassively on the beer-barrel, looked +up. + +"Ay! What is it?" + +"Are you coming along with us?" + +Uncle Hugo shook his head despondently. + +"Why not? It's the last load this year!" + +"Ay!" He lifted his straw hat and waved it in a kind of farewell +salute towards the waggon, repeating mechanically: "The last load! +The very last!" + +Then there came a cessation of movement everywhere for the moment. +It was a kind of breathing pause in Nature's everlasting chorus,-- +a sudden rest, as it seemed, in the very spaces of the air. The +young man threw himself down on the hay-load so that he faced the +girl, who sat quiet, caressing the dove she held. He was +undeniably good-looking, with an open nobility of feature which is +uncommon enough among well-born and carefully-nurtured specimens +of the human race, and is perhaps still more rarely to be found +among those whose lot in life is one of continuous hard manual +labour. Just now he looked singularly attractive, the more so, +perhaps, because he was unconscious of it. He stretched out one +hand towards the girl and touched the hem of her white frock. + +"Are you feeling kind?" + +Her eyes lightened with a gleam of merriment. + +"I am always kind." + +"Not to me! Not as kind as you are to that bird." + +"Oh, poor Cupid! You're jealous of him!" + +He moved a little nearer to her. + +"Perhaps I am!" And he spoke in a lower tone. "Perhaps I am, +Innocent! I grudge him the privilege of lying there on your dear +little white breast! I am envious when you kiss him! I want you to +kiss ME!" + +His voice was tremulous,--he turned up his face audaciously. + +She looked at him with a smile. + +"I will if you like!" she said. "I should think no more of kissing +you than of kissing Cupid!" + +He drew back with a gesture of annoyance. + +"I wouldn't be kissed at all that way," he said, hotly. + +"Why not?" + +"Because it's not the right way. A bird is not a man!" + +She laughed merrily. + +"Nor a man a bird, though he may have a bird's name!" she said. +"Oh, Robin, how clever you are!" + +He leaned closer. + +"Let Cupid go!" he pleaded,--"I want to ride home on the last load +with you alone." + +Another little peal of laughter escaped her. + +"I declare you think Cupid an actual person!" she said. "If he'll +go, he shall. But I think he'll stay." + +She loosened her hold of the dove, which, released, gravely hopped +up to her shoulder and sat there pruning its wing. She glanced +round at it. + +"I told you so!" she said,--"He's a fixture." + +"I don't mind him so much up there," said Robin, and he ventured +to take one of her hands in his own,--"but he always has so much +of you; he nestles under your chin and is caressed by your sweet +lips,--he has all, and I have,--nothing!" + +"You have one hand," said Innocent, with demure gravity. + +"But no heart with it!" he said, wistfully. "Innocent, can you +never love me?" + +She was silent, looking at him critically,--then she gave a little +sigh. + +"I'm afraid not! But I have often thought about it." + +"You have?"--and his eyes grew very tender. + +"Oh yes, often! You see, it isn't your fault at all. You are-- +well!"--here she surveyed him with a whimsical air of admiration, +--"you are quite a beautiful man! You have a splendid figure and a +good face, and kind eyes and well-shaped feet and hands,--and I +like the look of you just now with that open collar and that gleam +of sunlight in your curly hair--and your throat is almost white, +except for a touch of sunburn, which is RATHER becoming!-- +especially with that crimson silk tie! I suppose you put that tie +on for effect, didn't you?" + +He flushed, and laughed lightly. + +"Naturally! To please YOU!" + +"Really? How thoughtful of you! Well, you are charming,--and I +shouldn't mind kissing you at all. But it wouldn't be for love." + +"Wouldn't it? What would it be for, then?" + +Her face lightened up with the illumination of an inward mirth and +mischief. + +"Only because you look pretty!" she answered. + +He threw aside her hand with an angry gesture of impatience. + +"You want to make a fool of me!" he said, petulantly. + +"I'm sure I don't! You are just lovely, and I tell you so. That is +not making a fool of you!" + +"Yes, it is! A man is never lovely. A woman may be." + +"Well, I'm not," said Innocent, placidly. "That's why I admire the +loveliness of others." + +"You are lovely to me," he declared, passionately. + +She smiled. There was a touch of compassion in the smile. + +"Poor Robin!" she said. + +At that moment the hidden goddess in her soul arose and asserted +her claim to beauty. A rare indefinable charm of exquisite +tenderness and fascination seemed to environ her small and +delicate personality with an atmosphere of resistless attraction. +The man beside her felt it, and his heart beat quickly with a +thrilling hope of conquest. + +"So you pity me!" he said,--"Pity is akin to love." + +"But kinsfolk seldom agree," she replied. "I only pity you because +you are foolish. No one but a very foolish fellow would think ME +lovely." + +He raised himself a little and peered over the edge of the hay- +load to see if there was any sign of the men returning with Roger, +but there was no one in the field now except the venerable +personage he called Uncle Hugo, who was still smoking away his +thoughts, as it were, in a dream of tobacco. And he once more +caught the hand he had just let go and covered it with kisses. + +"There!" he said, lifting his head and showing an eager face lit +by amorous eyes. "Now you know how lovely you are to me! I should +like to kiss your mouth like that,--for you have the sweetest +mouth in the world! And you have the prettiest hair,--not raw gold +which I hate,--but soft brown, with delicious little sunbeams lost +in it,--and such a lot of it! I've seen it all down, remember! And +your eyes would draw the heart out of any man and send him +anywhere,--yes, Innocent!--anywhere,--to Heaven or to Hell!" + +She coloured a little. + +"That's beautiful talk!" she said,--"It's like poetry, but it +isn't true!" + +"It is true!" he said, with fond insistence. "And I'll MAKE you +love me!" + +"Ah, no!" A look of the coldest scorn suddenly passed over her +features--"that's not possible. You could never MAKE me do +anything! And--it's rude of you to speak in such a way. Please let +go my hand!" + +He dropped it instantly, and sprang erect. + +"All right! I'll leave you to yourself,--and Cupid!" Here he +laughed rather bitterly. "What made you give that bird such a +name?" + +"I found it in a book," she answered,--"It's a name that was given +to the god of Love when he was a little boy." + +"I know that! Please don't teach me my A.B.C.," said Robin, half- +sulkily. + +She leaned back laughing, and singing softly: + + "Love was once a little boy, + Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho! + Then 'twas sweet with him to toy, + Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho!" + +Her eyes sparkled in the sun,--a tress of her hair, ruffled by the +hay, escaped and flew like a little web of sunbeams against her +cheek. He looked at her moodily. + +"You might go on with the song," he said,--"'Love is now a little +man--'" + +"'And a very naughty one!'" she hummed, with a mischievous upward +glance. + +Despite his inward vexation, he smiled. + +"Say what you like, Cupid is a ridiculous name for a dove," he +said. + +"It rhymes to stupid," she replied, demurely,--"And the rhyme +expresses the nature of the bird and--the god!" + +"Pooh! You think that clever!" + +"I don't! I never said a clever thing in my life. I shouldn't know +how. Everything clever has been written over and over again by +people in books." + +"Hang books!" he exclaimed. "It's always books with you! I wish we +had never found that old chest of musty volumes in the panelled +room." + +"Do you? Then you are sillier than I thought you were. The books +taught me all I know,--about love!" + +"About love! You don't know what love means!" he declared, +trampling the hay he stood upon with impatience. "You read and +read, and you get the queerest ideas into your head, and all the +time the world goes on in ways that are quite different from what +YOU are thinking about,--and lovers walk through the fields and +lanes everywhere near us every year, and you never appear to see +them or to envy them--" + +"Envy them!" The girl opened her eyes wide. "Envy them! Oh, Cupid, +hear! Envy them! Why should I envy them? Who could envy Mr. and +Mrs. Pettigrew?" + +"What nonsense you talk!" he exclaimed,--"Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew +are married folk, not lovers!" + +"But they were lovers once," she said,--"and only three years ago. +I remember them, walking through the lanes and fields as you say, +with arms round each other,--and Mrs. Pettigrew's hands were +always dreadfully red, and Mr. Pettigrew's fingers were always +dirty,--and they married very quickly,--and now they've got two +dreadful babies that scream all day and all night, and Mrs. +Pettigrew's hair is never tidy and Pettigrew himself--well, you +know what he does!--" + +"Gets drunk every night," interrupted Robin, crossly,--"I know! +And I suppose you think I'm another Pettigrew?" + +"Oh dear, no!" And she laughed with the heartiest merriment. "You +never could, you never would be a Pettigrew! But it all comes to +the same thing--love ends in marriage, doesn't it?" + +"It ought to," said Robin, sententiously. + +"And marriage ends--in Pettigrews!" + +"Innocent!" + +"Don't say 'Innocent' in that reproachful way! It makes me feel +quite guilty! Now,--if you talk of names,--THERE'S a name to give +a poor girl,--Innocent! Nobody ever heard of such a name--" + +"You're wrong. There were thirteen Popes named Innocent between +the years 402 and 1724," said Robin, promptly,--"and one of them, +Innocent the Eleventh, is a character in Browning's 'Ring and the +Book.'" + +"Dear me!" And her eyes flashed provocatively. "You astound me +with your wisdom, Robin! But all the same, I don't believe any +girl ever had such a name as Innocent, in spite of thirteen Popes. +And perhaps the Thirteen had other names?" + +"They had other baptismal names," he explained, with a learned +air. "For instance, Pope Innocent the Third was Cardinal Lothario +before he became Pope, and he wrote a book called 'De Contemptu +Mundi sive de Miseria Humanae Conditionis!'" + +She looked at him as he uttered the sonorous sounding Latin, with +a comically respectful air of attention, and then laughed like a +child,--laughed till the tears came into her eyes. + +"Oh Robin, Robin!" she cried--"You are simply delicious! The most +enchanting boy! That crimson tie and that Latin! No wonder the +village girls adore you! 'De,'--what is it? 'Contemptu Mundi,' and +Misery Human Conditions! Poor Pope! He never sat on top of a hay- +load in his life I'm sure! But you see his name was Lothario,--not +Innocent." + +"His baptismal name was Lothario," said Robin, severely. + +She was suddenly silent. + +"Well! I suppose _I_ was baptised?" she queried, after a pause. + +"I suppose so." + +"I wonder if I have any other name? I must ask Dad." + +Robin looked at her curiously;--then his thoughts were diverted by +the sight of a squat stout woman in a brown spotted print gown and +white sunbonnet, who just then trotted briskly into the hay-field, +calling at the top of her voice: + +"Mister Jocelyn! Mister Jocelyn! You're wanted!" + +"There's Priscilla calling Uncle in," he said, and making a hollow +of his hands he shouted: + +"Hullo, Priscilla! What is it?" + +The sunbonnet gave an upward jerk in his direction and the wearer +shrilled out: + +"Doctor's come! Wantin' yer Uncle!" + +The old man, who had been so long quietly seated on the upturned +barrel, now rose stiffly, and knocking out the ashes of his pipe +turned towards the farmhouse. But before he went he raised his +straw hat again and stood for a moment bareheaded in the roseate +glory of the sinking sun. Innocent sprang upright on the load of +hay, and standing almost at the very edge of it, shaded her eyes +with one hand from the strong light, and looked at him. + +"Dad!" she called--"Dad, shall I come?" + +He turned his head towards her. + +"No, lass, no! Stay where you are, with Robin." + +He walked slowly, and with evident feebleness, across the length +of the field which divided him from the farmhouse garden, and +opening the green gate leading thereto, disappeared. The sun- +bonneted individual called Priscilla walked or rather waddled +towards the hay-waggon, and setting her arms akimbo on her broad +hips, looked up with a grin at the young people on top. + +"Well! Ye're a fine couple up there! What are ye a-doin' of?" + +"Never mind what we're doing," said Robin, impatiently. "I say, +Priscilla, do you think Uncle Hugo is really ill?" + +Priscilla's face, which was the colour of an ancient nutmeg, and +almost as deeply marked with contrasting lines of brown and +yellow, showed no emotion. + +"He ain't hisself," she said, bluntly. + +"No," said Innocent, seriously,--"I'm sure he isn't." Priscilla +jerked her sunbonnet a little further back, showing some tags of +dusty grey hair. + +"He ain't been hisself for this past year," she went on--"Mr. +Slowton, bein' only a kind of village physic-bottle, don't know +much, an' yer uncle ain't bin satisfied. Now there's another +doctor from London staying up 'ere for 'is own poor 'elth, and yer +Uncle said he'd like to 'ave 'is opinion,--so Mr. Slowton, bein' +obligin' though ignorant, 'as got 'im in to see yer Uncle, and +there they both is, in the best parlour, with special wine an' +seedies on the table." + +"Oh, it'll be all right!" said Robin, cheerfully,--"Uncle Hugo is +getting old, of course, and he's a bit fanciful." + +Priscilla sniffed the air. + +"Mebbe--and mebbe not! What are you two waitin' for now?" + +"For the men to come back with Roger. Then we'll haul home." + +"You'll 'ave to wait a bit longer, I'm thinkin'," said Priscilla-- +"They's all drinkin' beer in the yard now an' tappin' another +barrel to drink at when the waggon comes in. There's no animals on +earth as ever thirsty as men! Well, good luck t'ye! I must go, or +there'll be a smell of burnin' supper-cakes." + +She settled her sunbonnet anew and trotted away,--looking rather +like a large spotted mushroom mysteriously set in motion and +rolling, rather than walking, off the field. + +When she was gone, Innocent sat down again upon the hay, this time +without Cupid. He had flown off to join his mates on the farmhouse +gables. + +"Dad is really not well," she said, thoughtfully; "I feel anxious +about him. If he were to die,--" At the mere thought her eyes +filled with tears. "He must die some day," answered Robin, +gently,--"and he's old,--nigh on eighty." + +"Oh, I don't want to remember that," she murmured. "It's the +cruellest part of life--that people should grow old, and die, and +pass away from us. What should I do without Dad? I should be all +alone, with no one in the world to care what becomes of me." + +"_I_ care!" he said, softly. + +"Yes, you care--just now"--she answered, with a sigh; "and it's +very kind of you. I wish I could care--in the way you want me to-- +but--" + +"Will you try?" he pleaded. + +"I do try--really I do try hard," she said, with quite a piteous +earnestness,--"but I can't feel what isn't HERE,"--and she pressed +both hands on her breast--"I care more for Roger the horse, and +Cupid the dove, than I do for you! It's quite awful of me--but +there it is! I love--I simply adore"--and she threw out her arms +with an embracing gesture--"all the trees and plants and birds!-- +and everything about the farm and the farmhouse itself--it's just +the sweetest home in the world! There's not a brick or a stone in +it that I would not want to kiss if I had to leave it--but I never +felt that way for you! And yet I like you very, very much, Robin! +--I wish I could see you married to some nice girl, only I don't +know one really nice enough." + +"Nor do I!" he answered, with a laugh, "except yourself! But never +mind, dear!--we won't talk of it any more, just now at any rate. +I'm a patient sort of chap. I can wait!" + +"How long?" she queried, with a wondering glance. + +"All my life!" he answered, simply. + +A silence fell between them. Some inward touch of embarrassment +troubled the girl, for the colour came and went flatteringly in +her soft cheeks and her eyes drooped under his fervent gaze. The +glowing light of the sky deepened, and the sun began to sink in a +mist of bright orange, which was reflected over all the visible +landscape with a warm and vivid glory. That strange sense of +beauty and mystery which thrills the air with the approach of +evening, made all the simple pastoral scene a dream of +incommunicable loveliness,--and the two youthful figures, throned +on their high dais of golden-green hay, might have passed for the +rustic Adam and Eve of some newly created Eden. They were both +very quiet,--with the tense quietness of hearts that are too full +for speech. A joy in the present was shadowed with a dim +unconscious fear of the future in both their thoughts,--though +neither of them would have expressed their feelings in this regard +one to the other. A thrush warbled in a hedge close by, and the +doves on the farmhouse gables spread their white wings to the late +sunlight, cooing amorously. And again the man spoke, with a gentle +firmness: + +"All my life I shall love you, Innocent! Whatever happens, +remember that! All my life!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +The swinging open of a great gate at the further end of the field +disturbed the momentary silence which followed his words. The +returning haymakers appeared on the scene, leading Roger at their +head, and Innocent jumped up eagerly, glad of the interruption. + +"Here comes old Roger!" she cried,--"bless his heart! Now, Robin, +you must try to look very stately! Are you going to ride home +standing or sitting?" + +He was visibly annoyed at her light indifference. + +"Unless I may sit beside you with my arm round your waist, in the +Pettigrew fashion, I'd rather stand!" he retorted. "You said +Pettigrew's hands were always dirty--so are mine. I'd better keep +my distance from you. One can't make hay and remain altogether as +clean as a new pin!" + +She gave an impatient gesture. + +"You always take things up in the wrong way," she said--"I never +thought you a bit like Pettigrew! Your hands are not really +dirty!" + +"They are!" he answered, obstinately. "Besides, you don't want my +arm round your waist, do you?" + +"Certainly not!" she replied, quickly. + +"Then I'll stand," he said;--"You shall be enthroned like a queen +and I'll be your bodyguard. Here, wait a minute!" + +He piled up the hay in the middle of the load till it made a high +cushion where, in obedience to his gesture, Innocent seated +herself. The men leading the horse were now close about the +waggon, and one of them, grinning sheepishly at the girl, offered +her a daintily-made wreath of wild roses, from which all the +thorns had been carefully removed. + +"Looks prutty, don't it?" he said. + +She accepted it with a smile. + +"Is it for me? Oh, Larry, how nice of you! Am I to wear it?" + +"If ye loike!" This with another grin. + +She set it on her uncovered head and became at once a model for a +Romney; the wild roses with their delicate pink and white against +her brown hair suited the hues of her complexion and the tender +grey of her eyes;--and when, thus adorned, she looked up at her +companion, he was fain to turn away quickly lest his admiration +should be too plainly made manifest before profane witnesses. + +Roger, meanwhile, was being harnessed to the waggon. He was a +handsome creature of his kind, and he knew it. As he turned his +bright soft glance from side to side with a conscious pride in +himself and his surroundings, he seemed to be perfectly aware that +the knots of bright red ribbon tied in his long and heavy mane +meant some sort of festival. When all was done the haymakers +gathered round. + +"Good luck to the last load, Mr. Clifford!" they shouted. + +"Good luck to you all!" answered Robin, cheerily. + +"Good luck t'ye, Miss!" and they raised their sun-browned faces to +the girl as she looked down upon them. "As fine a crop and as fair +a load next year!" + +"Good luck to you!" she responded--then suddenly bending a little +forward she said almost breathlessly: "Please wish luck to Dad! +He's not well--and he isn't here! Oh, please don't forget him!" + +They all stared at her for a moment, as if startled or surprised, +then they all joined in a stentorian shout. + +"That's right, Miss! Good luck to the master! Many good years of +life to him, and better crops every year!" + +She drew back, smiling her thanks, but there were tears in her +eyes. And then they all started in a pretty procession--the men +leading Roger, who paced along the meadow with equine dignity, +shaking his ribbons now and again as if he were fully conscious of +carrying something more valuable than mere hay,--and above them +all smiled the girl's young face, framed in its soft brown hair +and crowned with the wild roses, while at her side stood the very +type of a model Englishman, with all the promise of splendid life +and vigour in the build of his form, the set of his shoulders and +the poise of his handsome head. It was a picture of youth and +beauty and lovely nature set against the warm evening tint of the +sky,--one of those pictures which, though drawn for the moment +only on the minds of those who see it, is yet never forgotten. + +Arriving presently at a vast enclosure, in which already two loads +of hay were being stacked, they were hailed with a cheery shout by +several other labourers at work, and very soon a strong smell of +beer began to mingle with the odour of the hay and the dewy scent +of the elder flowers and sweet briar in the hedges close by. + +"Have a drop, Mr. Clifford!" said one tall, powerful-looking man +who seemed to be a leader among the others, holding out a pewter +tankard full and frothing over. + +Robin Clifford smiled and put his lips to it. + +"Just to your health, Landon!" he said--"I'm not a drinking man." + +"Haymaking's thirsty work," commented the other. "Will Miss +Jocelyn do us the honour?" + +The girl made a wry little face. + +"I don't like beer, Mr. Landon," she said--"It's horrid stuff, +even when it's home-brewed! I help to make it, you see!" + +She laughed gaily--they all laughed with her, and then there was a +little altercation which ended in her putting her lips to the +tankard just offered to Robin and sipping the merest fleck of its +foam. Landon watched her,--and as she returned the cup, put his +own mouth to the place hers had touched and drank the whole +draught off greedily. Robin did not see his action, but the girl +did, and a deep blush of offence suffused her cheeks. She rose, a +little nervously. + +"I'll go in now," she said--"Dad must be alone by this time." + +"All right!" And Robin jumped lightly from the top of the load to +the ground and put the ladder up for her to descend. She came down +daintily, turning her back to him so that the hem of her neat +white skirt fell like a little snowflake over each rung of the +ladder, veiling not only her slim ankles but the very heels of her +shoes. When she was nearly at the bottom, he caught her up and set +her lightly on the ground. + +"There you are!" he said, with a laugh--"When you get into the +house you can tell Uncle that you are a Rose Queen, a Hay Queen, +and Queen of everything and everyone on Briar Farm, including your +very humble servant, Robin Clifford!" + +"And your humblest of slaves, Ned Landon!" added Landon, with a +quick glance, doffing his cap. "Mr. Clifford mustn't expect to +have it all his own way!" + +"What the devil are you talking about?" demanded Robin, turning +upon him with a sudden fierceness. + +Innocent gave him an appealing look. + +"Don't!--Oh, don't quarrel!" she whispered,--and with a parting +nod to the whole party of workers she hurried away. + +With her disappearance came a brief pause among the men. Then +Robin, turning away from Landon, proceeded to give various orders. +He was a person in authority, and as everyone knew, was likely to +be the owner of the farm when his uncle was dead. Landon went +close up to him. + +"Mr. Clifford," he said, somewhat thickly, "you heard what I said +just now? You mustn't expect to have it all your own way! There's +other men after the girl as well as you!" + +Clifford glanced him up and down. + +"Yourself, I suppose?" he retorted. + +"And why not?" sneered Landon. + +"Only because there are two sides to every question," said +Clifford, carelessly, with a laugh. "And no decision can be +arrived at till both are heard!" + +He climbed up among the other men and set to work, stacking +steadily, and singing in a fine soft baritone the old fifteenth- +century song: + + "Yonder comes a courteous knight, + Lustily raking over the hay, + He was well aware of a bonny lass, + As she came wandering over the way. + Then she sang Downe a downe, hey downe derry! + + "Jove you speed, fair ladye, he said, + Among the leaves that be so greene, + If I were a king and wore a crown, + Full soon faire Ladye shouldst thou be queene. + Then she sang Downe a downe, hey downe derry!" + +Landon looked up at him with a dark smile. + +"Those laugh best who laugh last!" he muttered, "And a whistling +throstle has had its neck wrung before now!" + +Meanwhile Innocent had entered the farmhouse. Passing through the +hall, which,--unaltered since the days of its original building,-- +was vaulted high and heavily timbered, she went first into the +kitchen to see Priscilla, who, assisted by a couple of strong +rosy-cheeked girls, did all the housework and cooking of the farm. +She found that personage rolling out pastry and talking volubly as +she rolled: + +"Ah! YOU'LL never come to much good, Jenny Spinner," she cried. +"What with a muck of dirty dishes in one corner and a muddle of +ragged clouts in another, you're the very model of a wife for a +farm hand! Can't sew a gown for yerself neither, but bound to send +it into town to be made for ye, and couldn't put a button on a +pair of breeches for fear of 'urtin' yer delicate fingers! Well! +God 'elp ye when the man comes as ye're lookin' for! He'll be a +fool anyhow, for all men are that,--but he'll be twice a fool if +he takes you for a life-satchel on his shoulders!" + +Jenny Spinner endured this tirade patiently, and went on with the +washing-up in which she was engaged, only turning her head to look +at Innocent as she appeared suddenly in the kitchen doorway, with +her hair slightly dishevelled and the wreath of wild roses +crowning her brows. + +"Priscilla, where's Dad?" she asked. + +"Lord save us, lovey! You gave me a real scare coming in like that +with them roses on yer head like a pixie out of the woods! The +master? He's just where the doctors left 'im, sittin' in his easy- +chair and looking out o' window." + +"Was it--was it all right, do you think?" asked the girl, +hesitatingly. + +"Now, lovey, don't ask me about doctors, 'cos I don't know nothin' +and wants to know nothin', for they be close-tongued folk who +never sez what they thinks lest they get their blessed selves into +hot water. And whether it's all right or all wrong, I couldn't +tell ye, for the two o' them went out together, and Mr. Slowton +sez 'Good-arternoon, Miss Friday!' quite perlite like, and the +other gentleman he lifts 'is 'at quite civil, so I should say +'twas all wrong. For if you mark me, lovey, men's allus extra +perlite when they thinks there's goin' to be trouble, hopin' +they'll get somethin' for theirselves out of it." + +Innocent hardly waited to hear her last words. + +"I'm going to Dad," she said, quickly, and disappeared. + +Priscilla Friday stopped for a minute in the rolling-cut of her +pastry. Some great stress of thought appeared to be working behind +her wrinkled brow, for she shook her head, pursed her lips and +rolled up her eyes a great many times. Then she gave a short sigh +and went on with her work. + +The farmhouse was a rambling old place, full of quaint corners, +arches and odd little steps up and down leading to cupboards, +mysterious recesses and devious winding ways which turned into +dark narrow passages, branching right and left through the whole +breadth of the house. It was along one of these that Innocent ran +swiftly on leaving the kitchen, till she reached a closed door, +where pausing, she listened a moment-then, hearing no sound, +opened it and went softly in. The room she entered was filled with +soft shadows of the gradually falling dusk, yet partially lit by a +golden flame of the after-glow which shone through the open +latticed window from the western sky. Close to the waning light +sat the master of the farm, still clad in his smock frock, with +his straw hat on the table beside him and his stick leaning +against the arm of his chair. He was very quiet,--so quiet, that a +late beam of the sun, touching the rough silver white of his hair, +seemed almost obtrusive, as suggesting an interruption to the +moveless peace of his attitude. Innocent stopped short, with a +tremor of nervous fear. + +"Dad!" she said, softly. + +He turned towards her. + +"Ay, lass! What is it?" + +She did not answer, but came up and knelt down beside him, taking +one of his brown wrinkled hands in her own and caressing it. The +silence between them was unbroken for quite two or three minutes; +then he said: + +"Last load in all safe?" + +"Yes, Dad!" + +"Not a drop of rain to wet it, and no hard words to toughen it, +eh?" + +"No, Dad." + +She gave the answer a little hesitatingly. She was thinking of Ned +Landon. He caught the slight falter in her voice and looked at her +suspiciously. + +"Been quarrelling with Robin?" + +"Dear Dad, no! We're the best of friends." + +He loosened his hand from her clasp and patted her head with it. + +"That's right! That's as it should be! Be friends with Robin, +child! Be friends!--be lovers!" + +She was silent. The after-glow warmed the tints of her hair to +russet-gold and turned to a deeper pink the petals of the roses in +the wreath she wore. He touched the blossoms and spoke with great +gentleness. + +"Did Robin crown thee?" + +She looked up, smiling. + +"No, it's Larry's wreath." + +"Larry! Ay, poor Larry! A good lad--but he can eat for two and +only work for one. 'Tis the way of men nowadays!" + +Another pause ensued, and the western gold of the sky began to +fade into misty grey. + +"Dad," said the girl then, in a low tone--"Do tell me--what did +the London doctor say?" + +He lifted his head quickly, and his old eyes for a moment flashed +as though suddenly illumined by a flame from within. + +"Say! What should he say, lass, but that I am old and must expect +to die? It's natural enough--only I haven't thought about it. It's +just that--I haven't thought about it!" + +"Why should you think about it?" she asked, with quick tenderness +--"You will not die yet--not for many years. You are not so very +old. And you are strong." + +He patted her head again. + +"Poor little wilding!" he said--"If you had your way I should live +for ever, no doubt! But an' you were wise with modern wisdom, you +would say I had already lived too long!" + +For answer, she drew down his hand and kissed it. + +"I do not want any modern wisdom," she said--"I am your little +girl and I love you!" + +A shadow flitted across his face and he moved uneasily. She looked +up at him. + +"You will not tell me?" + +"Tell you what?" + +"All that the London doctor said." + +He was silent for a minute's space--then he answered. + +"Yes, I will tell you, but not now. To-night after supper will be +time enough. And then--" + +"Yes--then?" she repeated, anxiously. + +"Then you shall know--you will have to know--" Here he broke off +abruptly. "Innocent!" + +"Yes, Dad?" + +"How old are you now?" + +"Eighteen." + +"Ay, so you are!" And he looked at her searchingly. "Quite a +woman! Time flies! You're old enough to learn--" + +"I have always tried to learn," she said--"and I like studying +things out of books--" + +"Ay! But there are worse things in life than ever were written in +books," he answered, wearily--"things that people hide away and +are ashamed to speak of! Ay, poor wilding! Things that I've tried +to keep from you as long as possible--but--time presses, and, I +shall have to speak--" + +She looked at him earnestly. Her face paled and her eyes grew dark +and wondering. + +"Have I done anything wrong?" she asked. + +"You? No! Not you! You are not to blame, child! But you've heard +the law set out in church on Sundays that 'The sins of the fathers +shall be visited on the children even unto the third and fourth +generation.' You've heard that?" + +"Yes, Dad!" + +"Ay!--and who dare say the fourth generation are to blame! Yet, +though they are guiltless, they suffer most! No just God ever made +such a law, though they say 'tis God speaking. _I_ say 'tis the +devil!" + +His voice grew harsh and loud, and finding his stick near his +chair, he took hold of it and struck it against the ground to +emphasise his words. + +"I say 'tis the devil!" + +The girl rose from her kneeling attitude and put her arms gently +round his shoulders. + +"There, Dad!" she said soothingly,--"Don't worry! Church and +church things seem to rub you up all the wrong way! Don't think +about them! Supper will be ready in a little while and after +supper we'll have a long talk. And then you'll tell me what the +doctor said." + +His angry excitement subsided suddenly and his head sank on his +breast. + +"Ay! After supper. Then--then I'll tell you what the doctor said." + +His speech faltered. He turned and looked out on the garden, full +of luxuriant blossom, the colours of which were gradually merging +into indistinguishable masses under the darkening grey of the +dusk. + +She moved softly about the room, setting things straight, and +lighting two candles in a pair of tall brass candlesticks which +stood one on either side of a carved oak press. The room thus +illumined showed itself to be a roughly-timbered apartment in the +style of the earliest Tudor times, and all the furniture in it was +of the same period. The thick gate-legged table--the curious +chairs, picturesque, but uncomfortable--the two old dower chests-- +the quaint three-legged stools and upright settles, were a +collection that would have been precious to the art dealer and +curio hunter, as would the massive eight-day clock with its +grotesquely painted face, delineating not only the hours and days +but the lunar months, and possessing a sonorous chime which just +now struck eight with a boom as deep as that of a cathedral bell. +The sound appeared to startle the old farmer with a kind of shock, +for he rose from his chair and grasped his stick, looking about +him as though for the moment uncertain of his bearings. + +"How fast the hours go by!" he muttered, dreamily. "When we're +young they don't count--but when we're old we know that every hour +brings us nearer to the end-the end, the end of all! Another night +closing in--and the last load cleared from the field--Innocent!" + +The name broke from his lips like a cry of suffering, and she ran +to him trembling. + +"Dad, dear, what is it?" + +He caught her outstretched hands and held them close. + +"Nothing--nothing!" he answered, drawing his breath quick and +hard--"Nothing, lass! No pain--no--not that! I'm only frightened! +Frightened!--think of it!--me frightened who never knew fear! And +I--I wouldn't tell it to anyone but you--I'm afraid of what's +coming--of what's bound to come! 'Twould always have come, I know +--but I never thought about it--it never seemed real! It never +seemed real--" + +Here the door opened, admitting a flood of cheerful light from the +outside passage, and Robin Clifford entered. + +"Hullo, Uncle! Supper's ready!" + +The old man's face changed instantly. Its worn and scared +expression smoothed into a smile, and, loosening his hold of +Innocent, he straightened himself and stood erect. + +"All right, my lad! You've worked pretty late!" + +"Yes, and we've not done yet. But we shall finish stacking +tomorrow," answered Clifford--"Just now we're all tired and +hungry." + +"Don't say you're thirsty!" said the old farmer, his smile +broadening. "How many barrels have been tapped to-day?" + +"Oh, well! You'd better ask Landon,"--and Clifford's light laugh +had a touch of scorn in it,--"he's the man for the beer! I hardly +ever touch it--Innocent knows that." + +"More work's done on water after all," said Jocelyn. "The horses +that draw for us and the cattle that make food for us prove that. +But we think we're a bit higher than the beasts, and some of us +get drunk to prove it! That's one of our strange ways as men! Come +along, lad! And you, child,"--here he turned to Innocent--"run and +tell Priscilla we're waiting in the Great Hall." + +He seemed to have suddenly lost all feebleness, and walked with a +firm step into what he called the Great Hall, which was +distinguished by this name from the lesser or entrance hall of the +house. It was a nobly proportioned, very lofty apartment, richly +timbered, the roof being supported by huge arched beams curiously +and intricately carved. Long narrow boards on stout old trestles +occupied the centre, and these were spread with cloths of coarse +but spotlessly clean linen and furnished with antique plates, +tankards and other vessels of pewter which would have sold for a +far larger sum in the market than solid silver. A tall carved +chair was set at the head of the largest table, and in this Farmer +Jocelyn seated himself. The men now began to come in from the +fields in their work-a-day clothes, escorted by Ned Landon, their +only attempt at a toilet having been a wash and brush up in the +outhouses; and soon the hall presented a scene of lively bustle +and activity. Priscilla, entering it from the kitchen with her two +assistants, brought in three huge smoking joints on enormous +pewter dishes,--then followed other good things of all sorts,-- +vegetables, puddings, pasties, cakes and fruit, which Innocent +helped to set out all along the boards in tempting array. It was a +generous supper fit for a "Harvest Home"--yet it was only Farmer +Jocelyn's ordinary way of celebrating the end of the haymaking,-- +the real harvest home was another and bigger festival yet to come. +Robin Clifford began to carve a sirloin of beef,--Ned Landon, who +was nearly opposite him, actively apportioned slices of roast +pork, the delicacy most favoured by the majority, and when all the +knives and forks were going and voices began to be loud and +tongues discursive, Innocent slipped into a chair by Farmer +Jocelyn and sat between him and Priscilla. For not only the farm +hands but all the servants on the place were at table, this +haymaking supper being the annual order of the household. The +girl's small delicate head, with its coronal of wild roses, looked +strange and incongruous among the rough specimens of manhood about +her, and sometimes as the laughter became boisterous, or some +bucolic witticism caught her ear, a faint flush coloured the +paleness of her cheeks and a little nervous tremor ran through her +frame. She drew as closely as she could to the old farmer, who sat +rigidly upright and quiet, eating nothing but a morsel of bread +with a bowl of hot salted milk Priscilla had put before him. Beer +was served freely, and was passed from man to man in leather +"blackjacks" such as were commonly used in olden times, but which +are now considered mere curiosities. They were, however, ordinary +wear at Briar Farm, and had been so since very early days. The +Great Hall was lighted by tall windows reaching almost to the roof +and traversed with shafts of solid stonework; the one immediately +opposite Farmer Jocelyn's chair showed the very last parting glow +of the sunset like a dull red gleam on a dark sea. For the rest, +thick home-made candles of a torch shape fixed into iron sconces +round the walls illumined the room, and burned with unsteady +flare, giving rise to curious lights and shadows as though ghostly +figures were passing to and fro, ruffling the air with their +unseen presences. Priscilla Priday, her wizened yellow face just +now reddened to the tint of a winter apple by her recent exertions +in the kitchen, was not so much engaged in eating her supper as in +watching her master. Her beady brown eyes roved from him to the +slight delicate girl beside him with inquisitive alertness. She +felt and saw that the old man's thoughts were far away, and that +something of an unusual nature was troubling his mind. Priscilla +was an odd-looking creature but faithful;--her attachments were +strong, and her dislikes only a shade more violent,--and just now +she entertained very uncomplimentary sentiments towards "them +doctors" who had, as she surmised, put her master out of sorts +with himself, and caused anxiety to the "darling child," as she +invariably called Innocent when recommending her to the guidance +of the Almighty in her daily and nightly prayers. Meanwhile the +noise at the supper table grew louder and more incessant, and +sundry deep potations of home-brewed ale began to do their work. +One man, seated near Ned Landon, was holding forth in very slow +thick accents on the subject of education: + +"Be eddicated!" he said, articulating his words with difficulty,-- +"That's what I says, boys! Be eddicated! Then everything's right +for us! We can kick all the rich out into the mud and take their +goods and enjoy 'em for ourselves. Eddication does it! Makes us +all we wants to be,--members o' Parli'ment and what not! I've only +one boy,--but he'll be eddicated as his father never was--" + +"And learn to despise his father!" said Robin, suddenly, his clear +voice ringing out above the other's husky loquacity. "You're +right! That's the best way to train a boy in the way he should +go!" + +There was a brief silence. Then came a fresh murmur of voices and +Ned Landon's voice rose above them. + +"I don't agree with you, Mr. Clifford," he said--"There's no +reason why a well-educated lad should despise his father." + +"But he often does," said Robin--"reason or no reason." + +"Well, you're educated yourself," retorted Landon, with a touch of +envy,--"You won a scholarship at your grammar school, and you've +been to a University." + +"What's that done for me?" demanded Robin, carelessly,--"Where has +it put me? Just nowhere, but exactly where I might have stood all +the time. I didn't learn farming at Oxford!" + +"But you didn't learn to despise your father either, did you, +sir?" queried one of the farm hands, respectfully. + +"My father's dead," answered Robin, curtly,--"and I honour his +memory." + +"So your own argument goes to the wall!" said Landon. "Education +has not made you think less of him." + +"In my case, no," said Robin,--"but in dozens of other cases it +works out differently. Besides, you've got to decide what +education IS. The man who knows how to plough a field rightly is +as usefully educated as the man who knows how to read a book, in +my opinion." + +"Education," interposed a strong voice, "is first to learn one's +place in the world and then know how to keep it!" + +All eyes turned towards the head of the table. It was Farmer +Jocelyn who spoke, and he went on speaking: + +"What's called education nowadays," he said, "is a mere smattering +and does no good. The children are taught, especially in small +villages like ours, by men and women who often know less than the +children themselves. What do you make of Danvers, for example, +boys?" + +A roar of laughter went round the table. + +"Danvers!" exclaimed a huge red-faced fellow at the other end of +the board,--"Why he talks yer 'ead off about what he's picked up +here and there like, and when I asked him to tell me where my son +is as went to Mexico, blowed if he didn't say it was a town +somewheres near New York!" + +Another roar went round the table. Farmer Jocelyn smiled and held +up his hand to enjoin silence. + +"Mr. Danvers is a teacher selected by the Government," he then +observed, with mock gravity. "And if he teaches us that Mexico is +a town near New York, we poor ignorant farm-folk are bound to +believe him!" + +They all laughed again, and he continued: + +"I'm old enough, boys, to have seen many changes, and I tell you, +all things considered, that the worst change is the education +business, so far as the strength and the health of the country +goes. That, and machine work. When I was a youngster, nearly every +field-hand knew how to mow,--now we've trouble enough to find an +extra man who can use a scythe. And you may put a machine on the +grass as much as you like, you'll never get the quality that +you'll get with a well-curved blade and a man's arm and hand +wielding it. Longer work maybe, and risk of rain--but, taking the +odds for and against, men are better than machines. Forty years +we've scythed the grass on Briar Farm, and haven't we had the +finest crops of hay in the county?" + +A chorus of gruff voices answered him: + +"Ay, Mister Jocelyn!" + +"That's right!" + +"I never 'member more'n two wet seasons and then we got last load +in 'tween showers," observed one man, thoughtfully. + +"There ain't never been nothin' wrong with Briar Farm hay crops +anyway--all the buyers knows that for thirty mile round," said +another. + +"And the wheat and the corn and the barley and the oats the same," +struck in the old farmer again--"all the seed sown by hand and the +harvest reaped by hand, and every man and boy in the village or +near it has found work enough to keep him in his native place, +spring, summer, autumn and winter, isn't that so?" + +"Ay, ay!" + +"Never a day out o' work!" + +"Talk of unemployed trouble," went on Jocelyn, "if the old ways +were kept up and work done in the old fashion, there'd be plenty +for all England's men to do, and to feed fair and hearty! But the +idea nowadays is to rush everything just to get finished with it, +and then to play cards or football, and get drunk till the legs +don't know whether it's land or water they're standing on! It's +the wrong way about, boys! It's the wrong way about! You may hurry +and scurry along as fast as you please, but you miss most good +things by the way; and there's only one end to your racing--the +grave! There's no such haste to drop into THAT, boys! It'll wait! +It's always waiting! And the quicker you go the quicker you'll get +to it! Take time while you're young! That time for me is past!" + +He lifted his head and looked round upon them all. There was a +strange wild look in his old eyes,--and a sudden sense of awe fell +on the rest of the company. Farmer Jocelyn seemed all at once +removed from them to a height of dignity above his ordinary +bearing. Innocent's rose-crowned head drooped, and tears sprang +involuntarily to her eyes. She tried to hide them, not so well, +however, but that Priscilla Priday saw them. + +"Now, lovey child!" she whispered,--"Don't take on! It's only the +doctors that's made him low like and feelin' blue, and he ain't +takin' sup or morsel, but we'll make him have a bite in his own +room afterwards. Don't you swell your pretty eyes and make 'em +red, for that won't suit me nor Mr. Robin neither, come, come!-- +that it won't!" + +Innocent put one of her little hands furtively under the board and +pressed Priscilla's rough knuckles tenderly, but she said nothing. +The silence was broken by one of the oldest men present, who rose, +tankard in hand. + +"The time for good farming is never past!" he said, in a hearty +voice--"And no one will ever beat Farmer Jocelyn at that! Full +cups, boys! And the master's health! Long life to him!" + +The response was immediate, every man rising to his feet. None of +them were particularly unsteady except Ned Landon, who nearly fell +over the table as he got up, though he managed to straighten +himself in time. + +"Farmer Jocelyn!" + +"To Briar Farm and the master!" + +"Health and good luck!" + +These salutations were roared loudly round the table, and then the +whole company gave vent to a hearty 'Hip-hip-hurrah!' that roused +echoes from the vaulted roof and made its flaring lights tremble. + +"One more!" shouted Landon, suddenly, turning his flushed face +from side to side upon those immediately near him--"Miss Jocelyn!" + +There followed a deafening volley of cheering,--tankards clinked +together and shone in the flickering light and every eye looked +towards the girl, who, colouring deeply, shrank from the tumult +around her like a leaf shivering in a storm-wind. Robin glanced at +her with a half-jealous, half-anxious look, but her face was +turned away from him. He lifted his tankard and, bowing towards +her, drank the contents. When the toast was fully pledged, Farmer +Jocelyn got up, amid much clapping of hands, stamping of feet and +thumping on the boards. He waited till quiet was restored, and +then, speaking in strong resonant accents, said: + +"Boys, I thank you! You're all boys to me, young and old, for +you've worked on the farm so long that I seem to know your faces +as well as I know the shape of the land and the trees on the +ridges. You've wished me health and long life--and I take it that +your wishes are honest--but I've had a long life already and +mustn't expect much more of it. However, the farm will go on just +the same whether I'm here or elsewhere,--and no man that works +well on it will be turned away from it,--that I can promise you! +And the advice I've always given to you I give to you again,-- +stick to the land and the work of the land! There's nothing finer +in the world than the fresh air and the scent of the good brown +earth that gives you the reward of your labour, always providing +it is labour and not 'scamp' service. When I'm gone you'll perhaps +remember what I say,--and think it not so badly said either. I +thank you for your good wishes and"--here he hesitated--"my little +girl here thanks you too. Next time you make the hay--if I'm not +with you--I ask you to be as merry as you are to-night and to +drink to my memory! For whenever one master of Briar Farm has gone +there's always been another in his place!--and there always will +be!" He paused,--then lifting a full tankard which had been put +beside him, he drank a few drops of its contents--"God bless you +all! May you long have the will to work and the health to enjoy +the fruits of honest labour!" + +There was another outburst of noisy cheering, followed by a new +kind of clamour, + +"A song!" + +"A song!" + +"Who'll begin?" + +"Where's Steevy?" + +"Little Steevy!" + +"Steevy! Wheer be ye got to?" roared one old fellow with very +white hair and a very red face--"ye're not so small as ye can hide +in yer mother's thimble!" + +A young giant of a man stood up in response to this adjuration, +blushing and smiling bashfully. + +"Here I be!" + +"Sing away, lad, sing away!" + +"Wet yer pipe, and whistle!" + +"Tune up, my blackbird!" + +Steevy, thus adjured, straightened himself to his full stature of +over six feet and drank off a cupful of ale. Then he began in a +remarkably fine and mellow tenor: + + "Would you choose a wife + For a happy life, + Leave the town and the country take; + Where Susan and Doll, + And Jenny and Moll, + Follow Harry and John, + While harvest goes on, + And merrily, merrily rake!" + + "The lass give me here, + As brown as my beer, + That knows how to govern a farm; + That can milk a cow, + Or farrow a sow, + Make butter and cheese, + And gather green peas, + And guard the poultry from harm." + + + "This, this is the girl, + Worth rubies and pearl, + The wife that a home will make! + We farmers need + No quality breed, + But a woman that's won + While harvest goes on, + And we merrily, merrily rake!" + +[Footnote: Old Song 1740.] + +A dozen or more stentorian voices joined in the refrain: + + "A woman that's won + While harvest goes on, + And we merrily, merrily rake." + +"Bravo!" + +"Good for you, Steevy!" + +"First-class!" + +"Here's to you, my lad!" + +The shouting, laughter and applause continued for many minutes, +then came more singing of songs from various rivals to the tuneful +Steevy. And presently all joined together in a boisterous chorus +which ran thus: + + "A glass is good and a lass is good, + And a pipe is good in cold weather, + The world is good and the people are good, + And we're all good fellows together!" + +In the middle of this performance Farmer Jocelyn rose from his +place and left the hall, Innocent accompanying him. Once he looked +back on the gay scene presented to him--the disordered supper- +table, the easy lounging attitudes of the well-fed men, the flare +of the lights which cast a ruddy glow on old and young faces and +sparkled over the burnished pewter,--then with a strange yearning +pain in his eyes he turned slowly away, leaning on the arm of the +girl beside him, and went,--leaving the merry-makers to +themselves. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Returning to the room where he had sat alone before supper, he +sank heavily into the armchair he had previously occupied. The +window was still open, and the scent of roses stole in with every +breath of air,--a few stars sparkled in the sky, and a faint line +of silver in the east showed where the moon would shortly rise. He +looked out in dreamy silence, and for some minutes seemed too much +absorbed in thought to notice the presence of Innocent, who had +seated herself at a small table near him, on which she had set a +lit candle, and was quietly sewing. She had forgotten that she +still wore the wreath of wild roses,--the fragile flowers were +drooping and dying in her hair, and as she bent over her work and +the candlelight illumined her delicate profile, there was +something almost sculptural in the shape of the leaves as they +encircled her brow, making her look like a young Greek nymph or +goddess brought to life out of the poetic dreams of the elder +world. She was troubled and anxious, but she tried not to let this +seem apparent. She knew from her life's experience of his ways and +whims that it was best to wait till the old man chose to speak, +rather than urge him into talk before he was ready or willing. She +glanced up from her sewing now and again and saw that he looked +very pale and worn, and she felt that he suffered. Her tender +young heart ached with longing to comfort him, yet she knew not +what she should say. So she sat quiet, as full of loving thoughts +as a Madonna lily may be full of the dew of Heaven, yet mute as +the angelic blossom itself. Presently he moved restlessly, and +turning in his chair looked at her intently. The fixity of his +gaze drew her like a magnet from her work and she put down her +sewing. + +"Do you want anything, Dad?" + +He rose, and began to fumble with the buttons of his smock. + +"Ay--just help me to get this off. The working day is over,--the +working clothes can go!" + +She was at his side instantly and with her light deft fingers soon +disembarrassed him of the homely garment. When it was taken off a +noticeable transformation was effected in his appearance. Clad in +plain dark homespun, which was fashioned into a suit somewhat +resembling the doublet and hose of olden times, his tall thin +figure had a distinctly aristocratic look and bearing which was +lacking when clothed in the labourer's garb. Old as he was, there +were traces of intellect and even beauty in his features,--his +head, on which the thin white hair shone like spun silver, was +proudly set on his shoulders in that unmistakable line which +indicates the power and the will to command; and as he +unconsciously drew himself upright he looked more like some old +hero of a hundred battles than a farmer whose chief pride was the +excellence of his crops and the prosperity of his farm managed by +hand work only. For despite the jeers of his neighbours, who were +never tired of remonstrating with him for not "going with the +times," Jocelyn had one fixed rule of farming, and this was that +no modern machinery should be used on his lands. He was the best +employer of labour for many and many a mile round, and the most +generous as well as the most exact paymaster, and though people +asserted that there was no reasonable explanation for it, +nevertheless it annually happened that the hand-sown, hand-reaped +crops of Briar Farm were finer and richer in grain and quality, +and of much better value than the machine-sown, machine-reaped +crops of any other farm in the county or for that matter in the +three counties adjoining. He stood now for a minute or two +watching Innocent as she looked carefully over his smock frock to +see if there were any buttons missing or anything to be done +requiring the services of her quick needle and thread,--then as +she folded it and put it aside on a chair he said with a thrill of +compassion in his voice: + +"Poor little child, thou hast eaten no supper! I saw thee playing +with the bread and touching no morsel. Art not well?" + +She looked up at him and tried to smile, but tears came into her +eyes despite her efforts to keep them back. + +"Dear Dad, I am only anxious," she murmured, tremulously. "You, +too, have had nothing. Shall I fetch you a glass of the old wine? +It will do you good." + +He still bent his brows thoughtfully upon her. + +"Presently--presently--not now," he answered. "Come and sit by me +at the window and I'll tell you--I'll tell you what you must know. +But see you, child, if you are going to cry or fret, you will be +no help to me and I'll just hold my peace!" + +She drew a quick breath, and her face paled. + +"I will not cry," she said,--"I will not fret. I promise you, +Dad!" + +She came close up to him as she spoke. He took her gently in his +arms and kissed her. + +"That's a brave girl!" And holding her by the hand he drew her +towards the open window--"Look out there! See how the stars shine! +Always the same, no matter what happens to us poor folk down +here,--they twinkle as merrily over our graves as over our +gardens,--and yet if we're to believe what we're taught nowadays, +they're all worlds more or less like our own, full of living +creatures that suffer and die like ourselves. It's a queer plan of +the Almighty, to keep on making wonderful and beautiful things +just to destroy them! There seems no sense in it!" + +He sat down again in his chair, and she, obeying his gesture, +brought a low stool to his feet and settled herself upon it, +leaning against his knee. Her face was upturned to his and the +flickering light of the tall candles quivering over it showed the +wistful tender watchfulness of its expression--a look which seemed +to trouble him, for he avoided her eyes. + +"You want to know what the London doctor said," he began. "Well, +child, you'll not be any the better for knowing, but it's as I +thought. I've got my death-warrant. Slowton was not sure about +me,--but this man, ill as he is himself, has had too much +experience to make mistakes. There's no cure for me. I may last +out another twelve months--perhaps not so long--certainly not +longer." + +He saw her cheeks grow white with the ashy whiteness of a sudden +shock. Her eyes dilated with pain and fear, and a quick sigh +escaped her, then she set her lips hard. + +"I don't believe it," she said, adding with stronger emphasis--"I +WON'T believe it!" + +He patted the small hand that rested on his knee. + +"You won't? Poor little girl, you must believe it!--and more than +that, you must be prepared for it. Even a year's none too much for +all that has to be done,--'twill almost take me that time to look +the thing square in the face and give up the farm for good."--Here +he paused with a kind of horror at his own words--"Give up the +farm!--My God! And for ever! How strange it seems!" + +The tumult in her mind found sudden speech. + +"Dad, dear! Dad! It isn't true! Don't think it! Don't mind what +the doctor says. He's wrong--I'm sure he's wrong! You'll live for +many and many a happy year yet--oh yes, Dad, you will! I'm sure of +it! You won't die, darling Dad! Why should you?" + +She broke off with a half-smothered sob. + +"Why should I?" he said, with a perplexed frown; "Ah!--that's more +than I can tell you! There's neither rhyme nor reason in it that I +can see. But it's the rule of life that it should end in death. +For some the end is swift--for some it's slow--some know when it's +coming--some don't,--the last are the happiest. I've been told, +you see,--and it's no use my fighting against the fact,--a year at +the most, perhaps less, is the longest term I have of Briar Farm. +Your eyes are wet--you promised you wouldn't cry." + +She furtively dashed away the drops that were shining on her +lashes. Then she forced a faint quivering smile. + +"I'm not crying, Dad," she said. "There's nothing to cry for," and +she fondled his hand in her own--"The doctors are wrong. You're +only a little weak and run down--you'll be all right with rest and +care--and--and you shan't die! You shan't die! I won't let you." + +He drew a long breath and passed his hand across his forehead as +though he were puzzled or in pain. + +"That's foolish talk," he said, with some harshness; "You've got +trouble to meet, and you must meet it. I'm bound to show you +trouble--but I can show you a way out of it as well." + +He paused a moment,--a light wind outside the lattice swayed a +branch of roses to and fro, shaking out their perfume as from a +swung censer. + +"The first thing I must tell you," he went on, "is about yourself. +It's time you should know who you are." + +She looked up at him startled. + +"Who I am?" she repeated,--then as she saw the stern expression on +his face a sudden sense of fear ran through her nerves like the +chill of an icy wind and she waited dumbly for his next word. He +gripped her hand hard in his own. + +"Now hear me out, child!" he said--"Let me speak on without +interruption, or I shall never get through the tale. Perhaps I +ought to have told you before, but I've put it off and put it off, +thinking 'twould be time enough when you and Robin were wed. You +and Robin--you and Robin!--your marriage bells have rung through +my brain many and many a night for the past two years and never a +bit nearer are you to the end of your wooing, such fanciful +children as you both are! And you're so long about it and I've so +short a time before me that I've made up my mind it's best to let +you have all the truth about yourself before anything happens to +me. All the truth about yourself--as far as I know it." + +He paused again. She was perfectly silent. She trembled a little-- +wondering what she was going to hear. It must be something +dreadful, she thought,--something for which she was unprepared,-- +something that might, perhaps, like a sudden change in the +currents of the air, create darkness where there had been +sunshine, storm instead of calm. His grip on her hand was strong +enough to hurt her, but she was not conscious of it. She only +wished he would tell her the worst at once and quickly. The +worst,--for she instinctively felt there was no best. + +"It was eighteen years ago this very haymaking time," he went on, +with a dreamy retrospective air as though he were talking to +himself,--"The last load had been taken in. Supper was over. The +men had gone home,--Priscilla was clearing the great hall, when +there came on a sudden storm--just a flash of lightning--I can see +it now, striking a blue fork across the windows--a clap of +thunder--and then a regular downpour of rain. Heavy rain, too,-- +buckets-full--for it washed the yard out and almost swamped the +garden. I didn't think much about it,--the hay was hauled in dry, +and that was all my concern. I stood under a shed in the yard and +watched the rain falling in straight sheets out of a sky black as +pitch--I could scarcely see my own hand if I stretched it out +before me, the night was so dark. All at once I heard the quick +gallop of a horse's hoofs some way off,--then the sound seemed to +die away,--but presently I heard the hoofs coming at a slow steady +pace down our muddy old by-road--no one can gallop THAT, in any +weather. And almost before I knew how it came there, the horse was +standing at the farmyard gate, with a man in the saddle carrying a +bundle in front of him. He was the handsomest fellow I ever saw, +and when he dismounted and came towards me, and took off his cap +in the pouring rain and smiled at me, I was fairly taken with his +looks. I thought he must be something of a king or other great +personage by his very manner. 'Will you do me a kindness?' he +said, as gently as you please. 'This is a farm, I believe. I want +to leave my little child here in safe keeping for a night. She is +such a baby,--I cannot carry her any further through this storm.' +And he put aside the wrappings of the bundle he carried and showed +me a small pale infant asleep. 'She's motherless,' he added, 'and +I'm taking her to my relatives. But I have to ride some distance +from here on very urgent business, and if you will look after her +for to-night I'll call for her to-morrow. Poor little innocent! +She's hungry and fretful. I haven't anything to give her and the +storm looks like continuing. Will you let her stay with you?' +'Certainly!' said I, without thinking a bit further about it. +'Leave her here by all means. We'll see she gets all she wants.' +He gave me the child at once and said in a very soft voice: 'You +are most generous!--"verily I have not found so great a faith, no +not in Israel!" You're sure you don't mind?' 'Not at all!' I +answered him,--'You'll come back for her to-morrow, of course.' He +smiled and said--'Oh yes, of course! To-morrow! I'm really very +much obliged to you!' Then he seemed to think for a moment and put +his hand in his pocket, but I stopped him--'No, sir,' I said, +'excuse me, but I don't want any pay for giving a babe a night's +shelter.' He looked at me very straight with his big clear hazel +eyes, and then shook hands with me. 'You're an honest fellow,' he +said,--and he stooped and kissed the child he had put into my +arms. 'I'm extremely sorry to trouble you, but the storm is too +much for this helpless little creature.' 'You yourself are wet +through,' I interrupted. 'That doesn't matter,' he answered,--'for +me nothing matters. Thank you a thousand times! Good-night!' The +rain was coming down faster than ever and I stepped back into the +shed, covering the child up so that the drifting wet should not +beat upon it. He came after me and kissed it again, saying 'Good- +night, poor little innocent, good-night!' three or four times. +Then he went off quickly and sprang into his saddle and in the +blur of rain I saw horse and man turn away. He waved his hand once +and his handsome pale face gleamed upon me like that of a ghost in +the storm. 'Till to-morrow!' he called, and was gone. I took the +child into the house and called Priscilla. She was always a rough +one as you know, even in her younger days, and she at once laid +her tongue to with a will and as far as she dared called me a fool +for my pains. And so I was, for when I came to think of it the man +was a stranger to me, and I had never asked him his name. It was +just his handsome face and the way he had with him that had thrown +me off my guard as it were; so I stood and looked silly enough, I +suppose, while Priscilla fussed about with the baby, for it had +wakened and was crying. Well!"--and Jocelyn heaved a short sigh-- +"That's about all! We never saw the man again, and the child was +never claimed; but every six months I received a couple of bank- +notes in an envelope bearing a different postmark each time, with +the words: 'For Innocent' written inside--" + +She uttered a quick, almost terrified exclamation, and drew her +hand away from his. + +"Every six months for a steady twelve years on end," he went on,-- +"then the money suddenly stopped. Now you understand, don't you? +YOU were the babe that was left with me that stormy night; and +you've been with me ever since. But you're not MY child. I don't +know whose child you are!" + +He stopped, looking at her. + +She had risen from her seat beside him and was standing up. She +was trembling violently, and her face seemed changed from the +round and mobile softness of youth to the worn pallor and thinness +of age. Her eyes were luminous with a hard and feverish +brilliancy. + +"You--you don't know whose child I am!" she repeated,--"I am not +yours--and you don't know--you don't know who I belong to! Oh, it +hurts me!--it hurts me, Dad! I can't realise it! I thought you +were my own dear father!--and I loved you!--oh, how much I loved +you!--yet you have deceived me all along!" + +"I haven't deceived you," he answered, impatiently. "I've done all +for the best--I meant to tell you when you married Robin--" + +A flush of indignation flew over her cheeks. + +"Marry Robin!" she exclaimed--"How could I marry Robin? I'm +nothing! I'm nobody! I have not even a name!" + +She covered her face with her hands and an uncontrollable sob +broke from her. + +"Not even a name!" she murmured--"Not even a name!" + +With a sudden impulsive movement she knelt down in front of him +like a child about to say its prayers. + +"Oh, help me, Dad!" she said, piteously--"Comfort me! Say +something--anything! I feel so lost--so astray! All my life seems +gone!--I can't realise it! Yes, I know! You have been very kind,-- +all kindness, just as if I had been your own little girl. Oh, why +did you tell me I was your own?--I was so proud to be your +daughter--and now--it's so hard--so hard! Only a few moments ago I +was a happy girl with a loving father as I thought--now I know I'm +only a poor nameless creature,--deserted by my parents and left on +your hands. Oh, Dad dear! I've given you years of trouble!--I hope +I've been good to you! It's not my fault that I am what I am!" + +He laid his wrinkled hand on her bowed head. + +"Dear child, of course it's not your fault! That's what I've said +all along. You're innocent, like your name,--and you've been a +blessing to me all your days,--the farm has been brighter for your +living on it,--so you've no cause to worry me or yourself about +what's past long ago and can't be helped. No one knows your story +but Priscilla,--no one need ever know." + +She sprang up from her kneeling attitude. + +"Priscilla!" she echoed--"She knew, and she never said a word!" + +"If she had, she'd have got the sack," answered Jocelyn, bluntly. +"You were brought up always as MY child." + +He broke off, startled by the tragic intensity of her look. + +"I want to know how that was," she said, slowly. "You told me my +mother died when I was born." + +He avoided her eyes. + +"Well, that was true, or so I suppose," he said. "The man who +brought you said you were motherless. But I--I have never +married." + +"Then how could you tell Robin--and everyone else about here that +I was your daughter?" + +He grew suddenly angry. + +"Child, don't stare at me like that!" he exclaimed, with all an +old man's petulance. "It doesn't matter what I said--I had to let +the neighbours think you were mine--" + +A light flashed in upon her, and she gave vent to a shuddering +cry. + +"Dad! Oh, Dad!" + +Gripping both arms of his chair he raised himself into an upright +posture. + +"What now?" he demanded, almost fiercely--"What trouble are you +going to make of it?" + +"Oh, if it were only trouble," she exclaimed, forlornly. "It's far +worse! You've branded me with shame! Oh, I understand now! I +understand at last why the girls about here never make friends +with me! I understand why Robin seems to pity me so much! Oh, how +shall I ever look people in the face again!" + +His fuzzy brows met in a heavy frown. + +"Little fool!" he said, roughly,--"What shame are you talking of? +I see no shame in laying claim to a child of my own, even though +the claim has no reality. Look at the thing squarely! Here comes a +strange man with a baby and leaves it on my hands. You know what a +scandalous, gossiping little place this is,--and it was better to +say at once the baby was mine than leave it to the neighbours to +say the same thing and that I wouldn't acknowledge it. Not a soul +about here would have believed the true story if I had told it to +them. I've done everything for the best--I know I have. And +there'll never be a word said if you marry Robin." + +Her face had grown very white. She put up her hand to her head and +her fingers touched the faded wreath of wild roses. She drew it +off and let it drop to the ground. + +"I shall never marry Robin!" she said, with quiet firmness--"And I +will not be considered your illegitimate child any longer. It's +cruel of you to have made me live on a lie!--yes, cruel!--though +you've been so kind in other things. You don't know who my parents +were--you've no right to think they were not honest!" + +He stared at her amazed. For the first time in eighteen years he +began to see the folly of what he had thought his own special +wisdom. This girl, with her pale sad face and steadfast eyes, +confronted him with the calm reproachful air of an accusing angel. + +"What right have you?" she went on. "The man who brought me to +you,--poor wretched me!--if he was my father, may have been good +and true. He said I was motherless; and he, or someone else, sent +you money for me till I was twelve. That did not look as if I was +forgotten. Now you say the money has stopped--well!--my father may +be dead." Her lips quivered and a few tears rolled down her +cheeks. "But there is nothing in all this that should make you +think me basely born,--nothing that should have persuaded you to +put shame upon me!" + +He was taken aback for a minute by her words and attitude--then he +burst out angrily: + +"It's the old story, I see! Do a good action and it turns out a +curse! Basely born! Of course you are basely born, if that's the +way you put it! What man alive would leave his own lawful child at +a strange farm off the high-road and never claim it again? You're +a fool, I tell you! This man who brought you to me was by his look +and bearing some fine gentleman or other who had just the one idea +in his head--to get rid of an encumbrance. And so he got rid of +you--" + +"Don't go over the whole thing again!" she interrupted, with weary +patience-"-I was an encumbrance to him--I've been an encumbrance +to you. I'm sorry! But in no case had you the right to set a +stigma on me which perhaps does not exist. That was wrong!" + +She paused a moment, then went on slowly: + +"I've been a burden on you for six years now,--it's six years, you +say, since the money stopped. I wish I could do something in +return for what I've cost you all those six years,--I've tried to +be useful." + +The pathos in her voice touched him to the quick. + +"Innocent!" he exclaimed, and held out his arms. + +She looked at him with a very pitiful smile and shook her head. + +"No! I can't do that! Not just yet! You see, it's all so +unexpected--things have changed altogether in a moment. I can't +feel quite the same--my heart seems so sore and cold." + +He leaned back in his chair again. + +"Ah, well, it is as I thought!" he said, irritably. "You're more +concerned about yourself than about me. A few minutes ago you only +cared to know what the doctors thought of my illness, but now it's +nothing to you that I shall be dead in a year. Your mind is set on +your own trouble, or what you choose to consider a trouble." + +She heard him like one in a dream. It seemed very strange to her +that he should have dealt her a blow and yet reproach her for +feeling the force of it. + +"I am sorry!" she said, patiently. "But this is the first time I +have known real trouble--you forget that!--and you must forgive me +if I am stupid about it. And if the doctors really believe you are +to die in a year I wish I could take your place, Dad!--I would +rather be dead than live shamed. And there's nothing left for me +now,--not even a name--" + +Here she paused and seemed to reflect. + +"Why am I called Innocent?" + +"Why? Because that's the name that was written on every slip of +paper that came with each six months' money," he answered, +testily. "That's the only reason I know." + +"Was I baptised by that name?" she asked. + +He moved uneasily. + +"You were never baptised." + +"Never baptised!" She echoed the words despairingly,--and then was +silent for a minute's space. "Could you not have done that much +for me?" she asked, plaintively, at last--"Would it have been +impossible?" + +He was vaguely ashamed. Her eyes, pure as a young child's, were +fixed upon him in appealing sorrow. He began to feel that he had +done her a grievous wrong, though he had never entirely realised +it till now. He answered her with some hesitation and an effort at +excuse. + +"Not impossible--no,--maybe I could have baptised you myself if I +had thought about it. 'Tis but a sprinkle of water and 'In the Name +of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.' But somehow I never worried +my head--for as long as you were a baby I looked for the man who +brought you day after day, and in my own mind left all that sort +of business for him to attend to--and when he didn't come and you +grew older, it fairly slipped my remembrance altogether. I'm not +fond of the Church or its ways,--and you've done as well without +baptism as with it, surely. Innocent is a good name for you, and +fits your case. For you're innocent of the faults of your parents +whatever they were, and you're innocent of my blunders. You're +free to make your own life pleasant if you'll only put a bright +face on it and make the best of an awkward business." + +She was silent, standing before him like a little statuesque +figure of desolation. + +"As for the tale I told the neighbours," he went on--"it was the +best thing I could think of. If I had said you were a child I had +taken in to adopt, not one of them would have believed me; 'twas a +case of telling one lie or t'other, the real truth being so queer +and out of the common, so I chose the easiest. And it's been all +right with you, my girl, whichever way you put it. There may be a +few stuck-up young huzzies in the village that aren't friendly to +you, but you may take it that it's more out of jealousy of Robin's +liking for you than anything else. Robin loves you--you know he +does; and all you've got to do is to make him happy. Marry him, +for the farm will be his when I'm dead, and it'll give me a bit of +comfort to feel that you're settled down with him in the old home. +For then I know it'll go on just the same--just the same--" + +His words trailed off brokenly. His head sank on his chest, and +some slow tears made their difficult way out of his eyes and +dropped on his silver beard. + +She watched him with a certain grave compassion, but she did not +at once go, as she would usually have done, to put her arms round +his neck and console him. She seemed to herself removed miles away +from him and from everything she had ever known. Just then there +was a noise of rough but cheery voices outside shouting "good- +night" to each other, and she said in a quiet tone: + +"The men are away now. Is there anything you want before I go to +bed?" + +With a sudden access of energy, which contrasted strangely with +his former feebleness, he rose and confronted her. + +"No, there's nothing I want!" he said, in vehement tones--"Nothing +but peace and quietness! I've told you your story, and you take it +ill. But recollect, girl, that if you consider any shame has been +put on you, I've put equal shame on myself for your sake--I, Hugo +Jocelyn,--against whom never a word has been said but this,--which +is a lie--that my child, mine!--was born out of wedlock! I +suffered this against myself solely for your sake--I, who never +wronged a woman in my life!--I, who never loved but one woman, who +died before I had the chance to marry her!--and I say and I swear +I have sacrificed something of my name and reputation to you! So +that you need not make trouble because you also share in the +sacrifice. Robin thinks you're my child, and therefore his +cousin,--and he counts nothing against you, for he knows that what +the world would count against you must be my fault and would be my +fault, if the lie I started against myself was true. Marry Robin, +I tell you!--and if you care to make me happy, marry him before I +die. Then you're safe out of all harm's way. If you DON'T marry +him--" + +Her breath came and went quickly--she folded her hands across her +bosom, trying to still the loud and rapid beating of her heart, +but her eyes were very bright and steadfast. + +"Yes? What then?" she asked, calmly. + +"Then you must take the consequences," he said. "The farm and all +I have is left to Robin,--he's my dead sister's son and my nearest +living kin--" + +"I know that," she said, simply, "and I'm glad he has everything. +It's right that it should be so. I shall not be in his way. You +may be quite sure of that. But I shall not marry him." + +"You'll not marry him?" he repeated, and seemed about to give vent +to a torrent of invective when she extended her hands clasped +together appealingly. + +"Dad, don't be angry!--it only hurts you and it does no good! Just +before supper you reminded me of what they say in Church that 'the +sins of the fathers should be visited on the children, even unto +the third and fourth generation.' I will not visit the sin of my +father and mother on anyone. If you will give me a little time I +shall be able to understand everything more clearly, and perhaps +bear it better. I want to be quite by myself. I must try to see +myself as I am,--unbaptised, nameless, forsaken! And if there is +anything to be done with this wretched little self of mine, it is +I that must do it. With God's help!" She sighed, and her lips +moved softly again in the last words, "With God's help!" + +He said nothing, and she waited a moment as if expecting him to +speak. Then she moved to the table where she had been sitting and +folded up her needlework. + +"Shall I get you some wine, Dad?" she asked presently in a quiet +voice. + +"No!" he replied, curtly--"Priscilla can get it." + +"Then good-night!" + +Still standing erect he turned his head and looked at her. + +"Are you going?" he said. "Without your usual kiss?--your usual +tenderness? Why should you change to me? Your own father--if he +was your father--deserted you,--and I have been, a father to you +in his place, wronging my own honourable name for your sake; am I +to blame for this? Be reasonable! The laws of man are one thing +and the laws of God are another,--and we have to make the best we +can of ourselves between the two. There's many a piece of wicked +injustice in the world, but nothing more wicked than to set shame +or blame on a child that's born without permit of law or blessing +of priest. For it's not the child's fault,--it's brought into the +world without its own consent,--and yet the world fastens a slur +upon it! That's downright brutal and senseless!--for if there is +any blame attached to the matter it should be fastened on the +parents, and not on the child. And that's what I thought when you +were left on my hands--I took the blame of you on myself, and I +was careful that you should be treated with every kindness and +respect--mind you that! Respect! There's not a man on the place +that doesn't doff his cap to you; and you've been as my own +daughter always. You can't deny it! And more than that"--here his +strong voice faltered--"I've loved you!--yes-I've loved you, +little Innocent--" + +She looked up in his face and saw it quivering with suppressed +emotion, and the strange cold sense of aloofness that had numbed +her senses suddenly gave way like snow melting in the spring. In a +moment she was in his arms, weeping out her pent-up tears on his +breast, and he, stroking her soft hair, soothed her with every +tender and gentle word he could think of. + +"There, there!" he murmured, fondly. "Thou must look at it in this +way, dear child! That if God deprived thee of one father he gave +thee another in his place! Make the best of that gift before it be +taken from thee!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +There are still a few old houses left in rural England which are +as yet happily unmolested by the destroying ravages of modern +improvement, and Briar Farm was one of these. History and romance +alike had their share in its annals, and its title-deeds went back +to the autumnal days of 1581, when the Duke of Anjou came over +from France to England with a royal train of noblemen and +gentlemen in the hope to espouse the greatest monarch of all time, +"the most renowned and victorious" Queen Elizabeth, whose reign +has clearly demonstrated to the world how much more ably a clever +woman can rule a country than a clever man, if she is left to her +own instinctive wisdom and prescience. No king has ever been wiser +or more diplomatic than Elizabeth, and no king has left a more +brilliant renown. As the coldest of male historians is bound to +admit, "her singular powers of government were founded equally on +her temper and on her capacity. Endowed with a great command over +herself, she soon obtained an uncontrolled ascendant over her +people. Few sovereigns of England succeeded to the throne under +more difficult circumstances, and none ever conducted the +government with such uniform success and felicity." Had Elizabeth +been weak, the Duke of Anjou might have realised his ambitious +dream, with the unhappiest results for England; and that he +fortunately failed was entirely due to her sagacity and her quick +perception of his irresolute and feeble character. In the +sumptuous train attendant upon this "Petit Grenouille," as he +styled himself in one of his babyish epistles to England's +sovereign majesty, there was a certain knight more inclined to the +study of letters than to the breaking of lances,--the Sieur Amadis +de Jocelin, who being much about the court in the wake of his +somewhat capricious and hot-tempered master, came, unfortunately +for his own peace of mind, into occasional personal contact with +one of the most bewitching young women of her time, the Lady +Penelope Devereux, afterwards Lady Rich, she in whom, according to +a contemporary writer, "lodged all attractive graces and beauty, +wit and sweetness of behaviour which might render her the mistress +of all eyes and hearts." Surrounded as she was by many suitors, +his passion was hopeless from the first, and that he found it so +was evident from the fact that he suddenly disappeared from the +court and from his master's retinue, and was never heard of by the +great world again. Yet he was not far away. He had not the +resolution to leave England, the land which enshrined the lady of +his love,--and he had lost all inclination to return to France. He +therefore retired into the depths of the sweet English country, +among the then unspoilt forests and woodlands, and there happening +to find a small manor-house for immediate sale, surrounded by a +considerable quantity of land, he purchased it for the ready cash +he had about him and settled down in it for the remainder of his +life. Little by little, such social ambitions as he had ever +possessed left him, and with every passing year he grew more and +more attached to the simplicity and seclusion of his surroundings. +He had leisure for the indulgence of his delight in books, and he +was able to give the rein to his passion for poetry, though it is +nowhere recorded that he ever published the numerous essays, +sonnets and rhymed pieces which, written in the picturesque +caligraphy of the period, and roughly bound by himself in +sheepskin, occupied a couple of shelves in his library. He entered +with animation and interest into the pleasures of farming and +other agricultural pursuits, and by-and-bye as time went on and +the former idol of his dreams descended from her fair estate of +virtue and scandalised the world by her liaison with Lord +Mountjoy, he appears to have gradually resigned the illusions of +his first love, for he married a simple village girl, remarkable, +so it was said, for her beauty, but more so for her skill in +making butter and cheese. She could neither read nor write, +however, and the traditions concerning the Sieur Amadis relate +that he took a singular pleasure in teaching her these +accomplishments, as well as in training her to sing and to +accompany herself upon the lute in a very pretty manner. She made +him an excellent wife, and gave him no less than six children, +three boys and three girls, all of whom were brought up at home +under the supervision of their father and mother, and encouraged +to excel in country pursuits and to understand the art of +profitable farming. It was in their days that Briar Farm entered +upon its long career of prosperity, which still continued. The +Sieur Amadis died in his seventieth year, and by his own wish, +expressed in his "Last Will and Testament," was buried in a +sequestered spot on his own lands, under a stone slab which he had +himself fashioned, carving upon it his recumbent figure in the +costume of a knight, a cross upon his breast and a broken sword at +his side. His wife, though several years younger than himself, +only lived a twelve-month after him and was interred by his side. +Their resting-place was now walled off, planted thickly with +flowers, and held sacred by every succeeding heir to the farm as +the burial-place of the first Jocelyns. Steadily and in order, the +families springing from the parent tree of the French knight +Amadis had occupied Briar Farm in unbroken succession, and through +three centuries the property had been kept intact, none of its +possessions being dispersed and none of its land being sold. The +house was practically in the same sound condition as when the +Sieur Amadis fitted and furnished it for his own occupation,-- +there was the same pewter, the same solid furniture, the same fine +tapestry, preserved by the careful mending of many hundreds of +needles worked by hands long ago mingled with the dust of the +grave, and, strange as it may seem to those who are only +acquainted with the flimsy manufactures of to-day, the same stout +hand-wrought linen, which, mended and replenished each year, +lasted so long because never washed by modern methods, but always +by hand in clear cold running water. There were presses full of +this linen, deliriously scented with lavender, and there were also +the spinning-wheels that had spun the flax and the hand-looms on +which the threads had been woven. These were witnesses to the days +when women, instead of gadding abroad, were happy to be at home-- +when the winter evenings seemed short and bright because as they +sat spinning by the blazing log fire they were cheerful in their +occupation, singing songs and telling stories and having so much +to do that there was no time to indulge in the morbid analysis of +life and the things of life which in our present shiftless day +perplex and confuse idle and unhealthy brains. + +And now after more than three centuries, the direct male line of +Amadis de Jocelin had culminated in Hugo, commonly called Farmer +Jocelyn, who, on account of some secret love disappointment, the +details of which he had never told to anyone, had remained +unmarried. Till the appearance on the scene of the child, +Innocent, who was by the village folk accepted and believed to be +the illegitimate offspring of this ill-starred love, it was +tacitly understood that Robin Clifford, his nephew, and the only +son of his twin sister, would be the heir to Briar Farm; but when +it was seen how much the old man seemed to cling to Innocent, and +to rely upon her ever tender care of him, the question arose as to +whether there might not be an heiress after all, instead of an +heir. And the rustic wiseacres gossiped, as is their wont, +watching with no small degree of interest the turn of events which +had lately taken place in the frank and open admiration and +affection displayed by Robin for his illegitimate cousin, as it +was thought she was, and as Farmer Jocelyn had tacitly allowed it +to be understood. If the two young people married, everybody +agreed it would be the right thing, and the best possible outlook +for the continued prosperity of Briar Farm. For after all, it was +the farm that had to be chiefly considered, so they opined,--the +farm was an historic and valuable property as well as an excellent +paying concern. The great point to be attained was that it should +go on as it had always gone on from the days of the Sieur Amadis, +--and that it should be kept in the possession of the same family. +This at any rate was known to be the cherished wish of old Hugo +Jocelyn, though he was not given to any very free expression of +his feelings. He knew that his neighbours envied him, watched him +and commented on his actions,--he knew also that the tale he had +told them concerning Innocent had to a great extent whispered away +his own good name and fastened a social slur upon the girl,--yet +he could not, according to his own views, have seen any other way +out of the difficulty. The human world is always wicked-tongued; +and it is common knowledge that any man or woman introducing an +"adopted" child into a family is at once accused, whether he or +she be conscious of the accusation or not, of passing off his own +bastard under the "adoption" pretext. Hugo Jocelyn was fairly +certain that none of his neighbours would credit the romantic +episode of the man on horseback arriving in a storm and leaving a +nameless child on his hands. The story was quite true,--but truth +is always precisely what people refuse to believe. + +The night on which Innocent had learned her own history for the +first time was a night of consummate beauty in the natural world. +When all the gates and doors of the farm and its outbuildings had +been bolted and barred for the night, the moon, almost full, rose +in a cloudless heaven and shed pearl-white showers of radiance all +over the newly-mown and clean-swept fields, outlining the points +of the old house gables and touching with luminous silver the +roses that clambered up the walls. One wide latticed window was +open to the full inflowing of the scented air, and within its +embrasure sat a lonely little figure in a loose white garment with +hair tumbling carelessly over its shoulders and eyes that were wet +with tears. The clanging chime of the old clock below stairs had +struck eleven some ten minutes since, and after the echo of its +bell had died away there had followed a heavy and intense silence. +The window looked not upon the garden, but out upon the fields and +a suggestive line of dark foliage edging them softly in the +distance,--away down there, under a huge myriad-branched oak, +slept the old knight Sieur Amadis de Jocelin and his English +rustic wife, the founders of the Briar Farm family. The little +figure in the dark embrasure of the window clasped its white hands +and turned its weeping eyes towards that ancient burial-place, and +the moon-rays shone upon its fair face with a silvery glimmer, +giving it an almost spectral pallor. "Why was I ever born?" sighed +a trembling voice--"Oh, dear God! Why did you let it be?" + +The vacant air, the vacant fields looked blankly irresponsive. +They had no sympathy to give,--they never have. To great Mother +Nature it is not important how or why a child is born, though she +occasionally decides that it shall be of the greatest importance +how and why the child shall live. What does it matter to the +forces of creative life whether it is brought into the world +"basely," as the phrase goes, or honourably? The child exists,--it +is a human entity--a being full of potential good or evil,--and +after a certain period of growth it stands alone, and its parents +have less to do with it than they imagine. It makes its own +circumstances and shapes its own career, and in many cases the +less it is interfered with the better. But Innocent could not +reason out her position in any cold-blooded or logical way. She +was too young and too unhappy. Everything that she had taken pride +in was swept from her at once. Only that very morning she had made +one of her many pilgrimages down to the venerable oak beneath +whose trailing branches the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin lay, covered +by the broad stone slab on which he had carved his own likeness, +and she had put a little knot of the "Glory" roses between his +mailed hands which were folded over the cross on his breast, and +she had said to the silent effigy: + +"It is the last day of the haymaking, Sieur Amadis! You would be +glad to see the big crop going in if you were here!" + +She was accustomed to talk to the old stone knight in this +fanciful way,--she had done so all her life ever since she could +remember. She had taken an intense pride in thinking of him as her +ancestor; she had been glad to trace her lineage back over three +centuries to the love-lorn French noble who had come to England in +the train of the Due d'Anjou--and now--now she knew she had no +connection at all with him,--that she was an unnamed, unbaptised +nobody--an unclaimed waif of humanity whom no one wanted! No one +in all the world--except Robin! He wanted her;--but perhaps when +he knew her true history his love would grow cold. She wondered +whether it would be so. If it were she would not mind very much. +Indeed it would be best, for she felt she could never marry him. + +"No, not if I loved him with all my heart!" she said, +passionately--"Not without a name!--not till I have made a name +for myself, if only that were possible!" + +She left the window and walked restlessly about her room, a room +that she loved very greatly because it had been the study of the +Sieur Amadis. It was a wonderful room, oak-panelled from floor to +ceiling, and there was no doubt about its history,--the Sieur +Amadis himself had taken care of that. For on every panel he had +carved with his own hand a verse, a prayer, or an aphorism, so +that the walls were a kind of open notebook inscribed with his own +personal memoranda. Over the wide chimney his coat-of-arms was +painted, the colours having faded into tender hues like those of +autumn leaves, and the motto underneath was "Mon coeur me +soutien." Then followed the inscription: + + "Amadis de Jocelin, + Knight of France, + Who here seekynge Forgetfulness did here fynde Peace." + +Every night of her life since she could read Innocent had stood in +front of these armorial bearings in her little white night-gown +and had conned over these words. She had taken the memory and +tradition of Amadis to her heart and soul. He was HER ancestor,-- +hers, she had always said;--she had almost learned her letters +from the inscriptions he had carved, and through these she could +read old English and a considerable amount of old French besides. +When she was about twelve years old she and Robin Clifford, +playing about together in this room, happened to knock against one +panel that gave forth a hollow reverberant sound, and moved by +curiosity they tried whether they could open it. After some +abortive efforts Robin's fingers closed by chance on a hidden +spring, which being thus pressed caused the panel to fly open, +disclosing a narrow secret stair. Full of burning excitement the +two children ran up it, and to their delight found themselves in a +small square musty chamber in which were two enormous old dower- +chests, locked. Their locks were no bar to the agility of Robin, +who, fetching a hammer, forced the old hasps asunder and threw +back the lids. The coffers were full of books and manuscripts +written on vellum, a veritable sixteenth-century treasure-trove. +They hastened to report the find to Farmer Jocelyn, who, though +never greatly taken with books or anything concerning them, was +sufficiently interested to go with the eager children and look at +the discovery they had made. But as he could make nothing of +either books or manuscripts himself, he gave over the whole +collection to Innocent, saying that as they were found in her part +of the house she might keep them. No one--not even Robin--knew how +much she had loved and studied these old books, or how patiently +she had spelt out the manuscripts; and no one could have guessed +what a wide knowledge of literature she had gained or what fine +taste she had developed from her silent communications with the +parted spirit of the Sieur Amadis and his poetical remains. She +had even arranged her room as she thought he might have liked it, +in severe yet perfect taste. It was now her study as it had been +his,--the heavy oak table had a great pewter inkstand upon it and +a few loose sheets of paper with two or three quill pens ready to +hand,--some quaint old vellum-bound volumes and a brown +earthenware bowl full of "Glory" roses were set just where they +could catch the morning sunshine through the lattice window. One +side of the room was lined with loaded bookshelves, and at its +furthest end a wide arch of roughly hewn oak disclosed a smaller +apartment where she slept. Here there was a quaint little four- +poster bedstead, hung with quite priceless Jacobean tapestry, and +a still more rare and beautiful work of art--an early Italian +mirror, full length and framed in silver, a curio worth many +hundreds of pounds. In this mirror Innocent had surveyed herself +with more or less disfavour since her infancy. It was a mirror +that had always been there--a mirror in which the wife of the +Sieur Amadis must have often gazed upon her own reflection, and in +which, after her, all the wives and daughters of the succeeding +Jocelyns had seen their charms presented to their own admiration. +The two old dower-chests which had been found in the upper chamber +were placed on either side of the mirror, and held all the simple +home-made garments which were Innocent's only wear. A special joy +of hers lay in the fact that she knew the management of the secret +sliding panel, and that she could at her own pleasure slip up the +mysterious stairway with a book and be thus removed from all the +household in a solitude which to her was ideal. To-night as she +wandered up and down her room like a little distraught ghost, all +the happy and romantic associations of the home she had loved and +cherished for so many years seemed cut down like a sheaf of fair +blossoms by a careless reaper,--a sordid and miserable taint was +on her life, and she shuddered with mingled fear and grief as she +realised that she had not even the simple privilege of ordinary +baptism. She was a nameless waif, dependent on the charity of +Farmer Jocelyn. True, the old man had grown to love her and she +had loved him--ah!--let the many tender prayers offered up for him +in this very room bear witness before the throne of God to her +devotion to her "father" as she had thought him! And now--if what +the doctors said was true--if he was soon to die--what would +become of her? She wrung her little hands in unconscious agony. + +"What shall I do?" she murmured, sobbingly--"I have no claim on +him, or on anyone in the world! Dear God, what shall I do?" + +Her restless walk up and down took her into her sleeping-chamber, +and there she lit a candle and looked at herself in the old +Italian mirror. A little woe-begone creature gazed sorrowfully +back at her from its shining surface, with brimming eyes and +quivering lips, and hair all tossed loosely away from a small sad +face as pale as a watery moon, and she drew back from her own +reflection with a gesture of repugnance. + +"I am no use to anybody in any way," she said, despairingly--"I am +not even good-looking. And Robin--poor foolish Robin!--called me +'lovely' this afternoon! He has no eyes!" + +Then a sudden thought flew across her brain of Ned Landon. The +tall powerful-looking brute loved her, she knew. Every look of his +told her that his very soul pursued her with a reckless and +relentless passion. She hated him,--she trembled even now as she +pictured his dark face and burning eyes;--he had annoyed and +worried her in a thousand ways--ways that were not sufficiently +open in their offence to be openly complained of, though had +Farmer Jocelyn's state of health given her less cause for anxiety +she might have said something to him which would perhaps have +opened his eyes to the situation. But not now,--not now could she +appeal to anyone for protection from amorous insult. For who was +she--what was she that she should resent it? She was nothing!--a +mere stray child whose parents nobody knew,--without any lawful +guardian to uphold her rights or assert her position. No wonder +old Jocelyn had called her "wilding"--she was indeed a "wilding" +or weed,--growing up unwanted in the garden of the world, destined +to be pulled out of the soil where she had nourished and thrown +contemptuously aside. A wretched sense of utter helplessness stole +over her,--of incapacity, weakness and loneliness. She tried to +think,--to see her way through the strange fog of untoward +circumstance that had so suddenly enshrouded her. What would +happen when Farmer Jocelyn died? For one thing she would have to +quit Briar Farm. She could not stay in it when Robin Clifford was +its master. He would marry, of course; he would be sure to marry; +and there would be no place for her in his home. She would have to +earn her bread; and the only way to do that would be to go out to +service. She had a good store of useful domestic knowledge,--she +could bake and brew, and wash and scour; she knew how to rear +poultry and keep bees; she could spin and knit and embroider; +indeed her list of household accomplishments would have startled +any girl fresh out of a modern Government school, where things +that are useful in life are frequently forgotten, and things that +are not by any means necessary are taught as though they were +imperative. One other accomplishment she had,--one that she hardly +whispered to herself--she could write,--write what she herself +called "nonsense." Scores of little poems and essays and stories +were locked away in a small old bureau in a corner of the room,-- +confessions and expressions of pent-up feeling which, but for this +outlet, would have troubled her brain and hindered her rest. They +were mostly, as she frankly admitted to her own conscience, in the +"style" of the Sieur Amadis, and were inspired by his poetic +suggestions. She had no fond or exaggerated idea of their merit,-- +they were the result of solitary hours and long silences in which +she had felt she must speak to someone,--exchange thoughts with +someone,--or suffer an almost intolerable restraint. That +"someone" was for her the long dead knight who had come to England +in the train of the Duc d'Anjou. To him she spoke,--to him she +told all her troubles--but to no one else did she ever breathe her +thoughts, or disclose a line of what she had written. She had +often wondered whether, if she sent these struggling literary +efforts to a magazine or newspaper, they would be accepted and +printed. But she never made the trial, for the reason that such +newspaper literature as found its way into Briar Farm filled her +with amazement, repulsion and disgust. There was nothing in any +modern magazine that at all resembled the delicate, pointed and +picturesque phraseology of the Sieur Amadis! Strange, coarse +slang-words were used,--and the news of the day was slung together +in loose ungrammatical sentences and chopped-up paragraphs of +clumsy construction, lacking all pith and eloquence. So, repelled +by the horror of twentieth-century "style," she had hidden her +manuscripts deeper than ever in the old bureau, under little silk +sachets of dried rose-leaves and lavender, as though they were +love-letters or old lace. And when sometimes she shut herself up +and read them over she felt like one of Hamlet's "guilty creatures +sitting at a play." Her literary attempts seemed to reproach her +for their inadequacy, and when she made some fresh addition to her +store of written thoughts, her crimes seemed to herself doubled +and weighted. She would often sit musing, with a little frown +puckering her brow, wondering why she should be moved to write at +all, yet wholly unable to resist the impulse. + +To-night, however, she scarcely remembered these outbreaks of her +dreaming fancy,--the sordid, hard, matter-of-fact side of life +alone presented itself to her depressed imagination. She pictured +herself going into service--as what? Kitchen-maid, probably,--she +was not tall enough for a house-parlourmaid. House-parlourmaids +were bound to be effective,--even dignified,--in height and +appearance. She had seen one of these superior beings in church on +Sundays--a slim, stately young woman with waved hair and a hat as +fashionable as that worn by her mistress, the Squire's lady. With +a deepening sense of humiliation, Innocent felt that her very +limitation of inches was against her. Could she be a nursery- +governess? Hardly; for though she liked good-tempered, well- +behaved children, she could not even pretend to endure them when +they were otherwise. Screaming, spiteful, quarrelsome children +were to her less interesting than barking puppies or squealing +pigs;--besides, she knew she could not be an efficient teacher of +so much as one accomplishment. Music, for instance; what had she +learned of music? She could play on an ancient spinet which was +one of the chief treasures of the "best parlour" of Briar Farm, +and she could sing old ballads very sweetly and plaintively,--but +of "technique" and "style" and all the latter-day methods of +musical acquirement and proficiency she was absolutely ignorant. +Foreign languages were a dead letter to her--except old French. +She could understand that; and Villon's famous verses, "Ou sont +les neiges d'antan?" were as familiar to her as Herrick's "Come, +my Corinna, let us go a-maying." But, on the whole, she was +strangely and poorly equipped for the battle of life. Her +knowledge of baking, brewing, and general housewifery would have +stood her in good stead on some Colonial settlement,--but she had +scarcely heard of these far-away refuges for the destitute, as she +so seldom read the newspapers. Old Hugo Jocelyn looked upon the +cheap daily press as "the curse of the country," and never +willingly allowed a newspaper to come into the living-rooms of +Briar Farm. They were relegated entirely to the kitchen and +outhouses, where the farm labourers smoked over them and discussed +them to their hearts' content, seldom venturing, however, to bring +any item of so-called "news" to their master's consideration. If +they ever chanced to do so, he would generally turn round upon +them with a few cutting observations, such as,-- + +"How do you know it's true? Who gives the news? Where's the +authority? And what do I care if some human brute has murdered his +wife and blown out his own brains? Am I going to be any the better +for reading such a tale? And if one Government is in or t'other +out, what does it matter to me, or to any of you, so long as you +can work and pay your way? The newspapers are always trying to +persuade us to meddle in other folks's business;--I say, take care +of your own affairs!--serve God and obey the laws of the country, +and there won't be much going wrong with you! If you must read, +read a decent book--something that will last--not a printed sheet +full of advertisements that's fresh one day and torn up for waste +paper the next!" + +Under the sway of these prejudiced and arbitrary opinions, it was +not possible for Innocent to have much knowledge of the world that +lay outside Briar Farm. Sometimes she found Priscilla reading an +old magazine or looking at a picture-paper, and she would borrow +these and take them up to her own room surreptitiously for an hour +or so, but she was always more or less pained and puzzled by their +contents. It seemed to her that there were an extraordinary number +of pictures of women with scarcely any clothes on, and she could +not understand how they managed to be pictured at all in such +scanty attire. + +"Who are they?" she asked of Priscilla on one occasion--"And how +is it that they are photographed like this? It must be so shameful +for them!" + +Priscilla explained as best she could that they were "dancers and +the like." + +"They lives by their legs, lovey!" she said soothingly--"It's only +their legs that gits them their bread and butter, and I s'pose +they're bound to show 'em off. Don't you worry 'ow they gits done! +You'll never come across any of 'em!" + +Innocent shut her sensitive mouth in a firm, proud line. + +"I hope not!" she said. + +And she felt as if she had almost wronged the sanctity of the +little study which had formerly belonged to the Sieur Amadis by +allowing such pictures to enter it. Of course she knew that +dancers and actors, both male and female, existed,--a whole troupe +of them came every year to the small theatre of the country town +which, by breaking out into an eruption of new slate-roofed houses +among the few remaining picturesque gables and tiles of an earlier +period, boasted of its "advancement" some eight or ten miles away; +but her "father," as she had thought him, had an insurmountable +objection to what he termed "gadding abroad," and would not allow +her to be seen even at the annual fair in the town, much less at +the theatre. Moreover, it happened once that a girl in the village +had run away with a strolling player and had gone on the stage,-- +an incident which had caused a great sensation in the tiny wood- +encircled hamlet, and had brought all the old women of the place +out to their doorsteps to croak and chatter, and prognosticate +terrible things in the future for the eloping damsel. Innocent +alone had ventured to defend her. + +"If she loved the man she was right to go with him," she said. + +"Oh, don't talk to me about love!" retorted Priscilla, shaking her +head--"That's fancy rubbish! You know naught about it, dearie! On +the stage indeed! Poor little hussy! She'll be on the street in a +year or two, God help her!" + +"What is that?" asked Innocent. "Is it to be a beggar?" + +Priscilla made no reply beyond her usual sniff, which expressed +volumes. + +"If she has found someone who really cares for her, she will never +want," Innocent went on, gently. "No man could be so cruel as to +take away a girl from her home for his own pleasure and then leave +her alone in the world. It would be impossible! You must not think +such hard things, Priscilla!" + +And, smiling, she had gone her way,--while Priscilla, shaking her +head again, had looked after her, dimly wondering how long she +would keep her faith in men. + +On this still moonlight night, when the sadness of her soul seemed +heavier than she could bear, her mind suddenly reverted to this +episode. She thought of the girl who had run away; and remembered +that no one in the village had ever seen or heard of her again, +not even her patient hard-working parents to whom she had been a +pride and joy. + +"Now she had a real father and mother!" she mused, wistfully-- +"They loved her and would have done anything for her--yet she ran +away from them with a stranger! I could never have done that! But +I have no father and no mother--no one but Dad!--ah!--how I have +loved Dad!--and yet I don't belong to him--and when he is dead--" + +Here an overpowering sense of calamity swept over her, and +dropping on her knees by the open window she laid her head on her +folded arms and wept bitterly. + +A voice called her in subdued accents once or twice, "Innocent! +Innocent!"--but she did not hear. + +Presently a rose flung through the window fell on her bent head. +She started up, alarmed. + +"Innocent!" + +Timidly she leaned out over the window-sill, looking down into the +dusky green of clambering foliage, and saw a familiar face smiling +up at her. She uttered a soft cry. + +"Robin!" + +"Yes--it's Robin!" he replied. "Innocent, what's the matter? I +heard you crying!" + +"No--no!" she answered, whisperingly--"It's nothing! Oh, Robin!-- +why are you here at this time of night? Do go away!" + +"Not I!" and Robin placed one foot firmly on the tough and gnarled +branch of a giant wistaria that was trained thickly all over that +side of the house--"I'm coming up!" + +"Oh, Robin!" And straightway Innocent ran back into her room, +there to throw on a dark cloak which enveloped her so completely +that only her small fair head showed above its enshrouding folds, +--then returning slowly she watched with mingled interest and +trepidation the gradual ascent of her lover, as, like another +Romeo, he ascended the natural ladder formed by the thick rope- +like twisted stems of the ancient creeper, grown sturdy with years +and capable of bearing a much greater weight than that of the +light and agile young man, who, with a smile of amused triumph, at +last brought himself on a level with the window-sill and seated +himself on its projecting ledge. + +"I won't come in," he said, mischievously--"though I might!--if I +dared! But I mustn't break into my lady's bower without her +sovereign permission! I say, Innocent, how pretty you look! Don't +be frightened!--dear, dear little girl,--you know I wouldn't touch +so much as a hair of your sweet little head! I'm not a brute--and +though I'm longing to kiss you I promise I won't even try!" + +She moved away from him into the deeper shadow, but a ray of the +moon showed him her face, very pale, with a deep sadness upon it +which was strange and new to him. + +"Tell me what's wrong?" he asked. "I've been too wide-awake and +restless to go to bed,--so I came out in the garden just to +breathe the air and look up at your window--and I heard a sound of +sobbing like that of a little child who was badly hurt--Innocent!" + +For she had suddenly stretched out her hands to him in impulsive +appeal. + +"Oh yes--that's true!--I am badly hurt, Robin!" she said, in low +trembling accents--"So badly hurt that I think I shall never get +over it!" + +Surprised, he took her hands in his own with a gentle reverence, +though to be able to draw her nearer to him thus, set his heart +beating quickly. + +"What is it?" he questioned her, anxiously, as all unconsciously +she leaned closer towards him and he saw her soft eyes, wet with +tears, shining upon him like stars in the gloom. "Is it bad news +of Uncle Hugo?" + +"Bad news of him, but worse of me!" she answered, sighingly. "Oh, +Robin, shall I tell you?" + +He looked at her tenderly. The dark cloak about her had fallen a +little aside, and showed a gleam of white neck emerging from snowy +drapery underneath--it was, to his fancy, as though a white rose- +petal had been suddenly and delicately unfurled. He longed to kiss +that virginal whiteness, and trembled at the audacity of his own +desire. + +"Yes, dear, tell me!" he murmured, abstractedly, scarcely thinking +of what he was saying, and only conscious of the thrill and +ecstasy of love which seemed to him the one thing necessary for +existence in earth or heaven. + +And so, with her hands still warmly held in his, she told him all. +In a sad voice, with lowered eyes and quivering lips, she related +her plaintive little history, disclosing her unbaptised shame,-- +her unowned parentage,--her desperately forlorn and lonely +condition. And Robin listened--amazed and perplexed. + +"It seems to be all my fault," concluded Innocent, sorrowfully-- +"and yet it is not really so! Of course I ought never to have been +born--but I couldn't help it, could I? And now it seems quite +wrong for me to even live!--I am not wanted--and ever since I was +twelve years old your Uncle has only kept me out of charity--" + +But at this Robin started as though some one had struck him. + +"Innocent!" he exclaimed--"Do not say such a thing!--do not think +it! Uncle Hugo has LOVED you!--and you--you have loved him!" + +She drew her hands away from his and covered her face. + +"I know!--I know!" and her tears fell fast again--"But I am not +his, and he is not mine!" + +Robin was silent. The position was so unexpected and bewildering +that he hardly knew what to say. But chiefly he felt that he must +try and comfort this little weeping angel, who, so far as he was +concerned, held his life subservient to her charm. He began +talking softly and cheerily: + +"Why should it matter so much?" he said. "If you do not know who +you are--if none of us know--it may be more fortunate for you than +you can imagine! We cannot tell! Your own father may claim you-- +your own mother--such things are quite possible! You may be like +the princess of a fairy-tale--rich people may come and take you +away from Briar Farm and from me--and you will be too grand to +think of us any more, and I shall only be the poor farmer in your +eyes--you will wonder how you could ever have spoken to me--" + +"Robin!" Her hands dropped from her face and she looked at him in +reproachful sadness. "Why do you say this? You know it could never +be true!--never! If I had a father who cared for me, he would not +have forgotten--and my mother, if she were a true mother, would +have tried to find me long ago! No, Robin!--I ought to have died +when I was a baby. No one wants me--I am a deserted child--'base- +born,' as your Uncle Hugo says,--and of course he is right--but +the sin of it is not mine!" + +She had such a pitiful, fragile and fair appearance, standing half +in shadow and half in the mystic radiance of the moon, that Robin +Clifford's heart ached with love and longing for her. + +"Sin!" he echoed--"Sin and you have never met each other! You are +like your name, innocent of all evil! Oh, Innocent! If you could +only care for me as I care for you!" + +She gave a shivering sigh. + +"Do you--can you care?--NOW?" she asked. + +"Of course! What is there in all this story that can change my +love for you? That you are not my cousin?--that my uncle is not +your own father? What does that matter to me? You are someone +else's child, and if we never know who that someone is, why should +we vex ourselves about it? You are you!--you are Innocent!--the +sweetest, dearest little girl that ever lived, and I adore you! +What difference does it make that you are not Uncle Hugo's +daughter?" + +"It makes a great difference to me," she answered, sadly--"I do +not belong any more to the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!" + +Robin stared, amazed--then smiled. + +"Why, Innocent!" he exclaimed--"Surely you're not worrying your +mind over that old knight, dead and gone more than three hundred +years ago! Dear little goose! How on earth does he come into this +trouble of yours?" + +"He comes in everywhere!" she replied, clasping and unclasping her +hands nervously as she spoke. "You don't know, Robin!--you would +never understand! But I have loved the Sieur Amadis ever since I +can remember;--I have talked to him and studied with him!--I have +read his old books, and all the poems he wrote--and he seemed to +be my friend! I thought I was born of his kindred--and I was proud +of it--and I felt it would be my duty to live at Briar Farm always +because he would wish his line quite unbroken--and I think-- +perhaps--yes, I think I might have married you and been a good +wife to you just for his sake!--and now it is all spoiled!-- +because though you will be the master of Briar Farm, you will not +be the lineal descendant of the Sieur Amadis! No,--it is +finished!--all finished with your Uncle Hugo!--and the doctors say +he can only live a year!" + +Her grief was so touching and pathetic that Robin could not find +it in his heart to make a jest of the romance she had woven round +the old French knight whose history had almost passed into a +legend. After all, what she said was true--the line of the Jocelyn +family had been kept intact through three centuries till now--and +a direct heir had always inherited Briar Farm. He himself had +taken a certain pride in thinking that Uncle Hugo's "love-child," +as he had believed her to be, was at any rate, love-child or no, +born of the Jocelyn blood--and that when he married her, as he +hoped and fully purposed to do, he would discard his own name of +Clifford and take that of Jocelyn, in order to keep the continuity +of associations unbroken as far as possible. All these ideas were +put to flight by Innocent's story, and, as the position became +more evident to him, the smiling expression on his face changed to +one of gravity. + +"Dear Innocent," he said, at last--"Don't cry! It cuts me to the +heart! I would give my very life to save you from a sorrow--you +know I would! If you ever thought, as you say, that you could or +would marry me for the sake of the Sieur Amadis, you might just as +well marry me now, even though the Sieur Amadis is out of it. I +would make you so happy! I would indeed! And no one need ever know +that you are not really the lineal descendant of the Knight--" + +She interrupted him. + +"Priscilla knows," she said--"and, no matter how you look at it, I +am 'base-born.' Your Uncle Hugo has let all the village folk think +I am his illegitimate child--and that is 'base-born' of itself. +Oh, it is cruel! Even you thought so, didn't you?" + +Robin hesitated. + +"I did not know, dear," he answered, gently--"I fancied--" + +"Do not deny it, Robin!" she said, mournfully. "You did think so! +Well, it's true enough, I suppose!--I am 'base-born'--but your +uncle is not my father. He is a good, upright man--you can always +be proud of him! He has not sinned,--though he has burdened me +with the shame of sin! I think that is unfair,--but I must bear it +somehow, and I will try to be brave. I'm glad I've told you all +about it,--and you are very kind to have taken it so well--and to +care for me still--but I shall never marry you, Robin!--never! I +shall never bring my 'base-born' blood into the family of +Jocelyn!" + +His heart sank as he heard her--and involuntarily he stretched out +his arms in appeal. + +"Innocent!" he murmured--"Don't be hard upon me! Think a little +longer before you leave me without any hope! It means so much to +my life! Surely you cannot be cruel? Do you care for me less than +you care for that old knight buried under his own effigy in the +garden? Will you not think kindly of a living man?--a man who +loves you beyond all things? Oh, Innocent!--be gentle, be +merciful!" + +She came to him and took his hands in her own. + +"It is just because I am kind and gentle and merciful," she said, +in her sweet, grave accents, "that I will not marry you, dear! I +know I am right,--and you will think so too, in time. For the +moment you imagine me to be much better and prettier than I am-- +and that there is no one like me!--poor Robin!--you are blind!-- +there are so many sweet and lovely girls, well born, with fathers +and mothers to care for them--and you, with your good looks and +kind ways, could marry any one of them--and you will, some day! +Good-night, dear! You have stayed here a long time talking to me! +--just suppose you were seen sitting on this window-ledge so late! +--it is past midnight!--what would be said of me!" + +"What could be said?" demanded Robin, defiantly. "I came up here +of my own accord,--the blame would be mine!" + +She shook her head sadly, smiling a little. + +"Ah, Robin! The man is never blamed! It's always the woman's +fault!" + +"Where's your fault to-night?" he asked. + +"Oh, most plain!" she answered. "When I saw you coming, I ought to +have shut the window, drawn the curtains, and left you to clamber +down the wall again as fast as you clambered up! But I wanted to +tell you what had happened--and how everything had changed for me +--and now--now that you know all--good-night!" + +He looked at her longingly. If she would only show some little +sign of tenderness!--if he might just kiss her hand, he thought! +But she withdrew into the shadow, and he had no excuse for +lingering. + +"Good-night!" he said, softly. "Good-night, my angel Innocent! +Good-night, my little love!" + +She made no response and moved slowly backward into the room. But +as he reluctantly left his point of vantage and began to descend, +stepping lightly from branch to branch of the accommodating +wistaria, he saw the shadowy outline of her figure once more as +she stretched out a hand and closed the lattice window, drawing a +curtain across it. With the drawing of that curtain the beauty of +the summer night was over for him, and poising himself lightly on +a tough stem which was twisted strongly enough to give him +adequate support and which projected some four feet above the +smooth grass below, he sprang down. Scarcely had he touched the +ground when a man, leaping suddenly out of a thick clump of bushes +near that side of the house, caught him in a savage grip and shook +him with all the fury of an enraged mastiff shaking a rat. Taken +thus unawares, and rendered almost breathless by the swiftness of +the attack, Clifford struggled in the grasp of his assailant and +fought with him desperately for a moment without any idea of his +identity,--then as by a dexterous twist of body he managed to +partially extricate himself, he looked up and saw the face of Ned +Landon, livid and convulsed with passion. + +"Landon!" he gasped--"What's the matter with you? Are you mad?" + +"Yes!" answered Landon, hoarsely--"And enough to make me so! You +devil! You've ruined the girl!" + +With a rapid movement, unexpected by his antagonist, Clifford +disengaged himself and stood free. + +"You lie!" he said--"And you shall pay for it! Come away from the +house and fight like a man! Come into the grass meadow yonder, +where no one can see or hear us. Come!" + +Landon paused, drawing his breath thickly, and looking like a +snarling beast baulked of its prey. + +"That's a trick!" he said, scornfully--"You'll run away!" + +"Come!" repeated Clifford, vehemently--"You're more likely to run +away than I am! Come!" + +Landon glanced him over from head to foot--the moonbeams fell +brightly on his athletic figure and handsome face--then turned on +his heel. + +"No, I won't!" he said, curtly--"I've done all I want to do for +to-night. I've shaken you like the puppy you are! To-morrow we'll +settle our differences." + +For all answer Clifford sprang at him and struck him smartly +across the face. In another moment both men were engaged in a +fierce tussle, none the less deadly because so silent. A practised +boxer and wrestler, Clifford grappled more and more closely with +the bigger but clumsier man, dragging him steadily inch by inch +further away from the house as they fought. More desperate, more +determined became the struggle, till by two or three adroit +manoeuvres Clifford got his opponent under him and bore him +gradually to the ground, where, kneeling on his chest, he pinned +him down. + +"Let me go!" muttered Landon--"You're killing me!" + +"Serve you right!" answered Clifford--"You scoundrel! My uncle +shall know of this!" + +"Tell him what you like!" retorted Landon, faintly--"I don't care! +Get off my chest!--you're suffocating me!" + +Clifford slightly relaxed the pressure of his hands and knees. + +"Will you apologise?" he demanded. + +"Apologise?--for what?" + +"For your insolence to me and my cousin." + +"Cousin be hanged!" snarled Landon--"She's no more your cousin +than I am--she's only a nameless bastard! I heard her tell you so! +And fine airs she gives herself on nothing!" + +"You miserable spy!" and Clifford again held him down as in a +vise--"Whatever you heard is none of your business! Will you +apologise?" + +"Oh, I'll apologise, if you like!--anything to get your weight off +me!"--and Landon made an abortive effort to rise. "But I keep my +own opinion all the same!" + +Slowly Robin released him, and watched him as he picked himself +up, with an air of mingled scorn and pity. Landon laughed +forcedly, passing one hand across his forehead and staring in a +dazed fashion at the shadows cast on the ground by the moon. + +"Yes--I keep my own opinion!" he repeated, stupidly. "You've got +the better of me just now--but you won't always, my pert Cock +Robin! You won't always. Don't you think it! Briar Farm and I may +part company--but there's a bigger place than Briar Farm--there's +the world!--that's a wide field and plenty of crops growing on it! +And the men that sow those kind of crops and reap them and bring +them in, are better farmers than you'll ever be! As for your +girl!"--here his face darkened and he shook his fist towards the +lattice window behind which slept the unconscious cause of the +quarrel--"You can keep her! A nice 'Innocent' SHE is!--talking +with a man in her bedroom after midnight!--why, I wouldn't have +her as a gift--not now!" + +Choking with rage, Clifford sprang towards him again--Landon +stepped back. + +"Hands off!" he said--"Don't touch me! I'm in a killing mood! I've +a knife on me--you haven't. You're the master--I'm the man--and +I'll play fair! I've my future to think of, and I don't want to +start with a murder!" + +With this, he turned his back and strode off, walking somewhat +unsteadily like a blind man feeling his way. + +Clifford stood for a moment, inert. The angry blood burned in his +face,--his hands were involuntarily clenched,--he was impatient +with himself for having, as he thought, let Landon off too easily. +He saw at once the possibility of mischief brewing, and hastily +considered how it could best be circumvented. + +"The simplest way out of it is to make a clean breast of +everything," he decided, at last. "Tomorrow I'll see Uncle Hugo +early in the morning and tell him just what has happened." + +Under the influence of this resolve, he gradually calmed down and +re-entered the house. And the moonlight, widening and then waning +over the smooth and peaceful meadows of Briar Farm, had it all its +own way for the rest of the night, and as it filtered through the +leafy branches of the elms and beeches which embowered the old +tomb of the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin it touched with a pale glitter +the stone hands of his sculptured effigy,--hands that were folded +prayerfully above the motto,--"Mon coeur me soutien!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +As early as six o'clock the next morning Innocent was up and +dressed, and, hastening down to the kitchen, busied herself, as +was her usual daily custom, in assisting Priscilla with the +housework and the preparation for breakfast. There was always +plenty to do, and as she moved quickly to and fro, fulfilling the +various duties she had taken upon herself and which she performed +with unobtrusive care and exactitude, the melancholy forebodings +of the past night partially cleared away from her mind. Yet there +was a new expression on her face--one of sadness and seriousness +unfamiliar to its almost child-like features, and it was not easy +for her to smile in her ordinary bright way at the round of +scolding which Priscilla administered every morning to the maids +who swept and scrubbed and dusted and scoured the kitchen till no +speck of dirt was anywhere visible, till the copper shone like +mirrors, and the tables were nearly as smooth as polished silver +or ivory. Going into the dairy where pans of new milk stood ready +for skimming, and looking out for a moment through the lattice +window, she saw old Hugo Jocelyn and Robin Clifford walking +together across the garden, engaged in close and earnest +conversation. A little sigh escaped her as she thought: "They are +talking about me!"--then, on a sudden impulse, she went back into +the kitchen where Priscilla was for the moment alone, the other +servants having dispersed into various quarters of the house, and +going straight up to her said, simply-- + +"Priscilla dear, why did you never tell me that I wasn't Dad's own +daughter?" + +Priscilla started violently, and her always red face turned +redder,--then, with an effort to recover herself, she answered-- + +"Lord, lovey! How you frightened me! Why didn't I tell you? Well, +in the first place, 'twasn't none of my business, and in the +second, 'twouldn't have done any good if I had." + +Innocent was silent, looking at her with a piteous intensity. + +"And who is it that's told you now?" went on Priscilla, nervously +--"some meddlin' old fool--" + +Innocent raised her hand, warningly. + +"Hush, Priscilla! Dad himself told me--" + +"Well, he might just as well have kept a still tongue in his +head," retorted Priscilla, sharply. "He's kept it for eighteen +years, an' why he should let it go wagging loose now, the Lord +only knows! There's no making out the ways of men,--they first +plays the wise and silent game like barn-door owls,--then all on a +suddint-like they starts cawing gossip for all they're worth, like +crows. And what's the good of tellin' ye, anyway?" + +"No good, perhaps," answered Innocent, sorrowfully--"but it's +right I should know. You see, I'm not a child any more--I'm +eighteen--that's a woman--and a woman ought to know what she must +expect more or less in her life--" + +Priscilla leaned on the newly scrubbed kitchen table and looked +across at the girl with a compassionate expression. + +"What a woman must expect in life is good 'ard knocks and blows," +she said--"unless she can get a man to look arter her what's not +of the general kicking spirit. Take my advice, dearie! You marry +Mr. Robin!--as good a boy as ever breathed--he'll be a kind fond +'usband to ye, and arter all that's what a woman thrives best on-- +kindness--an' you've 'ad it all your life up to now--" + +"Priscilla," interrupted Innocent, decidedly--"I cannot marry +Robin! You know I cannot! A poor nameless girl like me!--why, it +would be a shame to him in after-years. Besides, I don't love him +--and it's wicked to marry a man you don't love." + +Priscilla smothered a sound between a grunt and a sigh. + +"You talks a lot about love, child," she said--"but I'm thinkin' +you don't know much about it. Them old books an' papers you found +up in the secret room are full of nonsense, I'm pretty sure--an' +if you believes that men are always sighin' an' dyin' for a woman, +you're mistaken--yes, you are, lovey! They goes where they can be +made most comfortable--an' it don't matter what sort o' woman +gives the comfort so long as they gits it." + +Innocent smiled, faintly. + +"You don't know anything about it, Priscilla," she answered--"You +were never married." + +"Thank the Lord and His goodness, no!" said Priscilla, with an +emphatic sniff--"I've never been troubled with the whimsies of a +man, which is worse than all the megrims of a woman any day. I've +looked arter Mr. Jocelyn in a way--but he's no sort of a man to +worry about--he just goes reglar to the farmin'--an' that's all--a +decent creature always, an' steady as his own oxen what pulls the +plough. An' when he's gone, if go he must, I'll look arter you an' +Mr. Robin, an' please God, I'll dance your babies on my old knees--" +Here she broke off and turned her head away. Innocent ran to her, +surprised. + +"Why, Priscilla, you're crying!" she exclaimed--Don't do that! Why +should you cry?" + +"Why indeed!" blubbered Priscilla--"Except that I'm a doiterin' +fool! I can't abear the thoughts of you turnin' yer back on the +good that God gives ye, an' floutin' Mr. Robin, who's the best +sort o' man that ever could fall to the lot of a little tender +maid like you--why, lovey, you don't know the wickedness o' this +world, nor the ways of it--an' you talks about love as if it was +somethin' wonderful an' far away, when here it is at yer very feet +for the pickin' up! What's the good of all they books ye've bin +readin' if they don't teach ye that the old knight you're fond of +got so weary of the world that arter tryin' everythin' in turn he +found nothin' better than to marry a plain, straight country wench +and settle down in Briar Farm for all his days? Ain't that the +lesson he's taught ye?" + +She paused, looking hopefully at the girl through her tears--but +Innocent's small fair face was pale and calm, though her eyes +shone with a brilliancy as of suppressed excitement. + +"No," she said--"He has not taught me that at all. He came here to +'seek forgetfulness'--so it is said in the words he carved on the +panel in his study,--but we do not know that he ever really +forgot. He only 'found peace,' and peace is not happiness--except +for the very old." + +"Peace is not happiness!" re-echoed Priscilla, staring--"That's a +queer thing to say, lovey! What do you call being happy?" + +"It is difficult to explain"--and a swift warm colour flew over +the girl's cheeks, expressing some wave of hidden feeling--"Your +idea of happiness and mine must be so different!" She smiled-- +"Dear, good Priscilla! You are so much more easily contented than +I am!" + +Priscilla looked at her with a great tenderness in her dim old +grey eyes. + +"See here, lovey!" she said--"You're just like a young bird on the +edge of a nest ready to fly. You don't know the world nor the ways +of it. Oh, my dear, it ain't all gold harvests and apples ripening +rosy in the sun! You've lived all your life in the open country, +and so you've always had the good God near you,--but there's +places where the houses stand so close together that the sky can +hardly make a patch of blue between the smoking chimneys--like +London, for instance--ah!--that's where you'd find what the +world's like, lovey!--where you feels so lonesome that you wonders +why you ever were born--" + +"I wonder that already," interrupted the girl, quickly. "Don't +worry me, dear! I have so much to think about--my life seems so +altered and strange--I hardly understand myself--and I don't know +what I shall do with my future--but I cannot--I will not marry +Robin!" + +She turned away quickly then, to avoid further discussion. + +A little later she went into the quaint oak-panelled room where +the fateful disclosures of the past night had been revealed to +her. Here breakfast was laid, and the latticed window was set wide +open, admitting the sweet scent of stocks and mignonette with +every breath of the morning air. She stood awhile looking out on +the gay beauty of the garden, and her eyes unconsciously filled +with tears. + +"Dear home!" she murmured--"Home that is not mine--that never will +be mine! How I have loved you!--how I shall always love you!" + +A slow step behind her interrupted her meditations--and she looked +around with a smile as timid as it was tender. There was her +"Dad"--the same as ever,--yet now to her mind so far removed from +her that she hesitated a moment before giving him her customary +good-morning greeting. A pained contraction of his brow showed her +that he felt this little difference, and she hastened to make +instant amends. + +"Dear Dad!" she said, softly,--and she put her soft arms about him +and kissed his cheek--"How are you this morning? Did you sleep +well?" + +He took her arms from his shoulders, and held her for a moment, +looking at her scrutinisingly from under his shaggy brows. + +"I did not sleep at all," he answered her--"I lay broad awake, +thinking of you. Thinking of you, my little innocent, fatherless, +motherless lamb! And you, child!--you did not sleep so well as you +should have done, talking with Robin half the night out of +window!" + +She coloured deeply. He smiled and pinched her crimsoning cheek, +apparently well pleased. + +"No harm, no harm!" he said--"Just two young doves cooing among +the leaves at mating time! Robin has told me all about it. Now +listen, child!--I'm away to-day to the market town--there's seed +to buy and crops to sell--I'll take Ned Landon with me--" he +paused, and an odd expression of sternness and resolve clouded his +features--"Yes!--I'll take Ned Landon with me--he's shrewd enough +when he's sober--and he's cunning enough, too, for that matter!-- +yes, I'll take him with me. We'll be off in the dog-cart as soon +as breakfast's done. My time's getting short, but I'll attend to +my own business as long as I can--I'll look after Briar Farm till +I die--and I'll die in harness. There's plenty of work to do yet-- +plenty of work; and while I'm away you can settle up things--" + +Here he broke off, and his eyes grew fixed in a sudden vacant +stare. Innocent, frightened at his unnatural look, laid her hand +caressingly on his arm. + +"Yes, dear Dad!" she said, soothingly--"What is it you wish me to +do?" + +The stare faded from his eyeballs, and his face softened. + +"Settle up things," he repeated, slowly, and with emphasis-- +"Settle up things with Robin. No more beating about the bush! You +talked to him long enough out of window last night, and mind you! +--somebody was listening! That means mischief! _I_ don't blame you, +poor wilding!--but remember, SOMEBODY WAS LISTENING! Now think of +that and of your good name, child!--settle with Robin and we'll +have the banns put up next Sunday." + +While he thus spoke the warm rose of her cheeks faded to an +extreme pallor,--her very lips grew white and set. Her hurrying +thoughts clamoured for utterance,--she could have expressed in +passionate terms her own bitter sense of wrong and unmerited +shame, but pity for the old man's worn and haggard look of pain +held her silent. She saw and felt that he was not strong enough to +bear any argument or opposition in his present mood, so she made +no sort of reply, not even by a look or a smile. Quietly she went +to the breakfast table, and busied herself in preparing his +morning meal. He followed her and sat heavily down in his usual +chair, watching her furtively as she poured out the tea. + +"Such little white hands, aren't they?" he said, coaxingly, +touching her small fingers when she gave him his cup--"Eh, +wilding? The prettiest lily flowers I ever saw! And one of them +will look all the prettier for a gold wedding-ring upon it! Ay, +ay! We'll have the banns put up on Sunday." + +Still she did not speak; once she turned away her head to hide the +tears that involuntarily rose to her eyes. Old Hugo, meanwhile, +began to eat his breakfast with the nervous haste of a man who +takes his food more out of custom than necessity. Presently he +became irritated at her continued silence. + +"You heard what I said, didn't you?" he demanded--"And you +understood?" + +She looked full at him with sorrowful, earnest eyes. + +"Yes, Dad. I heard. And I understood." + +He nodded and smiled, and appeared to take it for granted that she +had received an order which it was her bounden duty to obey. The +sun shone brilliantly in upon the beautiful old room, and through +the open window came a pleasant murmuring of bees among the +mignonette, and the whistle of a thrush in an elm-tree sounded +with clear and cheerful persistence. Hugo Jocelyn looked at the +fair view of the flowering garden and drew his breath hard in a +quick sigh. + +"It's a fine day," he said--"and it's a fine world! Ay, that it +is! I'm not sure there's a better anywhere! And it's a bit +difficult to think of going down for ever into the dark and the +cold, away from the sunshine and the sky--but it's got to be +done!"--here he clenched his fist and brought it down on the table +with a defiant blow--"It's got to be done, and I've got to do it! +But not yet--not quite yet!--I've plenty of time and chance to +stop mischief!" + +He rose, and drawing himself up to his full height looked for the +moment strong and resolute. Taking one or two slow turns up and +down the room, he suddenly stopped in front of Innocent. + +"We shall be away all day," he said--"I and Ned Landon. Do you +hear?" + +There was something not quite natural in the tone of his voice, +and she glanced up at him in a little surprise. + +"Well, what are you wondering at?" he demanded, a trifle testily-- +"You need not open your eyes at me like that!" + +She smiled faintly. + +"Did I open my eyes, Dad?" she said--"I did not mean to be +curious. I only thought--" + +"You only thought what?" he asked, with sudden heat--"What did you +think?" + +"Oh, just about your being away all day in the town--you will be +so tired--" + +"Tired? Not I!--not when there's work to do and business to +settle!" He rubbed his hands together with a kind of energetic +expectancy. "Work to do and business to settle!" he repeated-- +"Yes, little girl! There's not much time before me, and I must +leave everything in good order for you and Robin." + +She dropped her head, and the expression of her face was hidden +from him. + +"You and Robin!" he said, again. "Ay, ay! Briar Farm will be in +the best of care when I'm dead, and it'll thrive well with young +love and hope to keep it going!" He came up to her and took one of +her little hands in his own. "There, there!" he went on, patting +it gently--"We'll think no more of trouble and folly and mistakes +in life; it'll be all joy and peace for you, child! Take God's +good blessing of an honest lad's love and be happy with it! And +when I come home to-night,"--he paused and appeared to think for a +moment--"yes!--when I come home, let me hear that it's all clear +and straight between you--and we'll have the banns put up on +Sunday!" + +She said not a word in answer. Her hand slid passively from his +hold,--and she never looked up. He hesitated for a moment--then +walked towards the door. + +"You'll have all the day to yourself with Robin," he added, +glancing back at her--"There'll be no spies about the place, and +no one listening, as there was last night!" + +She sprang up from her chair, moved at last by an impulse of +indignation. + +"Who was it?" she asked--"I said nothing wrong--and I do not +care!--but who was it?" + +A curious strained look came into old Hugo's eyes as he answered-- + +"Ned Landon." + +She looked amazed,--then scared. + +"Ned Landon?" + +"Ay! Ned Landon. He hasn't the sweetest of tempers and he isn't +always sober. He's a bit in the way sometimes,--ay, ay!--a bit in +the way! But he's a good farm hand for all that,--and his word +stands for something! I'd rather he hadn't heard you and Robin +talking last night--but what's done is done, and it's a mischief +easy mended--" + +"Why, what mischief can there be?" the girl demanded, her colour +coming and going quickly--"And why should he have listened? It's a +mean trick to spy upon others!" + +He smiled indulgently. + +"Of course it's a mean trick, child!--but there's a good many men +--and women too--who are just made up of mean tricks and nothing +more. They spend their lives in spying upon their neighbours and +interfering in everybody's business. You'd soon find that out, my +girl, if you lived in the big world that lies outside Briar Farm! +Ay!--and that reminds me--" Here he came from the door back into +the room again, and going to a quaint old upright oaken press that +stood in one corner, he unlocked it and took out a roll of bank- +notes. These he counted carefully over to himself, and folding +them up put them away in his breast pocket. "Now I'm ready!" he +said--"Ready for all I've got to do! Good-bye, my wilding!" He +approached her, and lifting her small face between his hands, +kissed it tenderly. "Bless thee! No child of my own could be +dearer than thou art! All I want now is to leave thee in safe and +gentle keeping when I die. Think of this and be good to Robin!" + +She trembled under his caress, and her heart was full of +speechless sorrow. She longed to yield to his wishes,--she knew +that if she did so she would give him happiness and greater +resignation to the death which confronted him; and she also knew +that if she could make up her mind to marry Robin Clifford she +would have the best and the tenderest of husbands. And Briar +Farm,--the beloved old home--would be hers!--her very own! Her +children would inherit it and play about the fair and fruitful +fields as she had done--they, too, could be taught to love the +memory of the old knight, the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin--ah!--but +surely it was the spirit of the Sieur Amadis himself that held her +back and prevented her from doing his name and memory grievous +wrong! She was not of his blood or race--she was nameless and +illegitimate,--no good could come of her engrafting herself like a +weed upon a branch of the old noble stock--the farm would cease to +prosper. + +So she thought and so she felt, in her dreamy imaginative way, and +though she allowed old Hugo to leave her without vexing him by any +decided opposition to his plans, she was more than ever firmly +resolved to abide by her own interior sense of what was right and +fitting. She heard the wheels of the dog-cart grating the gravel +outside the garden gate, and an affectionate impulse moved her to +go and see her "Dad" off. As she made her appearance under the +rose-covered porch of the farm-house door, she perceived Landon, +who at once pulled off his cap with an elaborate and exaggerated +show of respect. + +"Good-morning, Miss Jocelyn!" + +He emphasized the surname with a touch of malice. She coloured, +but replied "Good-morning" with a sweet composure. He eyed her +askance, but had no opportunity for more words, as old Hugo just +then clambered up into the dog-cart, and took the reins of the +rather skittish young mare which was harnessed to it. + +"Come on, Landon!" he shouted, impatiently--"No time for +farewells!" Then, as Landon jumped up beside him, he smiled, +seeing the soft, wistful face of the girl watching him from +beneath a canopy of roses. + +"Take care of the house while I'm gone!" he called to her;-- +"You'll find Robin in the orchard." + +He laid the lightest flick of the whip on the mare's ears, and she +trotted rapidly away. + +Innocent stood a moment gazing after the retreating vehicle till +it disappeared,--then she went slowly into the house. Robin was in +the orchard, was he? Well!--he had plenty of work to do there, and +she would not disturb him. She turned away from the sunshine and +flowers and made her way upstairs to her own room. How quiet and +reposeful it looked! It was a beloved shrine, full of sweet +memories and dreams,--there would never be any room like it in the +world for her, she well knew. Listlessly she sat down at the +table, and turned over the pages of an old book she had been +reading, but her eyes were not upon it. + +"I wonder!" she said, half aloud--then paused. + +The thought in her mind was too daring for utterance. She was +picturing the possibility of going quietly away from Briar Farm +all alone, and trying to make a name and career for herself +through the one natural gift she fancied she might possess, a gift +which nowadays is considered almost as common as it was once +admired and rare. To be a poet and romancist,--a weaver of +wonderful thoughts into musical language,--this seemed to her the +highest of all attainment; the proudest emperor of the most +powerful nation on earth was, to her mind, far less than +Shakespeare,--and inferior to the simplest French lyrist of old +time that ever wrote a "chanson d'amour." But the doubt in her +mind was whether she, personally, had any thoughts worth +expressing,--any ideas which the world might be the happier or the +better for knowing and sharing? She drew a long breath,--the warm +colour flushed her cheeks and then faded, leaving her very pale,-- +the whole outlook of her life was so barren of hope or promise +that she dared not indulge in any dream of brighter days. On the +face of it, there seemed no possible chance of leaving Briar Farm +without some outside assistance--she had no money, and no means of +obtaining any. Then,--even supposing she could get to London, she +knew no one there,--she had no friends. Sighing wearily, she +opened a deep drawer in the table at which she sat, and took out a +manuscript--every page of it so neatly written as to be almost +like copper-plate--and set herself to reading it steadily. There +were enough written sheets to make a good-sized printed volume-- +and she read on for more than an hour. When she lifted her eyes at +last they were eager and luminous. + +"Perhaps," she half whispered--"perhaps there is something in it +after all!--something just a little new and out of the ordinary-- +but--how shall I ever know!" + +Putting the manuscript by with a lingering care, she went to the +window and looked out. The peaceful scene was dear and familiar-- +and she already felt a premonition of the pain she would have to +endure in leaving so sweet and safe a home. Her thoughts gradually +recurred to the old trouble--Robin, and Robin's love for her,-- +Robin, who, if she married him, would spend his life gladly in the +effort to make her happy,--where in the wide world would she find +a better, truer-hearted man? And yet--a curious reluctance had +held her back from him, even when she had believed herself to be +the actual daughter of Hugo Jocelyn,--and now--now, when she knew +she was nothing but a stray foundling, deserted by her own parents +and left to the care of strangers, she considered it would be +nothing short of shame and disgrace to him, were she to become his +wife. + +"I can always be his friend," she said to herself--"And if I once +make him understand clearly how much better it is for us to be +like brother and sister, he will see things in the right way. And +when he marries I am sure to be fond of his wife and children-- +and--and--it will be ever so much happier for us all! I'll go and +talk to him now." + +She ran downstairs and out across the garden, and presently made a +sudden appearance in the orchard--a little vision of white among +the russet-coloured trees with their burden of reddening apples. +Robin was there alone--he was busied in putting up a sturdy prop +under one of the longer branches of a tree heavily laden with +fruit. He saw her and smiled--but went on with his work. + +"Are you very busy?" she asked, approaching him almost timidly. + +"Just now, yes! In a moment, no! We shall lose this big bough in +the next high wind if I don't take care." + +She waited--watching the strength and dexterity of his hands and +arms, and the movements of his light muscular figure. In a little +while he had finished all he had to do--and turning to her said, +laughingly-- + +"Now I am at your service! You look very serious!--grave as a +little judge, and quite reproachful! What have I done?--or what +has anybody done that you should almost frown at me on this bright +sun-shiny morning?" + +She smiled in response to his gay, questioning look. + +"I'm sorry I have such a depressing aspect," she said--"I don't +feel very happy, and I suppose my face shows it." + +He was silent for a minute or two, watching her with a grave +tenderness in his eyes. + +By and by he spoke, gently-- + +"Come and stroll about a bit with me through the orchard,--it will +cheer you to see the apples hanging in such rosy clusters among +the grey-green leaves. Nothing prettier in all the world, I +think!--and they are just ripening enough to be fragrant. Come, +dear! Let us talk our troubles out!" + +She walked by his side, mutely--and they moved slowly together +under the warm scented boughs, through which the sunlight fell in +broad streams of gold, making the interlacing shadows darker by +contrast. There was a painful throbbing in her throat,--the +tension of struggling tears which strove for an outlet,--but +gradually the sweet influences of the air and sunshine did good +work in calming her nerves, and she was quite composed when Robin +spoke again. + +"You see, dear, I know quite well what is worrying you. I'm +worried myself--and I'd better tell you all about it. Last night--" +he paused. + +She looked up at him, quickly. + +"Last night?--Well?" + +"Well--Ned Landon was in hiding in the bushes under your window-- +and he must have been there all the time we were talking together. +How or why he came there I cannot imagine. But he heard a good +deal--and when you shut your window he was waiting for me. +Directly I got down he pounced on me like a tramp-thief, and--now +there!--don't look so frightened!--he said something that I +couldn't stand, so we had a jolly good fight. He got the worst of +it, I can tell you! He's stiff and unfit to work to-day--that's +why Uncle Hugo has taken him to the town. I told the whole story +to Uncle Hugo this morning--and he says I did quite right. But +it's a bore to have to go on 'bossing' Landon--he bears me a +grudge, of course--and I foresee it will be difficult to manage +him. He can hardly be dismissed--the other hands would want to +know why; no man has ever been dismissed from Briar Farm without +good and fully explained reasons. This time no reasons could be +given, because your name might come in, and I won't have that--" + +"Oh, Robin, it's all my fault!" she exclaimed. "If you would only +let me go away! Help me--do help me to go away!" + +He stared at her, amazed. + +"Go away!" he echoed--"You! Why, Innocent, how can you think of +such a thing! You are the very life and soul of the place--how can +you talk of going away! No, no!--not unless"--here he drew nearer +and looked at her steadily and tenderly in the eyes--"not unless +you will let me take you away!--just for a little while!--as a +bridegroom takes a bride--on a honeymoon of love and sunshine and +roses--" + +He stopped, deterred by her look of sadness. + +"Dear Robin," she said, very gently--"would you marry a girl who +cannot love you as a wife should love? Won't you understand that +if I could and did love you I should be happier than I am?--though +now, even if I loved you with all my heart, I would not marry you. +How could I? I am nothing--I have no name--no family--and can you +think that I would bring shame upon you? No, Robin!--never! I know +what your Uncle Hugo wishes--and oh!--if I could only make him +happy I would do it!--but I cannot--it would be wrong of me--and +you would regret it--" + +"I should never regret it," he interrupted her, quickly. "If you +would be my wife, Innocent, I should be the proudest, gladdest man +alive! Ah, dear!--do put all your fancies aside and try to realise +what good you would be doing to the old man if he felt quite +certain that you would be the little mistress of the old farm he +loves so much--I will not speak of myself--you do not care for +me!--but for him--" + +She looked up at him with a sudden light in her eyes. + +"Could we not pretend?" she asked. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, pretend that we're engaged--just to satisfy him. Couldn't +you make things easy for me that way?" + +"I don't quite understand," he said, with a puzzled air--"How +would it make things easy?" + +"Why, don't you see?" and she spoke with hurried eagerness--"When +he comes home to-night let him think it's all right--and then-- +then I'll run away by myself--and it will be my fault--" + +"Innocent! What are you talking about?"--and he flushed with +vexation. "My dear girl, if you dislike me so much that you would +rather run away than marry me, I won't say another word about it. +I'll manage to smooth things over with my uncle for the present-- +just to prevent his fretting himself--and you shall not be +worried--" + +"You must not be worried either," she said. "You will not +understand, and you do not think!--but just suppose it possible +that, after all, my own parents did remember me at last and came +to look after me--and that they were perhaps dreadful wicked +people--" + +Robin smiled. + +"The man who brought you here was a gentleman," he said--"Uncle +Hugo told me so this morning, and said he was the finest-looking +man he had ever seen." + +Innocent was silent a moment. + +"You think he was a 'gentleman' to desert his own child?" she +asked. + +Robin hesitated. + +"Dear, you don't know the world," he said--"There may have been +all sorts of dangers and difficulties--anyhow, _I_ don't bear him +any grudge! He gave you to Briar Farm!" + +She sighed, and made no response. Inadvertently they had walked +beyond the orchard and were now on the very edge of the little +thicket where the tomb of the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin glimmered +pallidly through the shadow of the leaves. Innocent quickened her +steps. + +"Come!" she said. + +He followed her reluctantly. Almost he hated the old stone knight +which served her as a subject for so many fancies and feelings, +and when she beckoned him to the spot where she stood beside the +recumbent effigy, he showed a certain irritation of manner which +did not escape her. + +"You are cross with him!" she said, reproachfully. "You must not +be so. He is the founder of your family--" + +"And the finish of it, I suppose!" he answered, abruptly. "He +stands between us two, Innocent!--a cold stone creature with no +heart--and you prefer him to me! Oh, the folly of it all! How can +you be so cruel!" + +She looked at him wistfully--almost her resolution failed her. He +saw her momentary hesitation and came close up to her. + +"You do not know what love is!" he said, catching her hand in his +own--"Innocent, you do not know! If you did!--if I might teach +you--!" + +She drew her hand away very quickly and decidedly. + +"Love does not want teaching," she said--"it comes--when it will, +and where it will! It has not come to me, and you cannot force it, +Robin! If I were your wife--your wife without any wife's love for +you--I should grow to hate Briar Farm!--yes, I should!--I should +pine and die in the very place where I have been so happy!--and I +should feel that HE"--here she pointed to the sculptured Sieur +Amadis--"would almost rise from this tomb and curse me!" + +She spoke with sudden, almost dramatic vehemence, and he gazed at +her in mute amazement. Her eyes flashed, and her face was lit up +by a glow of inspiration and resolve. + +"You take me just for the ordinary sort of girl," she went on--"A +girl to caress and fondle and marry and make the mother of your +children,--now for that you might choose among the girls about +here, any of whom would be glad to have you for a husband. But, +Robin, do you think I am really fit for that sort of life always? +--can't you believe in anything else but marriage for a woman?" + +As she thus spoke, she unconsciously created a new impression on +his mind,--a veil seemed to be suddenly lifted, and he saw her as +he had never before seen her--a creature removed, isolated and +unattainable through the force of some inceptive intellectual +quality which he had not previously suspected. He answered her, +very gently-- + +"Dear, I cannot believe in anything else but love for a woman," he +said--"She was created and intended for love, and without love she +must surely be unhappy." + +"Love!--ah yes!" she responded, quickly--"But marriage is not +love!" + +His brows contracted. + +"You must not speak in that way, Innocent," he said, seriously-- +"It is wrong--people would misunderstand you--" + +Her eyes lightened, and she smiled. + +"Yes!--I'm sure 'people' would!" she answered--"But 'people' don't +matter--to ME. It is truth that matters,--truth,--and love!" + +He looked at her, perplexed. + +"Why should you think marriage is not love?" he asked--"It is the +one thing all lovers wish for--to be married and to live together +always--" + +"Oh, they wish for it, yes, poor things!" she said, with a little +uplifting of her brows--"And when their wishes are gratified, they +often wish they had not wished!" She laughed. "Robin, this talk of +ours is making me feel quite merry! I am amused!" + +"I am not!" he replied, irritably--"You are much too young a girl +to think these things--" + +She nodded, gravely. + +"I know! And I ought to get married while young, before I learn +too many of 'these things,'" she said--"Isn't that so? Don't +frown, Robin! Look at the Sieur Amadis! How peacefully he sleeps! +He knew all about love!" + +"Of course he did!" retorted Robin--"He was a perfectly sensible +man--he married and had six children." + +Innocent nodded again, and a little smile made two fascinating +dimples in her soft cheeks. + +"Yes! But he said good-bye to love first!" + +He looked at her in visible annoyance. + +"How can you tell?--what do you know about it?" he demanded. + +She lifted her eyes to the glimpses of blue sky that showed in +deep clear purity between the over-arching boughs,--a shaft of +sunlight struck on her fair hair and illumined its pale brown to +gold, so that for a moment she looked like the picture of a young +rapt saint, lost in heavenly musing. + +Then a smile, wonderfully sweet and provocative, parted her lips, +and she beckoned him to a grassy slope beneath one of the oldest +trees, where little tufts of wild thyme grew thickly, filling the +air with fragrance. + +"Come and sit beside me here," she said--"We have the day to +ourselves--Dad said so,--and we can talk as long as we like. You +ask me what I know?--not much indeed! But I'll tell you what the +Sieur Amadis has told me!--if you care to hear it!" + +"I'm not sure that I do," he answered, dubiously. + +She laughed. + +"Oh, Robin!--how ungrateful you are! You ought to be so pleased! +If you really loved me as much as you say, the mere sound of my +voice ought to fill you with ecstasy! Yes, really! Come, be good!" +And she sat down on the grass, glancing up at him invitingly. He +flung himself beside her, and she extended her little white hand +to him with a pretty condescension. + +"There!--you may hold it!" she said, as he eagerly clasped it-- +"Yes, you may! Now, if the Sieur Amadis had been allowed to hold +the hand of the lady he loved he would have gone mad with joy!" + +"Much good he'd have done by going mad!" growled Robin, with an +affectation of ill-humour--"I'd rather be sane,--sane and normal." + +She bent her smiling eyes upon him. + +"Would you? Poor Robin! Well, you will be--when you settle down--" + +"Settle down?" he echoed--"How? What do you mean?" + +"Why, when you settle down with a wife, and--shall we say six +children?" she queried, merrily--"Yes, I think it must be six! +Like the Sieur Amadis! And when you forget that you ever sat with +me under the trees, holding my hand--so!" + +The lovely, half-laughing compassion of her look nearly upset his +self-possession. He drew closer to her side. + +"Innocent!" he exclaimed, passionately--"if you would only listen +to reason--" + +She shook her head. + +"I never could!" she declared, with an odd little air of penitent +self-depreciation--"People who ask you to listen to reason are +always so desperately dull! Even Priscilla!--when she asks you to +'listen to reason,' she's in the worst of tempers! Besides, Robin, +dear, we shall have plenty of chances to 'listen to reason' when +we grow older,--we're both young just now, and a little folly +won't hurt us. Have patience with me!--I want to tell you some +quite unreasonable--quite abnormal things about love! May I?" + +"Yes--if _I_ may too!" he answered, kissing the hand he held, with +lingering tenderness. + +The soft colour flew over her cheeks,--she smiled. + +"Poor Robin!" she said--"You deserve to be happy and you will be! +--not with me, but with some one much better, and ever so much +prettier! I can see you as the master of Briar Farm--such a sweet +home for you and your wife, and all your little children running +about in the fields among the buttercups and daisies--a pretty +sight, Robin!--I shall think of it often when--when I am far +away!" + +He was about to utter a protest,--she stopped him by a gesture. + +"Hush!" she said. + +And there was a moment's silence. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"When I think about love," she began presently, in a soft dreamy +voice--"I'm quite sure that very few people ever really feel it or +understand it. It must be the rarest thing in all the world! This +poor Sieur Amadis, asleep so long in his grave, was a true lover, +--and I will tell you how I know he had said good-bye to love when +he married. All those books we found in the old dower-chest, that +day when we were playing about together as children, belonged to +him--some are his own compositions, written by his own hand,--the +others, as you know, are printed books which must have been +difficult to get in his day, and are now, I suppose, quite out of +date and almost unknown. I have read them all!--my head is a +little library full of odd volumes! But there is one--a manuscript +book--which I never tire of reading,--it is a sort of journal in +which the Sieur Amadis wrote down many of his own feelings-- +sometimes in prose, sometimes in verse--and by following them +carefully and piecing them together, it is quite easy to find out +his sadness and secret--how he loved once and never loved again--" + +"You can't tell that," interrupted Robin--"men often say they can +only love once--but they love ever so many times--" + +She smiled--and her eyes showed him what a stupid blunder he had +made. + +"Do they?" she queried, softly--"I am so glad, Robin! For you will +find it easy then to love somebody else instead of me!" + +He flushed, vexedly. + +"I didn't mean that--" he began. + +"No? I think you did!--but of course if you had thought twice you +wouldn't have said it! It was uttered quite truly and naturally, +Robin!--don't regret it! Only I want to explain to you that the +Sieur Amadis was not like that--he loved just once--and the lady +he loved must have been a very beautiful woman who had plenty of +admirers and did not care for him at all. All he writes proves +that. He is always grieved to the heart about it. Still he loved +her--and he seems glad to have loved her, though it was all no +use. And he kept a little chronicle of his dreams and fancies--all +that he felt and thought about,--it is beautifully and tenderly +written all in quaint old French. I had some trouble to make it +out--but I did at last--every word--and when he made up his mind +to marry, he finished the little book and never wrote another word +in it. Shall I tell you what were the last lines he wrote?" + +"It wouldn't be any use," he answered, kissing again the hand he +held--"I don't understand French. I've never even tried to learn +it." + +She laughed. + +"I know you haven't! But you've missed a great deal, Robin!--you +have really! When I made up my mind to find out all the Sieur +Amadis had written, I got Priscilla to buy me a French dictionary +and grammar and some other French lesson-books besides--then I +spelt all the words carefully and looked them all up in the +dictionary, and learned the pronunciation from one of the lesson- +books--and by-and-bye it got quite easy. For two years at least it +was dreadfully hard work--but now--well!--I think I could almost +speak French if I had the chance!" + +"I'm sure you could!" said Robin, looking at her, admiringly-- +"You're a clever little girl and could do anything you wanted to." + +Her brows contracted a little,--the easy lightness of his +compliment had that air of masculine indifference which is more +provoking to an intelligent woman than downright contradiction. +The smile lingered in her eyes, however,--a smile of mingled +amusement and compassion. + +"Well, I wanted to understand the writing of the Sieur Amadis," +she went on, quietly--"and when I could understand them I +translated them. So I can tell you the last words he wrote in his +journal--just before he married,--in fact on the very eve of his +marriage-day--" She paused abruptly, and looked for a moment at +the worn and battered tomb of the old knight, green with moss and +made picturesque by a trailing branch of wild roses that had +thrown itself across the stone effigy in an attempt to reach some +of its neighbours on the opposite side. Robin followed her gaze +with his own, and for a moment was more than usually impressed by +the calm, almost stern dignity of the recumbent figure. + +"Go on," he said--"What were the words?" + +"These"--and Innocent spoke them in a hushed voice, with sweet +reverence and feeling--"'Tonight I pull down and put away for ever +the golden banner of my life's ideal. It has been held aloft too +long in the sunshine of a dream, and the lily broidered on its web +is but a withered flower. My life is no longer of use to myself, +but as a man and faithful knight I will make it serve another's +pleasure and another's good. And because this good and simple girl +doth truly love me, though her love was none of my seeking, I will +give her her heart's desire, though mine own heart's desire shall +never be accomplished,--I will make her my wife, and will be to +her a true and loyal husband, so that she may receive from me all +she craves of happiness and peace. For though I fain would die +rather than wed, I know that life is not given to a man to live +selfishly, nor is God satisfied to have it wasted by any one who +hath sworn to be His knight and servant. Therefore even so let it +be!--I give all my unvalued existence to her who doth consider it +valuable, and with all my soul I pray that I may make so gentle +and trustful a creature happy. But to Love--oh, to Love a long +farewell!--farewell my dreams!--farewell ambition!--farewell the +glory of the vision unattainable!--farewell bright splendour of an +earthly Paradise!--for now I enter that prison which shall hold me +fast till death release me! Close, doors!--fasten, locks!--be +patient in thy silent solitude, my Soul!'" + +Innocent's voice faltered here--then she said--"That is the end. +He signed it 'Amadis.'" + +Robin was very quiet for a minute or two. + +"It's pretty--very pretty and touching--and all that sort of +thing," he said at last--"but it's like some old sonnet or +mediaeval bit of romance. No one would go on like that nowadays." + +Innocent lifted her eyebrows, quizzically. + +"Go on like what?" + +He moved impatiently. + +"Oh, about being patient in solitude with one's soul, and saying +farewell to love." He gave a short laugh. "Innocent dear, I wish +you would see the world as it really is!--not through the old- +style spectacles of the Sieur Amadis! In his day people were +altogether different from what they are now." + +"I'm sure they were!" she answered, quietly--"But love is the same +to-day as it was then." + +He considered a moment, then smiled. + +"No, dear, I'm not sure that it is," he said. "Those knights and +poets and curious people of that kind lived in a sort of imaginary +ecstasy--they exaggerated their emotions and lived at the top- +height of their fancies. We in our time are much more sane and +level-headed. And it's much better for us in the long run." + +She made no reply. Only very gently she withdrew her hand from +his. + +"I'm not a knight of old," he went on, turning his handsome, sun- +browned face towards her,--"but I'm sure I love you as much as +ever the Sieur Amadis could have loved his unknown lady. So much +indeed do I love you that I couldn't write about it to save my +life!--though I did write verses at Oxford once--very bad ones!" +He laughed. "But I can do one thing the Sieur Amadis didn't do--I +can keep faithful to my Vision of the glory unattainable'--and if +I don't marry you I'll marry no-body--so there!" + +She looked at him curiously and wistfully. + +"You will not be so foolish," she said--"You will not put me into +the position of the Sieur Amadis, who married some one who loved +him, merely out of pity!" + +He sprang up from the grass beside her. + +"No, no! I won't do that, Innocent! I'm not a coward! If you can't +love me, you shall not marry me, just because you are sorry for +me! That would be intolerable! I wouldn't have you for a wife at +all under such circumstances. I shall be perfectly happy as a +bachelor--perhaps happier than if I married." + +"And what about Briar Farm?" she asked. + +"Briar Farm can get on as best it may!" he replied, cheerily-- +"I'll work on it as long as I live and hand it down to some one +worthy of it, never fear! So there, Innocent!--be happy, and don't +worry yourself! Keep to your old knight and your strange fancies +about him--you may be right in your ideas of love, or you may be +wrong; but the great point with me is that you should be happy-- +and if you cannot be happy in my way, why you must just be happy +in your own!" + +She looked at him with a new interest, as he stood upright, facing +her in all the vigour and beauty of his young manhood. A little +smile crept round the corners of her mouth. + +"You are really a very handsome boy!" she said--"Quite a picture +in your way! Some girl will be very proud of you!" + +He gave a movement of impatience. + +"I must go back to the orchard," he said--"There's plenty to do. +And after all, work's the finest thing in the world--quite as fine +as love--perhaps finer!" + +A faint sense of compunction moved her at his words--she was +conscious of a lurking admiration for his cool, strong, healthy +attitude towards life and the things of life. And yet she was +resentful that he should be capable of considering anything in the +world "finer" than love. Work? What work? Pruning trees and +gathering apples? Surely there were greater ambitions than these? +She watched him thoughtfully under the fringe of her long +eyelashes, as he moved off. + +"Going to the orchard?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +She smiled a little. + +"That's right!" + +He glanced back at her. Had she known how bravely he restrained +himself she might have made as much a hero of him as of the knight +Amadis. For he was wounded to the heart--his brightest hopes were +frustrated, and at the very instant he walked away from her he +would have given his life to have held her for a moment in his +arms,--to have kissed her lips, and whispered to her the pretty, +caressing love-nonsense which to warm and tender hearts is the +sweetest language in the world. And with all his restrained +passion he was irritated with what, from a man's point of view, he +considered folly on her part,--he felt that she despised his love +and himself for no other reason than a mere romantic idea, bred of +loneliness and too much reading of a literature alien to the +customs and manners of the immediate time, and an uncomfortable +premonition of fear for her future troubled his mind. + +"Poor little girl!" he thought--"She does not know the world!--and +when she DOES come to know it--ah, my poor Innocent!--I would +rather she never knew!" + +Meanwhile she, left to herself, was not without a certain feeling +of regret. She was not sure of her own mind--and she had no +control over her own fancies. Every now and then a wave of +conviction came over her that after all tender-hearted old +Priscilla might be right--that it would be best to marry Robin and +help him to hold and keep Briar Farm as it had ever been kept and +held since the days of the Sieur Amadis. Perhaps, had she never +heard the story of her actual condition, as told her by Farmer +Jocelyn on the previous night, she might have consented to what +seemed so easy and pleasant a lot in life; but now it seemed to +her more than impossible. She no longer had any link with the far- +away ancestor who had served her so long as a sort of ideal--she +was a mere foundling without any name save the unbaptised +appellation of Innocent. And she regarded herself as a sort of +castaway. + +She went into the house soon after Robin had left her, and busied +herself with sorting the linen and looking over what had to be +mended. "For when I go," she said to herself, "they must find +everything in order." She dined alone with Priscilla--Robin sent +word that he was too busy to come in. She was a little piqued at +this--and almost cross when he sent the same message at tea-time, +--but she was proud in her way and would not go out to see if she +could persuade him to leave his work for half-an-hour. The sun was +slowly declining when she suddenly put down her sewing, struck by +a thought which had not previously occurred to her--and ran +fleetly across the garden to the orchard, where she found Robin +lying on his back under the trees with closed eyes. He opened +them, hearing the light movement of her feet and the soft flutter +of her gown--but he did not rise. She stopped--looking at him. + +"Were you asleep?" + +He stretched his arms above his head, lazily. + +"I believe I was!" he answered, smiling. + +"And you wouldn't come in to tea!" This with a touch of annoyance. + +"Oh yes, I would, if I had wanted tea," he replied--"but I didn't +want it." + +"Nor my company, I suppose," she added, with a little shrug of her +shoulders. His eyes flashed mischievously. + +"Oh, I daresay that had something to do with it!" he agreed. + +A curious vexation fretted her. She wished he would not look so +handsome--and--yes!--so indifferent. An impression of loneliness +and desertion came over her--he, Robin, was not the same to her +now--so she fancied--no doubt he had been thinking hard all the +day while doing his work, and at last had come to the conclusion +that it was wisest after all to let her go and cease to care for +her as he had done. A little throbbing pulse struggled in her +throat--a threat of rising tears,--but she conquered the emotion +and spoke in a voice which, though it trembled, was sweet and +gentle. + +"Robin," she said--"don't you think--wouldn't it be better-- +perhaps--" + +He looked up at her wonderingly--she seemed nervous or frightened. + +"What is it?" he asked--"Anything you want me to do?" + +"Yes"--and her eyes drooped--"but I hardly like to say it. You +see, Dad made up his mind this morning that we were to settle +things together--and he'll be angry and disappointed--" + +Robin half-raised himself on one arm. + +"He'll be angry and disappointed if we don't settle it, you mean," +he said--"and we certainly haven't settled it. Well?" + +A faint colour flushed her face. + +"Couldn't we pretend it's all right for the moment?" she +suggested--"Just to give him a little peace of mind?" + +He looked at her steadily. + +"You mean, couldn't we deceive him?" + +"Yes!--for his good! He has deceived ME all my life,--I suppose +for MY good--though it has turned out badly--" + +"Has it? Why?" + +"It has left me nameless," she answered,--"and friendless." + +A sudden rush of tears blinded her eyes--she put her hands over +them. He sprang up and, taking hold of her slender wrists, tried +to draw those hands down. He succeeded at last, and looked +wistfully into her face, quivering with restrained grief. + +"Dear, I will do what you like!" he said. "Tell me--what is your +wish?" + +She waited a moment, till she had controlled herself a little. + +"I thought"--she said, then--"that we might tell Dad just for to- +night that we are engaged--it would make him happy--and perhaps in +a week or two we might get up a quarrel together and break it off--" + +Robin smiled. + +"Dear little girl!--I'm afraid the plan wouldn't work! He wants +the banns put up on Sunday--and this is Wednesday." + +Her brows knitted perplexedly. + +"Something can be managed before then," she said. "Robin, I cannot +bear to disappoint him! He's old--and he's so ill too!--it +wouldn't hurt us for one night to say we are engaged!" + +"All right!"--and Robin threw back his head and laughed joyously-- +"I don't mind! The sensation of even imagining I'm engaged to you +is quite agreeable! For one evening, at least, I can assume a sort +of proprietorship over you! Innocent! I--I--" + +He looked so mirthful and mischievous that she smiled, though the +teardrops still sparkled on her lashes. + +"Well? What are you thinking of now?" she asked. + +"I think--I really think--under the circumstances I ought to kiss +you!" he said--"Don't you feel it would be right and proper? Even +on the stage the hero and heroine ACT a kiss when they're +engaged!" + +She met his laughing glance with quiet steadfastness. + +"I cannot act a kiss," she said--"You can, if you like! I don't +mind." + +"You don't mind?" + +"No." + +He looked from right to left--the apple-boughs, loaded with rosy +fruit, were intertwined above them like a canopy--the sinking sun +made mellow gold of all the air, and touched the girl's small +figure with a delicate luminance--his heart beat, and for a second +his senses swam in a giddy whirl of longing and ecstasy--then he +suddenly pulled himself together. + +"Dear Innocent, I wouldn't kiss you for the world!" he said, +gently--"It would be taking a mean advantage of you. I only spoke +in fun. There!--dry your pretty eyes!--you sweet, strange, +romantic little soul! You shall have it all your own way!" + +She drew a long breath of evident relief. + +"Then you'll tell your uncle--" + +"Anything you like!" he answered. "By-the-bye, oughtn't he to be +home by this time?" + +"He may have been kept by some business," she said--"He won't be +long now. You'll say we're engaged?" + +"Yes." + +"And perhaps"--went on Innocent--"you might ask him not to have +the banns put up yet as we don't want it known quite so soon--" + +"I'll do all I can," he replied, cheerily--"all I can to keep him +quiet, and to make you happy! There! I can't say more!" + +Her eyes shone upon him with a grateful tenderness. + +"You are very good, Robin!" + +He laughed. + +"Good! Not I! But I can't bear to see you fret--if I had my way +you should never know a moment's trouble that I could keep from +you. But I know I'm not a patch on your old stone knight who wrote +such a lot about his 'ideal'--and yet went and married a country +wench and had six children. Don't frown, dear! Nothing will make +me say he was romantic! Not a bit of it! He wrote a lot of +romantic things, of course--but he didn't mean half of them!--I'm +sure he didn't!" + +She coloured indignantly. + +"You say that because you know nothing about it," she said--"You +have not read his writings." + +"No--and I'm not sure that I want to," he answered, gaily. "Dear +Innocent, you must remember that I was at Oxford--my dear old +father and mother scraped and screwed every penny they could get +to send me there--and I believe I acquitted myself pretty well-- +but one of the best things I learned was the general uselessness +and vanity of the fellows that called themselves 'literary.' They +chiefly went in for disparaging and despising everyone who did not +agree with them and think just as they did. Mulish prigs, most of +them!" and Robin laughed his gay and buoyant laugh once more-- +"They didn't know that I was all the time comparing them with the +honest type of farmer--the man who lives an outdoor life with +God's air blowing upon him, and the soil turned freshly beneath +him!--I love books, too, in my way, but I love Nature better." + +"And do not poets help you to understand Nature?" asked Innocent. + +"The best of them do--such as Shakespeare and Keats and Tennyson, +--but they were of the past. The modern men make you almost despise +Nature,--more's the pity! They are always studying THEMSELVES, and +analysing THEMSELVES, and pitying THEMSELVES--now _I_ always say, +the less of one's self the better, in order to understand other +people." + +Innocent's eyes regarded him with quiet admiration. + +"Yes, you are a thoroughly good boy," she said--"I have told you +so often. But--I'm not sure that I should always get on with +anyone as good as you are!" + +She turned away then, and moved towards the house. As she went, +she suddenly stopped and clapped her hands, calling: + +"Cupid! Cupid! Cu-COO-pid!" + +A flash of white wings glimmered in the sunset-light, and her pet +dove flew to her, circling round and round till it dropped on her +outstretched arm. She caught it to her bosom, kissing its soft +head tenderly, and murmuring playful words to it. Robin watched +her, as with this favourite bird-playmate she disappeared across +the garden and into the house. Then he gave a gesture half of +despair, half of resignation--and left the orchard. + +The sun sank, and the evening shadows began to steal slowly in +their long darkening lines over the quiet fields, and yet Farmer +Jocelyn had not yet returned. The women of the household grew +anxious--Priscilla went to the door many times, looking up the +tortuous by-road for the first glimpse of the expected returning +vehicle--and Innocent stood in the garden near the porch, as +watchful as a sentinel and as silent. At last the sound of +trotting hoofs was heard in the far distance, and Robin, suddenly +making his appearance from the stable-yard where he too had been +waiting, called cheerily,-- + +"Uncle at last! Here he comes!" + +Another few minutes and the mare's head turned the corner--then +the whole dog-cart came into view with Farmer Jocelyn driving it. +But he was quite alone. + +Robin and Innocent exchanged surprised glances, but had no time to +make any comment as old Hugo just then drove up and, throwing the +reins to his nephew, alighted. + +"Aren't you very late, Dad?" said Innocent then, going to meet +him--"I was beginning to be quite anxious!" + +"Were you? Poor little one! I'm all right! I had business--I was +kept longer than I expected--" Here he turned quickly to Robin-- +"Unharness, boy!--unharness!--and come in to supper!" + +"Where's Landon?" asked Robin. + +"Landon? Oh, I've left him in the town." + +He pulled off his driving-gloves, and unbuttoned his overcoat-- +then strode into the house. Innocent followed him--she was puzzled +by his look and manner, and her heart beat with a vague sense of +fear. There was something about the old man that was new and +strange to her. She could not define it, but it filled her mind +with a curious and inexplicable uneasiness. Priscilla, who was +setting the dishes on the table in the room where the cloth was +laid for supper, had the same uncomfortable impression when she +saw him enter. His face was unusually pale and drawn, and the +slight stoop of age in his otherwise upright figure seemed more +pronounced than usual. He drew up his chair to the table and sat +down,--then ruffling his fine white hair over his brow with one +hand, looked round him with an evidently forced smile. + +"Anxious about me, were you, child?" he said, as Innocent took her +place beside him. "Well, well! you need not have given me a +thought! I--I was all right--all right! I made a bit of a bargain +in the town--but the prices were high--and Landon--" + +He broke off suddenly and stared in front of him with strange +fixed eyeballs. + +Innocent and Priscilla looked at one another in alarm. There was a +moment's tense stillness,--then Innocent said in rather a +trembling voice-- + +"Yes, Dad? You were saying something about Landon--" + +The stony glare faded from his eyes and he looked at her with a +more natural expression. + +"Landon? Did I speak of him? Oh yes!--Landon met with some fellows +he knew and decided to spend the evening with them--he asked me +for a night off--and I gave it to him. Yes--I--I gave it to him." + +Just then Robin entered. + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed, gaily--"At supper? Don't begin without me! +I say, Uncle, is Landon coming back to-night?" + +Jocelyn turned upon him sharply. + +"No!" he answered, in so fierce a tone that Robin stood amazed-- +"Why do you all keep on asking me about Landon? He loves drink +more than life, and he's having all he wants to-night. I've let +him off work to-morrow." + +Robin was silent for a moment out of sheer surprise. + +"Oh well, that's all right, if you don't mind," he said, at last-- +"We're pretty busy--but I daresay we can manage without him." + +"I should think so!" and Hugo gave a short laugh of scorn--"Briar +Farm would have come to a pretty pass if it could not get on +without a man like Landon!" + +There was another silent pause. + +Priscilla gave an anxious side-glance at Innocent's troubled face, +and decided to relieve the tension by useful commonplace talk. + +"Well, Landon or no Landon, supper's ready!" she said, briskly-- +"and it's been waiting an hour at least. Say grace, Mister +Jocelyn, and I'll carve!" + +Jocelyn looked at her bewilderedly. + +"Say grace?" he queried--"what for?" + +Priscilla laughed loudly to cover the surprise she felt. + +"What for? Lor, Mister Jocelyn, if you don't know I'm sure I +don't! For the beef and potatoes, I suppose, an' all the stuff we +eats--'for what we are going to receive--'" + +"Ah, yes! I remember--'May the Lord make us truly thankful!'" +responded Jocelyn, closing his eyes for a second and then opening +them again--"And I'll tell you what, Priscilla!--there's a deal +more to be thankful for to-night than beef and potatoes!--a great +deal more!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The supper was a very silent meal. Old Hugo was evidently not +inclined to converse,--he ate his food quickly, almost ravenously, +without seeming to be conscious that he was eating. Robin Clifford +glanced at him now and again watchfully, and with some anxiety,-- +an uncomfortable idea that there was something wrong somewhere +worried him,--moreover he was troubled by the latent feeling that +presently his uncle would be sure to ask if all was "settled" +between himself and Innocent. Strangely enough, however, the old +man made no allusion to the subject. He seemed to have forgotten +it, though it had been the chief matter on which he had laid so +much stress that morning. Each minute Innocent expected him to +turn upon her with the dreaded question--to which she would have +had to reply untruly, according to the plan made between herself +and Robin. But to her great surprise and relief he said nothing +that conveyed the least hint of the wish he had so long cherished. +He was irritable and drowsy,--now and again his head fell a little +forward on his chest and his eyes closed as though in utter +weariness. Seeing this, the practical Priscilla made haste to get +the supper finished and cleared away. + +"You be off to bed, Mister Jocelyn," she said,--"The sooner the +better, for you look as tired as a lame dog that 'as limped 'ome +twenty miles. You ain't fit to be racketing about markets an' +drivin' bargains." + +"Who says I'm not?" he interrupted, sitting bolt upright and +glaring fiercely at her--"I tell you I am! I can do business as +well as any man--and drive a bargain-ah! I should think so +indeed!--a hard-and-fast bargain!--not easy to get out of, I can +tell you!--not easy to get out of! And it has cost me a pretty +penny, too!" + +Robin Clifford glanced at him enquiringly. + +"How's that?" he asked--"You generally make rather than spend!" + +Jocelyn gave a sudden loud laugh. + +"So I do, boy, so I do! But sometimes one has to spend to make! +I've done both to-day--I've made and I've spent. And what I've +spent is better than keeping it--and what I've made--ay!--what +I've made--well!--it's a bargain, and no one can say it isn't a +fair one!" + +He got up from the supper table and pushed away his chair. + +"I'll go," he said--"Priscilla's right--I'm dog-tired and bed's +the best place for me." He passed his hand over his forehead. +"There's a sort of buzzing in my brain like the noise of a cart- +wheel--I want rest." As he spoke Innocent came softly beside him +and took his arm caressingly. He looked down upon her with a +smile. "Yes, wilding, I want rest! We'll have a long talk out +tomorrow--you and I and Robin. Bless thee, child! Good-night!" + +He kissed her tenderly and held out one hand to Clifford, who +cordially grasped it. + +"Good boy!" he said-"Be up early, for there's much to do--and +Landon won't be home till late--no--not till late! Get on with the +field work--for if the clouds mean anything we shall have rain." +He paused a moment and seemed to reflect, then repeated slowly-- +"Yes, lad! We shall have rain!--and wind, and storm! Be ready!-- +the fine weather's breaking!" + +With that he went, walking slowly, and they heard him stumble once +or twice as he went up the broad oak staircase to his bedroom. +Priscilla put her head on one side, like a meditative crow, and +listened. Then she heaved a sigh, smoothed down her apron and +rolled up her eyes. + +"Well, if Mister Jocelyn worn't as sober a man as any judge an' +jury," she observed--"I should say 'e'd bin drinkin'! But that +ain't it. Mr. Robin, there's somethin' gone wrong with 'im--an' I +don't like it." + +"Nor I," said Innocent, in a trembling voice, suggestive of tears. +"Oh, Robin, you surely noticed how strange he looked! I'm so +afraid! I feel as if something dreadful was going to happen--" + +"Nonsense!" and Robin assumed an air of indifference which he was +far from feeling--"Uncle Hugo is tired--I think he has been put +out--you know he's quick-tempered and easily irritated--he may +have had some annoyance in the town--" + +"Ah! And where's Landon?" put in Priscilla, with a dark nod--"That +do beat me! Why ever the master should 'ave let a man like that go +on the loose for a night an' a day is more than I can make out! +It's sort of tempting Providence--that it is!" + +Clifford flushed and turned aside. His fight with Landon was fresh +in his mind--and he began to wonder whether he had done rightly in +telling his uncle how it came about. But meeting Innocent's +anxious eyes, which mutely asked him for comfort, he answered-- + +"Oh, well, there's nothing very much in that, Priscilla! I daresay +Landon wanted a holiday--he doesn't ask for one often, and he's +kept fairly sober lately. Hadn't we better be off to bed? Things +will straighten out with the morning." + +"Do you really think so?" Innocent sighed as she put the question. + +"Of course I think so!" answered Robin, cheerily. "We're all +tired, and can't look on the bright side! Sound sleep is the best +cure for the blues! Good-night, Innocent!" + +"Good-night!" she said, gently. + +"Good-night, Priscilla!" + +"Good-night, Mr. Robin. God bless ye!" + +He smiled, nodded kindly to them both, and left the room. + +"There's a man for ye!" murmured Priscilla, admiringly, as he +disappeared--"A tower of strength for a 'usband, which the Lord +knows is rare! Lovey, you'll never do better!" + +But Innocent seemed not to hear. Her face was very pale, and her +eyes had a strained wistful expression. + +"Dad looks very ill," she said, slowly--"Priscilla, surely you +noticed--" + +"Now, child, don't you worry--'tain't no use"--and Priscilla lit +two bedroom candles, giving Innocent one--"You just go up to bed +and think of nothing till the morning. Mister Jocelyn is dead beat +and put out about something--precious 'ungry too, for he ate his +food as though he hadn't 'ad any all day. You couldn't expect him +to be pleasant if he was wore out." + +Innocent said nothing more. She gave a parting glance round the +room to assure herself that everything was tidy, windows bolted +and all safe for the night, and for a fleeting moment the +impression came over her that she would never see it look quite +the same again. A faint cold tremor ran through her delicate +little body--she felt lonely and afraid. Silently she followed +Priscilla up the beautiful Tudor staircase to the first landing, +where, moved by a tender, clinging impulse, she kissed her. + +"Good-night, you dear, kind Priscilla!" she said--"You've always +been good to me!" + +"Bless you, my lovey!" answered Priscilla, with emotion--"Go and +sleep with the angels, like the little angel you are yourself! And +mind you think twice, and more than twice, before you say 'No' to +Mr. Robin!" + +With a deprecatory shake of her head, and a faint smile, Innocent +turned away, and passed through the curious tortuous little +corridor that led to her own room. Once safely inside that quiet +sanctum where the Sieur Amadis of long ago had "found peace," she +set her candle down on the oak table and remained standing by it +for some moments, lost in thought. The pale glimmer of the single +light was scarcely sufficient to disperse the shadows around her, +but the lattice window was open and admitted a shaft of moonlight +which shed a pearly radiance on her little figure, clothed in its +simple white gown. Had any artist seen her thus, alone and +absorbed in sorrowful musing, he might have taken her as a model +of Psyche after her god had flown. She was weary and anxious--life +had suddenly assumed for her a tragic aspect. Old Jocelyn's manner +had puzzled her--he was unlike himself, and she instinctively felt +that he had some secret trouble on his mind. What could it be? she +wondered. Not about herself and Robin--for were he as keen on +"putting up the banns" as he had been in the morning he would not +have allowed the matter to rest. He would have asked straight +questions, and he would have expected plain answers,--and they +would, in accordance with the secret understanding they had made +with each other, have deceived him. Now there was no deception +necessary--he seemed to have forgotten--at least for the present-- +his own dearest desire. With a sigh, half of pain, half of relief, +she seated herself at the table, and opening its one deep drawer +with a little key which she always wore round her neck, she began +to turn over her beloved pile of manuscript, and this occupied her +for several minutes. Presently she looked up, her eyes growing +brilliant with thought, and a smile on her lips. + +"I really think it might do!" she said, aloud--"I should not be +afraid to try! Who knows what might happen? I can but fail--or +succeed. If I fail, I shall have had my lesson--if I succeed--" + +She leaned her head on her two hands, ruffling up her pretty hair +into soft golden-brown rings. + +"If I succeed!--ah!--if I do! Then I'll pay back everything I owe +to Dad and Briar Farm!--oh, no! I can never pay back my debt to +Briar Farm!--that would be impossible! Why, the very fields and +trees and flowers and birds have made me happy!--happier than I +shall ever be after I have said good-bye to them all!--good-bye +even to the Sieur Amadis!" + +Quick tears sprang to her eyes--and the tapering light of the +candle looked blurred and dim. + +"Yes, after all," she went on, still talking to the air, "it's +better and braver to try to do something in the world, rather than +throw myself upon Robin, and be cowardly enough to take him for a +husband when I don't love him. Just for comfort and shelter and +Briar Farm! It would be shameful. And I could not marry a man +unless I loved him quite desperately!--I could not! I'm not sure +that I like the idea of marriage at all,--it fastens a man and +woman together for life, and the time might come when they would +grow tired of each other. How cruel and wicked it would be to +force them to endure each other's company when they perhaps wished +the width of the world between them! No--I don't think I should +care to be married--certainly not to Robin." + +She put her manuscript by, and shut and locked the drawer +containing it. Then she went to the open lattice window and looked +out--and thought of the previous night, when Robin had swung +himself up on the sill to talk to her, and they had been all +unaware that Ned Landon was listening down below. A flush of anger +heated her cheeks as she recalled this and all that Robin had told +her of the unprepared attack Landon had made upon him and the +ensuing fight between them. But now? Was it not very strange that +Landon should apparently be in such high favour with Hugo Jocelyn +that he had actually been allowed to stay in the market-town and +enjoy a holiday, which for him only meant a bout of drunkenness? +She could not understand it, and her perplexity increased the more +she thought of it. Leaning far out over the window-sill, she gazed +long and lovingly across the quiet stretches of meadowland, +shining white in the showered splendour of the moon--the tall +trees--the infinite and harmonious peace of the whole scene,-- +then, shutting the lattice, she pulled the curtains across it, and +taking her lit candle, went to her secluded inner sleeping- +chamber, where, in the small, quaintly carved four-poster bed, +furnished with ancient tapestry and lavendered linen, and covered +up under a quilt embroidered three centuries back by the useful +fingers of the wife of Sieur Amadis de Jocelin, she soon fell into +a sound and dreamless slumber. + +The hours moved on, bearing with them different destinies to +millions of different human lives, and the tall old clock in the +great hall of Briar Farm told them off with a sonorous chime and +clangour worthy of Westminster itself. It was a quiet night; there +was not a breath of wind to whistle through crack or key-hole, or +swing open an unbolted door,--and Hero, the huge mastiff that +always slept "on guard" just within the hall entrance, had surely +no cause to sit up suddenly on his great haunches and listen with +uplifted ears to sounds which were to any other creature +inaudible. Yet listen he did--sharply and intently. Raising his +massive head he snuffed the air--then suddenly began to tremble as +with cold, and gave vent to a long, low, dismal moan. It was a +weird noise--worse than positive howling, and the dog himself +seemed distressfully conscious that he was expressing something +strange and unnatural. Two or three times he repeated this eerie +muffled cry--then, lying down again, he put his nose between his +great paws, and, with a deep shivering sigh, appeared to resign +himself to the inevitable. There followed several moments of tense +silence. Then came a sudden dull thud overhead, as of a heavy load +falling or being thrown down, and a curious inexplicable murmur +like smothered choking or groaning. Instantly the great dog sprang +erect and raced up the staircase like a mad creature, barking +furiously. The house was aroused--doors were flung open--Priscilla +rushed from her room half dressed--and Innocent ran along the +corridor in her little white nightgown, her feet bare, and her +hair falling dishevelled over her shoulders. + +"What is it?" she cried piteously--"Oh, do tell me! What is it?" + +Robin Clifford, hearing the dog's persistent barking, had hastily +donned coat and trousers and now appeared on the scene. + +"Hero, Hero!" he called--"Quiet, Hero!" + +But Hero had bounded to his master Jocelyn's door and was pounding +against it with all the force of his big muscular body, apparently +seeking to push or break it open. Robin laid one hand on the +animal's collar and pulled him back--then tried the door himself-- +it was locked. + +"Uncle Hugo!" + +There was no answer. + +He turned to one of the frightened servants who were standing +near. His face was very pale. + +"Fetch me a hammer," he said--"Something--anything that will force +the lock. Innocent!"--and with deep tenderness he took her little +cold hands in his own--"I wish you would go away!" + +"Why?" and she looked at him with eyes full of terror. "Oh no, no! +Let me be with you--let me call him!"--and she knelt outside the +closed door--"Dad! Dear Dad! I want to speak to you! Mayn't I come +in? I'm so frightened--do let me come in. Dad!" + +But the silence remained unbroken. + +"Priscilla!"--and Robin beckoned to her--"keep Innocent beside +you--I'm afraid--" + +Priscilla nodded, turning her head aside a moment to wipe away the +tears that were gathering in her eyes,--then she put an arm round +Innocent's waist. + +"Don't kneel there, lovey," she whispered--"It's no good and +you're in the way when they open the door. Come with me!--there's +a dear!"--and she drew the trembling little figure tenderly into +her arms. "There!--that'll be a bit warmer!" and she signed to one +of the farm maids near her to fetch a cloak which she carefully +wrapped round the girl's shoulders. Just then the hammer was +brought with other tools, and Robin, to save any needless clamour, +took a chisel and inserted it in such a manner as should most +easily force the catch of the door--but the lock was an ancient +and a strong one, and would not yield for some time. At last, with +an extra powerful and dexterous movement of his hand, it suddenly +gave way--and he saw what he would have given worlds that Innocent +should not have seen--old Hugo lying face forward on the floor, +motionless. There was a rush and a wild cry-- + +"Dad! Dad!" + +She was beside him in a moment, trying with all her slight +strength to lift his head and turn his face. + +"Help me--oh, help me!" she wailed. "He has fainted--we must lift +him--get some one to lift him on the bed. It is only a faint--he +will recover--get some brandy and send for the doctor. Don't lose +time!--for Heaven's sake be quick! Robin, make them hurry!" + +Robin had already whispered his orders,--and two of the farm lads, +roused from sleep and hastily summoned, were ready to do what he +told them. With awed, hushed movements they lifted the heavy +fallen body of their master between them and laid it gently down +on the bed. As the helpless head dropped back on the pillow they +saw that all was over,--the pinched ashen grey of the features and +the fast glazing eyes told their own fatal story--there was no +hope. But Innocent held the cold hand of the dead man to her warm +young bosom, endeavouring to take from it its cureless chill. + +"He will be better soon," she said,--"Priscilla, bring me that +brandy--just a little will revive him, I'm sure. Why do you stand +there crying? You surely don't think he's dead?--No, no, that +isn't possible! It isn't possible, is it, Robin? He'll come to +himself in a few minutes--a fainting fit may last quite a long +time. I wish he had not locked his door--we could have been with +him sooner." + +So she spoke, tremblingly nursing the dead hand in her bosom. No +one present had the heart to contradict her--and Priscilla, with +the tears running down her face, brought the brandy she asked for +and held it while she tenderly moistened the lips of the corpse +and tried to force a few drops between the clenched teeth--in +vain. This futile attempt frightened her, and she looked at Robin +Clifford with a wild air. + +"I cannot make him swallow it," she said--"Can you, Robin? He +looks so grey and cold!--but his lips are quite warm." + +Robin, restraining the emotion that half choked him and threatened +to overflow in womanish weeping, went up to her and tried to coax +her away from the bedside. + +"Dear, if you could leave him for a little it would perhaps be +better," he said. "He might--he might recover sooner. We have sent +for the doctor--he will be here directly--" + +"I will stay here till he comes," replied the girl, quietly. "How +can you think I would leave Dad when he's ill? If we could only +rouse him a little--" + +Ah, that "if"! If we could only rouse our beloved ones who fall +into that eternal sleep, would not all the riches and glories of +the world seem tame in comparison with such joy! Innocent had +never seen death--she could not realise that this calm +irresponsiveness, this cold and stiffening rigidity, meant an end +to the love and care she had known all her life--love and care +which would never be replaced in quite the same way! + +The first peep of a silver dawn began to peer through the lattice +window, and as she saw this suggestion of wakening life, a sudden +dread clutched at her heart and made it cold. + +"It will be morning soon," she said--"Priscilla, when will the +doctor come?" + +Scarcely had she said the words when the doctor entered. He took a +comprehensive glance round the room,--at the still form on the +bed--at the little crouching girl--figure beside it--at Priscilla, +trembling and tearful--at Robin, deadly pale and self-restrained-- +at the farm-lads and servants. + +"When did this happen?" he said. + +Robin told him. + +"I see!" he said. "He must have fallen forward on getting out of +bed. I rather expected a sudden seizure of this kind." He made his +brief examination. The eyes of the dead man were open and glassily +staring upward--he gently closed the lids over them and pressed +them down. + +"Nothing to be done," he went on, gently--"His end was painless." + +Innocent had risen--she had laid the cold hand of the corpse back +on its breast--and she stood gazing vacantly before her in utter +misery. + +"Nothing to be done?" she faltered--"Do you mean that you cannot +rouse him? Will he never speak to me again?" + +The doctor looked at her gravely and kindly. + +"Not in this world, my dear," he said--"in the next--perhaps! Let +us hope so!" + +She put her hand up to her forehead with a bewildered gesture. + +"He is dead!" she cried--"Dead! Oh, Robin, Robin! I can't believe +it!--it isn't true! Dad, dear Dad! My only friend! Good-bye--good- +bye, Dad!--good-bye, Briar Farm--good-bye to everything--oh, Dad!" + +Her voice quavered and broke in a passion of tears. + +"I loved him as if he were my own father," she sobbed. "And he +loved me as if I were his own child! Oh, Dad, darling Dad! We can +never love each other again!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The news of Farmer Jocelyn's sudden death was as though a cloud- +burst had broken over the village, dealing utter and hopeless +destruction. To the little community of simple workaday folk +living round Briar Farm it was a greater catastrophe than the +death of any king. Nothing else was talked of. Nothing was done. +Men stood idly about, looking at each other in a kind of stupefied +consternation,--women chattered and whispered at their cottage +doors, shaking their heads with all that melancholy profundity of +wisdom which is not wise till after the event,--the children were +less noisy in their play, checked by the grave faces of their +parents--the very dogs seemed to know that something had occurred +which altered the aspect of ordinary daily things. The last of the +famous Jocelyns was no more! It seemed incredible. And Briar Farm? +What would become of Briar Farm? + +"There ain't none o' th' owd folk left now" said one man, lighting +his pipe slowly--"It's all over an' done wi'. Mister Clifford, +he's good enow--but he ain't a Jocelyn, though a Jocelyn were his +mother. 'Tis the male side as tells. An' he's young, an' he'll +want change an' rovin' about like all young men nowadays, an' the +place'll be broke up, an' the timber felled, an' th' owd oak'll be +sold to a dealer, an' Merrikans'll come an' buy the pewter an' the +glass an' the linen, an' by-an'-bye we won't know there ever was +such a farm at all--" + +"That's your style o' thinkin', is it?" put in another man +standing by, with a round straw hat set back upon his head in a, +fashion which gave him the appearance of a village idiot--"Well, +it's not mine! No, by no means! There'll be a Will,--an' Mister +Robin he'll find a Way! Briar Farm'll allus be Briar Farm +accordin' to MY mind!" + +"YOUR mind ain't much," growled the first speaker--"so don't ye go +settin' store by it. Lord, Lord! to think o' Farmer Jocelyn bein' +gone! Seems as if a right 'and 'ad bin cut off! Onny yesterday I +met 'im drivin' along the road at a tearin' pace, with Ned Landon +sittin' beside 'im--an' drivin' fine too, for the mare's a tricky +one with a mouth as 'ard as iron--but 'e held 'er firm--that 'e +did!--no weakness about 'im--an' 'e was talkin' away to Landon +while 'e drove, 'ardly lookin' right or left, 'e was that sure of +hisself. An' now 'e's cold as stone--who would a' thort it!" + +"Where's Landon?" asked the other man. + +"I dunno. He's nowhere about this mornin' that I've seen." + +At that moment a figure came into view, turning the corner of a +lane at the end of the scattered thatched cottages called "the +village,"--a portly, consequential-looking figure, which both men +recognised as that of the parson of the parish, and they touched +their caps accordingly. The Reverend William Medwin, M.A., was a +great personage,--and his "cure of souls" extended to three other +villages outlying the one of which Briar Farm was the acknowledged +centre. + +"Good-morning!" he said, with affable condescension--"I hear that +Farmer Jocelyn died suddenly last night. Is it true?" + +Both men nodded gravely. + +"Yes, sir, it's true--more's the pity! It's took us all aback." + +"Ay, ay!" and Mr. Medwin nodded blandly--"No doubt-no doubt! But I +suppose the farm will go on just the same?--there will be no lack +of employment?" + +The man who was smoking looked doubtful. + +"Nobuddy can tell--m'appen the place will be sold--m'appen it +won't. The hands may be kept, or they may be given the sack. +There's only Mr. Clifford left now, an' 'e ain't a Jocelyn." + +"Does that matter?" and the reverend gentleman smiled with the +superior air of one far above all things of mere traditional +sentiment. "There is the girl--" + +"Ah, yes! There's the girl!" + +The speakers looked at one another. + +"Her position," continued Mr. Medwin, meditatively tracing a +pattern on the ground with the end of his walking-stick, "seems to +me to be a little unfortunate. But I presume she is really the +daughter of our deceased friend?" + +The man who was smoking took the pipe from his mouth and stared +for a moment. + +"Daughter she may be," he said, "but born out o' wedlock anyhow-- +an' she ain't got no right to Briar Farm unless th' owd man 'as +made 'er legal. An' if 'e's done that it don't alter the muddle, +'cept in the eyes o' the law which can twist ye any way--for she +was born bastard, an' there's never been a bastard Jocelyn on +Briar Farm all the hundreds o' years it's been standin'!" + +Mr. Medwin again interested himself in a dust pattern. + +"Ah, dear, dear!" he sighed--"Very sad, very sad! Our follies +always find us out, if not while we live, then when we die! I'm +sorry! Farmer Jocelyn was not a Churchman--no!--a regrettable +circumstance!--still, I'm sorry! He was a useful person in the +parish--quite honest, I believe, and a very fair and good master--" + +"None better!" chorussed his listeners. + +"True! None better. Well, well! I'll just go up to the house and +see if I can be of any service, or--or comfort---" + +One of the men smiled darkly. + +"Sartin sure Farmer Jocelyn's as dead as door-nails. If so be you +are a-goin' to Briar Farm, Mr. Medwin!" he said--"Why, you never +set foot in the place while 'e was a livin' man!" + +"Quite correct!" and Mr. Medwin nodded pleasantly--"I make it a +rule never to go where I'm not wanted." He paused, impressively,-- +conscious that he had "scored." "But now that trouble has visited +the house I consider it my duty to approach the fatherless and the +afflicted. Good-day!" + +He walked off then, treading ponderously and wearing a composed +and serious demeanour. The men who had spoken with him were +quickly joined by two or three others. + +"Parson goin' to the Farm?" they enquired. + +"Ay!" + +"We'll 'ave gooseberries growin' on hayricks next!" declared a +young, rough-featured fellow in a smock--"anythin' can 'appen now +we've lost the last o' the Jocelyns!" + +And such was the general impression throughout the district. Men +met in the small public-houses and over their mugs of beer +discussed the possibilities of emigrating to Canada or New +Zealand, for--"there'll be no more farm work worth doin' round +'ere"--they all declared--"Mister Jocelyn wanted MEN, an' paid 'em +well for workin' LIKE men!--but it'll all be machines now." + +Meanwhile, the Reverend Mr. Medwin, M.A., had arrived at Briar +Farm. Everything was curiously silent. All the blinds were down-- +the stable-doors were closed, and the stable-yard was empty. The +sunlight swept in broad slanting rays over the brilliant flower- +beds which were now at their gayest and best,--the doves lay +sleeping on the roofs of sheds and barns as though mesmerised and +forbidden to fly. A marked loneliness clouded the peaceful beauty +of the place--a loneliness that made itself seen and felt by even +the most casual visitor. + +With a somewhat hesitating hand Mr. Medwin pulled the door-bell. +In a minute or two a maid answered the summons--her eyes were red +with weeping. At sight of the clergyman she looked surprised and a +little frightened. + +"How is Miss--Miss Jocelyn?" he enquired, softly--"I have only +just heard the sad news--" + +"She's not able to see anyone, sir," replied the maid, +tremulously--"at least I don't think so--I'll ask. She's very +upset--" + +"Of course, of course!" said Mr. Medwin, soothingly--"I quite +understand! Please say I called! Mr. Clifford--" + +A figure stepped out from the interior darkness of the shadowed +hall towards him. + +"I am here," said Robin, gently--"Did you wish to speak to me? +This is a house of heavy mourning to-day!" + +The young man's voice shook,--he was deadly pale, and there was a +strained look in his eyes of unshed tears. Mr. Medwin was +conscious of nervous embarrassment. + +"Indeed, indeed I know it is!" he murmured--"I feel for you most +profoundly! So sudden a shock too!--I--I thought that perhaps Miss +Jocelyn--a young girl struck by her first great loss and sorrow, +might like to see me--" + +Robin Clifford looked at him in silence for a moment. The +consolations of the Church! Would they mean anything to Innocent? +He wondered. + +"I will ask her," he said at last, abruptly--"Will you step +inside?" + +Mr. Medwin accepted the suggestion, taking off his hat as he +crossed the threshold, and soon found himself in the quaint +sitting-room where, but two days since, Hugo Jocelyn had told +Innocent all her true history. He could not help being impressed +by its old-world peace and beauty, furnished as it was in perfect +taste, with its window-outlook on a paradise of happy flowers +rejoicing in the sunlight. The fragrance of sweet lavender scented +the air, and a big china bowl of roses in the centre of the table +gave a touch of tender brightness to the old oak panelling on the +walls. + +"There are things in this room that are priceless!" soliloquised +the clergyman, who was something of a collector--"If the place +comes under the hammer I shall try to pick up a few pieces." + +He smiled, with the pleased air of one who feels that all things +must have an end--either by the "hammer" or otherwise,--even a +fine old house, the pride and joy of a long line of its owners +during three hundred years. And then he started, as the door +opened slowly and softly and a girl stood before him, looking more +like a spirit than a mortal, clad in a plain white gown, with a +black ribbon threaded through her waving fair hair. She was pale +to the very lips, and her eyes were swollen and heavy with +weeping. Timidly she held out her hand. + +"It is kind of you to come," she said,--and paused. + +He, having taken her hand and let it go again, stood awkwardly +mute. It was the first time he had seen Innocent in her home +surroundings, and he had hardly noticed her at all when he had by +chance met her in her rare walks through the village and +neighbourhood, so that he was altogether unprepared for the +refined delicacy and grace of her appearance. + +"I am very sorry to hear of your sad bereavement," he began, at +last, in a conventional tone--"very sorry indeed--" + +She looked at him curiously. + +"Are you? I don't think you can be sorry, because you did not know +him--if you had known him, you would have been really grieved-- +yes, I am sure you would. He was such a good man!--one of the best +in all the world! I'm glad you have come to see me, because I have +often wanted to speak to you--and perhaps now is the right time. +Won't you sit down?" + +He obeyed her gesture, surprised more or less by her quiet air of +sad self-possession. He had expected to offer the usual forms of +religious consolation to a sort of uneducated child or farm-girl, +nervous, trembling and tearful,--instead of this he found a woman +whose grief was too deep and sincere to be relieved by mere talk, +and whose pathetic composure and patience were the evident result +of a highly sensitive mental organisation. + +"I have never seen death before," she said, in hushed tones-- +"except in birds and flowers and animals--and I have cried over +the poor things for sorrow that they should be taken away out of +this beautiful world. But with Dad it is different. He was afraid +--afraid of suffering and weakness--and he was taken so quickly +that he could hardly have felt anything--so that his fears were +all useless. And I can hardly believe he is dead--actually dead-- +can you? But of course you do not believe in death at all--the +religion you teach is one of eternal life--eternal life and +happiness." + +Mr. Medwin's lips moved--he murmured something about "living again +in the Lord." + +Innocent did not hear,--she was absorbed in her own mental problem +and anxious to put it before him. + +"Listen!" she said--"When Priscilla told me Dad was really dead-- +that he would never get off the bed where he lay so cold and white +and peaceful,--that he would never speak to me again, I said she +was wrong--that it could not be. I told her he would wake +presently and laugh at us all for being so foolish as to think him +dead. Even Hero, our mastiff, does not believe it, for he has +stayed all morning by the bedside and no one dare touch him to +take him away. And just now Priscilla has been with me, crying +very much--and she says I must not grieve,--because Dad is gone to +a better world. Then surely he must be alive if he is able to go +anywhere, must he not? I asked her what she knew about this better +world, and she cried again and said indeed she knew nothing except +what she had been taught in her Catechism. I have read the +Catechism and it seems to me very stupid and unnatural--perhaps +because I do not understand it. Can you tell me about this better +world?" + +Mr. Medwin's lips moved again. He cleared his throat. + +"I'm afraid," he observed--"I'm very much afraid, my poor child, +that you have been brought up in a sad state of ignorance." + +Innocent did not like being called a "poor child"--and she gave a +little gesture of annoyance. + +"Please do not pity me," she said, with a touch of hauteur--"I do +not wish that! I know it is difficult for me to explain things to +you as I see them, because I have never been taught religion from +a Church. I have read about the Virgin and Christ and the Saints +and all those pretty legends in the books that belonged to the +Sieur Amadis--but he lived three hundred years ago and he was a +Roman Catholic, as all those French noblemen were at that time." + +Mr. Medwin stared at her in blank bewilderment. Who was the Sieur +Amadis? She went on, heedless of his perplexity. + +"Dad believed in a God who governed all things rightly,--I have +heard him say that God managed the farm and made it what it is. +But he never spoke much about it--and he hated the Church--" + +The reverend gentleman interrupted her with a grave uplifted hand. + +"I know!" he sighed--"Ah yes, I know! A dreadful thing!--a +shocking attitude of mind!' I fear he was not saved!" + +She looked straightly at him. + +"I don't see what you mean," she said--"He was quite a good man--" + +"Are you sure of that?" and Mr. Medwin fixed his shallow brown +eyes searchingly upon her. "Our affections are often very +deceptive--" + +A flush of colour overspread her pale cheeks. + +"Indeed I am very sure!" she answered, steadily--"He was a good +man. There was never a stain on his character--though he allowed +people to think wrong things of him for my sake. That was his only +fault." + +He was silent, waiting for her next word. + +"I think perhaps I ought to tell you," she continued--"because +then you will be able to judge him better and spare his memory +from foolish and wicked scandal. He was not my father--I was only +his adopted daughter." + +Mr. Medwin gave a slight cough--a cough of incredulity. "Adopted" +is a phrase often used to cover the brand of illegitimacy. + +"I never knew my own history till the other day," she said, slowly +and sadly. "The doctor came to see Dad, with a London specialist, +a friend of his--and they told him he had not long to live. After +that Dad made up his mind that I must learn all the truth of +myself--oh!--what a terrible truth it was!--I thought my heart +would break! It was so strange--so cruel! I had grown up believing +myself to be Dad's own, very own daughter!--and I had been +deceived all my life!--for he told me I was nothing but a nameless +child, left on his hands by a stranger!" + +Mr. Medwin opened his small eyes in amazement,--he was completely +taken aback. He tried to grasp the bearings of this new aspect of +the situation thus presented to him, but could not realise +anything save what in his own mind was he pleased to call a "cock- +and-bull" story. + +"Most extraordinary!" he ejaculated, at last--"Did he give you no +clue at all as to your actual parentage?" + +Innocent shook her head. + +"How could he? A man on horseback arrived here suddenly one very +stormy night, carrying me in his arms--I was just a little baby-- +and asked shelter for me, promising to come and fetch me in the +morning--but he never came--and Dad never knew who he was. I was +kept here out of pity at first--then Dad began to love me--" + +The suppressed tears rose to her eyes and began to fall. + +"Priscilla can tell you all about it," she continued, tremulously +--"if you wish to know more. I am only explaining things a little +because I do want you to understand that Dad was really a good man +though he did not go to Church--and he must have been 'saved,' as +you put it, for he never did anything unworthy of the name of +Jocelyn!" + +The clergyman thought a moment. + +"You are not Miss Jocelyn, then?" he said. + +She met his gaze with a sorrowful calmness. + +"No. I am nobody. I have not even been baptised." + +He sprang up from his chair, horrified. + +"Not baptised!" he exclaimed--"Not baptised! Do you mean to tell +me that Farmer Jocelyn never attended to this imperative and +sacred duty on your behalf?--that he allowed you to grow up as a +heathen?" + +She remained unmoved by his outburst. + +"I am not a heathen," she said, gently--"I believe in God--as Dad +believed. I'm sorry I have not been baptised--but it has made no +difference to me that I know of--" + +"No difference!" and the clergyman rolled up his eyes and shook +his head ponderously--"You poor unfortunate girl, it has made all +the difference in the world! You are unregenerate--your soul is +not washed clean--all your sins are upon you, and you are not +redeemed!" + +She looked at him tranquilly. + +"That is all very sad for me if it is true," she said--"but it is +not my fault. I could not help it. Dad couldn't help it either--he +did not know what to do. He expected that I might be claimed and +taken away any day--and he had no idea what name to give me-- +except Innocent--which is a name I suppose no girl ever had +before. He used to get money from time to time in registered +envelopes, bearing different foreign postmarks--and there was +always a slip of paper inside with the words 'For Innocent' +written on it. So that name has been my only name. You see, it was +very difficult for him--poor Dad!--besides, he did not believe in +baptism--" + +"Then he was an infidel!" declared Mr. Medwin, hotly. + +Her serious blue eyes regarded him reproachfully. + +"I don't think you should say that--it isn't quite kind on your +part," she replied--"He always thanked God for prosperity, and +never complained when things went wrong--that is not being an +infidel! Even when he knew he was hopelessly ill, he never worried +anyone about it--he was only just a little afraid-and that was +perfectly natural. We're all a little afraid, you know--though we +pretend we're not--none of us like the idea of leaving this lovely +world and the sunshine for ever. Even Hamlet was afraid,-- +Shakespeare makes him say so. And when one has lived all one's +life on Briar Farm--such a sweet peaceful home!--one can hardly +fancy anything better, even in a next world! No--Dad was not an +infidel--please do not think such a thing!--he only died last +night--and I feel as if it would hurt him." + +Mr. Medwin was exceedingly embarrassed and annoyed--there was +something in the girl's quiet demeanour that suggested a certain +intellectual superiority to himself. He hummed and hawed, lurking +various unpleasant throaty noises. + +"Well--to me, of course, it is a very shocking state of affairs," +he said, irritably--"I hardly think I can be of any use--or +consolation to you in the matters you have spoken of, which are +quite outside my scope altogether. If you have anything to say +about the funeral arrangements--but I presume Mr. Clifford--" + +"Mr. Clifford is master here now," she answered--"He will give his +own orders, and will do all that is best and wisest. As I have +told you, I am a name-less nobody, and have no right in this house +at all. I'm sorry if I have vexed or troubled you--but as you +called I thought it was right to tell you how I am situated. You +see, when poor Dad is buried I shall be going away at once--and I +had an idea you might perhaps help me--you are God's minister." + +He wrinkled up his brows and looked frowningly at her. + +"You are leaving Briar Farm?" he asked. + +"I must. I have no right to stay." + +"Is Mr. Clifford turning you out?" + +A faint, sad smile crept round the girl's pretty, sensitive mouth. + +"Ah, no! No, indeed! He would not turn a dog out that had once +taken food from his hand," she said. "It is my own wish entirely. +When Dad was alive there was something for me to do in taking care +of him--but now!--there is no need for me--I should feel in the +way--besides, I must try to earn my own living." + +"What do you propose to do?" asked Mr. Medwin, whose manner to her +had completely changed from the politely patronising to the +sharply aggressive--"Do you want a situation?" + +She lifted her eyes to his fat, unpromising face. + +"Yes--I should like one very much--I could be a lady's maid, I +think, I can sew very well. But--perhaps you would baptise me +first?" + +He gave a sound between a cough and a grunt. + +"Eh? Baptise you?" + +"Yes,--because if I am unregenerate, and my soul is not clean, as +you say, no one would take me--not even as a lady's maid." + +Her quaint, perfectly simple way of putting the case made him +angry. + +"I'm afraid you are not sufficiently aware of the importance of +the sacred rite,"--he said, severely--"At your age you would need +to be instructed for some weeks before you could be considered fit +and worthy. Then,--you tell me you have no name!--Innocent is not +a name at all for a woman--I do not know who you are--you are +ignorant of your parentage--you may have been born out of wedlock--" + +She coloured deeply. + +"I am not sure of that," she said, in a low tone. + +"No--of course you are not sure,--but I should say the probability +is that you are illegitimate"--and the reverend gentleman took up +his hat to go. "The whole business is very perplexing and +difficult. However, I will see what can be done for you--but you +are in a very awkward corner!--very awkward indeed! Life will not +be very easy for you, I fear!" + +"I do not expect ease," she replied--"I have been very happy till +now--and I am grateful for the past. I must make my own future." + +Her eyes filled with tears as she looked out through the open +window at the fair garden which she herself had tended for so +long--and she saw the clergyman's portly form through a mist of +sorrow as in half-hearted fashion he bade her good-day. + +"I hope--I fervently trust--that God will support you in your +bereavement," he said, unctuously--"I had intended before leaving +to offer up a prayer with you for the soul of the departed and for +your own soul--but the sad fact of your being unbaptised places me +in a difficulty. But I shall not fail personally to ask our Lord +to prepare you for the unfortunate change in your lot!" + +"Thank you!" she replied, quietly--and without further salute he +left her. + +She stood for a moment considering--then sat down by the window, +looking at the radiant flowerbeds, with all their profusion of +blossom. She wondered dreamily how they could show such brave, gay +colouring when death was in the house, and the aching sense of +loss and sorrow weighted the air as with darkness. A glitter of +white wings flashed before her eyes, and her dove alighted on the +window-sill,--she stretched out her hand and the petted bird +stepped on her little rosy palm with all its accustomed +familiarity and confidence. She caressed it tenderly. + +"Poor Cupid!" she murmured--"You are like me--you are +unregenerate!--you have never been baptised!--your soul has not +been washed clean!--and all your sins are on your head! Yes, +Cupid!--we are very much alike!--for I don't suppose you know your +own father and mother any more than I know mine! And yet God made +you--and He has taken care of you--so far!" + +She stroked the dove's satiny plumage gently--and then drew back a +little into shadow as she saw Robin Clifford step out from the +porch into the garden and hurriedly interrupt the advance of a +woman who just then pushed open the outer gate--a slatternly- +looking creature with dark dishevelled hair and a face which might +have been handsome, but for its unmistakable impress of drink and +dissipation. + +"Eh, Mr. Clifford--it's you, is it?" she exclaimed, in shrill +tones. "An' Farmer Jocelyn's dead!--who'd a' thought it! But I'd +'ave 'ad a bone to pick with 'im this mornin', if he'd been +livin'--that I would!--givin' sack to Ned Landon without a warning +to me!" + +Innocent leaned forward, listening eagerly, with an uncomfortably +beating heart. Through all the miserable, slow, and aching hours +that had elapsed since Hugo Jocelyn's death, there had been a +secret anxiety in her mind concerning Ned Landon and the various +possibilities involved in his return to the farm, when he should +learn that his employer was no more, and that Robin was sole +master. + +"I've come up to speak with ye," continued the woman,--"It's +pretty 'ard on me to be left in the ditch, with a man tumbling ye +off his horse an' ridin' away where ye can't get at 'im!" She +laughed harshly. "Ned's gone to 'Merriker!" + +"Gone to America!"--Robin's voice rang out in sharp accents of +surprise--"Ned Landon? Why, when did you hear that?" + +"Just now--his own letter came with the carrier's cart--he left +the town last night and takes ship from Southampton to-day. And +why? Because Farmer Jocelyn gave him five hundred pounds to do it! +So there's some real news for ye!" + +"Five hundred pounds!" echoed Clifford--"My Uncle Hugo gave him +five hundred pounds!" + +"Ay, ye may stare!"--and the woman laughed again--"And the devil +has taken it all,--except a five-pun' note which he sends to me to +'keep me goin',' he says. Like his cheek! I'm not his wife, that's +true!--but I'm as much as any wife--an' there's the kid--" + +Robin glanced round apprehensively at the open window. + +"Hush!" he said--"don't talk so loud--" + +"The dead can't hear," she said, scornfully--"an' Ned says in his +letter that he's been sent off all on account of you an' your +light o' love--Innocent, she's called--a precious 'innocent' SHE +is!--an' that the old man has paid 'im to go away an' 'old his +tongue! So it's all YOUR fault, after all, that I'm left with the +kid to rub along anyhow;--he might ave married me in a while, if +he'd stayed. I'm only Jenny o' Mill-Dykes now--just as I've always +been--the toss an' catch of every man!--but I 'ad a grip on Ned +with the kid, an' he'd a' done me right in the end if you an' your +precious 'innocent' 'adn't been in the way--" + +Robin made a quick stride towards her. + +"Go out of this place!" he said, fiercely--"How dare you come here +with such lies!" + +He stopped, half choked with rage. + +Jenny looked at him and laughed--then snapped her fingers in his +face. + +"Lies, is it?" she said--"Well, lies make good crops, an' Farmer +Jocelyn's money'll 'elp them to grow! Lies, indeed! An' how dare I +come here? Why, because your old uncle is stiff an' cold an' can't +speak no more--an' no one would know what 'ad become o' Ned Landon +if I wasn't here to tell them an' show his own letter! I'll tell +them all, right enough!--you bet your life I will!" + +She turned her back on him and began to walk, or rather slouch, +out of the garden. He went up close to her, his face white with +passion. + +"If you say one word about Miss Jocelyn--" he began. + +"Miss Jocelyn!" she exclaimed, shrilly--"That's good!--we ARE +grand!"--and she dropped him a mock curtsey--"Miss Jocelyn! There +ain't no 'Miss Jocelyn,' an' you know it as well as I do! So don't +try to fool ME! Look here, Mr. Robin Clifford"--and she confronted +him, with arms akimbo--"you're not a Jocelyn neither!--there's not +a Jocelyn left o' the old stock--they're all finished with the one +lyin' dead upstairs yonder--and I'll tell ye what!--you an' your +'innocent' are too 'igh an' mighty altogether for the likes o' we +poor villagers--seein' ye ain't got nothin' to boast of, neither +of ye! You've lost me my man--an' I'll let everyone know how an' +why!" + +With that she went, banging the gate after her--and Clifford stood +inert, furious within himself, yet powerless to do anything save +silently endure the taunts she had flung at him. He could have +cursed himself for the folly he had been guilty of in telling his +uncle about the fight between him and Landon--for he saw now that +the old man had secretly worried over the possible harm that might +be done to Innocent through Landon's knowledge of her real story, +which he had learned through his spying and listening. Whatever +that harm could be, was now intensified--and scandal, beginning as +a mere whispered suggestion, would increase to loud and positive +assertion ere long. + +"Poor Uncle Hugo!" and the young man looked up sorrowfully at the +darkened windows of the room where lay in still and stern repose +all that was mortal of the last of the Jocelyns--"What a mistake +you have made! You meant so well!--you thought you were doing a +wise thing in sending Landon away--and at such a cost!--but you +did not know what he had left behind him--Jenny of the Mill-Dykes, +whose wicked tongue would blacken an angel's reputation!" + +A hand touched him lightly on the arm from behind. He turned +swiftly round and confronted Innocent--she stood like a little +figure of white porcelain, holding her dove against her breast. + +"Poor Robin!" she said, softly--"Don't worry! I heard everything." + +He stared down upon her. + +"You heard--?" + +"Yes. I was at the open window there--I couldn't help hearing. It +was Jenny of the Mill-Dykes--I know her by sight, but not to speak +to--Priscilla told me something about her. She isn't a nice woman, +is she?" + +"Nice?" Robin gasped--"No, indeed! She is--Well!--I must not tell +you what she is!" + +"No!--you must not--I don't want to hear. But she ought to be Ned +Landon's wife--I understood that!--and she has a little child. I +understood that too. And she knows everything about me--and about +that night when you climbed up on my window-sill and sat there so +long. It was a pity you did that, wasn't it?" + +"Yes!--when there was a dirty spy in hiding!" said Robin, hotly. + +"Ah!--we never imagined such a thing could be on Briar Farm!"--and +she sighed--"but it can't be helped now. Poor darling Dad! He +parted with all that money to get rid of the man he thought would +do me wrong. Oh Robin, he loved me!" + +The tears gathered in her eyes and fell slowly like bright +raindrops on the downy feathers of the dove she held. + +"He loved you, and I love you!" murmured Robin, tenderly. "Dear +little girl, come indoors and don't cry any more! Your sweet eyes +will be spoilt, and Uncle Hugo could never bear to see you +weeping. All the tears in the world won't bring him back to us +here,--but we can do our best to please him still, so that if his +spirit has ever been troubled, it can be at peace. Come in and let +us talk quietly together--we must look at things squarely and +straightly, and we must try to do all the things he would have +wished--" + +"All except one thing," she said, as they went together side by +side into the house--"the one thing that can never be!" + +"The one thing--the chief thing that shall be!" answered Robin, +fiercely--"Innocent, you must be my wife!" + +She lifted her tear-wet eyes to his with a grave and piteous +appeal which smote him to the heart by its intense helplessness +and sorrow. + +"Robin,--dear Robin!" she said--"Don't make it harder for me than +it is! Think for a moment! I am nameless--a poor, unbaptised, +deserted creature who was flung on your uncle's charity eighteen +years ago--I am a stranger and intruder in this old historic +place--I have no right to be here at all--only through your +uncle's kindness and yours. And now things have happened so +cruelly for me that I am supposed to be to you--what I am not,"-- +and the deep colour flushed her cheeks and brow. "I have somehow-- +through no fault of my own--lost my name!--though I had no name to +lose--except Innocent!--which, as the clergyman told me, is no +name for a woman. Do you not see that if I married you, people +would say it was because you were compelled to marry me?--that you +had gone too far to escape from me?--that, in fact, we were a sort +of copy of Ned Landon and Jenny of the Mill-Dykes?" + +"Innocent!" + +He uttered the name in a tone of indignant and despairing protest. +They were in the oak parlour together, and she went slowly to the +window and let her pet dove fly. + +"Ah, yes! Innocent!" she repeated, sadly--"But you must let me go, +Robin!--just as I have let my dove fly, so you must let me fly +also--far, far away!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +No more impressive scene was ever witnessed in a country village +than the funeral of "the last of the Jocelyns,"--impressive in its +solemnity, simplicity and lack of needless ceremonial. The coffin, +containing all that was mortal of the sturdy, straightforward +farmer, whose "old-world" ways of work and upright dealing with +his men had for so long been the wonder and envy of the district, +was placed in a low waggon and covered with a curiously wrought, +handwoven purple cloth embroidered with the arms of the French +knight "Amadis de Jocelin," tradition asserting that this cloth +had served as a pall for every male Jocelyn since his time. The +waggon was drawn by four glossy dark brown cart-horses, each +animal having known its master as a friend whose call it was +accustomed to obey, following him wherever he went. On the coffin +itself was laid a simple wreath of the "Glory" roses gathered from +the porch and walls of Briar Farm, and offered, as pencilled +faintly on a little scroll--"With a life's love and sorrow from +Innocent." A long train of mourners, including labourers, farm- +lads, shepherds, cowherds, stable-men and villagers generally, +followed the corpse to the grave,--Robin Clifford, as chief +mourner and next-of-kin to the dead man, walking behind the waggon +with head down-bent and a face on which intense grief had stamped +such an impress as to make it look far older than his years +warranted. Groups of women stood about, watching the procession +with hard eager eyes, and tongues held in check for a while, only +to wag more vigorously than ever when the ceremony should be over. +Innocent, dressed in deep black for the first time in her life, +went by herself to the churchyard, avoiding the crowd--and, hidden +away among concealing shadows, she heard the service and watched +all the proceedings dry-eyed and heart-stricken. She could not +weep any more--there seemed no tears left to relieve the weight of +her burning brain. Robin had tenderly urged her to walk with him +in the funeral procession, but she refused. + +"How can I!--how dare I!" she said--"I am not his daughter--I am +nothing! The cruel people here know it!--and they would only say +my presence was an insult to the dead. Yes!--they would--NOW! He +loved me!--and I loved him!--but nobody outside ourselves thinks +about that, or cares. You would hardly believe it, but I have +already been told how wicked it was of me to be dressed in white +when the clergyman called to see me the morning after Dad's death +--well, I had no other colour to wear till Priscilla got me this +sad black gown--it made me shudder to put it on--it is like the +darkness itself!--you know Dad always made me wear white--and I +feel as if I were vexing him somehow by wearing black. Oh, Robin, +be kind!--you always are!--let me go by myself and watch Dad put +to rest where nobody can see me. For after they have laid him down +and left him, they will be talking!" + +She was right enough in this surmise. Not one who saw Farmer +Jocelyn's coffin lowered into the grave failed to notice the +wreath of "Glory" roses that went with it--"from Innocent";--and +her name was whispered from mouth to mouth with meaning looks and +suggestive nods. And when Robin, with tears thick in his eyes, +flung the first handfuls of earth rattling down on the coffin lid, +his heart ached to see the lovely fragrant blossoms crushed under +the heavy scattered mould, for it seemed to his foreboding mind +that they were like the delicate thoughts and fancies of the girl +he loved being covered by the soiling mud of the world's cruelty +and slander, and killed in the cold and darkness of a sunless +solitude. + +All was over at last,--the final prayer was said--the final +benediction was spoken, and the mourners gradually dispersed. The +Reverend Mr. Medwin, assisted by his young curate, had performed +the ceremony, and before retiring to the vestry to take off his +surplice, he paused by the newly-made grave to offer his hand and +utter suitable condolences to Robin Clifford. + +"It is a great and trying change for you," he said. "I suppose"-- +this tentatively--"I suppose you will go on with the farm?" + +"As long as I live," answered Clifford, looking him steadily in +the face, "Briar Farm will be what it has always been." + +Mr. Medwin gave him a little appreciative bow. + +"We are very glad of that--very glad indeed!" he said--"Briar Farm +is a great feature--a very great feature!--indeed, one may say it +is an historical possession. Something would be lacking in the +neighbourhood if it were not kept up to its old tradition and--er +--reputation. I think we feel that--I think we feel it, do we not, +Mr. Forwood?" here turning to his curate with affable +condescension. + +Mark Forwood, a clever-looking young man with kind eyes and +intelligent features, looked at Robin sympathetically. + +"I am quite sure," he said, "that Mr. Clifford will take as much +pride in the fine old place as his uncle did--but is there not +Miss Jocelyn?--the daughter will probably inherit the farm, will +she not, as nearest of kin?" + +Mr. Medwin coughed obtrusively--and Clifford felt the warm blood +rushing to his brows. Yet he resolved that the truth should be +told, for the honour of the dead man's name. + +"She is not my uncle's daughter," he said, quietly--"My uncle +never married. He adopted her when she was an infant--and she was +as dear to him as if she had been his own child. Of course she +will be amply provided for--there can be no doubt of that." + +Mr. Forwood raised his eyes and eyebrows together. + +"You surprise me!" he murmured. "Then--there is no Miss Jocelyn?" + +Again Robin coloured. But he answered, composedly-- + +"There is no Miss Jocelyn." + +Mr. Medwin's cough here troubled him considerably, and though it +was a fine day, he expressed a mild fear that he was standing too +long by the open grave in his surplice--he, therefore, retired, +his curate following him,--whereupon the sexton, a well-known +character in the village, approached to finish the sad task of +committing "ashes to ashes, dust to dust." + +"Eh, Mr. Clifford," remarked this worthy, as he stuck his spade +down in the heaped-up earth and leaned upon it,--"it's a black +day, forbye the summer sun! I never thort I'd a' thrown the mouls +on the last Jocelyn. For last he is, an' there'll never be another +like 'im!" + +"You're right there, Wixton," said Robin, sadly--"I know the place +can never be the same without him. I shall do my best--but--" + +"Ay, ye'll do your best," agreed Wixton, with a foreboding shake +of his grizzled head--"but you're not a Jocelyn, an' your best'll +be but a bad crutch, though there's Jocelyn blood in ye by ye'r +mother's side. Howsomever it's not the same as the male line, do +what we will an' say what we like! It's not your fault, no, lad!" +--this with a pitying look--"an' no one's blamin' ye for what can't +be 'elped--but it's not a thing to be gotten over." + +Robin's grave nod of acquiescence was more eloquent than speech. + +Wixton dug his spade a little deeper into the pile of earth. + +"If Farmer Jocelyn 'ad been a marryin' man, why, that would a' +been the right thing," he went on--"He might a' had a fine +strappin' son to come arter 'im, a real born-an'-bred Jocelyn--" + +Robin listened with acute interest. Why did not Wixton mention +Innocent? Did he know she was not a Jocelyn? He waited, and Wixton +went on-- + +"But, ye see, 'e wouldn't have none o' that. An' he took the +little gel as was left with 'im the night o' the great storm nigh +eighteen years ago that blew down three of our biggest elms in the +church-yard--" + +"Did you know?" exclaimed Clifford, eagerly--"Did you see--?" + +"I saw a man on 'orseback ride up to Briar Farm, 'oldin' a baby in +front o' him with one hand, and the reins in t'other--an' he came +out from the farm without the baby. Then one mornin' when Farmer +Jocelyn was a-walkin' with the baby in the fields I said to 'im, +secret-like--'That ain't your child!' an' he sez--'Ow do you know +it ain't?' An' I sez--' Because I saw it come with a stranger'-- +an' he laughed an' said--'It may be mine for all that!' But I knew +it worn't! A nice little girl she is too,--Miss Innocent--poor +soul! I'm downright sorry for 'er, for she ain't got many friends +in this village." + +"Why?" Robin asked, half mechanically. + +"Why? Well, she's a bit too dainty--like in 'er ways for one +thing--then there's gels who are arter YOU, Mister Clifford!--ay, +ay, ye know they are!--sharp 'ussies, all of 'em!--an' they can't +abide 'ER, for they thinks you're a-goin' to marry 'er!--Lord +forgive me that I should be chitterin' 'ere about marryin' over a +buryin'!--but that's the trouble--an' it's the trouble all the +world over, wimmin wantin' a man, an' mad for their lives when +they thinks another woman's arter 'im! Eh, eh! We should all get +along better if there worn't no wimmin jealousies, but bein' men +we've got to put up with 'em. Are ye goin' now, Mister?--Well, the +Lord love ye an' comfort ye!--ye'll never meet a finer man this +side the next world than the one I'm puttin' a cold quilt on!" + +Silently Clifford turned away, heavy-hearted and lost in perplexed +thought. What was best to be done for Innocent? This was the chief +question that presented itself to his mind. He could no longer +deny the fact that her position was difficult--almost untenable. +Nameless, and seemingly deserted by her kindred, if any such +kindred still existed, she was absolutely alone in life, now that +Hugo Jocelyn was no more. As he realised this to its fullest +intensity, the deeper and more passionate grew his love for her. + +"If she would only marry me!" he said under his breath, as he +walked home slowly from the church-yard--"It was Uncle Hugo's last +wish!" + +Then across his brain flashed the memory of Ned Landon and his +malignant intention--born of baffled desire and fierce jealousy-- +to tarnish the fair name of the girl he coveted,--then, his +uncle's quixotic and costly way of ridding himself of such an +enemy at any price. He understood now old Jocelyn's talk of his +"bargain" on the last night of his life,-and what a futile bargain +it was, after all!--for was not Jenny of the Mill-Dykes fully +informed of the reason why the bargain was made?--and she, the +vilest-tongued woman in the whole neighbourhood, would take +delight in spreading the story far and wide. Five Hundred Pounds +paid down as "hush-money"!--so she would report it--thus, even if +he married Innocent it would be under the shadow of a slur and +slander. What was wisest to do under the circumstances he could +not decide--and he entered the smiling garden of Briar Farm with +the saddest expression on his face that anyone had ever seen +there. Priscilla met him as he came towards the house. + +"I thought ye'd never git here, Mister Robin," she said, +anxiously--"Ye haven't forgot there's folks in the hall 'avin' +their 'wake' feed an' they'll be wantin' to speak wi' ye +presently. Mister Bayliss, which is ye'r uncle's lawyer, 'e wants +to see ye mighty partikler, an' there ain't no one to say nothin' +to 'em, for the dear little Innocent, she's come back from the +cold churchyard like a little image o' marble, an' she's gone an' +shut 'erself up in 'er own room, sayin' 'Ask Mister Robin to +excuse me'--poor child!--she's fair wore out, that she is! An' you +come into the big 'all where there's the meat and the wine laid +out, for funeral folk eats more than weddin' folk, bein' longer +about it an' a bit solemner in gettin' of it down." + +Robin looked at her with strained, haggard eyes. + +"Priscilla," he said, huskily--"Death is a horrible thing!" + +"Ay, that it is!" and Priscilla wiped the teardrops off her cheeks +with a corner of her apron--"An' I've often thought it seems a +silly kind o' business to bring us into the world at all for no +special reason 'cept to take us out of it again just as folks 'ave +learned to know us a bit and find us useful. Howsomever, there's +no arguin' wi' the Almighty, an' p'raps it's us as makes the worst +o' death instead o' the best of it. Now you go into the great +hall, Mr. Robin--you're wanted there." + +He went, as desired,--and was received with a murmur of sympathy +by those assembled--a gathering made up of the head men about the +farm, and a few other personages less familiar to the village, but +fairly well known to him, such as corn and cattle dealers from the +neighbouring town who had for many years done business with +Jocelyn in preference to any other farmer. These came forward and +cordially shook hands with Robin, entering at once into +conversation with him concerning his future intentions. + +"We should like things to go on the same as if th' old man were +alive," said one, a miller,--"We don't like changes after all +these years. But whether you're up to it, my lad, or not, we don't +know--and time'll prove--" + +"Time WILL prove," answered Clifford, steadily. "You may rely upon +it that Briar Farm will be worked on the same methods which my +uncle practised and approved--and there will be no changes, +except--the inevitable one"--and he sighed,--"the want of the true +master's brain and hand." + +"Eh well! You'll do your best, lad!--I'm sure of that!" and the +miller grasped his hand warmly--"And we'll all stick by you! +There's no farm like Briar Farm in the whole country--that's my +opinion!--it gives the finest soil and the soundest crops to be +got anywhere--you just manage it as Farmer Jocelyn managed it, +with men's work, and you'll come to no harm! And, as I say, we'll +all stick by you!" + +Robin thanked him, and then moved slowly in and out among the +other funeral guests, saying kindly things, and in his quiet, +manly way creating a good impression among them, and making more +friends than he himself was aware of. Presently Mr. Bayliss, a +mild-looking man with round spectacles fixed very closely up +against his eyes, approached him, beckoning him with one finger. + +"When you're ready, Mr. Clifford," he said, "I should like to see +you in the best parlour--and the young lady--I believe she is +called Innocent?--yes, yes!--and the young lady also. Oh, there's +no hurry--no hurry!--better wait till the guests have gone, as +what I have to say concerns only yourself--and--er--yes--er, the +young lady before mentioned. And also a--a"--here he pulled out a +note-book from his pocket and studied it through his owl-like +glasses--"yes!--er, yes!--a Miss Priscilla Priday--she must be +present, if she can be found--I believe she is on the premises?" + +"Priscilla is our housekeeper," said Robin--"and a faithful +friend." + +"Yes--I--er--thought so--a devoted friend," murmured Mr. Bayliss, +meditatively--"and what a thing it is to have a devoted friend, +Mr. Clifford! Your uncle was a careful man!--very careful!--he +knew whom to trust--he thoroughly knew! Yes--WE don't all know-- +but HE did!" + +Robin made no comment. The murmuring talk of the funeral party +went on, buzzing in his ears like the noise of an enormous swarm +of bees--he watched men eating and drinking the good things +Priscilla had provided for the "honour of the farm"--and then, on +a sudden impulse he slipped out of the hall and upstairs to +Innocent's room, where he knocked softly at the door. She opened +it at once, and stood before him--her face white as a snowdrop, +and her eyes heavy and strained with the weight of unshed tears. + +"Dear," he said, gently--"you will be wanted downstairs in a few +minutes--Mr. Bayliss wishes you to be present when he reads Uncle +Hugo's will." + +She made a little gesture of pain and dissent. + +"I do not want to hear it," she said--"but I will come." + +He looked at her with anxiety and tenderness. + +"You have eaten nothing since early morning; you look so pale and +weak--let me get you something--a glass of wine." + +"No, thank you," she answered--"I could not touch a morsel--not +just yet. Oh, Robin, it hurts me to hear all those voices in the +great hall!--men eating and drinking there, as if he were still +alive!--and they have only just laid him down in the cold earth-- +so cold and dark!" + +She shuddered violently. + +"I do not think it is right," she went on--"to allow people to +love each other at all if death must separate them for ever. It +seems only a cruelty and wickedness. Now that I have seen what +death can do, I will never love anyone again!" + +"No--I suppose you will not," he said, somewhat bitterly--"yet, +you have never known what love is--you do not understand it." + +She sighed, deeply. + +"Perhaps not!" she said--"And I'm not sure that I want to +understand it--not now. What love I had in my heart is all buried +--with Dad and the roses. I am not the same girl any more--I feel a +different creature--grown quite old!" + +"You cannot feel older than I do," he replied--"but you do not +think of me at all,--why should you? I never used to think you +selfish, Innocent!--you have always been so careful and +considerate of the feelings of others--yet now!--well!--are you +not so much absorbed in your own grief as to be forgetful of mine? +For mine is a double grief--a double loss--I have lost my uncle +and best friend--and I shall lose you because you will not love +me, though I love you with all my heart and only want to make you +happy!" + +Her sad eyes met his with a direct, half-reproachful gaze. + +"You think me selfish?" + +"No!--no, Innocent!--but--" + +"I see!" she said--"You think I ought to sacrifice myself to you, +and to Dad's last wish. You would expect me to spoil your life by +marrying you unwillingly and without love--" + +"I tell you you know nothing about love!" he interrupted her, +impatiently. + +"So you imagine," she answered quietly--"but I do know one thing-- +and it is that no one who really loves a person wishes to see that +person, unhappy. To love anybody means that above all things in +the world you desire to see the beloved one well and prosperous +and full of gladness. You cannot love me or you would not wish me +to do a thing that would make me miserable. If I loved you, I +would marry you and devote my life to yours--but I do not love +you, and, therefore, I should only make you wretched if I became +your wife. Do not let us talk of this any more--it tires me out!" + +She passed her hand over her forehead with a weary gesture. + +"It is wrong to talk of ourselves at all when Dad is only just +buried," she continued. "You say Mr. Bayliss wants to see me--very +well!--in a few minutes I will come." + +She stepped back inside her little room and shut the door. +Clifford walked away, resentful and despairing. There was +something in her manner that struck him as new and foreign to her +usual sweet and equable nature,--a grave composure, a kind of +intellectual hardness that he had never before seen in her. And he +wondered what such a change might portend. + +Downstairs, the funeral party had broken up--many of the mourners +had gone, and others were going. Some lingered to the last +possible moment that their intimacy or friendship with the +deceased would allow, curious to hear something of the will--what +the amount of the net cash was that had been left, and how it had +been disposed. But Mr. Bayliss, the lawyer, was a cautious man, +and never gave himself away at any point. To all suggestive hints +and speculative theories he maintained a dignified reserve--and it +was not until the last of the guests had departed that he made his +way to the vacant "best parlour," and sat there with his chair +pulled well up to the table and one or two legal-looking documents +in front of him. Robin Clifford joined him there, taking a seat +opposite to him--and both men waited in more or less silence till +the door opened softly to admit Innocent, who came in with +Priscilla. + +Mr. Bayliss rose. + +"I'm sorry to have to disturb you, Miss--er--Miss Innocent," he +said, with some awkwardness--"on this sad occasion--" + +"It is no trouble," she answered, gently--"if I can be of any use--" + +Mr. Bayliss waited till she sat down,--then again seated himself. + +"Well, there is really no occasion to go over legal formalities," +he said, opening one of the documents before him--"Your uncle, Mr. +Clifford, was a business man, and made his will in a business-like +way. Briefly, I may tell you that Briar Farm, its lands, +buildings, and all its contents are left to you--who are +identified thus--'to my nephew, Robin Clifford, only son of my +only sister, the late Elizabeth Jocelyn, widow of John Clifford, +wholesale trader in French wines, and formerly resident in the +City of London, on condition that the said Robin Clifford shall +keep and maintain the farm and house as they have always been kept +and maintained. He shall not sell any part of the land for +building purposes, nor shall he dispose of any of the furniture, +pewter, plate, china, glass, or other effects belonging to Briar +Farm House,--but shall carefully preserve the same and hand them +down to his lawful heirs in succession on the same terms as +heretofore'--etc., etc.,--yes!--well!--that is the gist of the +business, and we need not go over the details. With the farm and +lands aforesaid he leaves the sum of Twenty Thousand Pounds--" + +"Twenty Thousand Pounds!" ejaculated Robin, amazed--"Surely my +uncle was never so rich--!" + +"He was a saving man and a careful one," said Mr. Bayliss, +calmly,--"You may take it for granted, Mr. Clifford, that his +money was made through the course of his long life, in a +thoroughly honest and straightforward manner!" + +"Oh--that, of course!--but--Twenty Thousand Pounds!" + +"It is a nice little fortune," said Mr. Bayliss--"and you come +into it at a time of life when you will be able to make good use +of it. Especially if you should be inclined to marry--" + +His eyes twinkled meaningly as they glanced from Clifford's face +to that of Innocent--the young man's expression was absorbed and +earnest, but the girl looked lost and far away in a dream of her +own. + +"I shall not marry," said Robin, slowly--"I shall use the money +entirely for the good of the farm and the work-people--" + +"Then, if you do not marry, you allow the tradition of heritage to +lapse?" suggested Mr. Bayliss. + +"It has lapsed already," he replied--"I am not a real descendant +of the Jocelyns--" + +"By the mother's side you are," said Mr. Bayliss--"and your mother +being dead, it is open to you to take the name of Jocelyn by law, +and continue the lineage. It would be entirely fair and +reasonable." + +Robin made no answer. Mr. Bayliss settled his glasses more firmly +on his nose, and went on with his documents. + +"Mr. Jocelyn speaks in his Last Will and Testament of the 'great +love' he entertained for his adopted child, known as 'Innocent'-- +and he gives to her all that is contained in the small oak chest +in the best parlour--this is the best parlour, I presume?"-- +looking round--"Can you point out the oak chest mentioned?" + +Innocent rose, and moved to a corner, where she lifted out of a +recess a small quaintly made oaken casket, brass-bound, with a +heavy lock. + +Mr. Bayliss looked at it with a certain amount of curiosity. + +"The key?" he suggested--"I believe the late Mr. Jocelyn always +wore it on his watch-chain." + +Robin got up and went to the mantelpiece. + +"Here is my uncle's watch and chain," he said, in a hushed voice-- +"The watch has stopped. I do not intend that it shall ever go +again--I shall keep it put by with the precious treasures of the +house." + +Mr. Bayliss made no remark on this utterance, which to him was one +of mere sentiment--and taking the watch and chain in his hand, +detached therefrom a small key. With this he opened the oak +casket--and looked carefully inside. Taking out a sealed packet, +he handed it to Innocent. + +"This is for you," he said--"and this also"--here he lifted from +the bottom of the casket a flat jewel-case of antique leather +embossed in gold. + +"This," he continued, "Mr. Jocelyn explained to me, is a necklet +of pearls--traditionally believed to have been given by the +founder of the house, Amadis de Jocelin, to his wife on their +wedding-day. It has been worn by every bride of the house since. I +hope--yes--I very much hope--it will be worn by the young lady who +now inherits it." + +And he passed the jewel-case over the table to Innocent, who sat +silent, with the sealed packet she had just received lying before +her. She took it passively, and opened it--a beautiful row of +pearls, not very large, but wonderfully perfect, lay within-- +clasped by a small, curiously designed diamond snap. She looked at +them with half-wondering, half-indifferent eyes--then closed the +case and gave it to Robin Clifford. + +"They are for your wife when you marry," she said--"Please keep +them." + +Mr. Bayliss coughed--a cough of remonstrance. + +"Pardon me, my dear young lady, but Mr. Jocelyn was particularly +anxious the pearls should be yours--" + +She looked at him, gravely. + +"Yes--I am sure he was," she said--"He was always good--too good +and generous--but if they are mine, I give them to Mr. Clifford. +There is nothing more to be said about them." + +Mr. Bayliss coughed again. + +"Well--that is all that is contained in this casket, with the +exception of a paper unsealed--shall I read it?" + +She bent her head. + +"The paper is written in Mr. Jocelyn's own hand, and is as +follows," continued the lawyer: "I desire that my adopted child, +known as 'Innocent,' shall receive into her own possession the +Jocelyn pearls, valued by experts at L2,500, and that she shall +wear the same on her marriage-morning. The sealed packet, placed +in this casket with the pearls afore-said, contains a letter for +her own personal and private perusal, and other matter which +concerns herself alone." + +Mr. Bayliss here looked up, and addressed her. + +"From these words it is evident that the sealed packet you have +there is an affair of confidence." + +She laid her hand upon it. + +"I quite understand!" + +He adjusted his glasses, and turned over his documents once more. + +"Then I think there is nothing more we need trouble you with--oh +yes!--one thing--Miss--er--Miss Priday--?" + +Priscilla, who during the whole conversation had sat bolt upright +on a chair in the corner of the room, neither moving nor speaking, +here rose and curtsied. + +The lawyer looked at her attentively. + +"Priday-Miss Priscilla Priday?" + +"Yes, sir--that's me," said Priscilla, briefly. + +"Mr. Jocelyn thought very highly of you, Miss Friday," he said-- +"he mentions you in the following paragraph of his will--'I give +and bequeath to my faithful housekeeper and good friend, Priscilla +Priday, the sum of Two Hundred Pounds for her own personal use, +and I desire that she shall remain at Briar Farm for the rest of +her life. And that, if she shall find it necessary to resign her +duties in the farm house, she shall possess that cottage on my +estate known as Rose Cottage, free of all charges, and be allowed +to live there and be suitably and comfortably maintained till the +end of her days. And,--er--pray don't distress yourself, Miss +Priday!" + +For Priscilla was crying, and making no effort to hide her +emotion. + +"Bless 'is old 'art!" she sobbed--"He thort of everybody, 'e did! +An' what shall I ever want o' Rose Cottage, as is the sweetest o' +little places, when I've got the kitchen o' Briar Farm!--an' there +I'll 'ope to do my work plain an' true till I drops!--so there!-- +an' I'm much obliged to ye, Mr. Bayliss, an' mebbe ye'll tell me +where to put the two 'underd pounds so as I don't lose it, for I +never 'ad so much money in my life, an' if any one gets to 'ear of +it I'll 'ave all the 'alt an' lame an' blind round me in a jiffy. +An' as for keepin' money, I never could--an' p'raps it 'ud be best +for Mr. Robin to look arter it---" Here she stopped, out of breath +with talk and tears. + +"It will be all right," said Mr. Bayliss, soothingly, "quite all +right, I assure you! Mr. Clifford will no doubt see to any little +business matter for you with great pleasure--" + +"Dear Priscilla!"--and Innocent went to her side and put an arm +round her neck--"Don't cry!--you will be so happy, living always +in this dear old place!--and Robin will be so glad to have you +with him." + +Priscilla took the little hand that caressed her, and kissed it. + +"Ah, my lovey!" she half whispered--"I should be 'appy enough if I +thought you was a-goin' to be 'appy too!--but you're flyin' in the +face o' fortune, lovey!--that's what you're a-doin'!" + +Innocent silenced her with a gesture, and stood beside her, +patiently listening till Mr. Bayliss had concluded his business. + +"I think, Mr. Clifford," he then said, at last--"there is no +occasion to trouble you further. Everything is in perfect order-- +you are the inheritor of Briar Farm and all its contents, with all +its adjoining lands--and the only condition attached to your +inheritance is that you keep it maintained on the same working +methods by which it has always been maintained. You will find no +difficulty in doing this--and you have plenty of money to do it +on. There are a few minor details respecting farm stock, etc., +which we can go over together at any time. You are sole executor, +of course--and--and--er--yes!--I think that is all." + +"May I go now?" asked Innocent, lifting her serious blue-grey eyes +to his face--"Do you want me any more?" + +Mr. Bayliss surveyed her curiously. + +"No--I--er--I think not," he replied--"Of course the pearls should +be in your possession--" + +"I have given them away," she said, quickly--"to Robin." + +"But I have not accepted them," he answered--"I will keep them if +you like--for YOU." + +She gave a slight, scarcely perceptible movement of vexation, and +then, taking up the sealed packet which was addressed to her +personally, she left the room. + +The lawyer looked after her in a little perplexity. + +"I'm afraid she takes her loss rather badly," he said--"or-- +perhaps--is she a little absent-minded?" + +Robin Clifford smiled, sadly. + +"I think not," he answered. "Of course she feels the death of my +uncle deeply--she adored him--and then-I-suppose you know--my +uncle may have told you--" + +"That he hoped and expected you to marry her?" said Mr. Bayliss, +nodding his head, sagaciously--"Yes--I am aware that such was his +dearest wish. In fact he led me to believe that the matter was as +good as settled." + +"She will not have me," said Clifford, gently--"and I cannot +compel her to marry me against her will--indeed I would not if I +could." + +The lawyer was so surprised that he was obliged to take off his +glasses and polish them. + +"She will not have you!" he exclaimed. "Dear me! That is indeed +most unexpected and distressing! There is--there is nothing +against you, surely?--you are quite a personable young man--" + +Robin shrugged his shoulders, disdainfully. + +"Whatever I am does not matter to her," he said--"Let us talk no +more about it." + +Priscilla looked from one to the other. + +"Eh well!" she said--"If any one knows 'er at all 'tis I as 'ave +'ad 'er with me night an' day when she was a baby--and 'as watched +'er grow into the little beauty she is,--an' 'er 'ed's just fair +full o' strange fancies that she's got out o' the books she found +in the old knight's chest years ago--we must give 'er time to +think a bit an' settle. 'Tis an awful blow to 'er to lose 'er Dad, +as she allus called Farmer Jocelyn--she's like a little bird +fallen out o' the nest with no strength to use 'er wings an' not +knowin' where to go. Let 'er settle a bit!--that's what I sez--an' +you'll see I'm right. You leave 'er alone, Mister Robin, an' +all'll come right, never fear! She's got the queerest notions +about love--she picked 'em out o' they old books--an' she'll 'ave +to find out they's more lies than truth. Love's a poor 'oldin' for +most folks--it don't last long enough." + +Mr. Bayliss permitted himself to smile, as he took his hat, and +prepared to go. + +"I'm sure you're quite right, Miss Priday!" he said--"you speak-- +er--most sensibly! I'm sure I hope, for the young lady's sake, +that she will 'settle down'--if she does not--" + +"Ay, if she does not!" echoed Clifford. + +"Well! if she does not, life may be difficult for her"--and the +lawyer shook his head forebodingly--"A girl alone in the world-- +with no relatives!--ah, dear, dear me! A sad look-out!--a very sad +look-out! But we must trust to her good sense that she will be +wise in time!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Upstairs, shut in her own little room with the door locked, +Innocent opened the sealed packet. She found within it a letter +and some bank-notes. With a sensitive pain which thrilled every +nerve in her body she unfolded the letter, written in Hugo +Jocelyn's firm clear writing--a writing she knew so well, and +which bore no trace of weakness or failing in the hand that guided +the pen. How strange it was, she thought, that the written words +should look so living and distinct when the writer was dead! Her +head swam.--her eyes were dim--for a moment she could scarcely +see--then the mist before her slowly dispersed and she read the +first words, which made her heart swell and the tears rise in her +aching throat. + +"MY LITTLE WILDING!--When you read this I shall be gone to that +wonderful world which all the clergymen tell us about, but which +none of them are in any great hurry to see for themselves. I hope +--and I sometimes believe--such a world exists--and that perhaps it +is a place where a man may sow seed and raise crops as well and as +prosperously as on Briar Farm--however, I'm praying I may not be +taken till I've seen you safely wed to Robin--and yet, something +tells me this will not be; and that's the something that makes me +write this letter and put it with the pearls that are, by my will, +destined for you on your marriage-morning. I'm writing it, +remember, on the same night I've told you all about yourself--the +night of the day the doctor gave me my death-warrant. I may live a +year,--I may live but a week,--it will be hard if I may not live +to see you married!--but God's will must be done. The bank-notes +folded in this letter make up four hundred pounds--and this money +you can spend as you like--on your clothes for the bridal, or on +anything you fancy--I place no restriction on you as to its use. +When a maid weds there are many pretties she needs to buy, and the +prettier they are for you the better shall I be pleased. Whether I +live or whether I die, you need say nothing of this money to +Robin, or to anyone. It is your own absolutely--to do as you like +with. I am thankful to feel that you will be safe in Robin's +loving care--for the world is hard on a woman left alone as you +would be, were it not for him. I give you my word that if I had +any clue, however small, to your real parentage, I would write +down here for you all I know--but I know nothing more than I have +told you. I have loved you as my own child and you have been the +joy of my old days. May God bless you and give you joy and peace +in Briar Farm!--you and your children, and your children's +children! Amen! + +"Your 'Dad' + +"HUGO JOCELYN." + +She read this to the end, and then some tension in her brain +seemed to relax, and she wept long and bitterly, her head bent +down on the letter and her bright hair falling over it. Presently, +checking her sobs, she rose, and looked about her in a kind of +dream--the familiar little room seemed to have suddenly become +strange to her, and she thought she saw standing in one corner a +figure clad in armour,--its vizor was up, showing a sad pale face +and melancholy eyes--the lips moved--and a sighing murmur floated +past her ears--"Mon coeur me soutien!" A cold terror seized her, +and she trembled from head to foot--then the vision or +hallucination vanished as swiftly and mysteriously as it had +appeared. Rallying her forces, she gradually mastered the +overpowering fear which for a moment had possessed her,--and +folding up Hugo Jocelyn's last letter, she kissed it, and placed +it in her bosom. The bank-notes were four in number--each for one +hundred pounds;--these she put in an envelope, and shut them in +the drawer containing her secret manuscript. + +"Now the way is clear!" she said--"I can do what I like--I have my +wings, and I can fly away! Oh Dad, dear Dad!--you would be so +unhappy if you knew what I mean to do!--it would break your heart, +Dad!--but you have no heart to break now, poor Dad!--it is cold as +stone!--it will never beat any more! Mine is the heart that +beats!--the heart that burns, and aches, and hurts me!--ah!--how +it hurts! And no one can understand--no one will ever care to +understand!" + +She locked her manuscript-drawer--then went and bathed her eyes, +which smarted with the tears she had shed. Looking at herself in +the mirror she saw a pale plaintive little creature, without any +freshness of beauty--all the vitality seemed gone out of her. +Smoothing her ruffled hair, she twisted it up in a loose coil at +the back of her head, and studied with melancholy dislike and pain +the heavy effect of her dense black draperies against her delicate +skin. + +"I shall do for anything now," she said--"No one will look at me, +and I shall pass quite unnoticed in a crowd. I'm glad I'm not a +pretty girl--it might be more difficult to get on. And Robin +called me 'lovely' the other day!--poor, foolish Robin!" + +She went downstairs then to see if she could help Priscilla--but +Priscilla would not allow her to do anything in the way of what +she called "chores." + +"No, lovey," she said--"you just keep quiet, an' by-an'-bye you +an' me'll 'ave a quiet tea together, for Mister Robin he's gone +off for the rest o' the day an' night with Mr. Bayliss, as there's +lots o' things to see to, an' 'e left you this little note"--here +Priscilla produced a small neatly folded paper from her apron +pocke-t-"an' sez 'e--'Give this to Miss Innocent`' 'e sez, 'an' +she won't mind my bein' out o' the way--it'll be better for 'er to +be quiet a bit with you'--an' so it will, lovey, for sometimes a +man about the 'ouse is a worrit an' a burden, say what we will, +an' good though 'e be." + +Innocent took the note and read-- + +"I have made up my mind to go with Bayliss into the town and stay +at his house for the night--there are many business matters we +have to go into together, and it is important for me to thoroughly +understand the position of my uncle's affairs. If I cannot manage +to get back to-morrow, I will let you know. Robin." + +She heaved a sigh of intense relief. For twenty-four hours at +least she was free from love's importunity--she could be alone to +think, and to plan. She turned to Priscilla with a gentle look and +smile. + +"I'll go into the garden," she said--"and when it's tea-time +you'll come and fetch me, won't you? I shall be near the old stone +knight, Sieur Amadis--" + +"Oh, bother 'im," muttered Priscilla, irrelevantly--"You do think +too much o' that there blessed old figure!--why, what's 'e got to +do with you, my pretty?" + +"Nothing!" and the colour came to her pale cheeks for a moment, +and then fled back again--"He never had anything to do with me, +really! But I seem to know him." + +Priscilla gave a kind of melancholy snort--and the girl moved +slowly away through the open door and beyond it, out among the +radiant flowers. Her little figure in deep black was soon lost to +sight, and after watching her for a minute, Priscilla turned to +her home-work with tears blinding her eyes so thickly that she +could scarcely see. + +"If she winnot take Mister Robin, the Lord knows what'll become of +'er!" sighed the worthy woman--"For she's as lone i' the world as +a thrush fallen out o' the nest before it's grown strong enough to +fly! Eh, we thort we did a good deed, Mister Jocelyn an' I, when +we kep' 'er as a baby, 'opin' agin 'ope as 'er parents 'ud turn up +an' be sorry for the loss of 'er--but never a sign of a soul!--an' +now she's grow'd up she's thorts in 'er 'ed which ain't easy to +unnerstand--for since Mister Jocelyn told 'er the tale of 'erself +she's not been the same like--she's got suddin old!" + +The afternoon was very peaceful and beautiful--the sun shone +warmly over the smooth meadows of Briar Farm, and reddened the +apples in the orchard yet a little more tenderly, flashing in +flecks of gold on the "Glory" roses, and touching the wings of +fluttering doves with arrowy silver gleams. No one looking at the +fine old house, with its picturesque gables and latticed windows, +would have thought that its last master of lawful lineage was dead +and buried, and that the funeral had taken place that morning. +Briar Farm, though more than three centuries old, seemed full of +youthful life and promise--a vital fact, destined to outlast many +more human lives than those which in the passing of three hundred +years had already left their mark upon it, and it was strange and +incredible to realise that the long chain of lineally descended +male ancestors had broken at last, and that no remaining link +survived to carry on the old tradition. Sadly and slowly Innocent +walked across the stretches of warm clover-scented grass to the +ancient tomb of the "Sieur Amadis"--and sat down beside it, not +far from the place where so lately she had sat with Robin--what a +change had come over her life since then! She watched the sun +sinking towards the horizon in a mellow mist of orange-coloured +radiance,--the day was drawing to an end--the fateful, wretched +day which had seen the best friend she had ever known, and whom +for years she had adored and revered as her own "father," laid in +the dust to perish among perishable things. + +"I wish I had died instead of him," she said, half aloud--"or else +that I had never been born! Oh, dear 'Sieur Amadis'!--you know how +hard it is to live in the world unless some one wants you--unless +some one loves you!--and no one wants me--no one loves me--except +Robin!" + +Solitary, and full of the heaviest sadness, she tried to think and +to form plans--but her mind was tired, and she could come to no +decisive resolution beyond the one all-convincing necessity--that +of leaving Briar Farm. Of course she must go,--there was no other +alternative. And now, thanks to Hugo Jocelyn's forethought in +giving her money for her bridal "pretties," no financial +difficulty stood in the way of her departure. She must go--but +where? To begin with, she had no name. She would have to invent +one for herself-- + +"Yes!" she murmured--"I must invent a name--and make it famous!" +Involuntarily she clenched her small hand as though she held some +prize within its soft grasp. "Why not? Other people have done the +same--I can but try! If I fail--!" + +Her delicate fingers relaxed,--in her imagination she saw some +coveted splendour slip from her hold, and her little face grew set +and serious as though she had already suffered a whole life's +disillusion. + +"I can but try," she repeated--"something urges me on--something +tells me I may succeed. And then--!" + +Her eyes brightened slowly--a faint rose flushed her cheeks,--and +with the sudden change of expression, she became almost beautiful. +Herein lay her particular charm,--the rarest of all in women,--the +passing of the lights and shadows of thought over features which +responded swiftly and emotionally to the prompting and play of the +mind. + +"I should have to go," she went on--"even if Dad were still alive. +I could not--I cannot marry Robin!--I do not want to marry +anybody. It is the common lot of women--why they should envy or +desire it, I cannot think! To give one's self up entirely to a +man's humours--to be glad of his caresses, and miserable when he +is angry or tired--to bear his children and see them grow up and +leave you for their own 'betterment' as they would call it--oh!-- +what an old, old drudging life!--a life of monotony, sickness, +pain, and fatigue!--and nothing higher done than what animals can +do! There are plenty of women in the world who like to stay on +this level, I suppose--but I should not like it,--I could not live +in this beautiful, wonderful world with no higher ambition than a +sheep or a cow!" + +At that moment she suddenly saw Priscilla running from the house +across the meadow, and beckoning to her in evident haste and +excitement. She got up at once and ran to meet her, flying across +the grass with light airy feet as swiftly as Atalanta. + +"What is it?" she cried, seeing Priscilla's face, crimson with +hurry and nervousness--"Is there some new trouble?" + +Priscilla was breathless, and could scarcely speak. + +"There's a lady"--she presently gasped--"a lady to see you--from +London--in the best parlour--she asked for Farmer Jocelyn's +adopted daughter named Innocent. And she gave me her card--here it +is"--and Priscilla wiped her face and gasped again as Innocent +took the card and read "Lady Maude Blythe,"--then gazed at +Priscilla, wonderingly. + +"Who can she be?--some one who knew Dad--?" + +"Bless you, child, he never knew lord nor lady!" replied +Priscilla, recovering her breath somewhat--"No--it's more likely +one o' they grand folks what likes to buy old furniture, an' mebbe +somebody's told 'er about Briar Farm things, an' 'ow they might +p'raps be sold now the master's gone--" + +"But that would be very silly and wicked talk," said Innocent. +"Nothing will be sold--Robin would never allow it--" + +"Well, come an' see the lady," and Priscilla hurried her along-- +"She said she wished to see you partikler. I told 'er the master +was dead, an' onny buried this mornin', an' she smiled kind o' +pleasant like, an' said she was sorry to have called on such an +unfortunate day, but her business was important, an' if you could +see 'er--" + +"Is she young?" + +"No, she's not young--but she isn't old," replied Priscilla-- +"She's wonderful good-looking an' dressed beautiful! I never see +such clothes cut out o' blue serge! An' she's got a scent about +her like our stillroom when we're makin' pot-purry bags for the +linen." + +By this time they had reached the house, and Innocent went +straight into the best parlour. Her unexpected and unknown visitor +stood there near the window, looking out on the beds of flowers, +but turned round as she entered. For a moment they confronted each +other in silence,--Innocent gazing in mute astonishment and +enquiry at the tall, graceful, self-possessed woman, who, +evidently of the world, worldly, gazed at her in turn with a +curious, almost quizzical interest. Presently she spoke in a low, +sweet, yet cold voice. + +"So you are Innocent!" she said. + +The girl's heart beat quickly,--something frightened her, though +she knew not what. + +"Yes," she answered, simply--"I am Innocent. You wished to see me--?" + +"Yes--I wished to see you,"--and the lady quietly shut the window +--"and I also wish to talk to you. In case anyone may be about +listening, will you shut the door?" + +With increasing nervousness and bewilderment, Innocent obeyed. + +"You had my card, I think?" continued the lady, smiling ever so +slightly--"I gave it to the servant--" + +Innocent held it half crumpled in her hand. + +"Yes," she said, trying to rally her self-possession--"Lady Maude +Blythe--" + +"Exactly!--you have quite a nice pronunciation! May I sit down?" +and, without waiting for the required permission, Lady Blythe sank +indolently into the old oaken arm-chair where Farmer Jocelyn had +so long been accustomed to sit, and, taking out a cobweb of a +handkerchief powerfully scented, passed it languorously across her +lips and brow. + +"You have had a very sad day of it, I fear!" she continued-- +"Deaths and funerals are such unpleasant affairs! But the farmer-- +Mr. Jocelyn--was not your father, was he?" The question was put +with a repetition of the former slight, cold smile. + +"No,"--and the girl looked at her wonderingly--"but he was better +than my own father who deserted me!" + +"Dear me! Your own father deserted you! How shocking of him!" and +Lady Blythe turned a pair of brilliant dark eyes full on the pale +little face confronting her--"And your mother?" + +"She deserted me, too." + +"What a reprehensible couple!" Here Lady Blythe extended a +delicately gloved hand towards her. "Come here and let me look at +you!" + +But Innocent hesitated. + +"Excuse me," she said, with a quaint and simple dignity--"I do not +know you. I cannot understand why you have come to see me--if you +would explain--" + +While she thus spoke Lady Blythe had surveyed her scrutinisingly +through a gold-mounted lorgnon. + +"Quite a proud little person it is!" she remarked, and smiled-- +"Quite proud! I suppose I really must explain! Only I do hope you +will not make a scene. Nothing is so unpleasant! And SUCH bad +form! Please sit down!" + +Innocent placed a chair close to the table so that she could lean +her arm on that friendly board and steady her trembling little +frame. When she was seated, Lady Blythe again looked at her +critically through the lorgnon. Then she continued-- + +"Well, I must first tell you that I have always known your +history--such a romance, isn't it! You were brought here as a baby +by a man on horseback'--and he left you with the good old farmer +who has taken care of you ever since. I am right? Yes!--I'm quite +sure about it--because I knew the man--the curious sort of +parental Lochinvar!--who got rid of you in such a curious way!" + +Innocent drew a sharp breath. + +"You knew him?" + +Lady Blythe gave a delicate little cough. + +"Yes--I knew him--rather well! I was quite a girl--and he was an +artist--a rather famous one in his way--half French--and very +good-looking. Yes, he certainly was remarkably good-looking! We +ran away together--most absurd of us--but we did. Please don't +look at me like that!--you remind me of Sara Bernhardt in 'La +Tosca'!" + +Innocent's eyes were indeed full of something like positive +terror. Her heart beat violently--she felt a strange dread, and a +foreboding that chilled her very blood. + +"People often do that kind of thing--fall in love and run away," +continued Lady Blythe, placidly--"when they are young and silly. +It is quite a delightful sensation, of course, but it doesn't +last. They don't know the world--and they never calculate results. +However, we had quite a good time together. We went to Devon and +Cornwall, and he painted pictures and made love to me--and it was +all very nice and pretty. Then, of course, trouble came, and we +had to get out of it as best we could--we were both tired of each +other and quarrelled dreadfully, so we decided to give each other +up. Only you were in the way!" + +Innocent rose, steadying herself with one hand against the table. + +"I!" she exclaimed, with a kind of sob in her throat. + +"Yes--you! Dear me,--how you stare! Don't you understand? I +suppose you've lived such a strange sort of hermit life down here +that you know nothing. You were in the way--you, the baby!" + +"Do you mean--?" + +"Yes--I mean what you ought to have guessed at once--if you were +not as stupid as an owl! I've told you I ran away with a man--I +wouldn't marry him, though he asked me to--I should have been tied +up for life, and I didn't want that--so we decided to separate. +And he undertook to get rid of the baby--" + +"Me!" cried Innocent, wildly--"oh, dear God! It was me!" + +"Yes--it was you--but you needn't be tragic about it!" said Lady +Blythe, calmly--"I think, on the whole, you were fortunately +placed--and I was told where you were--" + +"You were told?--oh, you were told!--and you never came! And you-- +you are--my MOTHER!"--and overpowered by the shock of emotion, the +girl sank back on her chair, and burying her head in her hands, +sobbed bitterly. Lady Blythe looked at her in meditative silence. + +"What a tiresome creature!" she murmured, under her breath--"Quite +undisciplined! No repose of manner--no style whatever! And +apparently very little sense! I think it's a pity I came,--a +mistaken sense of duty!" + +Aloud she said-- + +"I hope you're not going to cry very long! Won't you get it over? +I thought you would be glad to know me--and I've come out of pure +kindness to you, simply because I heard your old farmer was dead. +Why Pierce Armitage should have brought you to him I never could +imagine--except that once he was painting a picture in the +neighbourhood and was rather taken with the history of this place +--Briar Farm isn't it called? You'll make your eyes quite sore if +you go on crying like that! Yes--I am your mother--most +unfortunately!--I hoped you would never know it!--but now--as you +are left quite alone in the world, I have come to see what I can +do for you." + +Innocent checked her sobs, and lifting her head looked straight +into the rather shallow bright eyes that regarded her with such +cold and easy scrutiny. + +"You can do nothing for me," she answered, in a low voice--"You +never have done anything for me. If you are my mother, you are an +unnatural one!" And moved by a sudden, swift emotion, she stood up +with indignation and scorn lighting every feature of her face. "I +was in your way at my birth--and you were glad to be rid of me. +Why should you seek me now?" + +Lady Blythe glanced her over amusedly. + +"Really, you would do well on the stage!" she said--"If you were +taller, you would make your fortune with that tragic manner! It is +quite wasted on me, I assure you! I've told you a very simple +commonplace truth--a thing that happens every day--a silly couple +run away together, madly in love, and deluded by the idea that +love will last--they get into trouble and have a child--naturally, +as they are not married, the child is in the way, and they get rid +of it--some people would have killed it, you know! Your father was +quite a kind-hearted person--and his one idea was to place you +where there were no other children, and where you would have a +chance of being taken care of. So he brought you to Briar Farm-- +and he told me where he had left you before he went away and +died." + +"Died!" echoed the girl--"My father is dead?" + +"So I believe,"--and Lady Blythe stifled a slight yawn--"He was +always a rather reckless person--went out to paint pictures in all +weathers, or to 'study effects' as he called it--how I hated his +'art' talk!--and I heard he died in Paris of influenza or +pneumonia or something or other. But as I was married then, it +didn't matter." + +Innocent's deep-set, sad eyes studied her "mother" with strange +wistfulness. + +"Did you not love him?" she asked, pitifully. + +Lady Blythe laughed, lightly. + +"You odd girl! Of course I was quite crazy about him!--he was so +handsome--and very fascinating in his way--but he could be a +terrible bore, and he had a very bad temper. I was thankful when +we separated. But I have made my own private enquiries about you, +from time to time--I always had rather a curiosity about you, as I +have had no other children. Won't you come and kiss me?" + +Innocent stood rigid. + +"I cannot!" she said. + +Lady Blythe flushed and bit her lips. + +"As you like!" she said, airily--"I don't mind!" + +The girl clasped her hands tightly together. + +"How can you ask me!" she said, in low, thrilling tones--"You who +have let me grow up without any knowledge of you!--you who had no +shame in leaving me here to live on the charity of a stranger!-- +you who never cared at all for the child you brought into the +world!--can you imagine that I could care--now?" + +"Well, really," smiled Lady Blythe--"I'm not sure that I have +asked you to care! I have simply come here to tell you that you +are not entirely alone in the world, and that I, knowing myself to +be your mother--(although it happened so long ago I can hardly +believe I was ever such a fool!)--am willing to do something for +you--especially as I have no children by my second marriage. I +will, in fact, 'adopt' you!" and she laughed--a pretty, musical +laugh like a chime of little silver bells. "Lord Blythe will be +delighted--he's a kind old person!" + +Innocent looked at her gravely and steadily. + +"Do you mean to say that you will own me?--name me?--acknowledge +me as your daughter--" + +"Why, certainly not!" and Lady Blythe's eyes flashed over her in +cold disdain--"What are you thinking of? You are not legitimate-- +and you really have no lawful name--besides, I'm not bound to do +anything at all for you now you are old enough to earn your own +living. But I'm quite a good-natured woman,--and as I have said +already I have no other children--and I'm willing to 'adopt' you, +bring you out in society, give you pretty clothes, and marry you +well if I can. But to own that I ever made such an idiot of myself +as to have you at all is a little too much to ask!--Lord Blythe +would never forgive me!" + +"So you would make me live a life of deception with you!" said +Innocent--"You would make me pretend to be what I am not--just as +you pretend to be what you are not!--and yet you say I am your +child! Oh God, save me from such a mother! Madam"--and she spoke +in cold, deliberate accents--"you have lived all these years +without children, save me whom you have ignored--and I, though +nameless and illegitimate, now ignore you! I have no mother! I +would not own you any more than you would own me;--my shame in +saying that such a woman is my mother would be greater than yours +in saying that I am your child! For the stigma of my birth is not +my fault, but yours!--I am, as my father called me--'innocent'!" + +Her breath came and went quickly--a crimson flush was on her +cheeks--she looked transfigured--beautiful. Lady Blythe stared at +her in wide-eyed disdain. + +"You are exceedingly rude and stupid," she said--"You talk like a +badly-trained actress! And you are quite blind to your own +interests. Now please remember that if you refuse the offer I make +you, I shall never trouble about you again--you will have to sink +or swim--and you can do nothing for yourself--without even a name--" + +"Have you never heard," interrupted Innocent, suddenly, "that it +is quite possible to MAKE a name?" + +Her "mother" was for the moment startled--she looked so +intellectually strong and inspired. + +"Have you never thought," she went on--"even you, in your strange +life of hypocrisy--" + +"Hypocrisy!" exclaimed Lady Blythe--"How dare you say such a +thing!" + +"Of course it is hypocrisy," said the girl, resolutely--"You are +married to a man who knows nothing of your past life--is not that +hypocrisy? You are a great lady, no doubt--you have everything you +want in this world, except children--one child you had in me, and +you let me be taken from you--yet you would pretend to 'adopt' me +though you know I am your own! Is not that hypocrisy?" + +Lady Blythe for a moment tightened her lips in a line of decided +temper--then she smiled ironically. + +"It is tact," she said--"and good manners. Society lives by +certain conventions, and we must be careful not to outrage them. +In your own interests you should be glad to learn how to live +suitably without offence to others around you." + +Innocent looked at her with straight and relentless scorn. + +"I have done that," she answered--"so far. I shall continue to do +it. I do not want any help from you! I would rather die than owe +you anything! Please understand this! You say I am your daughter, +and I suppose I must believe it--but the knowledge brings me +sorrow and shame. And I must work my way out of this sorrow and +shame,--somehow! I will do all I can to retrieve the damaged life +you have given me. I never knew my mother was alive--and now--I +wish to forget it! If my father lived, I would go to him--" + +"Would you indeed!" and Lady Blythe rose, shaking her elegant +skirts, and preening herself like a bird preparing for flight-- +"I'm afraid you would hardly receive a parental welcome! +Fortunately for himself and for me, he is dead,--so you are quite +untrammelled by any latent notions of filial duty. And you will +never see me again after to-day!" + +"No?"--and the interrogation was put with the slightest inflection +of satire--so fine as to be scarcely perceptible--but Lady Blythe +caught it, and flushed angrily. + +"Of course not!" she said--"Do you think you, in your position of +a mere farmer's girl, are likely to meet me in the greater world? +You, without even a name--" + +"Would you have given me a name?" interposed the girl, calmly. + +"Of course! I should have invented one for you-- + +"I can do that for myself," said Innocent, quietly--"and so you +are relieved from all trouble on my score. May I ask you to go +now?" + +Lady Blythe stared at her. + +"Are you insolent, or only stupid?" she asked--"Do you realise +what it is that I have told you--that I, Lady Blythe, wife of a +peer, and moving in the highest ranks of society, am willing to +take charge of you, feed you, clothe you, bring you out and marry +you well? Do you understand, and still refuse?" + +"I understand--and I still refuse," replied Innocent--"I would +accept, if you owned me as your daughter to your husband and to +all the world--but as your 'adopted' child--as a lie under your +roof--I refuse absolutely and entirely! Are you astonished that I +should wish to live truly instead of falsely?" + +Lady Blythe gathered her priceless lace scarf round her elegant +shoulders. + +"I begin to think it must have been all a bad dream!" she said, +and laughed softly--"My little affair with your father cannot have +really happened, and you cannot really be my child! I must +consider it in that light! I feel I have done my part in the +matter by coming here to see you and talk to you and make what I +consider a very kind and reasonable proposition--you have refused +it--and there is no more to be said." She settled her dainty hat +more piquantly on her rich dark hair, and smiled agreeably. "Will +you show me the way out? I left my motor-car on the high-road--my +chauffeur did not care to bring it down your rather muddy back +lane." + +Innocent said nothing--but merely opened the door and stood aside +for her visitor to pass. A curious tightening at her heart +oppressed her as she thought that this elegant, self-possessed, +exquisitely attired creature was actually her "mother!"--and she +could have cried out with the pain which was so hard to bear. +Suddenly Lady Blythe came to an abrupt standstill. + +"You will not kiss me?" she said--"Not even for your father's +sake?" + +With a quick sobbing catch in her breath, the girl looked up--her +"mother" was a full head taller than she. She lifted her fair +head--her eyes were full of tears. Her lips quivered--Lady Blythe +stooped and kissed them lightly. + +"There!--be a good girl!" she said. "You have the most +extraordinary high-flown notions, and I think they will lead you +into trouble! However, I'll give you one more chance--if at the +end of this year you would like to come to me, my offer to you +still holds good. After that--well!--as you yourself said, you +will have no mother!" + +"I have never had one!" answered Innocent, in low choked accents-- +"And--I shall never have one!" + +Lady Blythe smiled--a cold, amused smile, and passed out through +the hall into the garden. + +"What delightful flowers!" she exclaimed, in a sweet, singing +voice, for the benefit of anyone who might be listening--"A +perfect paradise! No wonder Briar Farm is so famous! It's +perfectly charming! Is this the way? Thanks ever so much!" This, +as Innocent opened the gate--"Let me see!--I go up the old by- +road?--yes?--and the main road joins it at the summit?--No, pray +don't trouble to come with me--I can find my car quite easily! +Good-bye!" + +And picking up her dainty skirt with one ungloved hand, on which +two diamond rings shone like circlets of dew, she nodded, smiled, +and went her way--Innocent standing at the gate and watching her +go with a kind of numbed patience as though she saw a figure in a +dream vanishing slowly with the dawn of day. In truth she could +hardly grasp the full significance of what had happened--she did +not feel, even remotely, the slightest attraction towards this +suddenly declared "mother" of hers--she could hardly believe the +story. Yet she knew it must be true,--no woman of title and +position would thus acknowledge a stigma on her own life without +any cause for the confession. She stood at the gate still +watching, though there was nothing now to watch, save the bending +trees, and the flowering wild plants that fringed each side of the +old by-road. Priscilla's voice calling her in a clear, yet lowered +tone, startled her at last--she slowly shut the gate and turned in +answer. + +"Yes, dear? What is it?" + +Priscilla trotted out from under the porch, full of eager +curiosity. + +"Has the lady gone?" + +"Yes." + +"What did she want with ye, dearie?" + +"Nothing very much!" and Innocent smiled--a strange, wistful +smile--"Only just what you thought!--she wished to buy something +from Briar Farm--and I told her it was not to be sold!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +That night Innocent made an end of all her hesitation. Resolutely +she put away every thought that could deter her from the step she +was now resolved to take. Poor old Priscilla little imagined the +underlying cause of the lingering tenderness with which the girl +kissed her "good-night," looking back with more than her usual +sweetness as she went along the corridor to her own little room. +Once there, she locked and bolted the door fast, and then set to +work gathering a few little things together and putting them in a +large but light-weight satchel, such as she had often used to +carry some of the choicest apples from the orchard when they were +being gathered in. Her first care was for her manuscript,--the +long-treasured scribble, kept so secretly and so often considered +with hope and fear, and wonder and doubting--then she took one or +two of the more cherished volumes which had formerly been the +property of the "Sieur Amadis" and packed them with it. Choosing +only the most necessary garments from her little store, she soon +filled her extemporary travelling-bag, and then sat down to write +a letter to Robin. It was brief and explicit. + +"DEAR ROBIN,"--it ran--"I have left this beloved home. It is +impossible for me to stay. Dad left me some money in bank-notes in +that sealed letter--so I want for nothing. Do not be anxious or +unhappy--but marry soon and forget me. I know you will always be +good to Priscilla--tell her I am not ungrateful to her for all her +care of me. I love her dearly. But I am placed in the world +unfortunately, and I must do something that will help me out of +the shame of being a burden on others and an object of pity or +contempt. If you will keep the old books Dad gave me, and still +call them mine, you will be doing me a great kindness. And will +you take care of Cupid?--he is quite a clever bird and knows his +friends. He will come to you or Priscilla as easily as he comes to +me. Good-bye, you dear, kind boy! I love you very much, but not as +you want me to love you,--and I should only make you miserable if +I stayed here and married you. God bless you! +"INNOCENT." + +She put this in an envelope and addressed it,--then making sure +that everything was ready, she took a few sovereigns from the +little pile of housekeeping money which Priscilla always brought +to her to count over every week and compare with the household +expenses. + +"I can return these when I change one of Dad's bank-notes," she +said to herself--"but I must have something smaller to pay my way +with just now than a hundred pounds." + +Indeed the notes Hugo Jocelyn had left for her might have given +her some little trouble and embarrassment, but she did not pause +to consider difficulties. When a human creature resolves to dare +and to do, no impediment, real or imaginary, is allowed to stand +long in the way. An impulse pushes the soul forward, be it ever so +reluctantly--the impulse is sometimes from heaven and sometimes +from hell--but as long as it is active and peremptory, it is +obeyed blindly and to the full. + +This little ignorant and unworldly girl passed the rest of the +night in tidying the beloved room where she had spent so many +happy hours, and setting everything in order,--talking in whispers +between whiles to the ghostly presence of the "Sieur Amadis" as to +a friend who knew her difficult plight and guessed her intentions. + +"You see," she said, softly, "there is no way out of it. It is not +as if I were anybody--I am nobody! I was never wanted in the world +at all. I have no name. I have never been baptised. And though I +know now that I have a mother, I feel that she is nothing to me. I +can hardly believe she is my mother. She is a lady of fashion with +a secret--and _I_ am the secret! I ought to be put away and buried +and forgotten!--that would be safest for her, and perhaps best for +me! But I should like to live long enough to make her wish she had +been true to my father and had owned me as his child! Ah, such +dreams! Will they ever come true!" + +She paused, looking up by the dim candle-light at the arms of the +"Sieur Amadis"--who "Here seekinge Forgetfulnesse did here fynde +Peace"--and at the motto "Mon coeur me soutien." + +"Poor 'Sieur Amadis!'" she murmured--"He sought forgetfulness!-- +shall I ever do the same? How strange it will be not to WISH to +remember!--surely one must be very old, or sad, to find gladness +in forgetting!" + +A faint little thrill of dread ran through her slight frame-- +thoughts began to oppress her and shake her courage--she +resolutely put them away and bent herself to the practical side of +action. Re-attiring herself in the plain black dress and hat which +Priscilla had got for her mourning garb, she waited patiently for +the first peep of daylight--a daylight which was little more than +darkness--and then, taking her satchel, she crept softly out of +her room, never once looking back. There was nothing to stay her +progress, for the great mastiff Hero, since Hugo Jocelyn's death, +had taken to such dismal howling that it had been found necessary +to keep him away from the house in, a far-off shed where his +melancholy plaints could not be heard. Treading with light, +soundless footsteps down the stairs, she reached the front-door,-- +unbarred and unlocked it without any noise, and as softly closed +it behind her,--then she stood in the open, shivering slightly in +the sweet coldness of the coming dawn, and inhaling the fragrance +of awakening unseen flowers. She knew of a gap in the hedge by +means of which she could leave the garden without opening the big +farm-gate which moved on rather creaking hinges--and she took this +way over a couple of rough stepping-stones. Once out on the old +by-road she paused. Briar Farm looked like a house in a dream-- +there was not enough daylight yet to show its gables distinctly, +and it was more like the shadowy suggestion of a building than any +actual substance. Yet there was something solemn and impressive in +its scarcely defined outline--to the girl's sensitive imagination +it was like the darkened and disappearing vision of her youth and +happiness,--a curtain falling, as it were, between the past and +the future like a drop-scene in a play. + +"Good-bye, Briar Farm!" she whispered, kissing her hand to the +quaintly peaked roof just dimly perceptible--"Good-bye, dear, +beloved home! I shall never forget you! I shall never see anything +like you! Good-bye, peace and safety!--good-bye!" + +The tears rushed to her eyes, and for the moment blinded her,-- +then, overcoming this weakness, she set herself to walk quickly +and steadily away. Up the old by-road, through the darkness of the +overhanging trees, here and there crossed by pale wandering gleams +of fitful light from the nearing dawn, she moved swiftly, treading +with noiseless footsteps as though she thought the unseen spirits +of wood and field might hear and interrupt her progress--and in a +few minutes she found herself upon the broad highway branching +right and left and leading in either direction to the wider world. +Briar Farm had disappeared behind the trees,--it was as though no +such place existed, so deeply was it hidden. + +She stopped, considering. She was not sure which was the way to +the nearest railway-station some eight miles distant. She was +prepared to walk it, but feared to take the wrong road, for she +instinctively felt that if she had to endure any unexpected delay, +some one from Briar Farm would be sent to trace her and find out +where she went. While she thus hesitated, she heard the heavy +rumbling of slow cart-wheels, and waited to see what sort of +vehicle might be approaching. It was a large waggon drawn by two +ponderous horses and driven by a man who, dimly perceived by the +light of the lantern fastened in front of him, appeared to be +asleep. Innocent hailed him--and after one or two efforts +succeeded at last in rousing his attention. + +"Which is the way to the railway-station?" she asked. + +The man blinked drowsily at her. + +"Railway-station, is it? I be a-goin' there now to fetch a load o' +nitrates. Are ye wantin' to git?" + +"Wantin' to git" was a country phrase to which Innocent was well +accustomed. She answered, gently-- + +"Yes. I should be so glad if you'd give me a lift--I'll pay you +for it. I have to catch the first train to London." + +"Lunnon? Quiet, ye rascals!"--this to the sturdy horses who were +dragging away at their shafts in stolid determination to move on-- +"Lunnon's a good way off! Ever bin there?" + +"No." + +"Nor I, nayther. Seekin' service?" + +"Yes." + +"Wal, ye can ride along wi' me, if so be ye likes it--we be goin' +main slow, but we'll be there before first engine. Climb up!-- +that's right! 'Ere's a corner beside me--ye could sit in the +waggon if ye liked, but it's 'ard as nails. 'Ere's a bit of 'oss- +cloth for a cushion." + +The girl sprang up as he bade her and was soon seated. + +"Ye're a light 'un an' a little 'un, an' a young 'un," he said, +with a chuckle--"an' what ye're doin' all alone i' the wake o' the +marnin' is more than yer own mother knows, I bet!" + +"I have no mother," she said. + +"Eh, eh! That's bad--that's bad! Yet for all that there's bad +mothers wot's worse than none. Git on wi' ye!"--this in a +stentorian voice to the horses, accompanied by a sounding crack of +the whip. "Git on!" + +The big strong creatures tugged at the shafts and obeyed, their +hoofs making a noisy clatter in the silence of the dawn. The +daylight was beginning to declare itself more openly, and away to +the east, just above a line of dark trees, the sky showed pale +suggestions of amber and of rose. Innocent sat very silent; she +was almost afraid of the coming light lest by chance the man +beside her should ever have seen her before and recognise her. His +sleep having been broken, he was disposed to be garrulous. + +"Ever bin by train afore?" he asked. + +"No." + +"No! Eh, that's mighty cur'ous. A'most everyone goes somewhere by +train nowadays--there's such a sight o' cheap 'scursions. I know a +man wot got up i' the middle o' night, 'e did, an' more fool 'e!-- +an' off 'e goes by train down to seaside for the day--'e'd never +seen the sea before an' it giv' 'im such a scare as 'e ain't got +over it yet. 'E said there was such a sight o' wobblin' water that +'e thort it 'ud wobble off altogether an' wash away all the land +and 'im with it. Ay, ay! 'e was main scared with 'is cheap +'scursion!" + +"I've never seen the sea," said Innocent then, in a low clear +tone--"but I've read about it--and I think I know what it is like. +It is always changing,--it is full of beautiful colours, blue and +green, and grey and violet--and it has great waves edged with +white foam!--oh yes!--the poets write about it, and I have often +seen it in my dreams." + +The dawning light in the sky deepened--and the waggoner turned his +head to look more closely at his girl-companion. + +"Ye talks mighty strange!" he said--"a'most as if ye'd been +eddicated up to it. I ain't been eddicated, an' I've no notions +above my betters, but ye may be right about the sea--if ye've read +about it, though the papers is mostly lies, if ye asks me, telling +ye one thing one day an' another to-morrow--" + +"I don't read the papers"--and Innocent smiled a little as in the +widening light she began to see the stolid, stupid, but good- +natured face of the man--"I don't understand them. I've read about +the sea in books,--books of poetry." + +He uttered a sound between a whistle and a grunt. + +"Books of poetry! An' ye're goin' to seek service in Lunnon? Take +my word for't, my gel, they won't want any folks there wi' sort o' +gammon like that in their 'eds--they're all on the make there, an' +they don't care for nothin' 'cept money an' 'ow to grab it. I +ain't bin there, but I've heerd a good deal." + +"You may have heard wrong," said Innocent, gathering more courage +as she realised that the light was now quite clear enough for him +to see her features distinctly and that it was evident he did not +know her--"London is such a large place that there must be all +sorts in it--good as well as bad--they can't all be greedy for +money. There must be people who think beautiful things, and do +beautiful work--" + +"Oh, there's plenty o' work done there"--and the waggoner flicked +his long whip against the sturdy flanks of his labouring horses-- +"I ain't denyin' that. An' YOU'll 'ave to work, my gel!--you bet! +you'll 'ave to wash down steps an' sweep kitchens a good while +afore you gits into the way of it! Why not take a service in the +country?" + +"I'm a little tired of the country," she answered--"I'd like a +change." + +"An' a change ye're likely to git!" he retorted, somewhat gruffly +--"Lor' bless yer 'art! There ain't nothin' like the country! All +the trees a-greenin' an' the flowers a-blowin' an' the birds a- +singin'! 'Ave ye ever 'era tell of a place called Briar Farm?" + +She controlled the nervous start of her body, and replied quietly-- + +"I think I have. A very old place." + +"Ah! Old? I believe ye! 'Twas old in the time o' good Queen Bess-- +an' the same fam'ly 'as 'ad it these three 'undred years--a fam'ly +o' the name o' Jocelyn. Ay, if ye could a' got service wi' Farmer +Jocelyn ye'd a' bin in luck's way! But 'e's dead an' gone last +week--more's the pity!--an' 'is nephew's got the place now, forbye +'e ain't a Jocelyn." + +She was silent, affecting not to be interested. The waggoner went +on-- + +"That's the sort o' place to seek service in! Safe an' clean an' +'onest as the sunshine--good work an' good pay--a deal better than +a place in Lunnon. An' country air, my gel!--country air!--nuthin' +like it!" + +A sudden blaze of gold lit up the trees--the sun was rising--full +day was disclosed, and the last filmy curtains of the night were +withdrawn, showing a heavenly blue sky flecked lightly with +wandering trails of white cloud like swansdown. He pointed +eastward with his long whip. + +"Look at that!" he said--"Fine, isn't it! No roofs and chimneys-- +just the woods and fields! Nuthin' like it anywhere!" + +Innocent drew a long breath--the air was indeed sweet and keen-- +new life seemed given to the world with its exhilarating +freshness. But she made no reply to the enthusiastic comments of +her companion. Thoughts were in her brain too deep for speech. Not +here, not here, in this quiet pastoral scene could she learn the +way to wrest the golden circlet of fame from the hands of the +silent gods!--it must be in the turmoil and rush of endeavour--the +swift pursuit of the flying Apollo! And--as the slow waggon jogged +along--she felt herself drawn, as it were, by a magnet--on--on-- +on!--on towards a veiled mystery which waited for her--a mystery +which she alone could solve. + +Presently they came within sight of several rows of ugly wooden +sheds with galvanised iron roofs and short black chimneys. + +"A'most there now," said the waggoner--"'Ere's a bit o' Lunnon +a'ready!--dirt an' muck and muddle! Where man do make a mess o' +things 'e makes a mess all round! Spoils everything 'e can lay 'is +'ands on!" + +The approaches to the railway were certainly not attractive--no +railway approaches ever are. Perhaps they appear more than usually +hideous when built amid a fair green country, where for miles and +miles one sees nothing but flowering hedgerows and soft pastures +shaded by the graceful foliage of sheltering trees. Then the +shining, slippery iron of the railway running like a knife through +the verdant bosom of the land almost hurts the eyes, and the +accessories of station-sheds, coal-trucks, and the like, affront +the taste like an ill-done foreground in an otherwise pleasing +picture. A slight sense of depression and foreboding came like a +cloud over the mind of poor little lonely Innocent, as she +alighted at the station at last, and with uplifted wistful eyes +tendered a sovereign to the waggoner. + +"Please take as much of it as you think right," she said--"It was +very kind of you to let me ride with you." + +The man stared, whistled, and thought. Feeling in the depth of a +capacious pocket he drew out a handful of silver and counted it +over carefully. + +"'Ere y'are!" he said, handing it all over with the exception of +one half-crown--"Ye'll want all yer change in Lunnon an' more. I'm +takin' two bob an' sixpence--if ye thinks it too much, say so!" + +"Oh no, no!" and Innocent looked distressed--"Perhaps it's too +little--I hope you are not wronging yourself?" + +The waggoner laughed, kindly enough. + +"Don't ye mind ME!" he said--"I'M all right! If I 'adn't two kids +at 'ome I'd charge ye nothin'--but I'm goin' to get 'em a toy they +wants, an' I'll take the 'arf-crown for the luck of it. Good-day +t'ye! Hope you'll find an easy place!" + +She smiled and thanked him,--then entered the station and, finding +the ticket-office just open, paid a third-class fare to London. A +sudden thrill of nervousness came over her. She spoke to the +booking-clerk, peering wistfully at him through his little ticket- +aperture. + +"I have never been in a train before!" she said, in a small, +anxious voice. + +The clerk smiled, and yawned expansively. He was a young man who +considered himself a "gentleman," and among his own particular set +passed for being a wit. + +"Really!" he drawled--"Quite a new experience for you! A little +country mouse, is it?" + +Innocent drew back, offended. + +"I don't know what you mean," she said, coldly--and moved away. + +The young clerk fingered his embryo moustache dubiously--conscious +of a blunder in manners. This girl was a lady--not a mere country +wench to joke with. He felt rather uncomfortable--and presently +leaving his office, went out on the platform where she was walking +up and down, and slightly lifted his cap. + +"I beg your pardon!" he said, his face reddening a little--"If you +are travelling alone you would like to get into a carriage with +other people, wouldn't you?" + +"Oh yes!" she answered, eagerly--"If you would be so kind--" + +He made no answer, as just then, with a rush and crash and +clatter, and deafening shriek of the engine-whistle, the train +came thundering in. There was opening and shutting of doors, much +banging and confusion, and before she very well knew where she +was, Innocent found herself in a compartment with three other +persons--one benevolent-looking old gentleman with white hair who +was seated opposite to her, and a man and woman, evidently husband +and wife. Another shriek and roar, and the train started--as it +began to race along, Innocent closed her eyes with a sickening +sensation of faintness and terror--then, opening them, saw hedges, +fields, trees and ponds all flying past her like scud in the wind, +and sat watching in stupefied wonderment--one little hand grasping +the satchel that held all her worldly possessions--the other +hanging limply at her side. Now and then she looked at her +companions--the husband and wife sat opposite each other and spoke +occasionally in monosyllables--the old gentleman on the seat +facing herself was reading a paper which showed its title--"The +Morning Post." Sometimes he looked at her over the top of the +paper, but for the most part he appeared absorbed in the printed +page. On, on, on, the train rushed at a pace which to her seemed +maddening and full of danger--she felt sick and giddy--would it +never stop, she thought?--and a deep sense of relief came over her +when, with a scream from the engine-whistle loud enough to tear +the drum of a sensitive ear, the whole shaking, rattling concern +came to an abrupt standstill at a station. Then she mustered up +courage to speak. + +"Please, would you tell me--" she began, faintly. + +The old gentleman laid down his "Morning Post" and surveyed her +encouragingly. + +"Yes? What is it?" + +"Will it be long before we get to London?" + +"About three hours." + +"Three hours!" + +She gave a deep and weary sigh. Three hours! Hardly till then had +she realised how far she was from Briar Farm--or how entirely she +had cut herself off from all the familiar surroundings of her +childhood's home, her girlhood's life. She leaned back in her +seat, and one or two tears escaped from under her drooping eyelids +and trickled slowly down her cheeks. The train started off again, +rushing at what she thought an awful speed,--she imagined herself +as being torn away from the peaceful past and hurled into a stormy +future. Yet it was her own doing--whatever chanced to her now she +would have no one but herself to blame. The events of the past few +days had crushed and beaten her so with blows,--the old adage +"Misfortunes never come singly" had been fulfilled for her with +cruel and unlooked-for plenitude. There is a turning-point in +every human life--or rather several turning-points--and at each +one are gathered certain threads of destiny which may either be +involved in a tangle or woven distinctly as a clue--but which in +any case lead to change in the formerly accepted order of things. +We may thank the gods that this is so--otherwise in the jog-trot +of a carefully treasured conservatism and sameness of daily +existence we should become the easy prey of adventurers, who, +discovering our desire for the changelessness of a convenient and +comfortable routine, would mulct us of all individuality. Our very +servants would become our masters, and would take advantage of our +easy-going ways to domineer over us, as in the case of "lone +ladies" who are often half afraid to claim obedience from the +domestics they keep and pay. Ignorant of the ways of the world and +full of such dreams as the world considers madness, Innocent had +acted on a powerful inward impetus which pushed her spirit towards +liberty and independence--but of any difficulties or dangers she +might have to encounter she never thought. She had the blind +confidence of a child that runs along heedless of falling, being +instinctively sure that some hand will be stretched out to save it +should it run into positive danger. + +Mastering the weakness of tears, she furtively dried her eyes and +endeavoured not to think at all--not to dwell on the memory of her +"Dad" whom she had loved so tenderly, and all the sweet +surroundings of Briar Farm which already seemed so far away. Robin +would be sorry she had gone--indeed he would be very miserable for +a time--she was certain of that!--and Priscilla! yes, Priscilla +had loved her as her own child,--here her thoughts began running +riot again, and she moved impatiently. Just then the old gentleman +with the "Morning Post" folded it neatly and, bending forward, +offered it to her. + +"Would you like to see the paper?" he asked, politely. + +The warm colour flushed her cheeks--she accepted it shyly. + +"Thank you very much!" she murmured--and, gratefully shielding her +tearful eyes behind the convenient news-sheet, she began glancing +up and down the front page with all its numerous announcements, +from the "Agony" column down to the latest new concert-singers and +sailings of steamers. + +Suddenly her attention was caught by the following advertisement-- + +"A Lady of good connection and position will be glad to take +another lady as Paying Guest in her charming house in Kensington. +Would suit anyone studying art or for a scholarship. Liberal table +and refined surroundings. Please communicate with 'Lavinia' at--" +Here followed an address. + +Over and over again Innocent read this with a sort of fascination. +Finally, taking from her pocket a little note-book and pencil, she +copied it carefully. + +"I might go there," she thought--"If she is a poor lady wanting +money, she might be glad to have me as a 'paying guest,' Anyhow, +it will do no harm to try. I must find some place to rest in, if +only for a night." + +Here she became aware that the old gentleman who had lent her the +paper was eyeing her curiously yet kindly. She met his glance with +a mixture of frankness and timidity which gave her expression a +wonderful charm. He ventured to speak as he might have spoken to a +little child. + +"Are you going to London for the first time?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir." + +He smiled. He had a pleasant smile, distinctly humorous and good- +natured. + +"It's a great adventure!" he said--"Especially for a little girl, +all alone." + +She coloured. + +"I'm not a little girl," she answered, with quaint dignity--"I'm +eighteen." + +"Really!"--and the old gentleman looked more humorous than ever-- +"Oh well!--of course you are quite old. But, you see, I am +seventy, so to me you seem a little girl. I suppose your friends +will meet you in London?" + +She hesitated--then answered, simply-- + +"No. I have no friends. I am going to earn my living." + +The old gentleman whistled. It was a short, low whistle at first, +but it developed into a bar of "Sally in our Alley," Then he +looked round--the other people in the compartment, the husband and +wife, were asleep. + +"Poor child!" he then said, very gently--"I'm afraid that will be +hard work for you. You don't look very strong." + +"Oh, but I am!" she replied, eagerly--"I can do anything in +housework or dairy-farming--I've been brought up to be useful--" + +"That's more than a great many girls can say!" he remarked, +smiling--"Well, well! I hope you may succeed! I also was brought +up to be useful--but I'm not sure that I have ever been of any +use!" + +She looked at him with quick interest. + +"Are you a clever man?" she asked. + +The simplicity of the question amused him, and he laughed. + +"A few people have sometimes called me so," he answered--"but my +'cleverness,' or whatever it may be, is not of the successful +order. And I'm getting old now, so that most of my activity is +past. I have written a few books--" + +"Books!"--she clasped her hands nervously, and her eyes grew +brilliant--"Oh! If you can write books you must always be happy!" + +"Do you think so?" And he bent his brows and scrutinised her more +intently. "What do YOU know about it? Are you fond of reading?" + +A deep blush suffused her fair skin. + +"Yes--but I have only read very old books for the most part," she +said--"In the farm-house where I was brought up there were a great +many manuscripts on vellum, and curious things--I read those--and +some books in old French--" + +"Books in old French!" he echoed, wonderingly. "And you can read +them? You are quite a French scholar, then?" + +"Oh no, indeed!" she protested--"I have only taught myself a +little. Of course it was difficult at first,--but I soon managed +it,--just as I learned how to read old English--I mean the English +of Queen Elizabeth's time. I loved it all so much that it was a +pleasure to puzzle it out. We had a few modern books--but I never +cared for them." + +He studied her face with increasing interest. + +"And you are going to earn your own living in London!" he said-- +"Have you thought of a way to begin? In old French, or old +English?" + +She glanced at him quickly and saw that he was smiling kindly. + +"Yes," she answered, gently--"I have thought of a way to begin! +Will you tell me of some book you have written so that I may read +it?" + +He shook his head. + +"Not I!" he declared--"I could not stand the criticism of a young +lady who might compare me with the writers of the Elizabethan +period--Shakespeare, for instance--" + +"Ah no!" she said--"No one can ever be compared with Shakespeare-- +that is impossible!" + +He was silent,--and as she resumed her reading of the "Morning +Post" he had lent her, he leaned back in his seat and left her to +herself. But he was keenly interested,--this young, small creature +with her delicate, intelligent face and wistful blue-grey eyes was +a new experience for him. He was a well-seasoned journalist and +man of letters,--clever in his own line and not without touches of +originality in his work--but hardly brilliant or forceful enough +to command the attention of the public to a large or successful +issue. He was, however, the right hand and chief power on the +staff of one of the most influential of daily newspapers, whose +proprietor would no more have thought of managing things without +him than of going without a dinner, and from this post, which he +had held for twenty years, he derived a sufficiently comfortable +income. In his profession he had seen all classes of humanity--the +wise and the ignorant,--the conceited and the timid,--men who +considered themselves new Shakespeares in embryo,--women in whom +the unbounded vanity of a little surface cleverness was sufficient +to place them beyond the pale of common respect,--but he had never +till now met a little country girl making her first journey to +London who admitted reading "old French" and Elizabethan English +as unconcernedly as she might have spoken of gathering apples or +churning cream. He determined not to lose sight of her, and to +improve the acquaintance if he got the chance. He heard her give a +sudden sharp sigh as she read the "Morning Post,"--she had turned +to the middle of the newspaper where the events of the day were +chronicled, and where a column of fashionable intelligence +announced the ephemeral doings of the so-called "great" of the +world. Here one paragraph had caught and riveted her attention--it +ran thus--"Lord and Lady Blythe have left town for Glen-Alpin, +Inverness-shire, where they will entertain a large house-party to +meet the Prime Minister." + +Her mother!--It was difficult to believe that but a few hours ago +this very Lady Blythe had offered to "adopt" her!--"adopt" her own +child and act a lie in the face of all the "society" she +frequented,--yet, strange and fantastic as it seemed, it was true! +Possibly she--Innocent--had she chosen, could have been taken to +"Glen-Alpin, Inverness-shire!"--she too might have met the Prime +Minister! She almost laughed at the thought of it!--the paper +shook in her hand. Her "mother"! Just then the old gentleman bent +forward again and spoke to her. + +"We are very near London now," he said--"Can I help you at the +station to get your luggage? You might find it confusing at first--" + +"Oh, thank you!" she murmured--"But I have no luggage--only this" +--and she pointed to the satchel beside her--"I shall get on very +well." + +Here she folded up the "Morning Post" and returned it to him with +a pretty air of courtesy. As he accepted it he smiled. + +"You are a very independent little lady!" he said--"But--just in +case you ever do want to read a book of mine,--I am going to give +you my name and address." Here he took a card from his waistcoat +pocket and gave it to her. "That will always find me," he +continued--"Don't be afraid to write and ask me anything about +London you may wish to know. It's a very large city--a cruel +one!"--and he looked at her with compassionate kindness--"You +mustn't lose yourself in it!" + +She read the name on the card--"John Harrington"--and the address +was the office of a famous daily journal. Looking up, she gave him +a grateful little smile. + +"You are very kind!" she said--"And I will not forget you. I don't +think I shall lose myself--I'll try not to be so stupid! Yes--when +I have read one of your books I will write to you!" + +"Do!"--and there was almost a note of eagerness in his voice--"I +should like to know what you think"--here a loud and persistent +scream from the engine-whistle drowned all possibility of speech +as the train rushed past a bewildering wilderness of houses packed +close together under bristling black chimneys--then, as the +deafening din ceased, he added, quietly, "Here is London." + +She looked out of the window,--the sun was shining, but through a +dull brown mist, and nothing but bricks and mortar, building upon +building, met her view. After the sweet freshness of the country +she had left behind, the scene was appallingly hideous, and her +heart sank with a sense of fear and foreboding. Another few +minutes and the train stopped. + +"This is Paddington," said John Harrington; then, noting her +troubled expression--"Let me get a taxi for you and tell the man +where to drive." + +She submitted in a kind of stunned bewilderment. The address she +had found in the "Morning Post" was her rescue--she could go +there, she thought, rapidly, even if she had to come away again. +Almost before she could realise what had happened in all the noise +and bustling to and fro, she found herself in a taxi-cab, and her +kind fellow-traveller standing beside it, raising his hat to her +courteously in farewell. She gave him the address of the house in +Kensington which she had copied from the advertisement she had +seen in the "Morning Post," and he repeated it to the taxi-driver +with a sense of relief and pleasure. It was what is called "a +respectable address"--and he was glad the child knew where she was +going. In another moment the taxi was off,--a parting smile +brightened the wistful expression of her young face, and she waved +her little hand to him. And then she was whirled away among the +seething crowd of vehicles and lost to sight. Old John Harrington +stood for a moment on the railway-platform, lost in thought. + +"A sweet little soul!" he mused--"I wonder what will become of +her! I must see her again some day. She reminds me of--let me +see!--who does she remind me of? By Jove, I have it! Pierce +Armitage!--haven't seen him for twenty years at least--and this +girl's face has a look of his--just the same eyes and intense +expression. Poor old Armitage!--he promised to be a great artist +once, but he's gone to the dogs by this time, I suppose. Curious, +curious that I should remember him just now!" + +And he went his way, thinking and wondering, while Innocent went +hers, without any thought at all, in a blind and simple faith that +God would take care of her. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +To be whirled along through the crowded streets of London in a +taxi-cab for the first time in one's life must needs be a somewhat +disconcerting, even alarming experience, and Innocent was the poor +little prey of so many nervous fears during her journey to +Kensington in this fashion, that she could think of nothing and +realise nothing except that at any moment it seemed likely she +would be killed. With wide-open, terrified eyes, she watched the +huge motor-omnibuses almost bearing down upon the vehicle in which +she sat, and shivered at the narrow margin of space the driver +seemed to allow for any sort of escape from instant collision and +utter disaster. She only began to breathe naturally again when, +turning away out of the greater press of traffic, the cab began to +run at a smoother and less noisy pace, till presently, in less +time than she could have imagined possible, it drew up at a +modestly retreating little door under an arched porch in a quiet +little square, where there were some brave and pretty trees doing +their best to be green, despite London soot and smoke. Innocent +stepped out, and seeing a bell-handle pulled it timidly. The +summons was answered by a very neat maid-servant, who looked at +her in primly polite enquiry. + +"Is Mrs.--or Miss 'Lavinia' at home?" she murmured. "I saw her +advertisement in the 'Morning Post.'" + +The servant's face changed from primness to propitiation. + +"Oh yes, miss! Please step in! I'll tell Miss Leigh." + +"Thank you. I'll pay the driver." + +She thereupon paid for the cab and dismissed it, and then followed +the maid into a very small but prettily arranged hall, and from +thence into a charming little drawing-room, with French windows +set open, showing a tiny garden beyond--a little green lawn, +smooth as velvet, and a few miniature flower-beds gay with well- +kept blossoms. + +"Would you please take a seat, miss?" and the maid placed a chair. +"Miss Leigh is upstairs, but she'll be down directly." + +She left the room, closing the door softly behind her. + +Innocent sat still, satchel in hand, looking wistfully about her. +The room appealed to her taste in its extreme simplicity--and it +instinctively suggested to her mind resigned poverty making the +best of itself. There were one or two old miniatures on little +velvet stands set on the mantelpiece--these were beautiful, and of +value; some engravings of famous pictures adorned the walls, all +well chosen; the quaint china bowl on the centre table was full of +roses carefully arranged--and there was a very ancient harpsichord +in one corner which apparently served only as a stand for the +portrait of a man's strikingly handsome face, near which was +placed a vase containing a stem of Madonna lilies. Innocent found +herself looking at this portrait now and again--there was +something familiar in its expression which had a curious +fascination for her. But her thoughts revolved chiefly round a +difficulty which had just presented itself--she had no real name. +What name could she take to be known by for the moment? She would +not call herself "Jocelyn"--she felt she had no right to do so. +"Ena" might pass muster for an abbreviation of "Innocent"--she +decided to make use of that as a Christian name--but a surname +that would be appropriately fitted to her ultimate intentions she +could not at once select. Then she suddenly thought of the man who +had been her father and had brought her as a helpless babe to +Briar Farm. Pierce Armitage was his name--and he was dead. Surely +she might call herself Armitage? While she was still puzzling her +mind over the question the door opened and a little old lady +entered--a soft-eyed, pale, pretty old lady, as dainty and +delicate as the fairy-godmother of a child's dream, with white +hair bunched on either side of her face, and a wistful, rather +plaintive expression of mingled hope and enquiry. + +"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she began--then paused in a kind +of embarrassment. The two looked at each other. Innocent spoke, a +little shyly: + +"I saw your advertisement in the 'Morning Post,'" she said, "and I +thought perhaps--I thought that I might come to you as a paying +guest. I have to live in London, and I shall be very busy studying +all day, so I should not give you much trouble." + +"Pray do not mention it!" said the old lady, with a quaint air of +old-fashioned courtesy. "Trouble would not be considered! But you +are a much younger person than I expected or wished to +accommodate." + +"You said in the advertisement that it would be suitable for a +person studying art, or for a scholarship," put in Innocent, +quickly. "And I am studying for literature." + +"Are you indeed?" and the old lady waved a little hand in +courteous deprecation of all unnecessary explanation--a hand which +Innocent noticed had a delicate lace mitten on it and one or two +sparkling rings. "Well, let us sit down together and talk it over. +I have two spare rooms--a bedroom and a sitting-room--they are +small but very comfortable, and for these I have been told I +should ask three guineas a week, including board. I feel it a +little difficult"--and the old lady heaved a sigh--"I have never +done this kind of thing before--I don't know what my poor father, +Major Leigh, would have said--he was a very proud man--very proud--!" + +While she thus talked, Innocent had been making a rapid +calculation in her own mind. Three guineas a week! It was more +than she had meant to pay, but she was instinctively wise enough +to realise the advantage of safety and shelter in this charming +little home of one who was evidently a lady, gentle, kindly, and +well-mannered. She had plenty of money to go on with--and in the +future she hoped to make more. So she spoke out bravely. + +"I will pay the three guineas a week gladly," she said. "May I see +the rooms?" + +The old lady meanwhile had been studying her with great +intentness, and now asked abruptly-- + +"Are you an English girl?" + +Innocent flushed a sudden rosy red. + +"Yes. I was brought up in the country, but all my people are dead +now. I have no friends, but I have a little money left to me--and +for the rest--I must earn my own living." + +"Well, my dear, that won't hurt you!" and an encouraging smile +brightened Miss Leigh's pleasantly wrinkled face. "You shall see +the rooms. But you have not told me your name yet." + +Again Innocent blushed. + +"My name is Armitage," she said, in a low, hesitating tone--"Ena +Armitage." + +"Armitage!"--Miss Leigh repeated the name with a kind of wondering +accent--"Armitage? Are you any relative of the painter, Pierce +Armitage?" + +The girl's heart beat quickly--for a moment the little drawing- +room seemed to whirl round her--then she collected her forces with +a strong effort and answered--"No!" + +The old lady's wistful blue eyes, dimmed with age, yet retaining a +beautiful tenderness of expression, rested upon her anxiously. + +"You are quite sure?" + +Repressing the feeling that prompted her to cry out--"He was my +father!" she replied-- + +"I am quite sure!" + +Lavinia Leigh raised her little mittened hand and pointed to the +portrait standing on the harpsichord: + +"That was Pierce Armitage!" she said. "He was a dear friend of +mine"--her voice trembled a little--"and I should have been glad +if you had been in any way connected with him." + +As she spoke Innocent turned and looked steadily at the portrait, +and it seemed to her excited fancy that its eyes gave her glance +for glance. She could hardly breathe--the threatening tears half +choked her. What strange fate was it, she thought, that had led +her to a house where she looked upon her own father's likeness for +the first time! + +"He was a very fine man," continued Miss Leigh in the same half- +tremulous voice--"very gifted--very clever! He would have been a +great artist, I think--" + +"Is he dead?" the girl asked, quietly. + +"Yes--I--I think so--he died abroad--so they say, but I have never +quite believed it--I don't know why! Come, let me show you the +rooms. I am glad your name is Armitage." + +She led the way, walking slowly,--Innocent followed like one in a +dream. They ascended a small staircase, softly carpeted, to a +square landing, and here Miss Leigh opened a door. + +"This is the sitting-room," she said. "You see, it has a nice bow- +window with a view of the garden. The bedroom is just beyond it-- +both lead into one another." + +Innocent looked in and could not resist giving a little +exclamation of pleasure. Everything was so clean and dainty and +well kept--it seemed to her a perfect haven of rest and shelter. +She turned to Miss Leigh in eager impulsiveness. + +"Oh, please let me stay!" she said. "Now, at once! I have only +just arrived in London and this is the first place I have seen. It +seems so--so fortunate that you should have had a friend named +Armitage! Perhaps--perhaps I may be a friend too!" + +A curious tremor seemed to pass over the old lady as though she +shivered in a cold wind. She laid one hand gently on the girl's +arm. + +"You may, indeed!" she said. "One never can tell what may happen +in this strange world! But we have to be practical--and I am very +poor and pressed for money. I do not know you--and of course I +should expect references from some respectable person who can tell +me who you are and all about you." + +Innocent grew pale. She gave a little expressive gesture of utter +hopelessness. + +"I cannot give you any references," she said--"I am quite alone in +the world--my people are dead--you see I am in mourning. The last +friend I had died a little while ago and left me four hundred +pounds in bank-notes. I have them here"--and she touched her +breast--"and if you like I will give you one of them in advance +payment for the rooms and board at once." + +The old lady heaved a quick sharp sigh. One hundred pounds! It +would relieve her of a weight of pressing difficulty--and yet--! +She paused, considering. + +"No, my child!" she said, quietly. "I would not on any account +take so much money from you. If you wish to stay, and if I must +omit references and take you on trust--which I am quite willing to +do!"--and she smiled, gravely--"I will accept two months' rent in +advance if you think you can spare this--can you?" + +"Yes--oh, yes!" the girl exclaimed, impulsively. "If only I may +stay--now!" + +"You may certainly stay now," and Miss Leigh rang a bell to summon +the neat maid-servant. "Rachel, the rooms are let to this young +lady, Miss Armitage. Will you prepare the bedroom and help her +unpack her things?" Then, turning round to Innocent, she said +kindly,--"You will of course take your meals with me at my table-- +I keep very regular hours, and if for any cause you have to be +absent, I should wish to know beforehand." + +Innocent said nothing;--her eyes were full of tears, but she took +the old lady's little hand and kissed it. They went down together +again to the drawing-room, Innocent just pausing to tell the maid +Rachel that she would prefer to unpack and arrange the contents of +her satchel--all her luggage,--herself; and in a very few minutes +the whole business was settled. Eager to prove her good faith to +the gentle lady who had so readily trusted her, she drew from her +bosom the envelope containing the bank-notes left to her by Hugo +Jocelyn, and, unfolding all four, she spread them out on the +table. + +"You see," she said, "this is my little fortune! Please change one +of them and take the two months' rent and anything more you want-- +please do!" + +A faint colour flushed Miss Leigh's pale cheeks. + +"No, my dear, no!" she answered. "You must not tempt me! I will +take exactly the two months' rent and no more; but I think you +ought not to carry this money about with you--you should put it in +a bank. We'll talk of this afterwards--but go and lock it up +somewhere now--there's a little desk in your room you could use-- +but a bank would be safest. After dinner this evening I'll tell +you what I think you ought to do--you are so very young!"--and she +smiled--"such a young little thing! I shall have to look after you +and play chaperone!" + +Innocent looked up with a sweet confidence in her eyes. + +"That will be kind of you!" she said, and leaving the one bank- +note of a hundred pounds on the table, she folded up the other +three in their original envelope and returned them to their secret +place of safety. "In a little while I will tell you a great deal +about myself--and I do hope I shall please you! I will not give +any trouble, and I'll try to be useful in the house if you'll let +me. I can cook and sew and do all sorts of things!" + +"Can you, indeed!" and Miss Leigh laughed good-naturedly. "And +what about studying for literature?" + +"Ah!--that of course comes first!" she said. "But I shall do all +my writing in the mornings--in the afternoons I can help you as +much as you like." + +"My dear, your time must be your own," said Miss Leigh, +decisively. "You have paid for your accommodation, and you must +have perfect liberty to do as you like, as long as you keep to my +regular hours for meals and bed-time. I think we shall get on well +together,--and I hope we shall be good friends!" + +As she spoke she bent forward and on a sudden impulse drew the +girl to her and kissed her. Poor lonely Innocent thrilled through +all her being to the touch of instinctive tenderness, and her +heart beat quickly as she saw the portrait on the harpsichord--her +father's pictured face--apparently looking at her with a smile. + +"Oh, you are very good to me!" she murmured, with a little sob in +her breath, as she returned the gentle old lady's kiss. "I feel as +if I had known you for years! Did you know him"--and she pointed +to the portrait--"very long?" + +Miss Leigh's eyes grew bright and tender. + +"Yes!" she answered. "We were boy and girl together--and once-- +once we were very fond of each other. Perhaps I will tell you the +story some day! Now go up to your rooms and arrange everything as +you like, and rest a little. Would you like some tea? Anything to +eat?" + +Poor Innocent, who had left Briar Farm at dawn without any thought +of food, and had travelled to London almost unconscious of either +hunger or fatigue, was beginning to feel the lack of nourishment, +and she gratefully accepted the suggestion. + +"I lunch at two o'clock," continued Miss Leigh. "But it's only a +little past twelve now, and if you have come a long way from the +country you must be tired. I'll send Rachel up to you with some +tea." + +She went to give the order, and Innocent, left to herself for a +moment, moved softly up to her father's picture and gazed upon it +with all her soul in her eyes. It was a wonderful face--a face +expressive of the highest thought and intelligence--the face of a +thinker or a poet, though the finely moulded mouth and chin had +nothing of the weakness which sometimes marks a mere dreamer of +dreams. Timidly glancing about her to make sure she was not +observed, she kissed the portrait, the cold glass which covered it +meeting her warm caressing lips with a repelling chill. He was +dead--this father whom she could never claim!--dead as Hugo +Jocelyn, who had taken that father's place in her life. She might +love the ghost of him if her fancy led her that way, as she loved +the ghost of the "Sieur Amadis"--but there was nothing else to +love! She was alone in the world, with neither father nor "knight +of old" to protect or defend her, and on herself alone depended +her future. She turned away and left the room, looking a fragile, +sad, unobtrusive little creature, with nothing about her to +suggest either beauty or power. Yet the mind in that delicate body +had a strength of which she was unconscious, and she was already +bending it instinctively and intellectually like a bow ready for +the first shot--with an arrow which was destined to go straight to +its mark. + +Meanwhile on Briar Farm there had fallen a cloud of utter +desolation. The day was fair and brilliant with summer sunshine, +the birds sang, the roses bloomed, the doves flew to and fro on +the gabled roof, and Innocent's pet "Cupid" waited in vain on the +corner of her window-sill for the usual summons that called it to +her hand,--but a strange darkness and silence like a whelming wave +submerged the very light from the eyes of those who suddenly found +themselves deprived of a beloved presence--a personality +unobtrusively sweet, which had bestowed on the old house a charm +and grace far greater than had been fully recognised. The "base- +born" Innocent, nameless, and unbaptised, and therefore shadowed +by the stupid scandal of commonplace convention, had given the +"home" its homelike quality--her pretty idealistic fancies about +the old sixteenth-century knight "Sieur Amadis" had invested the +place with a touch of romance and poetry which it would hardly +have possessed with-out her--her gentle ways, her care of the +flowers and the animals, and the never-wearying delight she had +taken in the household affairs--all her part in the daily life of +the farm had been as necessary to happiness as the mastership of +Hugo Jocelyn himself--and without her nothing seemed the same. +Poor Priscilla went about her work, crying silently, and Robin +Clifford paced restlessly up and down the smooth grass in front of +the old house with Innocent's farewell letter in his hand, reading +it again and again. He had returned early from the market town +where he had stayed the night, eager to explain to her all the +details of the business he had gone through with the lawyer to +whom his Uncle Hugo had entrusted his affairs, and to tell her how +admirably everything had been arranged for the prosperous +continuance of Briar Farm on the old traditional methods of labour +by which it had always been worked to advantage. Hugo Jocelyn had +indeed shown plenty of sound wisdom and foresight in all his plans +save one--and that one was his fixed idea of Innocent's marriage +with his nephew. It had evidently never occurred to him that a +girl could have a will of her own in such a momentous affair--much +less that she could or would be so unwise as to refuse a good +husband and a settled home when both were at hand for her +acceptance. Robin himself, despite her rejection of him, had still +hoped and believed that when the first shock of his uncle's death +had lessened, he might by patience and unwearying tenderness move +her heart to softer yielding, and he had meant to plead his cause +with her for the sake of the famous old house itself, so that she +might become its mistress and help him to prove a worthy +descendant of its long line of owners. But now! All hope was at an +end--she had taken the law into her own hands and gone--no one +knew whither. Priscilla was the last who had seen her--Priscilla +could only explain, with many tears, that when she had gone to +call her to breakfast she had found her room vacant, her bed +unslept in, and the letter for Robin on the table--and that letter +disclosed little or nothing of her intentions. + +"Oh, the poor child!" Priscilla said, sobbingly. "All alone in a +hard world, with her strange little fancies, and no one to take +care of her! Oh, Mr. Robin, whatever are we to do!" + +"Nothing!" and Robin's handsome face was pale and set. "We can +only wait to hear from her--she will not keep us long in anxiety-- +she has too much heart for that. After all, it is MY fault, +Priscilla! I tried to persuade her to marry me against her will--I +should have let her alone." + +Sudden boyish tears sprang to his eyes--he dashed them away in +self-contempt. + +"I'm a regular coward, you see," he said. "I could cry like a +baby--not for myself so much, but to think of her running away +from Briar Farm out into the wide world all alone! Little +Innocent! She was safe here--and if she had wished it, _I_ would +have gone away--I would have made HER the owner of the farm, and +left her in peace to enjoy it and to marry any other man she +fancied. But she wouldn't listen to any plan for her own happiness +since she knew she was not my uncle's daughter--that is what has +changed her! I wish she had never known!" + +"Ay, so do I!" agreed Priscilla, dolefully. "But she's got the +fancifullest notions! All about that old stone knight in the +garden--an' what wi' the things he's left carved all over the wall +of the room where she read them queer old books, she's fair 'mazed +with ideas that don't belong to the ways o' the world at all. I +can't think what'll become o' the child. Won't there be any means +of findin' out where she's gone?" + +"I'm afraid not!" answered Robin, sadly. "We muse trust to her +remembrance of us, Priscilla, and her thoughts of the old home +where she was loved and cared for." His voice shook. "It will be a +dreary place without her! We shall miss her every minute, every +hour of the day! I cannot fancy what the garden will look like +without her little white figure flitting over the grass, and her +sweet fair face smiling among the roses! Hang it all, Priscilla, +if it were not for the last wishes of my Uncle Hugo I'd throw the +whole thing up and go abroad!" + +"Don't do that, Mister Robin!"--and Priscilla laid her rough work- +worn hand on his arm--"Don't do it! It's turning your back on duty +to give up the work entrusted to you by a dead man. You know it +is! An' the child may come back any day! I shouldn't wonder if she +got frightened at being alone and ran home again to-morrow! Think +of it, Mister Robin! Suppose she came an' you weren't here? Why, +you'd never forgive yourself! I can't think she's gone far or that +she'll stay away long. Her heart's in Briar Farm all the while-- +I'd swear to that! Why, only yesterday when a fine lady came to +see if she couldn't buy something out o' the house, you should +just a' seen her toss her pretty little head when she told me how +she'd said it wasn't to be sold." + +"Lady? What lady?" and Robin looked, as he felt, bewildered by +Priscilla's vague statement. "Did someone come here to see the +house?" + +"Not exactly--I don't know what it was all about," replied +Priscilla. "But quite a grand lady called an' gave me her card. I +saw the name on it--'Lady Maude Blythe'--and she asked to see +'Miss Jocelyn' on business. I asked if it was anything I could do, +and she said no. So I called the child in from the garden, and she +and the lady had quite a long talk together in the best parlour. +Then when the lady went away, Innocent told me that she had wished +to buy something from Briar Farm--but that it was not to be sold." + +Robin listened attentively. "Curious!" he murmured--"very curious! +What was the lady's name?" + +"Lady Maude Blythe," repeated Priscilla, slowly. + +He took out a note-book and pencil, and wrote it down. + +"You don't think she came to engage Innocent for some service?" he +asked. "Or that Innocent herself had perhaps written to an agency +asking for a place, and that this lady had come to see her in +consequence?" + +Such an idea had never occurred to Priscilla's mind, but now it +was suggested to her it seemed more than likely. + +"It might be so," she answered, slowly. "But I can't bear to think +the child was playin' a part an' tellin' me things that weren't +true just to get away from us. No! Mister Robin! I don't believe +that lady had anything to do with her going." + +"Well, I shall keep the name by me," he said. "And I shall find +out where the lady lives, who she is and all about her. For if I +don't hear from Innocent, if she doesn't write to us, I'll search +the whole world and never rest till I find her!" + +Priscilla looked at him, pityingly, tears springing again to her +eyes. + +"Aye, you've lost the love o' your heart, my lad! I know that well +enough!" she said. "An' it's mighty hard on you! But you must be a +man an' turn to work as though nowt had happened. There's the +farm--" + +"Yes, there's the farm," he repeated, absently. "But what do I +care for the farm without her! Priscilla, YOU will stay with me?" + +"Stay with you? Surely I will, Mister Robin! Where should an old +woman like me go to at this time o' day!" and Priscilla took his +hand and clasped it affectionately. "Don't you fear! My place is +in Briar Farm till the Lord makes an end of me! And if the child +comes back at any hour of the day or night, she'll find old +Priscilla ready to welcome her,--ready an' glad an' thankful to +see her pretty face again." + +Here, unable to control her sobs, she turned away and made a hasty +retreat into the kitchen. + +He did not follow her, but acting on the sudden impulse of his +mind he entered the house and went up to Innocent's deserted room. +He opened the door hesitatingly,--the little study, in its severe +simplicity and neatness, looked desolate--like an empty shrine +from which the worshipped figure had been taken. He trod softly +across the floor, hushing his footsteps, as though some one slept +whom he feared to wake, and his eyes wandered from one familiar +object to another till they rested on the shelves where the old +vellum-bound books, which Innocent had loved and studied so much, +were ranged in orderly rows. Taking one or two of them out he +glanced at their title-pages;--he knew that most of them were rare +and curious, though his Oxford training had not impressed him with +as great a love of things literary as it might or should have +done. But he realised that these strange black-letter and +manuscript volumes were of unique value, and that their contents, +so difficult to decipher, were responsible for the formation of +Innocent's guileless and romantic spirit, colouring her outlook on +life with a glamour of rainbow brilliancy which, though beautiful, +was unreal. One quaint little book he opened had for its title-- +"Ye Whole Art of Love, Setting Forth ye Noble Manner of Noble +Knights who woulde serve their Ladies Faithfullie in Death as in +Lyfe"--this bore the date of 1590. He sighed as he put it back in +its place. + +"Ah, well," he said, half aloud, "these books are hers, and I'll +keep them for her--but I believe they've done her a lot of +mischief, and I don't love them! They've made her see the world as +it is not--and life as it never will be! And she has got strange +fancies into her head--fancies which she will run after like a +child chasing pretty butterflies--and when the butterflies are +caught, they die, much to the child's surprise and sorrow! My poor +little Innocent! She has gone out alone into the world, and the +world will break her heart! Oh dearest little love, come back to +me!" + +He sat down in her vacant chair and covered his face with his +hands, giving himself up to the relief of unwitnessed tears. Above +his head shone the worn glitter of the old armoured device of the +"Sieur Amadis" with its motto--"Mon coeur me soutien"--and only a +psychist could have thought or imagined it possible that the +spirit of the old French knight of Tudor times might still be +working through clouds of circumstance and weaving the web of the +future from the torn threads of the past. And when Robin had +regained his self-possession and had left the room, there was yet +a Presence in its very emptiness,--the silent assertion of an +influence which if it had been given voice and speech might have +said--"Do what you consider is your own will and intention, but +_I_ am still your Master!--and all your thoughts and wishes are +but the reflex of MY desire!" + +It was soon known in the village that Innocent had left Briar +Farm--"run away," the gossips said, eager to learn more. But they +could get no information out of Robin Clifford or Priscilla +Priday, and the labourers on the farm knew nothing. The farm work +was going on as usual--that was all they cared about. Mr. Clifford +was very silent--Miss Priday very busy. However, all anxiety and +suspense came to an end very speedily so far as Innocent's safety +was concerned, for in a few days letters arrived from her--both +for Robin and Priscilla--kind, sweetly-expressed letters full of +the tenderest affection. + +"Do not be at all sorry or worried about me, dear good Priscilla!" +she wrote. "I know I am doing right to be away from Briar Farm for +a time--and I am quite well and happy. I have been very fortunate +in finding rooms with a lady who is very kind to me, and as soon +as I feel I can do so I will let you know my address. But I don't +want anyone from home to come and see me--not yet!--not for a very +long time! It would only make me sad--and it would make you sad +too! But be quite sure it will not be long before you see me +again." + +Her letter to Robin was longer and full of restrained feeling: + +"I know you are very unhappy, you kind, loving boy," it ran. "You +have lost me altogether--yes, that is true--but do not mind, it is +better so, and you will love some other girl much more than me +some day. I should have been a mistake in your life had I stayed +with you. You will see me again--and you will then understand why +I left Briar Farm. I could not wrong the memory of the Sieur +Amadis, and if I married you I should be doing a wicked thing to +bring myself, who am base-born, into his lineage. Surely you do +understand how I feel? I am quite safe--in a good home, with a +lady who takes care of me--and as soon as I can I will let you +know exactly where I am--then if you ever come to London I will +see you. But your work is on Briar Farm--that dear and beloved +home!--and you will keep up its old tradition and make everybody +happy around you. Will you not? Yes! I am sure you will! You MUST, +if ever you loved me. +"INNOCENT." + +With this letter his last hope died within him. She would never be +his--never, never! Some dim future beckoned her in which he had no +part--and he confronted the fact as a brave soldier fronts the +guns, with grim endurance, aware, yet not afraid of death. + +"If ever I loved her!" he thought. "If ever I cease to love her +then I shall be as stone-cold a man as her fetish of a French +knight, the Sieur Amadis! Ah, my little Innocent, in time to come +you may understand what love is--perhaps to your sorrow!--you may +need a strong defender--and I shall be ready! Sooner or later--now +or years hence--if you call me, I shall answer. I would find +strength to rise from my death-bed and go to you if you wanted me! +For I love you, my little love! I love you, and nothing can change +me. Only once in a life-time can a man love any woman as I love +you!" + +And with a deep vow of fidelity sworn to his secret soul he sat +alone, watching the shadows of evening steal over the landscape-- +falling, falling slowly, like a gradually descending curtain upon +all visible things, till Briar Farm stood spectral in the gloom +like the ghost of its own departed days, and lights twinkled in +the lattice windows like little eyes glittering in the dark. Then +silently bidding farewell to all his former dreams of happiness, +he set himself to face "the burden and heat of the day"--that +long, long day of life so difficult to live, when deprived of +love! + + + + + +BOOK TWO: HIS FACT + + +BOOK TWO + +CHAPTER I + +In London, the greatest metropolis of the world, the smallest +affairs are often discussed with more keenness than things of +national importance,--and it is by no means uncommon to find +society more interested in the doings of some particular man or +woman than in the latest and most money-milking scheme of +Government finance. In this way it happened that about a year +after Innocent had, like a small boat in a storm, broken loose +from her moorings and drifted out to the wide sea, everybody who +was anybody became suddenly thrilled with curiosity concerning the +unknown personality of an Author. There are so many Authors +nowadays that it is difficult to get up even a show of interest in +one of them,--everybody "writes"--from Miladi in Belgravia, who +considers the story of her social experiences, expressed in +questionable grammar, quite equal to the finest literature, down +to the stable-boy who essays a "prize" shocker for a penny +dreadful. But this latest aspirant to literary fame had two +magnetic qualities which seldom fail to arouse the jaded spirit of +the reading public,--novelty and mystery, united to that scarce +and seldom recognised power called genius. He or she had produced +a Book. Not an ephemeral piece of fiction,--not a "Wells" effort +of imagination under hydraulic pressure--not an hysterical +outburst of sensual desire and disappointment such as moves the +souls of demimondaines and dressmakers,--not even a "detective" +sensation--but just a Book--a real Book, likely to live as long as +literature itself. It was something in the nature of a marvel, +said those who knew what they were talking about, that such a book +should have been written at all in these modern days. The "style" +of it was exquisite and scholarly--quaint, expressive, and all- +sufficing in its artistic simplicity,--thoughts true for all time +were presented afresh with an admirable point and delicacy that +made them seem new and singularly imperative,--and the story +which, like a silken thread, held all the choice jewels of +language together in even and brilliant order, was pure and +idyllic,--warm with a penetrating romance, yet most sincerely +human. When this extraordinary piece of work was published, it +slipped from the press in quite a modest way without much +preliminary announcement, and for two or three weeks after its +appearance nobody knew anything about it. The publishers +themselves were evidently in doubt as to its reception, and +signified their caution by economy in the way of advertisement--it +was not placarded in the newspaper columns as "A Book of the +Century" or "A New Literary Event." It simply glided into the +crowd of books without noise or the notice of reviewers--just one +of a pushing, scrambling, shouting multitude,--and quite suddenly +found itself the centre of the throng with all eyes upon it, and +all tongues questioning the how, when and where of its author. No +one could say how it first began to be thus busily talked about,-- +the critics had bestowed upon it nothing of either their praise or +blame,--yet somehow the ball had been set rolling, and it gathered +size and force as it rolled, till at last the publishers woke up +to the fact that they had, by merest chance, hit upon a "paying +concern." They at once assisted in the general chorus of delight +and admiration, taking wider space in the advertisement columns of +the press for the "work of genius" which had inadvertently fallen +into their hands--but when it came to answering the questions put +to them respecting its writer they had very little to say, being +themselves more or less in the dark. + +"The manuscript was sent to us in the usual way," the head of the +firm explained to John Harrington, one of the soundest and most +influential of journalists, "just on chance,--it was neither +introduced nor recommended. One of our readers was immensely taken +with it and advised us to accept it. The author gave no name, and +merely requested all communications to be made through his +secretary, a Miss Armitage, as he wished for the time being to +remain anonymous. We drew up an Agreement on these lines which was +signed for the author by Miss Armitage,--she also corrected and +passed the proofs--" + +"Perhaps she also wrote the book," interrupted Harrington, with an +amused twinkle in his eyes--"I suppose such a solution of the +mystery has not occurred to you?" + +The publisher smiled. "Under different circumstances it might have +done so," he replied, "but we have seen Miss Armitage several +times--she is quite a young girl, not at all of the 'literary' +type, though she is very careful and accurate in her secretarial +work--I mean as regards business letters and attention to detail. +But at her age she could not have had the scholarship to produce +such a book. The author shows a close familiarity with sixteenth- +century literature such as could only be gained by a student of +the style of that period,--Miss Armitage has nothing of the 'book- +worm' about her--she is quite a simple young person--more like a +bright school-girl than anything else--" + +"Where does she live?" asked Harrington, abruptly. + +The publisher looked up the address and gave it. + +"There it is," he said; "if you want to write to the author she +will forward any letters to him." + +Harrington stared at the pencilled direction for a moment in +silence. He remembered it--of course he remembered it!--it was the +very address given to the driver of the taxi-cab in which the girl +with whom he had travelled to London more than a year ago had +gone, as it seemed, out of his sight. Every little incident +connected with her came freshly back to his mind--how she had +spoken of the books she loved in "old French" and "Elizabethan +English"--and how she had said she knew the way to earn her own +living. If this was the way--if she was indeed the author of the +book which had stirred and wakened the drowsing soul of the age, +then she had not ventured in vain! + +Aloud he said: + +"It seems to be another case of the 'Author of Waverley' and the +'Great Unknown'! I suppose you'll take anything else you can get +by the same hand?" + +"Rather!" And the publisher nodded emphatically--"We have already +secured a second work." + +"Through Miss Armitage?" + +"Yes. Through Miss Armitage." + +Harrington laughed. + +"I believe you're all blinder than bats!" he said--"Why on earth +you should think that because a woman looks like a school-girl she +cannot write a clever book if gifted that way, is a condition of +non-intelligence I fail to fathom! You speak of this author as a +'he.' Do you think only a male creature can produce a work of +genius? Look at the twaddle men turn out every day in the form of +novels alone! Many of them are worse than the worst weak fiction +by women. I tell you I've lived long enough to know that a woman's +brain can beat a man's if she cares to test it, so long as she +does not fall in love. When once that disaster happens it's all +over with her! It's the one drawback to a woman's career; if she +would only keep clear of love and self-sacrifice she'd do wonders! +Men never allow love to interfere with so much as their own smoke +--very few among them would sacrifice a good cigar for a woman! As +for this girl, Miss Armitage, I'll pluck out the heart of her +mystery for you! I suppose you won't pay any less for good work if +it turns out to be by a 'she' instead of a 'he'?" + +The publisher was amused. + +"Certainly not!" he answered. "We have already paid over a +thousand pounds in royalties on the present book, and we have +agreed to give two thousand in advance on the next. The author has +expressed himself as perfectly satisfied--" + +"Through Miss Armitage?" put in Harrington. + +"Yes. Through Miss Armitage." + +"Well!" And Harrington turned to go--"I hope Miss Armitage will +also express herself as perfectly satisfied after I have seen her! +I shall write and ask permission to call--" + +"Surely"--and the publisher looked distressed--"surely you do not +intend to trouble this poor girl by questions concerning her +employer? It's hardly fair to her!--and of course it's only your +way of joking, but your idea that she wrote the book we're all +talking about is simply absurd! She couldn't do it! When you see +her, you'll understand." + +"I daresay I shall!" And Harrington smiled-"Don't you worry! I'm +too old a hand to get myself or anybody else into trouble! But +I'll wager you anything that your simple school-girl is the +author!" + +He went back then and there to the office of his big newspaper and +wrote a guarded little note as follows:-- + +"DEAR MISS ARMITAGE, + +I wonder if you remember a grumpy old fellow who travelled with +you on your first journey to London rather more than a year ago? +You never told me your name, but I kept a note of the address you +gave through me to your taxi-driver, and through that address I +have just by chance heard that you and the Miss Armitage who +corrected the proofs of a wonderful book recently published are +one and the same person. May I call and see you? Yours sincerely, + +JOHN HARRINGTON." + +He waited impatiently for the answer, but none came for several +days. At last he received a simple and courteous "put off," thus +expressed:-- + +"DEAR MR. HARRINGTON, + +I remember you very well--you were most kind, and I am grateful +for your thought of me. But I hope you will not think me rude if I +ask you not to call. I am living as a paying guest with an old +lady whose health is not very strong and who does not like me to +receive visitors, and you can understand that I try not to +inconvenience her in any way. I do hope you are well and +successful. + +Yours sincerely, + +ENA ARMITAGE." + +He folded up the note and put it in his pocket. + +"That finishes me very decisively!" he said, with a laugh at +himself for his own temerity. "Who is it says a woman cannot keep +a secret? She can, and will, and does!--when it suits her to do +so! Never mind, Miss Armitage! I shall find you out when, you +least expect it--never fear!" + +Meanwhile Miss Leigh's little house in Kensington was the scene of +mingled confusion and triumph. The "paying guest"--the little +unobtrusive girl, with all her wardrobe in a satchel and her +legacy of four hundred pounds in bank-notes tucked into her bosom +--had achieved a success beyond her wildest dreams, and now had +only to declare her identity to become a "celebrity." Miss Lavinia +had been for some days in a state of nervous excitement, knowing +that it was Innocent's first literary effort which had created +such a sensation. By this time she had learned all the girl's +history--Innocent had told her everything, save and except the one +fact of her parentage,--and this she held back, not out of shame +for herself, but consideration for the memory of the handsome man +whose portrait stood on the silent harpsichord. For she in her +turn had discovered Miss Lavinia's secret,--how the dear lady's +heart had been devoted to Pierce Armitage all her life, and how +when she knew he had been drawn away from her and captivated by +another woman her happiness had been struck down and withered like +a flowering rose in a hard gale of wind. For this romance, and the +disillusion she had suffered, Innocent loved her. The two had +become fast friends, almost like devoted mother and daughter. Miss +Leigh was, as she had stated in her "Morning Post" advertisement, +well-connected, and she did much for the girl who had by chance +brought a new and thrilling interest into her life--more than +Innocent could possibly have done for herself. The history of the +child,--as much as she was told of it,--who had been left so +casually at a country farm on the mere chance of its being kept +and taken care of, affected her profoundly, and when Innocent +confided to her the fact that she had never been baptised, the +gentle old lady was moved to tears. No time was lost in lifting +this spiritual ban from the young life concerned, and the sacred +rite was performed quietly one morning in the church which Miss +Leigh had attended for many years, Miss Leigh having herself +explained beforehand some of the circumstances to the Vicar, and +standing as god-mother to the newly-received little Christian. And +though there had arisen some question as to the name by which she +should be baptised, Miss Leigh held tenaciously to the idea that +she should retain the name her "unknown" father had given her-- +"Innocent." + +"Suppose he should not be dead," she said, "then if he were to +meet you some day, that name might waken his memory and lead him +to identify you. And I like it--it is pretty and original--quite +Christian, too,--there were several Popes named Innocent." + +The girl smiled. She thought of Robin Clifford, and how he had +aired his knowledge to her on the same subject. + +"But it is a man's name, isn't it?" she asked. + +"Not more so than a woman's, surely!" declared Miss Leigh. "You +can always call yourself 'Ena' for short if you like--but +'Innocent' is the prettier name." + +And so "Innocent" it was,--and by the sprinkling of water and the +blessing of the Church the name was finally bestowed and +sanctified. Innocent herself was peacefully glad of her newly- +attained spiritual dignity and called Miss Lavinia her "fairy god- +mother." + +"Do you mind?" she asked, coaxingly. "It makes me so happy to feel +that you are one of those kind people in a fairy-tale, bringing +good fortune and blessing. I'm sure you ARE like that!" + +Miss Lavinia protested against the sweet flattery, but all the +same she was pleased. She began to take the girl out with her to +the houses of various "great" personages--friends whom she knew +well and who made an intimate little social circle of their own-- +"old-fashioned" people certainly, but happily free from the sort +of suppressed rowdyism which distinguishes the "nouveaux riches" +of the present day,--people who adhered rigidly to almost obsolete +notions of honour and dignity, who lived simply and well within +their means, who spoke reverently of things religious and believed +in the old adage--"Manners makyth the man." So by degrees, +Innocent found herself among a small choice "set" chiefly made up +of the fragments of the real "old" aristocracy, to which Miss +Leigh herself belonged,--and, with her own quick intuition and +inborn natural grace, she soon became a favourite with them all. +But no one knew the secret of her literary aspirations save Miss +Leigh, and when her book was published anonymously and the reading +world began to talk of it as something unusual and wonderful, she +was more terrified than pleased. Its success was greater than she +had ever dreamed of, and her one idea was to keep up the mystery +of its authorship as long as possible, but every day made this +more difficult. And when John Harrington wrote to her, she felt +that disclosure was imminent. She had always kept the visiting- +card he had given her when they had travelled to London together, +and she knew he belonged to the staff of a great and leading +newspaper,--he was a man not likely to be baffled in any sort of +enquiry he might choose to make. She thought about this as she sat +in her quiet little room, working at the last few chapters of her +second book which the publishers were eagerly waiting for. What a +magical change had been wrought in her life since she left Briar +Farm more than a year, aye,--nearly eighteen months ago! For one +thing, all fears of financial difficulty were at an end. Her first +book had brought her more money than she had ever had in her life, +and the publisher's offer for her second outweighed her most +ambitious desires. She was independent--she could earn sufficient, +and more than sufficient to keep herself in positive luxury if she +chose,--but for this she had no taste. Her little rooms in Miss +Leigh's house satisfied all her ideas of rest and comfort, and she +stayed on with the kind old lady by choice and affection, helping +her in many ways, and submitting to her guidance in every little +social matter with the charming humility of a docile and obedient +spirit all too rare in these days when youth is more full of +effrontery than modesty. She had managed her "literary" business +so far well and carefully, representing herself as the private +secretary of an author who wished to remain anonymous, and who had +gone abroad, entrusting her with his manuscript to "place" with +any suitable firm that would make a suitable offer. The ruse would +hardly have succeeded in the case of any ordinary piece of work, +but the book itself was of too exceptional a quality to be passed +over, and the firm to which it was first offered recognised this +and accepted it without parley, astute enough to see its +possibilities and to risk its chances of success. And now she +realised that her little plot might be discovered any day, and +that she would have to declare herself as the writer of a strange +and brilliant book which was the talk of the moment. + +"I wonder what they will say when they know it at Briar Farm!" she +thought, with a smile and a half sigh. + +Briar Farm seemed a long way off in these days. She had written +occasionally both to Priscilla and Robin Clifford; giving her +address and briefly stating that she had taken the name of +Armitage, feeling that she had no right to that of Jocelyn. But +Priscilla could not write, and contented herself with sending her +"dear love and duty and do come back soon," through Robin, who +answered for both in letters that were carefully cold and +restrained. Now that he knew where she was he made no attempt to +visit her,--he was too grieved and disappointed at her continued +absence, and deeply hurt at what he considered her "quixotic" +conduct in adopting a different name,--an "alias" as he called it. + +"You have separated yourself from your old home by your own choice +in more ways than one," he wrote, "and I see I have no right to +criticise your actions. You are in a strange place and you have +taken a strange name,--I cannot feel that you are Innocent,--the +Innocent of our bygone happy years! It is better I should not go +and see you--not unless you send for me, when, of course, I will +come." + +She was both glad and sorry for this,--she would have liked to see +him again, and yet!--well!--she knew instinctively that if they +met, it would only cause him fresh unhappiness. Her new life had +bestowed new grace on her personality--all the interior +intellectual phases of her mind had developed in her a beauty of +face and form which was rare, subtle and elusive, and though she +was not conscious of it herself, she had that compelling +attraction about her which few can resist,--a fascination far +greater than mere physical perfection. No one could have called +her actually beautiful,--hardly could it have been said she was +even "pretty"--but in her slight figure and intelligent face with +its large blue-grey eyes half veiled under dreamy, drooping lids +and long lashes, there was a magnetic charm which was both sweet +and powerful. Moreover, she dressed well,--in quiet taste, with a +careful avoidance of anything foolish or eccentric in fashion, and +wherever she went she made her effect as a graceful young presence +expressive of repose and harmony. She spoke delightfully,--in a +delicious voice, attuned to the most melodious inflections, and +her constant study of the finer literature of the past gave her +certain ways of expressing herself in a manner so far removed from +the abrupt slanginess commonly used to-day by young people of both +sexes that she was called "quaint" by some and "weird" by others +of her own sex, though by men young and old she was declared +"charming." Guarded and chaperoned by good old Miss Lavinia Leigh, +she had no cause to be otherwise than satisfied with her +apparently reckless and unguided plunge into the mighty vortex of +London,--some beneficent spirit had led her into a haven of safety +and brought her straight to the goal of her ambition without +difficulty. + +"Of course I owe it all to Dad," she thought. "If it had not been +for the four hundred pounds he left me to 'buy pretties' with I +could not have done anything. I have bought my 'pretties'!--not +bridal ones--but things so much better!" + +As the memory of her "Dad" came over her, tears sprang to her +eyes. In her mind she saw the smooth green pastures round Briar +Farm--the beautiful old gabled house,--the solemn trees waving +their branches in the wind over the tomb of the "Sieur Amadis,"-- +the doves wheeling round and round in the clear air, and her own +"Cupid" falling like a snowflake from the roof to her caressing +hand. All the old life of country sights and sounds passed before +her like a fair mirage, giving place to dark days of sorrow, +disillusion and loss,--the fleeting glimpse of her self-confessed +"mother," Lady Maude Blythe,--and the knowledge she had so +unexpectedly gained as to the actual identity of her father--he, +whose portrait was in the very house to which she had come through +no more romantic means than a chance advertisement in the "Morning +Post!" And Miss Lavinia--her "fairy godmother"--could she have +found a better friend, even in any elf stepping out of a magic +pumpkin? + +"If she ever knows the truth--if I am ever able to tell her that I +am HIS daughter," she said to herself, "I wonder if she will care +for me less or more? But I must not tell her!--She says he was so +good and noble! It would break her heart to think he had done +anything wrong--or that he had deserted his child." + +And so she held her peace on this point, though she was often +tempted to break silence whenever Miss Leigh reverted to the story +of her being left in such a casual, yet romantic way at Briar +Farm. + +"I wonder who the handsome man was, my dear?" she would query-- +"Perhaps he'll go back to the place and enquire for you. He may be +some very great personage!" + +And Innocent would smile and shake her head. + +"I fear not, my godmother!" she would reply. "You must not have +any fairy dreams about me! I was just a deserted baby--not wanted +in the world--but the world may have to take me all the same!" + +And her eyes would flash, and her sensitive mouth would quiver as +the vision of fame like a mystical rainbow circled the heaven of +her youthful imagination--while Miss Leigh would sigh, and listen +and wonder,--she, whose simple hope and faith had been centred in +a love which had proved false and vain,--praying that the girl +might realise her ambition without the wreckage and disillusion of +her life. + +One evening--an evening destined to mark a turning-point in +Innocent's destiny--they went together to an "At Home" held at a +beautiful studio in the house of an artist deservedly famous. Miss +Leigh had a great taste for pictures, no doubt fostered since the +early days of her romantic attachment to a man who had painted +them,--and she knew most of the artists whose names were more or +less celebrated in the modern world. Her host on this special +occasion was what is called a "fashionable" portrait painter,-- +from the Queen downwards he had painted the "counterfeit +presentments" of ladies of wealth and title, flattering them as +delicately as his really clever brush would allow, and thereby +securing golden opinions as well as golden guineas. He was a +genial, breezy sort of man,--quite without vanity or any sort of +"art" ostentation, and he had been a friend of Miss Leigh's for +many years. Innocent loved going to his studio whenever her +"godmother" would take her, and he, in his turn, found interest +and amusement in talking to a girl who showed such a fresh, simple +and unworldly nature, united to intelligence and perception far +beyond her years. On the particular evening in question the studio +was full of notable people,--not uncomfortably crowded, but +sufficiently so as to compose a brilliant effect of colour and +movement--beautiful women in wonderful attire fluttered to and fro +like gaily-plumaged birds among the conventionally dark-clothed +men who stood about in that aimless fashion they so often affect +when disinclined to talk or to make themselves agreeable,--and +there was a pleasantly subdued murmur of voices,--cultured voices, +well-attuned, and incapable of breaking into the sheep-like +snigger or asinine bray. Innocent, keeping close beside her "god- +mother," watched the animated scene with happy interest, +unconscious that many of those present watched her in turn with a +good deal of scarcely restrained curiosity. For, somehow or other, +rumour had whispered a flying word or two that it was possible +she--even she--that young, childlike-looking creature--might be, +and probably was the actual author of the clever book everybody +was talking about, and though no one had the hardihood to ask her +point-blank if the report was true, people glanced at her +inquisitively and murmured their "asides" of suggestion or +incredulity, finding it difficult to believe that a woman could at +any time or by any means, alone and unaided, snatch one flower +from the coronal of fame. She looked very fair and sweet and NON- +literary, clad in a simple white gown made of some softly clinging +diaphanous material, wholly unadorned save by a small posy of +natural roses at her bosom,--and as she stood a little apart from +the throng, several artists noticed the grace of her personality-- +one especially, a rather handsome man of middle age, who gazed at +her observantly and critically with a frank openness which, though +bold, was scarcely rude. She caught the straight light of his keen +blue eyes--and a thrill ran through her whole being, as though she +had been suddenly influenced by a magnetic current--then she +flushed deeply as she fancied she saw him smile. For the first +time in her life she found pleasure in the fact that a man had +looked at her with plainly evinced admiration in his fleeting +glance,--and she watched him talking to several people who all +seemed delighted and flattered by his notice--then he disappeared. +Later on in the evening she asked her host who he was. The famous +R.A. considered for a moment. + +"Do you mean a man with rough dark hair and a youngish face?-- +rather good-looking in an eccentric sort of way?" + +Innocent nodded eagerly. + +"Yes! And he had blue eyes." + +"Had he, really!" And the great artist smiled. "Well, I'm sure he +would be flattered at your close observation of him! I think I +know him,--that is, I know him as much as he will let anybody know +him--he is a curious fellow, but a magnificent painter--a real +genius! He's half French by descent, and his name is Jocelyn,-- +Amadis de Jocelyn." + +For a moment the room went round in a giddy whirl of colour before +her eyes,--she could not credit her own hearing. Amadis de +Jocelyn!--the name of her old stone Knight of France, on his tomb +at Briar Farm, with his motto--"Mon coeur me soutien!" + +"Amadis de Jocelyn!" she repeated, falteringly ... "Are you +sure? ... I mean ... is that his name really? ... it's so unusual... +so curious..." + +"Yes--it IS curious"--agreed her host--"but it's quite a good old +French name, belonging to a good old French family. The Jocelyns +bore arms for the Duc d'Anjou in the reign of Queen Elizabeth--and +this man is a sort of last descendant, very proud of his ancestry. +I'll bring him along and introduce him to you if you'll allow me." + +Innocent murmured something--she scarcely knew what,--and in a few +minutes found herself giving the conventional bow in response to +the formal words--"Miss Armitage, Mr. de Jocelyn"--and looking +straight up at the blue eyes that a short while since had flashed +an almost compelling glance into her own. A strange sense of +familiarity and recognition moved her; something of the expression +of her "Dad" was in the face of this other Jocelyn of whom she +knew nothing,--and her heart beat so quickly that she could +scarcely speak in answer when he addressed her, as he did in a +somewhat abrupt manner. + +"Are you an art student?" + +She smiled a little. + +"Oh no! I am--nothing! ... I love pictures of course--" + +"There is no 'of course' in it," he said, a humorous curve lifting +the corners of his moustache--"You're not bound to love pictures +at all! Most people hate them, and scarcely anybody understands +them!" + +She listened, charmed by the mellow and deep vibration of his +voice. + +"Everybody comes to see our friend here," he continued, with a +slight gesture of his hand towards their host, who had moved +away,--"because he is the fashion. If he were NOT the fashion he +might paint like Velasquez or Titian and no one would care a +button!" + +He seemed entertained by his own talk, and she did not interrupt +him. + +"You look like a stranger here," he went on, in milder accents--"a +sort of elf who has lost her way out of fairyland! Is anyone with +you?" + +"Yes," she answered, quickly--"Miss Leigh--" + +"Miss Leigh? Who is she? Your aunt or your chaperone?" + +She was more at her ease now, and laughed at his quick, brusque +manner of speech. + +"Miss Leigh is my godmother," she said--"I call her my fairy +godmother because she is always so good and kind. There she is, +standing by that big easel." + +He looked in the direction indicated. + +"Oh yes!--I see! A charming old lady! I love old ladies when they +don't pretend to be young. That white hair of hers is very +picturesque! So she is your godmother!--and she takes care of you! +Well! She might do worse!" + +He ruffled his thick crop of hair and looked at her more or less +quizzically. + +"You have an air of suppressed enquiry," he said--"There is +something on your mind! You want to ask me a question--what is +it?" + +A soft colour flew over her cheeks--she was confused to find him +reading her thoughts. + +"It is really nothing!" she answered, quickly--"I was only +wondering a little about your name--because it is one I have known +all my life." + +His eyebrows went up in surprise. + +"Indeed? This is very interesting! I thought I was the only wearer +of such a very medieval appellation! Is there another so endowed?" + +"There WAS another--long, long ago"--and, unconsciously to herself +her delicate features softened into a dreamy and rapt expression +as she spoke,--while her voice fell into its sweetest and most +persuasive tone. "He was a noble knight of France, and he came +over to England with the Due d' Anjou when the great Elizabeth was +Queen. He fell in love with a very beautiful Court lady, who would +not care for him at all,--so, as he was unhappy and broken- +hearted, he went away from London and hid himself from everybody +in the far country. There he bought an old manor-house and called +it Briar Farm--and he married a farmer's daughter and settled in +England for good--and he had six sons and daughters. And when he +died he was buried on his own land--and his effigy is on his tomb +--it was sculptured by himself. I used to put flowers on it, just +where his motto was carved--'Mon coeur me soutien.' For I--I was +brought up at Briar Farm... and I was quite fond of the Sieur +Amadis!" + +She looked up with a serious, sweet luminance in her eyes--and he +was suddenly thrilled by her glance, and moved by a desire to turn +her romantic idyll into something of reality. This feeling was +merely the physical one of an amorously minded man,--he knew, or +thought he knew, women well enough to hold them at no higher +estimate than that of sex-attraction,--yet, with all the cynicism +he had attained through long experience of the world and its ways, +he recognised a charm in this fair little creature that was +strange and new and singularly fascinating, while the exquisite +modulations of her voice as she told the story of the old French +knight, so simply yet so eloquently, gave her words the tenderness +of a soft song well sung. + +"A pity you should waste fondness on a man of stone!" he said, +lightly, bending his keen steel-blue eyes on hers. "But what you +tell me is most curious, for your 'Sieur Amadis' must be the +missing branch of my own ancestral tree. May I explain?--or will +it bore you?" + +She gave him a swift, eager glance. + +"Bore me?" she echoed--"How could it? Oh, do please let me know +everything--quickly!" + +He smiled at her enthusiasm. + +"We'll sit down here out of the crowd," he said,--and, taking her +arm gently, he guided her to a retired corner of the studio which +was curtained off to make a cosy and softly cushioned recess. "You +have told me half a romance! Perhaps I can supply the other half." +He paused, looking at her, whimsically pleased to see the warm +young blood flushing her cheeks as he spoke, and her eyes drooping +under his penetrating gaze. "Long, long ago--as you put it--in the +days of good Queen Bess, there lived a certain Hugo de Jocelin, a +nobleman of France, famed for fierce deeds of arms, and for making +himself generally disagreeable to his neighbours with whom he was +for ever at cross-purposes. This contentious personage had two +sons,--Jeffrey and Amadis,--also knights-at-arms, inheriting the +somewhat excitable nature of their father; and the younger of +these, Amadis, whose name I bear, was selected by the Duc d'Anjou +to accompany him with his train of nobles and gentles, when that +'petit grenouille' as he called himself, went to England to seek +Queen Elizabeth's hand in marriage. The Duke failed in his +ambitious quest, as we all know, and many of his attendants got +scattered and dispersed,--among them Amadis, who was entirely lost +sight of, and never returned again to the home of his fathers. He +was therefore supposed to be dead--" + +"MY Amadis!" murmured Innocent, her eyes shining like stars as she +listened. + +"YOUR Amadis!--yes!" And his voice softened. "Of course he must +have been YOUR Amadis!--your 'Knight of old and warrior bold!' +Well! None of his own people ever heard of him again--and in the +family tree he is marked as missing. But Jeffrey stayed at home in +France,--and in due course inherited his father's grim old castle +and lands. He married, and had a large family,--much larger than +the six olive-branches allotted to your friend of Briar Farm,"-- +and he smiled. "He, Jeffrey, is my ancestor, and I can trace +myself back to him in direct lineage, so you see I have quite the +right to my curious name!" + +She clasped and unclasped her little hands nervously--she was shy +of raising her eyes to his face. + +"It is wonderful!" she murmured--"I can hardly believe it possible +that I should meet here in London a real Jocelyn!--one of the +family of the Sieur Amadis!" + +"Does it seem strange?" He laughed. "Oh no! Nothing is strange in +this queer little world! But I don't quite know what the exact +connection is between me and your knight--it's too difficult for +me to grasp! I suppose I'm a sort of great-great-great-grand- +nephew! However, nothing can alter the fact that I am also an +Amadis de Jocelyn!" + +She glanced up at him quickly. + +"You are, indeed!" she said. "It is you who ought to be the master +of Briar Farm!" + +"Ought I?" He was amused at her earnestness. "Why?" + +"Because there is no direct heir now to the Sieur Amadis!" she +answered, almost sadly. "His last descendant is dead. His name was +Hugo--Hugo Jocelyn--and he was a farmer, and he left all he had to +his nephew, the only child of his sister who died before him. The +nephew is very good, and clever, too,--he was educated at Oxford, +--but he is not an actually lineal descendant." + +He laughed again, this time quite heartily, at the serious +expression of her face. + +"That's very terrible!" he said. "I don't know when I've heard +anything so lamentable! And I'm afraid I can't put matters right! +I should never do for a farmer--I'm a painter. I had better go +down and see this famous old place, and the tomb of my ever so +great-great-grand-uncle! I could make a picture of it--I ought to +do that, as it belonged to the family of my ancestors. Will you +take me?" + +She gave him a little fleeting, reluctant smile. + +"You are making fun of it all," she said. "That is not wise of +you! You should not laugh at grave and noble things." + +He was charmed with her quaintness. + +"Was he grave and noble?--Amadis, I mean?" he asked, his blue eyes +sparkling with a kind of mirthful ardour. "You are sure? Well, all +honour to him! And to YOU--for believing in him! I hope you'll +consider me kindly for his sake! Will you?" + +A quick blush suffused her cheeks. + +"Of course!--I must do so!" she answered, simply. "I owe him so +much--" then, fearful of betraying her secret of literary +authorship, she hesitated--"I mean--he taught me all I know. I +studied all his old books...." + +Just then their cheery host came up. + +"Well! Have you made friends? Ah!--I see you have! Mutual +intelligence, mutual comprehension! Jocelyn, will you bring Miss +Innocent in to supper?--I leave her in your charge." + +"Miss Innocent?" repeated Jocelyn, doubtful as to whether this was +said by way of a joke or not. + +"Yes--some people call her Ena--but her real name is Innocent. +Isn't it, little lady?" + +She smiled and coloured. Jocelyn looked at her with a curious +intentness. + +"Really? Your name is Innocent?" he asked. + +"Yes," she answered him--"I'm afraid it's a very unusual name--" + +"It is indeed!" he said with emphasis. "Innocent by name and by +nature! Will you come?" + +She rose at once, and they moved away together. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Chance and coincidence play curious pranks with human affairs, and +one of the most obvious facts of daily experience is that the +merest trifle, occurring in the most haphazard way, will often +suffice to change the whole intention and career of a life for +good or for evil. It is as though a musician in the composition of +a symphony should suddenly bethink himself of a new and strange +melody, and, pleasing his fancy with the innovation, should +wilfully introduce it at the last moment, thereby creating more or +less of a surprise for the audience. Something of this kind +happened to Innocent after her meeting with the painter who bore +the name of her long idealised knight of France, Amadis de +Jocelin. She soon learned that he was a somewhat famous +personage,--famous for his genius, his scorn of accepted rules, +and his contempt for all "puffery," push and patronage, as well as +for his brusquerie in society and carelessness of conventions. She +also heard that his works had been rejected twice by the Royal +Academy Council, a reason he deemed all-sufficient for never +appealing to that exclusive school of favouritism again,--while +everything he chose to send was eagerly accepted by the French +Salon, and purchased as soon as exhibited. His name had begun to +stand very high--and his original character and personality made +him somewhat of a curiosity among men--one more feared than +favoured. He took a certain pleasure in analysing his own +disposition for the benefit of any of his acquaintances who chose +to listen,--and the harsh judgment he passed on himself was not +altogether without justice or truth. + +"I am an essentially selfish man," he would say--"I have met +selfishness everywhere among my fellow men and women, and have +imbibed it as a sponge imbibes water. I've had a fairly hard time, +and I've experienced the rough side of human nature, getting more +kicks than halfpence. Now that the kicks have ceased I'm in no +mood for soft soap. I know the humbug of so-called 'friendship'-- +the rarity of sincerity--and as for love!--there's no such thing +permanently in man, woman or child. What is called 'love' is +merely a comfortable consciousness that one particular person is +agreeable and useful to you for a time--but it's only for a time-- +and marriage which seeks to bind two people together till death is +the heaviest curse ever imposed on manhood or womanhood! Devotion +and self-sacrifice are merest folly--the people you sacrifice +yourself for are never worth it, and devotion is generally, if not +always, misplaced. The only thing to do in this life is to look +after yourself,--serve yourself--please yourself! No one will do +anything for you unless they can get something out of it for their +own advantage,--you're bound to follow the general example!" + +Notwithstanding this candid confession of cynical egotism, the man +had greatness in him, and those who knew his works readily +recognised his power. The impression he had made on Innocent's +guileless and romantic nature was beyond analysis,--she did not +try to understand it herself. His name and the connection he had +with the old French knight of her childhood's dreams and fancies +had moved and roused her to a new interest in life--and just as +she had hitherto been unwilling to betray the secret of her +literary authorship, she was now eager to have it declared--for +one reason only,--that he might perhaps think well of her. Whereby +it will be seen that the poor child, endowed with a singular +genius as she was, knew nothing of men and their never-failing +contempt for the achievements of gifted women. Delicate of taste +and sensitive in temperament she was the very last sort of +creature to realise the ugly truth that men, taken en masse, +consider women in one only way--that of sex,--as the lower half of +man, necessary to man's continuance, but always the mere vessel of +his pleasure. To her, Amadis de Jocelyn was the wonderful +realisation of an ideal,--but she was very silent concerning him, +--reserved and almost cold. This rather surprised good Miss Lavinia +Leigh, whose romantic tendencies had been greatly stirred by the +story of the knight of Briar Farm and the discovery of a +descendant of the same family in one of the most admired artists +of the day. They visited Jocelyn's studio together--a vast, bare +place, wholly unadorned by the tawdry paraphernalia which is +sometimes affected by third-rate men to create an "art" impression +on the minds of the uninstructed--and they had stood lost in +wonder and admiration before a great picture he was painting on +commission, entitled "Wild Weather." It was what is called by +dealers an "important work," and represented night closing in over +a sea lashed into fury by the sweep of a stormy wind. So +faithfully was the scene of terror and elemental confusion +rendered that it was like nature itself, and the imaginative eye +almost looked for the rising waves to tumble liquidly from the +painted canvas and break on the floor in stretches of creamy foam. +Gentle Miss Leigh was conscious of a sudden beating of the heart +as she looked at this masterpiece of form and colour,--it reminded +her of the work of Pierce Armitage. She ventured to say so, with a +little hesitation, and Jocelyn caught at the name. + +"Armitage?--Yes--he was beginning to be rather famous some five- +and-twenty years ago--I wonder what became of him? He promised +great things. By the way"--and he turned to Innocent--"YOUR name +is Armitage! Any relation to him?" + +The colour rushed to her cheeks and fled again, leaving her very +pale. + +"No," she answered. + +He looked at her inquisitively. + +"Well, Armitage is not as outlandish a name as Amadis de Jocelyn," +he said--"You will hardly find two of ME!--and I expect I shall +hardly find two of YOU!" and he smiled--"especially if what I have +heard is anything more than rumour!" + +Her eyes filled with an eager light. + +"What do you mean?" + +He laughed,--yet in himself was conscious of a certain +embarrassment. + +"Well!--that a certain 'Innocent' young lady is a great author!" +he said--"There! You have it! I'm loth to believe it, and hope the +report isn't true, for I'm afraid of clever women! Indeed I avoid +them whenever I can!" + +A sudden sense of hopelessness and loss fell over her like a +cloud--her lips quivered. + +"Why should you do so?" she asked--"We do not avoid clever men!" + +He smiled. + +"Ah! That is different!" + +She was silent. Miss Leigh looked a little distressed. + +He went on lightly. + +"My dear Miss Armitage, don't be angry with me!" he said--"You are +so delightfully ignorant of the ways of our sex, and I for one +heartily wish you might always remain so! But we men are +proverbially selfish-and we like to consider cleverness, or +'genius' if you will, as our own exclusive property. We hate the +feminine poacher on our particular preserves! We consider that +women were made to charm and to amuse us--not to equal us. Do you +see? When a woman is clever--perhaps cleverer than we are--she +ceases to be amusing--and we must be amused! We cannot have our +fun spoiled by the blue-stocking element,--though you--YOU do not +look in the least 'blue'!" + +She turned from him in a mute vexation. She thought his talk +trifling and unmanly. Miss Leigh came to the rescue. + +"No--Innocent is certainly not 'blue,'" she said, sweetly--"If by +that term you mean 'advanced' or in any way unwomanly. But she has +been singularly gifted by nature--yes, dear child, I must be +allowed to speak!"--this, as Innocent made an appealing gesture,-- +"and if people say she is the author of the book that is just now +being so much talked of, they are only saying the truth. The +secret cannot be kept much longer." + +He heard--then went quickly up to the girl where she stood in a +somewhat dejected attitude near his easel. + +"Then it IS true!" he said--"I heard it yesterday from an old +journalist friend of mine, John Harrington--but I couldn't quite +believe it. Let me congratulate you on your brilliant success--" + +"You do not care!" she said, almost in a whisper. + +"Oh, do I not?" He was amused, and taking her hand kissed it +lightly. "If all literary women were like YOU--" + +He left the sentence unfinished, but his eyes conveyed a wordless +language which made her heart beat foolishly and her nerves +thrill. She forgot the easy mockery which had distinguished his +manner since when speaking of the "blue-stocking element"-and once +more "Amadis de Jocelyn" sat firmly on her throne of the ideal! + +That very afternoon, on her return from Jocelyn's studio to Miss +Leigh's little house in Kensington which she now called her +"home"--she found a reply-paid telegram from her publishers, +running thus: + +"Eminent journalist John Harrington reviews book favourably in +evening paper suggesting that you are the actual author. May we +deny or confirm?" + +She thought for some minutes before deciding--and went to Miss +Leigh with the telegram in her hand. + +"Godmother mine!" she said, kneeling down beside her--"Tell me, +what shall I do? Is it any use continuing to wear the veil of +mystery? Shall I take up my burden and bear it like a man?" + +Miss Lavinia smiled, and drew the girl's fair head to her bosom. + +"Poor little one!" she said, tenderly--"I know just what you feel +about it! You would rather remain quietly in your own dreamland +than face the criticism of the world, or be pointed out as a +'celebrity'--yes, I quite understand! But I think you must, in +justice to yourself and others, 'take up the burden'--as you put +it--yes, child! You must wear your laurels, though for you I +should prefer the rose!" + +Innocent shivered, as with sudden cold. + +"A rose has thorns!" she said, as she got up from her kneeling +attitude and moved away--"It's beautiful to look at--but it soon +fades!" + +She sent off her reply wire to the publishers without further +delay. + +"Statement quite true. You can confirm it publicly." + +And so the news was soon all over London, and for that matter all +over the world. From one end of the globe to the other the fact +was made known that a girl in her twentieth year had produced a +literary masterpiece, admirable both in design and execution, +worthy to rank with the highest work of the most brilliant and +renowned authors. She was speedily overwhelmed by letters of +admiration, and invitations from every possible quarter where +"lion-hunting" is practised as a stimulant to jaded and over- +wrought society, but amid all the attractions and gaieties offered +to her she held fast by her sheet-anchor of safety, Miss Leigh, +who redoubled her loving care and vigilance, keeping her as much +as she could in the harbour of that small and exclusive "set" of +well-bred and finely-educated people for whom noise and fuss and +show meant all that was worst in taste and manners. And remaining +more or less in seclusion, despite the growing hubbub around her +name, she finished her second book, and took it herself to the +great publishing house which was rapidly coining good hard cash +out of the delicate dream of her woman's brain. The head of the +firm received her with eager and respectful cordiality. + +"You kept your secret very well!" he said--"I assure you I had no +idea you could be the author of such a book!--you are so young--" + +She smiled, a little sadly. + +"One may be young in years and old in thought," she answered--"I +passed all my childhood in reading and studying--I had no +playmates and no games--and I was nearly always alone. I had only +old books to read--mostly of the sixteenth century--I suppose I +formed a 'style' unconsciously on these." + +"It is a very beautiful and expressive style," said the publisher +--"I told Mr. Harrington, when he first suggested that you might be +the author, that it was altogether too scholarly for a girl." + +She gave a slight deprecatory gesture. + +"Pray do not let us discuss it," she said--"I am not at all +pleased to be known as the author." + +"No?" And he looked surprised--"Surely you must be happy to become +so suddenly famous?" + +"Are famous persons happy?" she asked--"I don't think they are! To +be stared at and whispered about and criticised--that's not +happiness! And men never like you!" + +The publisher laughed. + +"You can do without their liking, Miss Armitage," he said--"You've +beaten all the literary fellows on their own ground! You ought to +be satisfied. WE are very proud!" + +"Thank you!" she said, simply, as she rose to go--"I am grateful +for your good opinion." + +When she had left him, the publisher eagerly turned over the pages +of her new manuscript. At a glance he saw that there was no +"falling-off"--he recognised the same lucidity of expression, the +same point and delicacy of phraseology which had distinguished her +first effort, and the wonderful charm with which a thought was +pressed firmly yet tenderly home to its mark. + +"It will be a greater triumph for her and for us than the previous +book!" he said--"She's a wonder!--and the most wonderful thing +about her is that she has no conceit, and is unconscious of her +own power!" + +Two or three days after the announcement of her authorship, came a +letter from Robin Clifford. + +"DEAR INNOCENT," it ran, "I see that your name, or rather the name +you have taken for yourself, is made famous as that of the author +of a book which is creating a great sensation--and I venture to +write a word of congratulation, hoping it may be acceptable to you +from your playmate and friend of bygone days. I can hardly believe +that the dear little 'Innocent' of Briar Farm has become such a +celebrated and much-talked-of personage, for after all it is not +yet two years since you left us. I have told Priscilla, and she +sends her love and duty, and hopes God will allow her to see you +once again before she dies. The work of the farm goes on as usual, +and everything prospers--all is as Uncle Hugo would have wished-- +all except one thing which I know will never be! But you must not +think I grumble at my fate. I might feel lonely if I had not +plenty of work to do and people dependent on me--but under such +circumstances I manage to live a life that is at least useful to +others and I want for nothing. In the evenings when the darkness +closes in, and we light the tall candles in the old pewter +sconces, I often wish I could see a little fair head shining like +a cameo against the dark oak panelling--a vision of grace and hope +and comfort!--but as this cannot be, I read old books--even some +of those belonging to your favourite French Knight Amadis!--and +try to add to the little learning I gained at Oxford. I am sending +for your book!--when it comes I shall read every word of it with +an interest too deep to be expressed to you in my poor language. +'Cupid' is well--he flies to my hand, surprised, I think, to find +it of so rough a texture as compared with the little rose-velvet +palm to which he was accustomed. Will you ever come to Briar Farm +again? God bless you! ROBIN." + +She shed some tears over this letter--then, moved by a sudden +impulse, sat down and answered it at once, giving a full account +of her meeting and acquaintance with another Amadis de Jocelyn-- +"the real last descendant," she wrote, "of the real old family of +the very Amadis of Briar Farm!" She described his appearance and +manners,--descanted on his genius as a painter, and all +unconsciously poured out her ardent, enthusiastic soul on this +wonderful discovery of the Real in the Ideal. She said nothing of +her own work or success, save that she was glad to be able to earn +her living. And when Robin read the simple outflow of her thoughts +his heart grew cold within him. He, with the keen instinct of a +lover, guessed at once all that might happen,--saw the hidden fire +smouldering, and became conscious of an inexplicable dread, as +though a note of alarm had sounded mystically in his brain. What +would happen to Innocent, if she, with her romantic, old-world +fancies, should allow a possible traitor to intrude within the +crystal-pure sphere where her sweet soul dwelt unsullied and +serene? He told Priscilla the strange story--and she in her +shrewd, motherly way felt something of the same fear. + +"Eh, the poor lamb!" she sighed--"That old French knight was ever +a fly in her brain and a stumbling-block in the way of us all!-- +and now to come across a man o' the same name an' family, turning +up all unexpected like,--why, it's like a ghost's sudden risin' +from the tomb! An' what does it mean, Mister Robin? Are you the +master o' Briar Farm now?--or is he the rightful one?" + +Clifford laughed, a trifle bitterly. + +"I am the master," he said, "according to my uncle's will. This +man is a painter--famous and admired,--he'll scarcely go in for +farming! If he did--if he'd buy the farm from me--I should be glad +enough to sell it and leave the country." + +"Mister Robin!" cried Priscilla, reproachfully. + +He patted her hand gently. + +"Not yet--not yet anyhow, Priscilla!" he said--"I may be yet of +some use--to Innocent." He paused, then added, slowly--"I think we +shall hear more of this second Amadis de Jocelyn!" + +But months went on, and he heard nothing, save of Innocent's +growing fame which, by leaps and bounds, was spreading abroad like +fire blown into brightness by the wind. He got her first book and +read it with astonishment and admiration, utterly confounded by +its brilliancy and power. When her second work appeared with her +adopted name appended to it as the author, all the reading world +"rushed" at it, and equally "rushed" at HER, lifting her, as it +were, on their shoulders and bearing her aloft, against her own +desire, above the seething tide of fashion and frivolity as though +she were a queen of many kingdoms, crowned with victory. And again +the old journalist, John Harrington, sought an audience of her, +and this time was not refused. She received him in Miss Leigh's +little drawing-room, holding out both her hands to him in cordial +welcome, with a smile frank and sincere enough to show him at a +glance that her "celebrity" had left her unscathed. She was still +the same simple child-like soul, wearing the mystical halo of +spiritual dreams rather than the brazen baldric of material +prosperity--and he, bitterly seasoned in the hardest ways of +humanity, felt a thrill of compassion as he looked at her, +wondering how her frail argosy, freighted with fine thought and +rich imagination, would weather a storm should storms arise. He +sat talking for a long time with her and Miss Leigh--reminding her +pleasantly of their journey up to London together,--while she, in +her turn, amused and astonished him by avowing the fact that it +was his loan of the "Morning Post" that had led her, through an +advertisement, to the house where she was now living. + +"So I've had something of a hand in it all!" he said, cheerily-- +"I'm glad of that! It was chance or luck, or whatever you call +it!--but I never thought that the little girl with the frightened +eyes, carrying a satchel for all her luggage, was a future great +author, to whom I, as a poor old journalist, would have to bow!" +He laughed kindly as he spoke--"And you are still a little girl!-- +or you look one! I feel disposed to play literary grandfather to +you! But you want nobody's help--you have made yourself!" + +"She has, indeed!" said Miss Leigh, with pride sparkling in her +tender eyes--"When she came here, and suddenly decided to stay +with me, I had no idea of her plans, or what she was studying. She +used to shut herself up all the morning and write--she told me she +was finishing off some work--in fact it was her first book,--a +manuscript she brought with her from the country in that famous +satchel! I knew nothing at all about it till she confided to me +one day that she had written a book, and that it had been accepted +by a publisher. I was amazed!" + +"And the result must have amazed you still more," said +Harrington,--"but I'm a very astute person!--and I guessed at +once, when I was told the address of the 'PRIVATE SECRETARY of the +author,' that the SECRETARY was the author herself!" + +Innocent blushed. + +"Perhaps it was wrong to say what was not true," she said, "but +really I WAS and AM the secretary of the author!--I write all the +manuscript with my own hand!" + +They laughed at this, and then Harrington went on to say-- + +"I believe you know the painter Amadis Jocelyn, don't you? Yes? +Well, I was with him the other day, and I said you were the author +of the wonderful book. He told me I was talking nonsense--that you +couldn't be,--he had met you at an artist's evening party and that +you had told him a story about some ancestor of his own family. +'She's a nice little thing with baby eyes,' he said, 'but she +couldn't write a clever book! She may have got some man to write +it for her!'" + +Innocent gave a little cry of pain. + +"Oh!--did he say that?" + +"Of course he did! All men say that sort of thing! They can't bear +a woman to do more than marry and have children. Simple girl with +the satchel, don't you know that? You mustn't mind it--it's their +way. Of course I rounded on Jocelyn and told him he was a fool, +with a swelled head on the subject of his own sex--he IS a fool in +many ways,--he's a great painter, but he might be much greater if +he'd get up early in the morning and stick to his work. He ought +to have been in the front rank long ago." + +"But surely he IS in the front rank?" queried Miss Leigh, mildly-- +"He is a wonderful artist!" + +"Wonderful--yes!--with a lot of wonderful things in him which +haven't come out!" declared Harrington, "and which never will come +out, I fear! He turns night into day too often. Oh, he's clever!-- +I grant you all that--but he hasn't a resolute will or a great +mind, like Watts or Burne-Jones or any of the fellows who served +their art nobly--he's a selfish sort of chap!" + +Innocent heard, and longed to utter a protest--she wanted to say- +"No, no!--you wrong him! He is good and noble--he must be!--he is +Amadis de Jocelyn!" + +But she repressed her thought and sat very quiet,--then, when +Harrington paused, she told him in a sweet, even voice the story +of the "Knight of France" who founded Briar Farm. He was +enthralled--not so much by the tale as by her way of telling it. + +"And so Jocelyn the painter is the lineal descendant of the +BROTHER of your Jocelin!--the knight who disappeared and took to +farming in the days of Elizabeth!" he said--"Upon my word, it's a +quaint bit of history and coincidence--almost too romantic for +such days as these!" + +Innocent smiled. + +"Is romance at an end now?" she asked. + +Harrington looked at her kindly. + +"Almost! It's gasping its last gasp in company with poetry. +Realism is our only wear--Realism and Prose--very prosy Prose. YOU +are a romantic child!--I can see that!--but don't over-do it! And +if you ever made an ideal out of your sixteenth-century man, don't +make another out of the twentieth-century one! He couldn't stand +it!--he'd crumble at a touch!" + +She answered nothing, but avoided his glance. He prepared to take +his leave--and on rising from his chair suddenly caught sight of +the portrait on the harpsichord. + +"I know that face!" he said, quickly,--"Who is he?" + +"He WAS also a painter--as great as the one we have just been +speaking of," answered Miss Leigh--"His name was Pierce Armitage." + +"That's it!" exclaimed Harrington, with some excitement. "Of +course! Pierce Armitage! I knew him! One of the handsomest fellows +I ever saw! THERE was an artist, if you like!--he might have been +anything! What became of him?--do you know?" + +"He died abroad, so it is said"--and Miss Leigh's gentle voice +trembled a little--"but nothing is quite certainly known--" + +Harrington turned swiftly to stare eagerly at Innocent. + +"YOUR name is Armitage!" he said--"and do you know you are rather +like him! Your face reminds me---Are you any relative?" + +She gave the usual answer-- + +"No." + +"Strange!" He bent his eyes scrutinisingly upon her. "I remember I +thought the same thing when I first met you--and HIS features are +not easily forgotten! You have his eyes--and mouth,--you might +almost be his daughter!" + +Her breath quickened-- + +"I wish I were!" she said. + +He still looked puzzled. + +"No--don't wish for what would perhaps be a misfortune!" he said-- +"You've done very well for yourself!--but don't be romantic! Keep +that old 'French knight' of yours in the pages of an old French +chronicle!--shut the volume,--lock it up,--and--lose the key!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Some weeks later on, when the London season was at its height, and +Fashion, that frilled and furbelowed goddess, sat enthroned in +state, controlling the moods of the Elect and Select which she +chooses to call "society," Innocent was invited to the house of a +well-known Duchess, renowned for a handsome personality, and also +for an unassailable position, notwithstanding certain sinister +rumours. People said--people are always saying something!--that +her morals were easy-going, but everyone agreed that her taste was +unimpeachable. She--this great lady whose rank permitted her to +entertain the King and Queen--heard of "Ena Armitage" as the +brilliant author whose books were the talk of the town, and +forthwith made up her mind that she must be seen at her house as +the "sensation" of at least one evening. To this end she glided in +her noiseless, satin-cushioned motor brougham up to the door of +Miss Leigh's modest little dwelling and left the necessary slips +of pasteboard bearing her titled name, with similar slips on +behalf of her husband the Duke, for Miss Armitage and Miss Leigh. +The slips were followed in due course by a more imposing and +formal card of invitation to a "Reception and Small Dance. +R.S.V.P." On receiving this, good old Miss Lavinia was a little +fluttered and excited, and turning it over and over in her hand, +looked at Innocent with a kind of nervous anxiety. + +"I think we ought to go, my dear," she said--"or rather--I don't +know about myself--but YOU ought to go certainly. It's a great +house--a great family--and she is a very great lady--a little-- +well!--a little 'modern' perhaps--" + +Innocent lifted her eyebrows with a slight, almost weary smile. A +scarcely perceptible change had come over her of late--a change +too subtle to be noticed by anyone who was not as keenly observant +as Miss Lavinia--but it was sufficient to give the old lady who +loved her cause for a suspicion of trouble. + +"What is it to be modern?" she asked--"In your sense, I mean? I +know what is called 'modern' generally--bad art, bad literature, +bad manners and bad taste! But what do YOU call modern?" + +Miss Leigh considered--looking at the girl with steadfast, kindly +eyes. + +"You speak a trifle bitterly--for YOU, dear child!" she said-- +"These things you name as 'modern' truly are so, but they are +ancient as well! The world has altered very little, I think. What +we call 'bad' has always existed as badness--it is only presented +to us in different forms--" + +Innocent laughed--a soft little laugh of tenderness. + +"Wise godmother!" she said, playfully--"You talk like a book!" + +Miss Lavinia laughed too, and a pretty pink colour came into her +wan cheeks. + +"Naughty child, you are making fun of me!" she said--"What I meant +about the Duchess--" + +Innocent stretched out her hand for the card of invitation and +looked at it. + +"Well!" she said, slowly--"What about the Duchess?" + +Miss Leigh hesitated. + +"I hardly know how to put it," she answered, at last--"She's a +kind-hearted woman--very generous--and most helpful in works of +charity. I never knew such energy as she shows in organising +charity bails and bazaars!--perfectly wonderful!--but she likes to +live her life--" + +"Who would not!" murmured the girl, scarcely audibly. + +"And she lives it--very much so!--rather to the dregs!" continued +the old lady, with emphasis. "She has no real aim beyond the +satisfaction of her own vanity and social power--and you, with +your beautiful thoughts and ideals, might not like the kind of +people she surrounds herself with--people, who only want amusement +and 'sensation'--particularly sensation--" + +Innocent said nothing for a minute or two--then she looked up, +brightly. + +"To go or not to go, godmother mine! Which is it to be? The +decision rests with you! Yes, or no?" + +"I think it must be 'yes'"--and Miss Leigh emphasised the word +with a little nod of her head. "It would be unwise to refuse-- +especially just now when everyone is talking of you and wishing to +see you. And you are quite worth seeing!" + +The girl gave a slight gesture of indifference and moved away +slowly and listlessly, as though fatigued by the mere effort of +speech. Miss Leigh noted this with some concern, watching her as +she went, and admiring the supple grace of her small figure, the +well-shaped little head so proudly poised on the slim throat, and +the burnished sheen of her bright hair. + +"She grows prettier every day," she thought--"But not happier, I +fear!--not happier, poor child!" + +Innocent meanwhile, upstairs in her own little study, was reading +and re-reading a brief letter which had come for her by the same +post that had delivered the Duchess's invitation. + +"I hear you are among the guests invited to the Duchess of +Deanshire's party," it ran--"I hope you will go--for the purely +selfish reason that I want to meet you there. Hers is a great +house with plenty of room, and a fine garden--for London. People +crowd to her 'crushes', but one can always escape the mob. I have +seen so little of you lately, and you are now so famous that I +shall think myself lucky if I may touch the hem of your garment. +Will you encourage me thus far? Like Hamlet, 'I lack advancement'! +When will you take me to Briar Farm? I should like to see the tomb +of my very ancestral uncle--could we not arrange a day's outing in +the country while the weather is fine? I throw myself on your +consideration and clemency for this--and for many other unwritten +things! + +Yours, + +AMADIS DE JOCELYN." + +There was nothing in this easily worded scrawl to make an +ordinarily normal heart beat faster, yet the heart of this simple +child of the gods, gifted with genius and deprived of worldly +wisdom as all such divine children are, throbbed uneasily, and her +eyes were wet. More than this, she touched the signature,--the +long-familiar name--with her soft lips,--and as though afraid of +what she had done, hurriedly folded the letter and locked it away. + +Then she sat down and thought. Nearly two years had elapsed since +she had left Briar Farm, and in that short time she had made the +name she had adopted famous. She could not call it her own name; +born out of wedlock, she had no right, by the stupid law, to the +name of her father. She could, legally, have worn the maiden name +of her mother had she known it--but she did not know it. And what +she was thinking of now, was this: Should she tell her lately +discovered second "Amadis de Jocelyn" the true story of her birth +and parentage at this, the outset of their friendship, before-- +well, before it went any further? She could not consult Miss Leigh +on the point, without smirching the reputation of Pierce Armitage, +the man whose memory was enshrined in that dear lady's heart as a +thing of unsullied honour. She puzzled herself over the question +for a long time, and then decided to keep her own counsel. + +"After all, why should I tell him?" she asked herself. "It might +make trouble--he is so proud of his lineage, and I too am proud of +it for him! ... why should I let him know that I inherit nothing +but my mother's shame!" + +Her heart grew heavy as her position was thus forced back upon her +by her own thoughts. Up to the present no one had asked who she +was, or where she came from--she was understood to be an orphan, +left alone in the world, who by her own genius and unaided effort +had lifted herself into the front rank among the "shining lights" +of the day. This, so far, had been sufficient information for all +with whom she had come in contact--but as time went on, would not +people ask more about her?--who were her father and mother?--where +she was born?--how she had been educated? These inquisitorial +demands were surely among the penalties of fame! And, if she told +the truth, would she not, despite the renown she had won, be +lightly, even scornfully esteemed by conventional society as a +"bastard" and interloper, though the manner of her birth was no +fault of her own, and she was unjustly punishable for the sins of +her parents, such being the wicked law! + +The night of the Duchess's reception was one of those close sultry +nights of June in London when the atmosphere is well-nigh as +suffocating as that of some foetid prison where criminals have +been pacing their dreary round all day. Royal Ascot was just over, +and space and opportunity were given for several social +entertainments to be conveniently checked off before Henley. +Outside the Duke's great house there was a constant stream of +motor-cars and taxi-cabs; a passing stranger might have imagined +all the world and his wife were going to the Duchess's "At Home." +It was difficult to effect an entrance, but once inside, the scene +was one of veritable enchantment. The lovely hues and odours of +flowers, the softened glitter of thousands of electric lamps +shaded with rose-colour, the bewildering brilliancy of women's +clothes and jewels, the exquisite music pouring like a rippling +stream through the magnificent reception-rooms, all combined to +create a magical effect of sensuous beauty and luxury; and as +Innocent, accompanied by the sweet-faced old-fashioned lady who +played the part of chaperone with such gentle dignity, approached +her hostess, she was a little dazzled and nervous. Her timidity +made her look all the more charming--she had the air of a +wondering child called up to receive an unexpected prize at +school. She shrank visibly when her name was shouted out in a +stentorian voice by the gorgeously liveried major-domo in +attendance, quite unaware that it created a thrill throughout the +fashionable assemblage, and that all eyes were instantly upon her. +The Duchess, diamond-crowned and glorious in gold-embroidered +tissue, kept back by a slight gesture the pressing crowd of +guests, and extended her hand with marked graciousness and a +delightful smile. + +"SUCH a pleasure and honour!" she said, sweetly--"So good of you +to come! You will give me a few words with you later on? Yes? +Everybody will want to speak to you!--but you must let me have a +chance too!" + +Innocent murmured something gently deprecatory as a palliative to +this sort of society "gush" which always troubled her--and moved +on. Everybody gazed, whispered and wondered, astonished at the +youth and evident unworldliness of the "author of those marvellous +books!"--so the commentary ran;--the women criticised her gown, +which was one of pale blue silken stuff caught at the waist and +shoulders by quaint clasps of dull gold--a gown with nothing +remarkable about it save its cut and fit--melting itself, as it +were, around her in harmonious folds of fine azure which suggested +without emphasising the graceful lines of her form. The men +looked, and said nothing much except "A pity she's a writing +woman! Mucking about Fleet Street!"--mere senseless talk which +they knew to be senseless, inasmuch as "mucking" about Fleet +Street is no part of any writer's business save that of the +professional journalist. Happily ignorant of comment, the girl +made her way quietly and unobtrusively through the splendid +throng, till she was presently addressed by a stoutish, pleasant- +featured man, with small twinkling eyes and an agreeable surface +manner. + +"I missed you just now when my wife received you," he said--"May I +present myself? I am your host--proud of the privilege!" + +Innocent smiled as she bowed and held out her hand; she was +amused, and taken a little by surprise. This was the Duke of +Deanshire--this quite insignificant-looking personage--he was the +owner of the great house and the husband of the great lady,--and +yet he had the appearance of a very ordinary nobody. But that he +was a "somebody" of paramount importance there was no doubt; and +when he said, "May I give you my arm and take you through the +rooms? There are one or two pictures you may like to see," she was +a little startled. She looked round for Miss Leigh, but that +tactful lady, seeing the position, had disappeared. So she laid +her little cream-gloved hand on the Duke's arm and went with him, +shyly at first, yet with a pretty stateliness which was all her +own, and moving slowly among the crowd of guests, gradually +recovered her ease and self-possession, and began to talk to him +with a delightful naturalness and candour which fairly captivated +His Grace, in fact, "bowled him over," as he afterwards declared. +She was blissfully unaware that his manner of escorting her on his +arm through the long vista of the magnificent rooms had been +commanded and arranged by the Duchess, in order that she should be +well looked at and criticised by all assembled as the "show" +person of the evening. She was so unconscious of the ordeal to +which she was being subjected that she bore it with the perfect +indifference which such unconsciousness gives. All at once the +Duke came to a standstill. + +"Here is a great friend of mine--one of the best I have in the +world," he said--"I want to introduce him to you,"--this, as a +tall old man paused near them with a smile and enquiring glance, +"Lord Blythe--Miss Armitage." + +Innocent's heart gave a wild bound; for a moment she felt a +struggling sensation in her throat moving her to cry out, and it +was only with a violent effort that she repressed herself. + +"You've heard of Miss Armitage--Ena Armitage,--haven't you, +Blythe?" went on the Duke, garrulously. "Of course! all the world +has heard of her!" + +"Indeed it has!" and Lord Blythe bowed ceremoniously. "May I +congratulate you on winning your laurels while you are young +enough to enjoy them! One moment!--my wife is most anxious to meet +you--" + +He turned to look for her, while Innocent, trembling violently, +wondered desperately whether it would be possible for her to run +away!--anywhere--anywhere, rather than endure what she knew must +come! The Duke noticed her sudden pallor with concern. + +"Are you cold?" he asked--"I hope there is no draught---" + +"Oh no--no!" she murmured--"It is nothing--" + +Then she braced herself up in every nerve--drawing her little body +erect, as though a lily should lift itself to the sun--she saw +Lord Blythe approaching with a handsome woman dressed in silvery +grey and wearing a coronet of emeralds--and in one more moment +looked full in the face--of her mother! + +"Lady Blythe--Miss Armitage." + +Lady Blythe turned white to the lips. Her dark eyes opened widely +in amazement and fear--she put out a hand as though to steady +herself. Her husband caught it, alarmed. + +"Maude! Are you ill?" + +"Not at all!" and she forced a laugh. "I am perfectly--perfectly +well!--a little faint perhaps! The heat, I think! Yes--of course! +Miss Armitage--the famous author! I am--I am very proud to meet +you!" + +"Most kind of you!" said Innocent, quietly. + +And they still looked at each other, very strangely. + +The men beside them were a little embarrassed, the Duke twirled +his short white moustache, and Lord Blythe glanced at his wife +with some wonder and curiosity. Both imagined, with the usual +short-sightedness of the male sex, that the women had taken a +sudden fantastic dislike to one another. + +"By jove, she's jealous!" thought the Duke, fully aware that Lady +Blythe was occasionally "moved that way." + +"The girl seems frightened of her," was Lord Blythe's inward +comment, knowing that his wife did not always create a sympathetic +atmosphere. + +But her ladyship was soon herself again and laughed quite merrily +at her husband's anxious expression. + +"I'm all right--really!" she said, with a quick, almost defiant +turn of her head towards him, the emeralds in her dark hair +flashing with a sinister gleam like lightning on still water. "You +must remember it's rather overwhelming to be introduced to a +famous author and think of just the right thing to say at the +right moment! Isn't it, Miss Armitage?" + +"It is as you feel," replied Innocent, coldly. + +Lady Blythe rattled on gaily. + +"Do come and talk to me for a few moments!--it will be so good of +you! The garden's lovely!--shall we go there? Now, my dear Duke, +don't look so cross, I'll bring her back to you directly!" and she +nodded pleasantly. "You want her, of course!--everybody wants +her!--such a celebrity!" then, turning again to Innocent, "Will +you come?" + +As one in a dream the girl obeyed her inviting gesture, and they +passed out of the room together through a large open French window +to a terraced garden, dimly illumined in the distance by the +glitter of fairy lamps, but for the most part left to the tempered +brilliancy of a misty red moon. Once away from the crowd, Lady +Blythe walked quickly and impatiently, scarcely looking at the +youthful figure that accompanied her own, like a fair ghost +gliding step for step beside her. At last she stopped; they were +well away from the house in a quaint bit of garden shaded with +formal fir-trees and clipped yews, where a fountain dashed up a +slender spiral thread of white spray. A strange sense of fury in +her broke loose; with pale face and cruel, glittering eyes she +turned upon her daughter. + +"How dare you!" she half whispered, through her set teeth--"How +dare you!" + +Innocent drew back a step, and looked at her steadfastly. + +"I do not understand you," she said. + +"You do understand!--you understand only too well!" and Lady +Blythe put her hand to the pearls at her throat as though she felt +them choking her. "Oh, I could strike you for your insolence! I +wish I had never sought you out or told you how you were born! Is +this your revenge for the manner of your birth, that you come to +shame me among my own class--my own people--" + +Innocent's eyes flashed with a fire seldom seen in their soft +depths. + +"Shame you?" she echoed. "I? What shame have I brought you? What +shame shall I bring? Had you owned me as your child I would have +made you proud of me! I would have given you honour,--you +abandoned me to strangers, and I have made honour for myself! +Shame is YOURS and yours only!--it would be mine if I had to +acknowledge YOU as my mother!--you who never had the courage to be +true!" Her young voice thrilled with passion.--"I have won my own +way! I am something beyond and above you!--'your own class--your +own people,' as you call them, are at MY feet,--and you--you who +played with my father's heart and spoilt his career--you have +lived to know that I, his deserted child, have made his name +famous!" + +Lady Blythe stared at her like some enraged cat ready to spring. + +"His name--his name!" she muttered, fiercely. "Yes, and how dare +you take it? You have no right to it in law!" + +"Wise law, just law!" said the girl, passionately. "Would you +rather I had taken yours? I might have done so had I known it-- +though I think not, as I should have been ashamed of any 'maiden' +name you had dishonoured! When you came to Briar Farm to find me-- +to see me--so late, so late!--after long years of desertion--I +told you it was possible to make a name;--one cannot go nameless +through the world! I have made mine!--independently and honestly-- +in fact"--and she smiled, a sad cold smile--"it is an honour for +you, my mother, to know me, your daughter!" + +Lady Blythe's face grew ghastly pale in the uncertain light of the +half-veiled moon. She moved a step and caught the girl's arm with +some violence. + +"What do you mean to do?" she asked, in an angry whisper, "I must +know! What are your plans of vengeance?--your campaign of +notoriety?--your scheme of self-advertisement? What claim will you +make?" + +"None!" and Innocent looked at her fully, with calm and fearless +dignity. "I have no claim upon you, thank God! I am less to you +than a dropped lamb, lost in a thicket of thorns, is to the sheep +that bore it! That's a rough country simile,--I was brought up on +a farm, you know!--but it will serve your case. Think nothing of +me, as I think nothing of you! What I am, or what I may be to the +world, is my own affair!" + +There was a pause. Presently Lady Blythe gave a kind of shrill +hysterical laugh. + +"Then, when we meet in society, as we have met to-night, it will +be as comparative strangers?" + +"Why, of course!--we have always been strangers," the girl +replied, quietly. "No strangers were ever more strange to each +other than we!" + +"You mean to keep MY secret?--and your own?" + +"Certainly. Do you suppose I would give my father's name to +slander?" + +"Your father!--you talk of your father as if HE was worth +consideration!--he was chiefly to blame for your position--" + +"Was he? I am not quite sure of that," said Innocent, slowly--"I +do not know all the circumstances. But I have heard that he was a +great artist; and that some woman he loved ruined his life. And I +believe you are that woman!" + +Lady Blythe laughed--a hard mirthless laugh. + +"Believe what you like!" she said--"You are an imaginative little +fool! When you know more of the world you will find out that men +ruin women's lives as casually as cracking nuts, but they take +jolly good care of their own skins! Pierce Armitage was too +selfish a man to sacrifice his own pleasure and comfort for +anyone--he was glad to get rid of me--and of YOU! And now--now!" +She threw up her hands with an expressive, half-tragic gesture. +"Now you are famous!--actually famous! Good heavens!--why, I +thought you would stay in that old farmhouse all your life, +scrubbing the floors and looking after the poultry, and perhaps +marrying some good-natured country yokel! Famous!--you!--with +social London dancing attendance on you! What a ghastly comedy!" +She laughed again. "Come!--we must go back to the house." + +They walked side by side--the dark full-figured woman and the fair +slight girl--the one a mere ephemeral unit in an exclusively +aristocratic and fashionable "set,"--the other, the possessor of a +sudden brilliant fame which was spreading a new light across the +two hemispheres. Not another word was exchanged between them, and +as they re-entered the ducal reception-rooms, now more crowded +than ever, Lord Blythe met them. + +"I was just going to look for you," he said to his wife--"There +are dozens of people waiting to be presented to Miss Armitage; the +Duchess has asked for her several times." + +Lady Blythe turned to Innocent with a dazzling smile. + +"How guilty I feel!" she exclaimed. "Everybody wanting to see you, +and I selfishly detaining you in the garden! It was so good of you +to give me a few minutes!--you, the guest of the evening too! +Good-night!--in case I don't find you again in this crowd!" + +She moved away then, leaving Innocent fairly bewildered by her +entire coolness and self-possession. She herself, poor child, +moved to the very soul by the interview she had just gone through, +was trembling with extreme nervousness, and could hardly conceal +her agitation. + +"I'm afraid you've caught cold!" said Lord Blythe, kindly--"That +will never do! I promised I would take you to the Duchess as soon +as I found you--she has some friends with her who wish to meet +you. Will you come?" + +She smiled assent, looking up at him gratefully and thinking what +a handsome old man he was, with his tall, well-formed figure and +fine intellectual face on which the constant progress of good +thoughts had marked many a pleasant line. Her mother's husband!-- +and she wondered how it happened that such a woman had been chosen +for a wife by such a man! + +"They're going to dance in the ball-room directly," he continued, +as he guided her through the pressing throng of people. "You will +not be without partners! Are you fond of dancing?" + +Her face lighted up with the lovely youthful look that gave her +such fascination and sweetness of expression. + +"Yes, I like it very much, though before I came to London I only +knew country dances such as they dance at harvest-homes; but of +course here, you all dance so differently!--it is only just going +round and round! But it's quite pleasant and rather amusing." + +"You were brought up in the country then?" he said. + +"Yes, entirely. I came to London about two years ago." + +"But--I hope you don't think me too inquisitive!--where did you +study literature?" + +She laughed a little. + +"I don't think I studied it at all," she answered, "I just loved +it! There was a small library of very old books in the farmhouse +where I lived, and I read and re-read these. Then, when I was +about sixteen, it suddenly came into my head that I would try to +write a story myself--and I did. Little by little it grew into a +book, and I brought it to London and finished it here. You know +the rest!" + +"Like Byron, you awoke one morning to find yourself famous!" said +Lord Blythe, smiling. "You have no parents living?" + +Her cheeks burned with a hot blush as she replied. + +"No." + +"A pity! They would have been very proud of you. Here is the +Duchess!" + +And in another moment she was drawn into the vortex of a brilliant +circle surrounding her hostess--men and women of notable standing +in politics, art and letters, to whom the Duchess presented her +with the half kindly, half patronising air of one who feels that +any genius in man or woman is a kind of disease, and that the +person affected by it must be soothingly considered as a sort of +"freak" or nondescript creature, like a white crow or a red +starling. + +"These abnormal people are so interesting!" she was wont to say. +"These prodigies and things! I love them! They're often quite ugly +and have rude manners--Beethoven used to eat with his fingers I +believe; wasn't it wonderful of him! Such a relief from the +conventional way! When I was quite a girl I used to adore a man in +Paris who played the 'cello divinely--a perfect marvel!--but he +wouldn't comb his hair or blow his nose properly--and it wasn't +very nice!--not that it mattered much, he was such a wonderful +artist! Oh yes, I know! it wouldn't have lessened his genius to +have wiped his nose with a handkerchief instead of--! well!-- +perhaps we'd better not mention it!" And she would laugh +charmingly and again murmur, "These deaf abnormal people!" + +With Innocent, however, she was somewhat put off her usual line of +conduct; the girl was too graceful and easy-mannered to be called +"abnormal" or eccentric; she was perfectly modest, simple and +unaffected, and the Duchess was a trifle disappointed that she was +not ill-dressed, frowsy, frumpish and blue-spectacled. + +"She's so young too!" thought her Grace, half crossly--"Almost a +child!--and not in the least 'bookish.' It seems quite absurd that +such a baby-looking creature should be actually a genius, and +famous at twenty! Simply amazing!" + +And she watched the little "lion" or lioness of the evening with +keen interest and curiosity, whimsically vexed that it did not +roar, snort, or make itself as noticeable as certain other animals +of the literary habitat whom she had occasionally entertained. +Just then a mirthful, mellow voice spoke close beside her. + +"Where is the new Corinne? The Sappho of the Leucadian rock of +London? Has she met her Phaon?" + +"How late you are, Amadis!" and the Duchess smiled captivatingly +as she extended her hand to Jocelyn, who gallantly stooped and +kissed the perfectly fitting glove which covered it. "If you mean +Miss Armitage, she is just over there talking to two old fogies. I +think they're Cabinet ministers--they look it! She's quite the +success of the evening,--and pretty, don't you think?" + +Jocelyn looked, and saw the small fair head rising like a golden +flower from sea-blue draperies; he smiled enigmatically. + +"Not exactly," he answered, "But spirituelle--she has what some +painters might call an imaginative head--she could pose very well +for St. Dorothy. I can quite realise her preferring the +executioner's axe to the embraces of Theophilus." + +The Duchess gave him a swift glance and touched his arm with the +edge of her fan. + +"Are you going to make love to her?" she asked. "You make love to +every woman--but most women understand your sort of love-making--" + +"Do they?" and his blue eyes flashed amusement. "And what do they +think of it?" + +"They laugh at it!" she answered, calmly. "But that clever child +would not laugh--she would take it au grand serieux." + +He passed his hand carelessly through the rough dark hair which +gave his ruggedly handsome features a singular softness and charm. + +"Would she? My dear Duchess, nobody takes anything 'au grand +serieux' nowadays. We grin through every scene of life, and we +don't know and don't care whether it's comedy or tragedy we're +grinning at! It doesn't do to be serious. I never am. 'Life is +real, life is earnest' was the line of conduct practised by my +French ancestors; they cut up all their enemies with long swords, +and then sat down to wild boar roasted whole for dinner. That was +real life, earnest life! We in our day don't cut up our enemies +with long swords--we cut them up in the daily press. It's so much +easier!" + +"How you love to hear yourself talk!" commented the Duchess. "I +let you do it--but I know you don't mean half you say!" + +"You think not? Well, I'm going to join the court of Corinne-- +she's not the usual type of Corinne--I fancy she has a heart--" + +"And you want to steal it if you can, of course!" and the Duchess +laughed. "Men always long for what they haven't got, and tire of +what they have!" + +"True, O Queen! We are made so! Blame, not us, but the Creator of +the poor world-mannikins!" + +He moved away and was soon beside Innocent, who blushed into a +pretty rose at sight of him. + +"I thought you were never coming!" she said, shyly. "I'm so glad +you are here!" + +He looked at her with an admiring softness in his eyes. + +"May I have the first dance?" he said. "I timed myself to gain the +privilege." + +She gave him her dance programme where no name was yet inscribed. +He took it and scribbled his name down several times, then handed +it back to her. Several of the younger men in the group which had +gathered about her laughed and remonstrated. + +"Give somebody else a chance, Miss Armitage!" + +She looked round upon them, smiling. + +"But of course! Mr. Amadis de Jocelyn has not taken all?" + +They laughed again. + +"His name dominates your programme, anyhow!" + +Her eyes shone softly. + +"It is a beautiful name!" she said. + +"Granted! But show a little mercy to the unbeautiful names!" said +one man near her. "My name, for instance, is Smith--can you +tolerate it?" + +She gave a light gesture of protest. + +"You play with me!" she said--"Of course! You will find a dance, +Mr. Smith!--and I will dance it with you!" + +They were all now ready for fun, and taking her programme handed +it round amongst themselves and soon filled it. When it came back +to her she looked at it, amazed. + +"But I shall never dance all these!" she exclaimed. + +"No, you will sit out some of them," said Jocelyn, coolly--"With +me!" + +The ball-room doors were just then thrown invitingly open and +entrancing strains of rhythmical music came swinging and ringing +in sweet cadence on the ears. He passed his arm round her waist. + +"We'll begin the revelry!" he said, and in another moment she felt +herself floating deliciously, as it were, in his arms--her little +feet flying over the polished floor, his hand warmly clasping her +slim soft body--and her heart fluttered wildly like the beating +wings of a snared bird as she fell into the mystic web woven by +the strange and pitiless loom of destiny. The threads were already +tangling about her--but she made no effort to escape. She was +happy in her dream; she imagined that her Ideal had been found in +the Real. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The first waltz over, Jocelyn led his partner out of the ball- +room. + +"Come into the garden," he said. "It's quite a real garden for +London--and I know every inch of it. We'll find a quiet corner and +sit down and rest." + +She answered nothing--she was flushed, and breathing quickly from +the excitement of the dance, and he paused on his way to pick up a +light wrap he found on one of the sofas, and put it round her +shoulders. + +"You mustn't catch a chill," he went on. "But it's not a cold +night--in fact it's very close and sultry--almost like thunder. A +little air will be good for us." + +They went together, pacing along slowly--she meanwhile thinking of +her previous walk in that same garden!--what would he, Amadis de +Jocelyn, say of it and of her "mother" if he knew! He looked at +her sideways now and then, curiously moved by mingled pity, +admiration and desire,--the cruelty latent in every man made him +long to awaken the first spark of passion in that maidenly soul,-- +and with the full consciousness of a powerful personality, he was +perfectly aware that he could do so if he chose. But he waited, +playing with the fire of his own inclinations, and talking lightly +and charmingly of things which he knew would interest her +sufficiently to make her, in her turn, talk to him naturally and +candidly, thereby displaying more or less of her disposition and +temperament. With every word she spoke he found her more and more +fascinating--she had a quaint directness of speech which was +extremely refreshing after the half-veiled subtleties conveyed in +the often dubious conversation of the women he was accustomed to +meet in society--while there was no doubt she was endowed with +extraordinary intellectual grasp and capacity. Her knowledge of +things artistic and literary might, perhaps, have been termed +archaic, but it was based upon the principles which are good and +true for all time--and as she told him quite simply and +unaffectedly of her studies by herself among the old books which +had belonged to the "Sieur Amadis" of Briar Farm, he was both +touched and interested. + +"So you made quite a friend of the Sieur Amadis!" he said. "He was +your teacher and guide! I'm jealous of him!" + +She laughed softly. "He was a spirit," she said--"You are a man." + +"Well, his spirit has had a good innings with you!" and, taking +her hand, he drew it within his arm--"I bear his name, and it's +time I came in somewhere!" + +She laughed again, a trifle nervously. + +"You think so? But you do come in! You are here with me now!" + +He bent his eyes upon her with an ardour he did not attempt to +conceal, and her heart leaped within her--a warmth like fire ran +swiftly through her veins. He heard her sigh,--he saw her tremble +beneath his gaze. There was an elf-like fascination about her +child-like face and figure as she moved glidingly beside him--a +"belle dame sans merci" charm which roused the strongly amorous +side of his nature. He quickened his steps a little as he led her +down a sloping path, shut in on either side by tall trees, where +there was a seat placed invitingly in the deepest shadow and where +the dim uplifted moon cast but the faintest glimmer, just +sufficiently to make the darkness visible. + +"Shall we stay here a little while?" he said, in a low tone. + +She made no reply. Something vaguely sweet and irresistible +overpowered her,--she was barely conscious of herself, or of +anything, save that "Amadis de Jocelyn" was beside her. She had +lived so long in her dream of the old French knight, whose written +thoughts and confessions had influenced her imagination and swayed +her mind since childhood, that she could not detach herself from +the idealistic conception she had formed of his character,--and to +her the sixteenth-century "Amadis" had become embodied in this +modern man of brilliant but erratic genius, who, if the truth were +told, had nothing idealistic about him but his art, which in +itself was more the outcome of emotionalism than conviction. He +drew her gently down beside him, feeling her quiver like a leaf +touched by the wind, and his own heart began to beat with a +pleasurable thrill. The silence around them seemed waiting for +speech, but none came. It was one of those tense moments on which +sometimes hangs the happiness or the misery of a lifetime--a stray +thread from the web of Chance, which may be woven into a smooth +pattern or knotted into a cruel tangle,--a freakish circumstance +in which the human beings most concerned are helplessly involved +without any conscious premonition of impending fate. Suddenly, +yielding to a passionate impulse, he caught her close in his arms +and kissed her. + +"Forgive me!" he whispered--"I could not help it!" + +She put him gently back from her with two little hands that +caressed rather than repulsed him, and gazed at him with startled, +tender eyes in which a new and wonderful radiance shone,--while he +in self-confident audacity still held her in his embrace. + +"You are not angry?" he went on, in quick, soft accents. "No! Why +should you be? Why should not love come to you as to other women! +Don't analyse!--don't speak! There is nothing to be said--we know +all!" + +Silently she clung to him, yielding more and more to the sensation +of exquisite joy that poured through her whole being like +sunlight--her heart beat with new and keener life,--the warm +kindling blood burned her cheeks like the breath of a hot wind-- +and her whole soul rose to meet and greet what she in her poor +credulousness welcomed as the crown and glory of existence--love! +Love was hers, she thought--at last!--she knew the great secret,-- +the long delight that death itself could not destroy,--her ideal +of romance was realised, and Amadis de Jocelyn, the brave, the +true, the chivalrous, the strong, was her very own! Enchanted with +the ease of his conquest, he played with her pretty hair as with a +bird's wing, and held her against his heart, sensuously gratified +to feel her soft breast heaving with its pent-up emotion, and to +hear her murmured words of love confessed. + +"How I have wished and prayed that you might love me!" she said, +raising her dewy eyes to his in the darkness. "Is it good when God +grants one's prayers? I am almost afraid! My Amadis! It is a dream +come true!" + +He was amused at her fidelity to the romance which surrounded his +name. + +"Dear child, I am not a 'knight of old'--don't think it!" he said. +"You mustn't run away with that idea and make me a kind of +sixteenth-century sentimentalist. I couldn't live up to it!" + +"You are more than a knight of old," she answered, proudly--"You +are a great genius!" + +He was embarrassed by her simple praise. + +"No," he answered--"Not even that--sweet soul as you are!--not +even that! You think I am--but you do not know. You are a clever, +imaginative little girl--and I love to hear you praise me--but--" + +Her lips touched his shyly and sweetly. + +"No 'buts!'" she said,--"I shall always stop your mouth if you put +a 'but' against any work you do!" + +"In that way?" he asked, smiling. + +"Yes! In that way." + +"Then I shall put a 'but' to everything!" he declared. + +They laughed together like children. + +"Where is Miss Leigh all this while?" he queried. + +She started, awaking suddenly to conventions and commonplaces. + +"Poor little godmother! She must be wondering where I am! But I +did not leave her,--she left me when the Duke took charge of me--I +lost sight of her then." + +"Well, we must go and find her now"--and Jocelyn again folded his +arms closely round the dainty, elf-like figure in its moonlight- +blue draperies. "Innocent, look at me!" + +She lifted her eyes, and as she met his, glowing with the fervent +fire of a new passion, her cheeks grew hot and she was thankful +for the darkness. His lips closed on hers in a long kiss. + +"This is our secret!" he said--"You must not speak of it to +anyone." + +"How could I speak of it?" she asked, wonderingly. + +He let her go from his embrace, and taking her hand began to walk +slowly with her towards the house. + +"You might do so," he continued--"And it would not be wise!-- +neither for you in your career, nor for me in mine. You are +famous,--your name is being talked of everywhere--you must be very +careful. No one must know we are lovers." + +She thrilled at the word "lovers," and her hand trembled in his. + +"No one shall know," she said. + +"Not even Miss Leigh," he insisted. + +"If I say 'no one' of course I mean 'no one,'" she answered, +gently--"not even Miss Leigh." + +He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, relieved by this +assurance. He wanted his little "amour" to go on without suspicion +or interference, and he felt instinctively that if this girl made +any sort of a promise she would fulfil it. + +"You can keep a secret then?" he said, playfully--"Unlike most +women!" + +She looked up at him, smiling. + +"Do men keep secrets better?" she asked. "I think not! Will you, +for instance, keep mine?" + +"Yours?" And for a moment he was puzzled, being a man who thought +chiefly of himself and his own pleasure for the moment. "What is +your secret?" + +She laughed. "Oh, 'Sieur Amadis'! You pretend not to know! Is it +not the same as yours? You must not tell anybody that I--I--" + +He understood-and pressed hard the little hand he held. + +"That you--well? Go on! I must not tell anybody--what?" + +"That I love you!" she said, in a tone so grave and sweet and +angelically tender, that for a second he was smitten with a sudden +sense of shame. + +Was it right to steal all this unspoilt treasure of love from a +heart so warm and susceptible? Was it fair to enter such an ivory +castle of dreams and break open all the "magic casements opening +on the foam, Of perilous seas in fairy lands forlorn"? He was +silent, having no response to give to the simple ardour of her +utterance. What he felt for her was what all men feel for each +woman who in turn attracts their wandering fancies--the desire of +conquest and possession. He was moved to this desire by the +irritating fact that this girl had startled an apathetic public on +both sides of the Atlantic by the display of her genius in the +short space of two years--whereas he had been more than fifteen +years intermittently at work without securing any such fame. To +throw the lasso of Love round the flying Pegasus on which she rode +so lightly and securely, would be an excitement and amusement +which he was not inclined to forgo--a triumph worth attaining. But +love such as she imagined love to be, was not in his nature--he +conceived of it merely as a powerful physical attraction which +exerted its influence between two persons of opposite sexes and +lasted for a certain time--then waned and wore off--and he +recognised marriage as a legal device to safeguard a woman when +the inevitable indifference and coldness of her mate set in, +making him no longer a lover, but a household companion of habit +and circumstance, lawfully bound to pay for the education of +children and the necessary expenses of living. In his inmost +consciousness he knew very well that Innocent was not of the +ordinary feminine mould--she had visions of the high and +unattainable, and her ideals of life were of that pure and +transcendental quality which belongs to finer elements unseen. The +carnal mind can never comprehend spirituality,--nevertheless, +Jocelyn was a man cultured and clever enough to feel that though +he himself could not enter, and did not even care to enter the +uplifted spheres of thought, this strange child with a gift of the +gods in her brain, already dwelt in them, serenely unconscious of +any lower plane. And she loved him!--and he would, on that ground +of love, teach her many things she had never known--he would widen +her outlook,--warm her senses--increase her perceptions--train her +like a wild rose on the iron trellis of his experience--while thus +to instruct an unworldly soul in worldliness would be for him an +interesting and pleasurable pastime. + +"And I can make her happy"--was his additional thought--"in the +only way a woman is ever happy--for a little while!" + +All this ran through his mind as he held her hand a moment longer, +till the convincing music of the band and the brilliant lights of +the house warned them to break away from each other. + +"We had better go straight to the ball-room and dance in," he +said. "No one will have missed us long. We've only been absent +about a quarter of an hour." + +"So much in such a little time!" she said, softly. + +He smiled, answering the adoring look of her eyes with his own +amorous glance, and in another few seconds they were part of the +brilliant whirl of dancers now crowding the ball-room and swinging +round in a blaze of colour and beauty to the somewhat hackneyed +strains of the "Fruhlings Reigen." And as they floated and flew, +the delight of their attractiveness to each other drew them closer +together till the sense of separateness seemed lost and whelmed in +a magnetic force of mutual comprehension. + +When this waltz was finished she was claimed by many more +partners, and danced till she was weary,--then, between two +"extras," she went in search of Miss Leigh, whom she found sitting +patiently in one of the great drawing-rooms, looking somewhat pale +and tired. + +"Oh, my godmother!" she exclaimed, running up to her. "I had +forgotten how late it is getting!" + +Miss Lavinia smiled cheerfully. + +"Never mind, child!" she said. "You are young and ought to enjoy +yourself. I am old, and hardly fit for these late assemblies--and +how very late they are too! When I was a girl we never stayed +beyond midnight--" + +"And is it midnight now?" asked Innocent, amazed, turning to her +partner, a young scion of the aristocracy, who looked as if he had +not been to bed for a week. + +He smiled simperingly, and glanced at his watch. + +"It's nearly two o'clock," he said. "In fact it's tomorrow +morning!" + +Just then Jocelyn came up. + +"Are you going?" he inquired. "Well, perhaps it's time! May I see +you to your carriage?" + +Miss Leigh gratefully accepted this suggestion--and Innocent, +smiling her "good-night" to partners whom she had disappointed, +walked with her through the long vista of rooms, Jocelyn leading +the way. They soon ran the gauntlet of the ladies' cloak-room and +the waiting mob of footmen and chauffeurs that lined the long +passage leading to the entrance-hall, and Jocelyn, going out into +the street succeeded in finding their modest little hired motor- +brougham and assisting them into it. + +"Good-night, Miss Leigh!" he said, leaning on the door of the +vehicle and smiling at them through the open window--"Good-night, +Miss Armitage! I hope you are not very tired?" + +"I am not tired at all!" she answered, with a thrill of joy in her +voice like the note of a sweet bird. "I have been so very happy!" + +He smiled. His face was pale and looked unusually handsome,--she +stretched one little hand out to him. + +"Good-night, 'Sieur Amadis!'" + +He bent down and kissed it. + +"Good-night!" + +The motor began to move--another moment, and they were off. +Innocent sank back in the brougham with a sigh. + +"You are tired, child!--you must be!" said Miss Leigh. + +"No, godmother mine! That sigh was one of pleasure. It has been a +most wonderful evening!--wonderful!" + +"It was certainly very brilliant," agreed Miss Leigh. "And I'm +glad you were made so much of, my dear! That was as it ought to +be. Lord Blythe told me he had seldom met so charming a girl!" + +Innocent sat up suddenly. "Lord Blythe? Do you know him?" + +"No, I cannot say I really know him," replied Miss Leigh. "I've +met him several times--and his wife too--there was some scandal +about her years and years ago before she was married--nobody ever +knew exactly what it was, and her people hushed it up. I daresay +it wasn't very much. Anyhow Lord Blythe married her--and he's a +very fine man with a great position. I thought I saw you talking +to Lady Blythe?" + +"Yes"--Innocent spoke almost mechanically--"I had a few minutes' +conversation with her." + +"She's very handsome," went on Miss Leigh. "She used to be quite +beautiful. A pity she has no children." + +Innocent was silent. The motor-brougham glided along. + +"You and Mr. Jocelyn seem to get on very well together," observed +the old lady, presently. "He is a very 'taking' man--but I wonder +if he is quite sincere?" + +Innocent's colour rose,--fortunately the interior of the brougham +was too dark for her face to be seen. + +"Why should he not be?" she asked--"Surely with his great art, he +would be more sincere than most men?" + +"Well, I hope so!" and Miss Leigh's voice was a little tremulous; +"But artists are very impressionable, and live so much in a world +of their own that I sometimes doubt whether they have much +understanding or sympathy with the world of other people! Even +Pierce Armitage--who was very dear to me--ran away with +impressions like a child with toys. He would adore a person one +day--and hate him, or her, the next!"--and she laughed softly and +compassionately--"He would indeed, poor fellow! He was rather like +Shelley in his likes and dislikes--you've read all about your +Shelley of course?" + +"Indeed I have!" the girl answered,--"A glorious poet!--but he +must have been difficult to live with!" + +"Difficult, if not impossible!"--and the gentle old lady took her +hand and held it in a kind, motherly clasp--"You are a genius +yourself--but you are a human little creature, not above the sweet +and simple ways of life,--some of the poets and artists were and +are in-human! Now Mr. Jocelyn--" + +"HE is human!" said Innocent, quickly--"I'm sure of that!" + +"You are sure? Well, dear, you like him very much and you have +made a friend of him,--which is quite natural considering the long +association you have had with his name--such a curious and +romantic coincidence!--but I hope he won't disappoint you." + +Innocent laughed, happily. + +"Don't be afraid, you dear little godmother!" she said--"I don't +expect anything of him, so no disappointment is possible! Here we +are!" + +The brougham stopped and they alighted. Opening the house-door +with a latch-key they entered, and pausing one moment in the +drawing-room, where the lights had been left burning for their +return, Miss Leigh took Innocent tenderly by the arm and pointed +to the portrait on the harpsichord. + +"There was a true genius!" she said--"He might have been the +greatest artist in England to-day if he had not let his +impressions and prejudices overmaster his judgment. You know--for +I have told you my story--that he loved me, or thought he did--and +I loved him and knew I did! There was the difference between us! +He tired of me--all artists tire of the one face--they want +dozens!--and he lost his head over some woman whose name I never +knew. The result must have been fatal to his career, for it +stopped short just when he was succeeding;--for me, it only left +me resolved to be true to his memory till the end. But, my child, +it's a hard lot to be alone all one's days, with only the +remembrance of a past love to keep one's heart from growing cold!" + +There was a little sob in her voice,--Innocent, touched to the +quick, kissed her tenderly. + +"Why do you talk like this so sadly to-night?" she asked--"Has +something reminded you of--of HIM?" And she glanced half nervously +towards the portrait. + +"Yes," answered the old lady, simply--"Something has reminded me-- +very much--of him! Good-night, dear little child! Keep your +beautiful dreams and ideals as long as you can! Sleep well!" + +She turned off the lights, and they went upstairs together to +their several rooms. + +Once alone, Innocent flung off her dainty ball attire,--released +her bright hair from the pins that held it bound in rippling waves +about her shapely head, and slipping on a loose white wrapper sat +down to think. She had to realise the unpleasing fact that against +her own wish and will she had become involved in mysteries,-- +secrets which she dared not, for the sake of others, betray. Her +parentage could not be divulged, because her father was Pierce +Armitage, the worshipped memory of Miss Leigh's heart,--while her +mother, Lady Blythe, occupied a high social position which must +not be assailed. And now--now, Amadis de Jocelyn was her lover!-- +yet no one must know, because he did not wish it. For some cause +or other which she could not determine, he insisted on secrecy. So +she was meshed in nets of others' weaving, and could not take a +step to disentangle herself and stand clear. Of her own accord she +would have been frank and open as the daylight,--but from the +first, a forward fate appeared to have taken delight in +surrounding her with deceptions enforced by the sins of others. +Her face burned as she thought of Jocelyn's passionate kisses--she +must hide all that joy!--it had already become almost a guilty +secret. He was the first man that had ever kissed her since her +"Dad" died,--the first that had ever kissed her as a lover. Her +mind flew suddenly and capriciously back to Briar Farm--to Robin +Clifford who had longed to kiss her, and yet had refused to do so +unless she could have loved him. She had never loved him--no!--and +yet the thought of him just now gave her a thrill of remorseful +tenderness. She knew in herself at last what love could mean,--and +with that knowledge she realised what Robin must have suffered. + +"To love without return--without hope!" she mused--"Oh, it would +be torture!--to me, death! Poor Robin!" + +Poor Robin, indeed! He would not have dared to caress her with the +wild and tender audacity of Amadis de Jocelyn! + +"My love!" she whispered to the silence.--"My love!" she repeated, +as she knelt down to say her prayers, sending the adored and +idealised name up on vibrations of light to the throne of the Most +High,--and "My love!" were the last words she murmured as she +nestled into her little bed, her fair head on its white pillow +looking like the head of one of Botticelli's angels. Her own +success,--her celebrity as a genius in literature,--her dreams of +fame--these now were all as naught!--less than the clouds of a +night or the mists of a morning--there was nothing for her in +earth or heaven save "My love!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Lord Blythe was sitting alone in his library. He was accustomed to +sit alone, and rather liked it. It was the evening after that of +the Duchess of Deanshire's reception; his wife had gone to another +similar "crush," but had graciously excused his attendance, for +which he was honestly grateful. He was old enough, at sixty-eight, +to appreciate the luxury of peace and quietness,--he had put on an +old lounge coat and an easy pair of slippers, and was thoroughly +enjoying himself in a comfortable arm-chair with a book and a +cigar. The book was by "Ena Armitage"--the cigar, one of a choice +brand known chiefly to fastidious connoisseurs of tobacco. The +book, however, was a powerful rival to the charm of the fragrant +Havana--for every now and again he allowed the cigar to die out +and had to re-light it, owing to his fascinated absorption in the +volume he held. He was an exceedingly clever man--deeply versed in +literature and languages, and in his younger days had been a great +student,--he had read nearly every book of note, and was as +familiar with the greatest authors as with his greatest friends, +so that he was well fitted to judge without prejudice the merits +of any new aspirant to literary fame. But he was wholly unprepared +for the power and the daring genius which stamped itself on every +page of the new writer's work,--he almost forgot, while reading, +whether it was man or woman who had given such a production to the +world, so impressed was he by the masterly treatment of a simple +subject made beautiful by a scholarly and incisive style. It was +literature of the highest kind,--and realising this with every +sentence he perused, it was with a shock of surprise that he +remembered the personality of the author--the unobtrusive girl who +had been the "show animal" at Her Grace of Deanshire's reception +and dance. + +"Positively, I can scarcely believe it!" he exclaimed sotto-voce-- +"That child I met last night actually wrote this amazing piece of +work! It's almost incredible! A nice child too,--simple and +perfectly natural,--nothing of the blue-stocking about her. Well, +well! What a career she'll make!--what a name!--that is, if she +takes care of herself and doesn't fall in love, which she's sure +to do! That's the worst of women--God occasionally gives them +brains, but they've scarcely begun to use them when heart and +sentiment step in and overthrow all reason. Now, we men--" + +He paused,--thinking. There had been a time in his life--long ago, +when he was very young--when heart and sentiment had very nearly +overthrown reason in his own case--and sometimes he was inclined +to regret that such overthrow had been averted. + +"For the moment it is perhaps worth everything else!" he mused-- +"But--for the moment only! The ecstasy does not last." + +His cigar had gone out again, and he re-lit it. The clock on the +mantelpiece struck twelve with a silvery clang, and almost at the +same instant he heard the rustle of a silk gown and a light +footstep,--the door opened, and his wife appeared. + +"Are you busy?" she enquired--"May I come in?" + +He rose, with the stately old-fashioned courtesy habitual to him. + +"By all means come in!" he said--"You have returned early?" + +"Yes." She loosened her rich evening cloak, lined with ermine, and +let it fall on the back of the chair in which she seated herself-- +"It was a boresome affair,--there were recitations and music which +I hate--so I came away. You are reading?" + +"Not now"--and he closed the volume on the table beside him--"But +I HAVE been reading--that amazing book by the young girl we met at +the Deanshires' last night--Ena Armitage. It's really a fine piece +of work." + +She was silent. + +"You didn't take to her, I'm afraid?" he went on--"Yet she seemed +a charming, modest little person. Perhaps she was not quite what +you expected?" + +Lady Blythe gave a sudden harsh laugh. + +"You are right! She certainly was not what I expected! Is the door +well shut?" + +Surprised at her look and manner, he went to see. + +"The door is quite closed," he said, rather stiffly. "One would +think we were talking secrets--and we never do!" + +"No!" she rejoined, looking at him curiously--"We never do. We are +model husband and wife, having nothing to conceal!" + +He took up his cigar which he had laid down for a minute, and with +careful minuteness flicked off the ash. + +"You have something to tell me," he remarked, quietly--"Pray go +on, and don't let me interrupt you. Do you object to my smoking?" + +"Not in the least." + +He stood with his back to the fireplace, a tall, stately figure of +a man, and looked at her expectantly,--she meanwhile reclined in a +cushioned chair with the folds of her ermine falling about her, +like a queen of languorous luxury. + +"I suppose," she began--"hardly anything in the social life of our +day would very much surprise or shock you--?" + +"Very little, certainly!" he answered, smiling coldly--"I have +lived a long time, and am not easily surprised!" + +"Not even if it concerned some one you know?" + +His fine open brow knitted itself in a momentary line of puzzled +consideration. + +"Some one I know?" he repeated--"Well, I should certainly be very +sorry to hear anything of a scandalous nature connected with the +girl we saw last night--she looked too young and too innocent--" + +"Innocent--oh yes!" and Lady Blythe again laughed that harsh laugh +of suppressed hysterical excitement--"She is innocent enough!" + +"Pardon! I thought you were about to speak of her, as you said she +was not what you expected--" + +He paused,--startled by the haggard and desperate expression of +her face. + +"Richard," she said--"You are a good man, and you hold very strong +opinions about truth and honour and all that sort of thing. I +don't believe you could ever understand badness--real, downright +badness--could you?" + +"Badness? ... in that child?" he exclaimed. + +She gave an impatient, angry gesture. + +"Dear me, you are perfectly obsessed by 'that child,' as you call +her!" she answered--"You had better know the truth then at once,-- +'that child' is my daughter!" + +"Your daughter?--your--your--" + +The words died on his lips--he staggered slightly as though under +a sudden physical blow, and gripped the mantelpiece behind him +with one hand. + +"Good God!" he half whispered--"What do you mean?--you have had no +children--" + +"Not by you,--no!" she said, with a flash of scorn--"Not in +marriage, that church-and-law form of union!--but by love and +passion--yes! Stop!--do not look at me like that! I have not been +false to you--I have not betrayed you! Your honour has been safe +with me! It was before I met you that this thing happened." + +He stood rigid and very pale. + +"Before you met me?" + +"Yes. I was a silly, romantic, headstrong girl,--my parents were +compelled to go abroad, and I was left in the charge of one of my +mother's society friends--a thoroughly worldly, unprincipled woman +whose life was made up of intrigue and gambling. And I ran away +with a man--Pierce Armitage--" + +"Pierce Armitage!" + +The name broke from him like a cry of agony. + +"Yes--Pierce Armitage. Did you know him?" + +He looked at her with eyes in which there was a strange horror. + +"Know him? He was my best friend!" + +She shrugged her shoulders, and a slight weary smile parted her +lips. + +"Well, you never told me,--I have never heard you mention his +name. But the world is a small place!--and when I was a girl he +was beginning to be known by a good many people. Anyhow, he threw +up everything in the way of his art and work, and ran away with +me. I went quite willingly--I took a maid whom we bribed,--we +pretended we were married, and we had a charming time together--a +time of real romance, till he began to get tired and want change-- +all men are like that! Then he became a bore with a bad temper. He +certainly behaved very well when he knew the child was coming, and +offered to marry me in real earnest--but I refused." + +"You refused!" Lord Blythe echoed the words in a kind of stupefied +wonderment. + +"Of course I did. He was quite poor--and I should have been +miserable running about the world with a man who depended on art +for a living. Besides he was ceasing to be a lover--and as a +husband he would have been insupportable. We managed everything +very well--my own people were all in India--and my mother's +friend, if she guessed my affair, said nothing about it,--wisely +enough for her own sake!--so that when my time came I was able to +go away on an easy pretext and get it all over secretly. Pierce +came and stayed in a hotel close at hand--he was rather in a +fright lest I should die!--it would have been such an awkward +business for him!--however, all went well, and when I had quite +recovered he took the child away from me, and left it at an old +farmhouse he had once made a drawing of, saying he would call back +for it--as if it were a parcel!" She laughed lightly. "He wrote +and told me what he had done and gave me the address of the farm-- +then he went abroad, and I never heard of him again--" + +"He died," interposed Lord Blythe, slowly--"He died--alone and +very poor--" + +"So I was told," she rejoined, indifferently--"Oh yes! I see you +look at me as if you thought I had no heart! Perhaps I have not,-- +I used to have something like one,--your friend Armitage killed it +in me. Anyhow, I knew the child had been adopted by the farm +people as their own, and I took no further trouble. My parents +came home from India to inherit an unexpected fortune, and they +took me about with them a great deal--they were never told of my +romantic escapade!--then I met you--and you married me." + +A sigh broke from him, but he said nothing. + +"You are sorry you did, I suppose!" she went on in a quick, +reckless way--"Anyhow, I tried to do my duty. When I heard by +chance that the old farmer who had taken care of the child was +dead, I made up my mind to go and see what she was like. I found +her, and offered to adopt her--but she wouldn't hear of it--so I +let her be." + +Lord Blythe moved a little from his statuesque attitude of +attention. + +"You told her you were her mother?" + +"I did." + +"And offered to 'adopt' your own child?" She gave an airy gesture. + +"It was the only thing to do! One cannot make a social scandal." + +"And she refused?" + +"She refused." + +"I admire her for it," said Lord Blythe, calmly. + +She shot an angry glance at him. He went on in cold, deliberate +accents. + +"You were unprepared for the strange compensation you have +received?--the sudden fame of your deserted daughter?" + +Her hands clasped and unclasped themselves nervously. + +"I knew nothing of it! Armitage is not an uncommon name, and I did +not connect it with her. She has no right to wear it." + +"If her father were alive he would be proud that she wears it!-- +moreover he would give her the right to wear it, and would make it +legal," said Lord Blythe sternly--"Out of old memory I can say +that for him! You recognised each other at once, I suppose, when I +presented her to you at the Duchess's reception?" + +"Of course we did!" retorted his wife--"You yourself saw that I +was rather taken aback,--it was difficult to conceal our mutual +astonishment--" + +"It must have been!" and a thin ironic smile hovered on his lips-- +"And you carried it off well! But--the poor child!--what an ordeal +for her! You can hardly have felt it so keenly, being seasoned to +hypocrisy for so many years!" Her eyes flashed up at him +indignantly. He raised his hand with a warning gesture. + +"Permit me to speak, Maude! You can scarcely wonder that I am-- +well!--a little shaken and bewildered by the confession you have +made,--the secret you have--after years of marriage--suddenly +divulged. You suggested--at the beginning of this interview--that +perhaps there was nothing in the social life of our day that would +very much shock or surprise me--and I answered you that I was not +easily surprised--but--I was thinking of others.--it did not occur +to me that--that my own wife--" he paused, steadying his voice,-- +then continued--"that my own wife's honour was involved in the +matter--" he paused again. "Sentiment is of course out of place-- +nobody is supposed to feel anything nowadays--or to suffer--or to +break one's heart, as the phrase goes,--that would be considered +abnormal, or bad form,--but I had the idea--a foolish one, no +doubt!--that though you may not have married me for love on your +own part, you did so because you recognised the love,--the truth-- +the admiration and respect--on mine. I was at any rate happy in +believing you did!--I never dreamed you married me for the sake of +convenience!--to kill the memory of a scandal, and establish a +safe position--" + +She moved restlessly and gathered her ermine cloak about her as +though to rise and go. + +"One moment!" he went on--"After what you have told me I hope you +see clearly that it is impossible we can live together under the +same roof again. If YOU could endure it, _I_ could not!" + +She sprang up, pale and excited. + +"What? You mean to make trouble? I, who have kept my own counsel +all these years, am to be disgraced because I have at last +confided in you? You will scandalise society--you will separate +from me--" + +She stopped, half choked by a rising paroxysm of rage. + +He looked at her as he might have looked at some small angry +animal. + +"I shall make no trouble," he answered, quietly--"and I shall not +scandalise society. But I cannot live with you. I will go away at +once on some convenient excuse--abroad--anywhere--and you can say +whatever you please of my prolonged absence. If I could be of any +use or protection to the girl I saw last night--the daughter of my +friend Pierce Armitage--I would stay, but circumstances render any +such service from me impossible. Besides, she needs no one to +assist her--she has made a position for herself--a position more +enviable than yours or mine. You have that to think about by way +of--consolation?--or reproach?" + +She stood drawn up to her full height, looking at him. + +"You cannot forgive me, then?" she said. + +He shuddered. + +"Forgive you! Is there a man who could forgive twenty years of +deliberate deception from the wife he thought the soul of honour? +Maude, Maude! We live in lax times truly, when men and women laugh +at principle and good faith, and deal with each other less +honestly than the beasts of the field,--but for me there is a +limit!--a limit you have passed! I think I could pardon your wrong +to me more readily than I can pardon your callous desertion of the +child you brought into the world--your lack of womanliness-- +motherliness!--your deliberate refusal to give Pierce Armitage the +chance of righting the wrong he had committed in a headstrong, +heart-strong rush of thoughtless passion!--he WOULD have righted +it, I know, and been a loyal husband to you, and a good father to +his child. For whatever his faults were he was neither callous nor +brutal. You prevented him from doing this,--you were tired of him +--your so-called 'love' for him was a mere selfish caprice of the +moment--and you preferred deceit and a rich marriage to the simple +duty of a woman! Well!--you may find excuses for yourself,--I +cannot find them for you! I could not remain by your side as a +husband and run the risk of coming constantly in contact, as we +did last night, with that innocent girl, placed as she is, in a +situation of so much difficulty, by the sins of her parents--her +mother, my wife!--her father, my dead friend! The position is, and +would be untenable!" + +Still she stood, looking at him. + +"Have you done?" she asked. + +He met her fixed gaze, coldly. + +"I have. I have said all I wish to say. So far as I am concerned +the incident is closed. I will only bid you good-night--and +farewell!" + +"Good-night--and farewell!" she repeated, with a mocking drawl,-- +then she suddenly burst into a fit of shrill laughter. "Oh dear, +oh dear!" she cried, between little screams of hysterical mirth-- +"You are so very funny, you know! Like--what's-his-name?--Marius +in the ruins of Carthage!--or one of those antique classical bores +with their household gods broken around them! You--you ought to +have lived in their days!--you are so terribly behind the times!" +She laughed recklessly again. "We don't do the Marius and Carthage +business now--life's too full and too short! Really, Richard, I'm +afraid you're getting very old!--poor dear!--past sixty I know!-- +and you're quite prehistoric in some of your fancies!--'Good- +night!'--er--'and farewell!' Sounds so stagey, doesn't it!" She +wiped the spasmodic tears of mirth from her eyes, and still +shaking with laughter gathered up her rich ermine wrap on one +white, jewelled arm. "Womanliness--motherliness!--good Lord, +deliver us!--I never thought you likely to preach at me--if I had +I wouldn't have told you anything! I took you for a sensible man +of the world--but you are only a stupid old-fashioned thing after +all! Good-night!--and farewell!" + +She performed the taunting travesty of an elaborate Court curtsey +and passed him--a handsome, gleaming vision of satins, laces and +glittering jewels--and opening the door with some noise and +emphasis, she turned her head gracefully over her shoulder. Unkind +laughter still lit up her face and hard, brilliant eyes. + +"Good-night!--farewell!" she said again, and was gone. + +For a moment he stood inert where she left him--then sinking into +a chair he covered his face with his hands. So he remained for +some time--silently wrestling with himself and his own emotions. +He had to realise that at an age when he might naturally have +looked for a tranquil home life--a life tended and soothed into +its natural decline by the care and devotion of the wife he had +undemonstratively but most tenderly loved, he was suddenly cast +adrift like the hulk of an old battleship broken from its +moorings, with nothing but solitude and darkness closing in upon +his latter days. Then he thought of the girl,--his wife's child-- +the child too of his college chum and dearest friend,--he saw, +impressed like a picture on the cells of his brain, her fair young +face, pathetic eyes and sweet intelligence of expression,--he +remembered how modestly she wore her sudden fame, as a child might +wear a wild flower,--and, placed by her parentage in a difficulty +for which she was not responsible, she must have suffered +considerable pain and sorrow. + +"I will go and see her to-morrow," he said to himself--"It will be +better for her to know that I have heard all her sad little +history--then--if she ever wants a friend she can come to me +without fear. Ah!--if only she were MY daughter!" + +He sighed,--his handsome old head drooped,--he had longed for +children and the boon had been denied. + +"If she were my daughter," he repeated, slowly--"I should be a +proud man instead of a sorrowful one!" + +He turned off the lights in the library and went upstairs to his +bedroom. Outside his wife's door he paused a moment, thinking he +heard a sound,--but all was silent. Imagining that he probably +would not sleep he placed a book near his bedside--but nature was +kind to his age and temperament, and after about an hour of +wakefulness and sad perplexity, all ruffling care was gradually +smoothed away from his mind, and he fell into a deep and dreamless +slumber. + +Meanwhile Lady Blythe had been disrobed by a drowsy maid whom she +sharply reproached for being sleepy when she ought to have been +wide awake, though it was long past midnight,--and dismissing the +girl at last, she sat alone before her mirror, thinking with some +pettishness of the interview she had just had with her husband. + +"Old fool!" she soliloquised--"He ought to know better than to +play the tragic-sentimental with me at his time of life! I thought +he would accept the situation reasonably and help me to tackle it. +Of course it will be simply abominable if I am to meet that girl +at every big society function--I don't know what I shall do about +it! Why didn't she stay in her old farm-house!--who could ever +have imagined her becoming famous! I shall go abroad, I think-- +that will be the best thing to do. If Blythe leaves me as he +threatens, I shall certainly not stay here by myself to face the +music! Besides, who knows?--the girl herself may 'round' on me +when her head gets a little more swelled with success. Such a +horrid bore!--I wish I had never seen Pierce Armitage!" + +Even as she thought of him the vision came back to her of the +handsome face and passionate eyes of her former lover,--again she +saw the romantic little village by the sea where they had dwelt +together as in another Eden,--she remembered how he would hurry up +from the shore bringing with him the sketch he had been working +at, eager for her eyes to look at it, thrilling at her praise, and +pouring out upon her such tender words and caresses such as she +had never known since those wild and ardent days! A slight shiver +ran through her--something like a pang of remorse stung her +hardened spirit. + +"And the child," she murmured--"The child--it clung to me and I +kissed it!--it was a dear little thing!" + +She glanced about her nervously--the room seemed full of wandering +shadows. + +"I must sleep!" she thought--"I am worried and out of sorts--I +must sleep and forget--" + +She took out of a drawer in her dressing-table a case of medicinal +cachets marked "Veronal." + +"One or two more or less will not hurt me," she said, with a pale, +forced smile at herself in the mirror--"I am accustomed to it--and +I must have a good long sleep!" + + ******** + + ****** + + **** + +She had her way. Morning came,--and she was still sleeping. Noon-- +and nothing could waken her. Doctors, hastily summoned, did their +best to rouse her to that life which with all its pains and +possibilities still throbbed in the world around her--but their +efforts were vain. + +"Suicide?" whispered one. + +"Oh no! Mere accident!--an overdose of veronal--some carelessness +--quite a common occurrence. Nothing to be done!" + +No!--nothing to be done! Her slumber had deepened into that +strange stillness which we call death,--and her husband, a +statuesque and rigid figure, gazed on her quiet body with tearless +eyes. + +"Good-night!" he whispered to the heavy silence--"Good-night! +Farewell!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +One of the advantages or disadvantages of the way in which we live +in these modern days is that we are ceasing to feel. That is to +say we do not permit ourselves to be affected by either death or +misfortune, provided these natural calamities leave our own +persons unscathed. We are beginning not to understand emotion +except as a phase of bad manners, and we cultivate an apathetic, +soulless indifference to events of great moment whether triumphant +or tragic, whenever they do not involve our own well-being and +creature comforts. Whole boatloads of fishermen may go forth to +their doom in the teeth of a gale without moving us to pity so +long as we have our well-fried sole or grilled cod for breakfast, +--and even such appalling disasters as the wicked assassination of +hapless monarchs, or the wrecks of palatial ocean-liners with more +than a thousand human beings all whelmed at once in the pitiless +depths of the sea, leave us cold, save for the uplifting of our +eyes and shoulders during an hour or so,--an expression of slight +shock, followed by forgetfulness. Air-men, recklessly braving the +spaces of the sky, fall headlong, and are smashed to mutilated +atoms every month or so, without rousing us to more than a passing +comment, and a chorus of "How dreadful!" from simpering women,-- +and the greatest and best man alive cannot hope for long +remembrance by the world at large when he dies. Shakespeare +recognised this tendency in callous human nature when he made his +Hamlet say-- + +"O heavens! Die two months ago and not forgotten yet? Then there's +hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year, but by +'r lady, he must build churches then, or else shall he suffer not +thinking on." + +Wives recover the loss of their husbands with amazing rapidity,-- +husbands "get over" the demise of their wives with the galloping +ease of trained hunters leaping an accustomed fence--families +forget their dead as resolutely as some debtors forget their +bills,--and to express sorrow, pity, tenderness, affection, or any +sort of "sentiment" whatever is to expose one's self to derision +and contempt from the "normal" modernist who cultivates cynicism +as a fine art. Many of us elect to live, each one, in a little +back-yard garden of selfish interests--walled round carefully, and +guarded against possible intrusion by uplifted spikes of +conventionalism,--the door is kept jealously closed--and only now +and then does some impulsive spirit bolder than the rest, venture +to put up a ladder and peep over the wall. Shut in with various +favourite forms of hypocrisy and cowardice, each little unit +passes its short life in mistrusting its neighbour unit, and death +finds none of them wiser, better or nearer the utmost good than +when they were first uselessly born. + +Among such vain and unprofitable atoms of life Lady Maude Blythe +had been one of the vainest and most unprofitable,--though of such +"social" importance as to be held in respectful awe by tuft- +hunters and parasites, who feed on the rich as the green-fly feeds +on the rose. The news of her sudden death briefly chronicled by +the fashionable intelligence columns of the press with the usual-- +"We deeply regret"--created no very sorrowful sensation--a few +vapid people idly remarked to one another--"Then her great ball +won't come off!"--somewhat as if she had retired into the grave to +avoid the trouble and expense of the function. Cards inscribed-- +"Sympathy and kind enquiries"--were left for Lord Blythe in the +care of his dignified butler, who received them with the +impassiveness of a Buddhist idol and deposited them all on the +orthodox salver in the hall--and a few messages of "Deeply shocked +and grieved. Condolences"--by wires, not exceeding sixpence each, +were despatched to the lonely widower,--but beyond these purely +formal observances, the handsome brilliant society woman dropped +out of thought and remembrance as swiftly as a dead leaf drops +from a tree. She had never been loved, save by her two deluded +dupes--Pierce Armitage and her husband,--no one in the whole wide +range of her social acquaintance would have ever thought of +feeling the slightest affection for her. The first announcement of +her death appeared in an evening paper, stating the cause to be an +accidental overdose of veronal taken to procure sleep, and Miss +Leigh, seeing the paragraph by merest chance, gave a shocked +exclamation-- + +"Innocent! My dear!--how dreadful! That poor Lady Blythe we saw +the other night is dead!" + +The girl was standing by the tea-table just pouring out a cup of +tea for Miss Leigh--she started so nervously that the cup almost +fell from her hand. + +"Dead!" she repeated, in a low, stifled voice. "Lady Blythe? +Dead?" + +"Yes!--it is awful! That horrid veronal! Such a dangerous drug! It +appears she was accustomed to take it for sleep--and unfortunately +she took an over-dose. How terrible for Lord Blythe!" + +Innocent sat down, trembling. Her gaze involuntarily wandered to +the portrait of Pierce Armitage--the lover of the dead woman, and +her father! The handsome face with its dreamy yet proud eyes +appeared conscious of her intense regard--she looked and looked, +and longed to speak--to tell Miss Leigh all--but something held +her silent. She had her own secret now--and it restrained her from +disclosing the secrets of others. Nor could she realise that it +was her mother--actually her own mother--who had been taken so +suddenly and tragically from the world. The news barely affected +her--nor was this surprising, seeing that she had never entirely +grasped the fact of her mother's personality or existence at all. +She had felt no emotion concerning her, save of repulsion and +dislike. Her unexpected figure had appeared on the scene like a +strange vision, and now had vanished from it as strangely. +Innocent was in very truth "motherless"--but so she had always +been--for a mother who deserts her child is worse than a mother +dead. Yet it was some few minutes before she could control herself +sufficiently to speak or look calmly--and her eyes were downcast +as Miss Leigh came up to the tea-table, newspaper in hand, to +discuss the tragic incident. + +"She was a very brilliant woman in society," said the gentle old +lady, then--"You did not know her, of course, and you could not +judge of her by seeing her just one evening. But I remember the +time when she was much talked of as 'the beautiful Maude Osborne' +--she was a very lively, wilful girl, and she had been rather +neglected by her parents, who left her in England in charge of +some friends while they were in India. I think she ran rather wild +at that time. There was some talk of her having gone off secretly +somewhere with a lover--but I never believed the story. It was a +silly scandal--and of course it stopped directly she married Lord +Blythe. He gave her a splendid position,--and he was devoted to +her--poor man!" + +"Yes?" murmured Innocent, mechanically. She did not know what to +say. + +"If she had been blessed with children--or even one child," went +on Miss Leigh--"I think it would have been better for her. I am +sure she would have been happier! He would, I feel certain!" + +"No doubt!" the girl answered in the same quiet tone. + +"My dear, you look very pale!" said Miss Leigh, with some anxiety +--"Have you been working too hard?" + +She smiled. + +"That would be impossible!" she answered. "I could not work too +hard--it is such happiness to work--one forgets!--yes--one forgets +all that one does not wish to remember!" + +The anxious expression still remained on Miss Lavinia's face,-- +but, true to the instincts of an old-fashioned gentlewoman, she +did not press enquiries where she saw they might be embarrassing +or unwelcome. And though she now loved Innocent as much as if she +had been her own child, she never failed to remember that after +all, the girl had earned her own almost wealthy independence, and +was free to do as she liked without anybody's control or +interference, and that though she was so young she was bound to be +in all respects untrammelled in her life and actions. She went +where she pleased--she had her own little hired motor-brougham-- +she also had many friends who invited her out without including +Miss Leigh in the invitations, and she was still the "paying +guest" at the little Kensington house,--a guest who was never +tired of doing kindly and helpful deeds for the benefit of the +sweet old woman who was her hostess. Once or twice Miss Leigh had +made a faint half-hearted protest against her constant and lavish +generosity. + +"My dear," she had said--"With all the money you earn now you +could live in a much larger house--you could indeed have a house +of your own, with many more luxuries--why do you stay here, +showering advantages on me, who am nothing but a prosy old body?-- +you could do much better!" + +"Could I really?" And Innocent had laughed and kissed her. "Well! +--I don't want to do any better--I'm quite happy as I am. One thing +is--(and you seem to forget it!)--that I'm very fond of you!--and +when I'm very fond of a person it's difficult to shake me off!" + +So she stayed on--and lived her life with a nun-like simplicity +and economy--spending her money on others rather than herself, and +helping those in need,--and never even in her dress, which was +always exquisite, running into vagaries of extravagance and +follies of fashion. She had discovered a little French dressmaker, +whose husband had deserted her, leaving her with two small +children to feed and educate, and to this humble, un-famous plier +of the needle she entrusted her wardrobe with entirely successful +results. Worth, Paquin, Doucet and other loudly advertised +personages were all quoted as "creators" of her gowns, whereat she +was amused. + +"A little personal taste and thought go so much further in dress +than money," she was wont to say to some of her rather envious +women friends. "I would rather copy the clothes in an old picture +than the clothes in a fashion book." + +Odd fancies about her dead mother came to her when she was alone +in her own room--particularly at night when she said her prayers. +Some mysterious force seemed compelling her to offer up a petition +for the peace of her mother's soul,--she knew from the old books +written by the "Sieur Amadis" that to do this was a custom of his +creed. She missed it out of the Church of England Prayer-book, +though she dutifully followed the tenets of the faith in which +Miss Leigh had had her baptised and confirmed--but in her heart of +hearts she thought it good and right to pray for the peace of +departed souls-- + +"For who can tell"--she would say to herself--"what strange +confusion and sorrow they may be suffering!--away from all that +they once knew and cared for! Even if prayers cannot help them it +is kind to pray!" + +And for her mother's soul she felt a dim and far-off sense of +pity--almost a fear, lest that unsatisfied spirit might be lost +and wandering in a chaos of dark experience without any clue to +guide or any light to shine upon its dreadful solitude. So may the +dead come nearer to the living than when they also lived! + +Some three or four weeks after Lady Blythe's sudden exit from a +world too callous to care whether she stayed in it or went from +it, Lord Blythe called at Miss Leigh's house and asked to see her. +He was admitted at once, and the pretty old lady came down in a +great flutter to the drawing-room to receive him. She found him +standing in front of the harpsichord, looking at the portrait upon +it. He turned quickly round as she entered and spoke with some +abruptness. + +"I must apologise for calling rather late in the afternoon," he +said--"But I could not wait another day. I have something +important to tell you--" He paused--then went on--"It's rather +startling to me to find that portrait here!--I knew the man. +Surely it is Pierce Armitage, the painter?" + +"Yes"--and Miss Leigh's eyes opened in a little surprise and +bewilderment--"He was a great friend of mine--and of yours?" "He +was my college chum"--and he walked closer to the picture and +looked at it steadfastly--"That must have been taken when he was +quite a young man--before--" He paused again,--then said with a +forced smile--"Talking of Armitage--is Miss Armitage in?" + +"No, she is not"--and the old lady looked regretful--"She has gone +out to tea--I'm sorry--" + +"It's just as well"--and Lord Blythe took one or two restless +paces up and down the little room--"I would rather talk to you +alone first. Yes!--that portrait of Pierce must have been taken in +early days--just about the time he ran away with Maude Osborne--" + +Miss Leigh gazed at him enquiringly. + +"With Maude Osborne?" + +"Yes--with Maude Osborne, who afterwards became my wife." + +Miss Leigh trembled and drew back, looking about her in a dazed +way as though seeking for some place to hide in. Lord Blythe saw +her agitation. + +"I'm afraid I'm worrying you!" he said, kindly. "Sit down, +please,"--and he placed a chair for her. "We are both elderly folk +and shocks are not good for us. There!"--and he took her hand and +patted it gently--"As I was saying, that portrait must have been +taken about then--did he give it to you?" + +"Yes," she answered, faintly--"He did. We were engaged--" + +"Engaged! Good God! You?--to Pierce?--My dear lady, forgive me!-- +I'm very sorry!--I had no idea--" + +But Miss Leigh composed herself very quickly. + +"Please do not mind me!" she said--"It all happened so very long +ago! Yes--Pierce Armitage and I were engaged--but he suddenly went +away--and I was told he had gone with some very beautiful girl he +had fallen head over ears in love with--and I never saw him again. +But I never reproached him--I--I loved him too well!" + +Silently Lord Blythe took the worn little hand and raised it to +his lips. + +"Pierce was more cruel than I thought was possible to him"--he +said, at last, very gently--"But--you have the best of him with +you in--his daughter!" + +"His daughter!" + +She sprang up, white and scared. + +He gripped her arm and held it fast to support her. + +"Yes," he said--"His daughter! That is what I have come to tell +you! The girl who lives with you--the famous author whose name is +just now ringing through the world is his child!--and her mother +was my wife!" + +There was a little stifled cry--she dropped back in her chair and +covered her face with her hands to hide the tears that rushed to +her eyes. + +"Innocent!" she murmured, sobbingly--"His child!--Innocent!" + +He was silent, watching her, his own heart deeply moved. He +thought of her life of unbroken fidelity--wasted in its youth-- +solitary in its age--all for the sake of one man. Presently, +mastering her quiet weeping, she looked up. + +"Does she--the dear girl!--does she know this?" she asked, in a +half whisper. + +"She has known it all the time," he answered--"She knew who her +mother was before she came to London--but she kept her own +counsel--I think to save the honour of all concerned. And she has +made her name famous to escape the reproach of birth which others +fastened upon her. A brave child!--it must have been strange to +her to find her father's portrait here--did you ever speak of him +to her?" + +"Often!" replied Miss Leigh. "She knows all my story!" + +He smiled, very kindly + +"No wonder she was silent!" he said. + +Just then they heard the sound of a latch-key turning in the lock +of the hall door--there was a light step in the passage--they +looked at one another half in wonder, half in doubt. A moment more +and Innocent entered, radiant and smiling. She stopped on the +threshold, amazed at the sight of Lord Blythe. + +"Why, godmother"--she began. Then, glancing from one to the other, +her cheeks grew pale--she hesitated, instinctively guessing at the +truth. Lord Blythe advanced and took her gently by both hands. + +"Dear child, your secret is ours!" he said, quietly. "Miss Leigh +knows, and _I_ know that you are the daughter of Pierce Armitage, +and that your mother was my late wife. No one can be dearer to us +both than you are--for your father's sake!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Startled and completely taken aback, she let her hands remain +passively in his for a moment,--then quietly withdrew them. A hot +colour rushed swiftly into her cheeks and as swiftly receded, +leaving her very pale. + +"How can you know?" she faltered--"Who has told you?" + +"Your mother herself told me on the night she died," he answered-- +"She gave me all the truth of herself,--at last--after long +years!" + +She was silent--standing inert as though she had received a +numbing blow. Miss Leigh rose and came tremblingly towards her. + +"My dear, my dear!" she exclaimed--"I wish I had known it all +before!--I might have done more--I might have tried to be kinder--" + +The girl sprang to her side and impulsively embraced her. + +"You would have tried in vain!" she said, fondly, "No one on earth +could have been kinder than my beloved little godmother! You have +been the dearest and best of friends!" + +Then she turned towards Lord Blythe. + +"It is very good of you to come here and say what you have said"-- +and she spoke in soft, almost pathetic accents--"But I am sorry +that anyone knows my story--it is no use to know it, really! I +should have always kept it a secret--for it chiefly concerns me, +after all,--and why should my existence cast a shadow on the +memory of my father? Perhaps you may have known him--" + +"I knew him and loved him!" said Lord Blythe, quickly. + +She looked at him with wistful, tear-wet eyes. + +"Well then, how hard it must be for you to think that he ever did +anything unworthy of himself!" she said--"And for this dear lady +it is cruel!--for she loved him too. And what am I that I should +cause all this trouble! I am a nameless creature--I took his name +because I wanted to kindle a little light of my own round it--I +have done that! And then I wanted to guard his memory from any +whisper of scandal--will you help me in this? The secret must +still be kept--and no one must ever know I am his daughter. For +though your wife is dead her name must not be shamed for the long +ago sin of her youth--nor must I be branded as what I am--base- +born." + +Profoundly touched by the simple straightforward eloquence of her +appeal, Lord Blythe went up to her where she stood with one arm +round Miss Leigh. + +"My dear child," he said, earnestly--"believe me, I shall never +speak of your parentage or give the slightest hint to anyone of +the true facts of your history--still less would I allow you to be +lightly esteemed for what is no fault of your own. You have made a +brilliant name and fame for yourself--you have the right to that +name and fame. I came here to-day for two reasons--one to tell you +that I was fully acquainted with all you had endured and suffered +--the other to ask if you will let me be your guardian--your other +father--and give me some right to shelter you from the rough ways +of the world. I may perhaps in this way make some amends to you +for the loss of mother-love and father-love--I would do my best--" + +He stopped--a little troubled by unusual emotion. Innocent, +drawing her embracing arm away from Miss Leigh, looked at him with +wondering, grateful eyes. + +"How good you are!" she said, softly--"You would take care of me-- +you with your proud name and place!--and I--the poor, +unfortunately born child of your dead friend! Ah, you kind, gentle +heart!--I thank you!--but no!--I must not accept such a sacrifice +on your part--" + +"It would be no sacrifice"--he interrupted her, eagerly--"No, +child!--it would be pure selfishness!--for I'm getting old and am +lonely--and--and I want someone to look after me!" He laughed a +little awkwardly. "Why not come to me and be my daughter?" + +She smiled--caught his hand and kissed it. + +"I will be a daughter to you in affection and respect," she said-- +"But I will not take any benefits from you--no, none! Oh, I know +well all you could and would do for me!--you would place me in the +highest ranks of that society where you are a leader, and you +would surround me with so many advantages and powerful friends +that I should forget my duty, which is to work for myself, and owe +nothing to any man! Dear, kind Lord Blythe!--do not think me +ungrateful! But I have made my own little place in the world, and +I must keep it--independently! Am I not right, my godmother?" + +Miss Leigh looked at her anxiously, and sighed. + +"My dear, you must think well about it," she said--"Lord Blythe +would care for you as his own child, I am sure--and his home would +be a safe and splendid one for you--but there!--do not ask ME!" +and the old lady wiped away one or two trickling tears from her +eyes--"I am selfish!--and now I know you are Pierce's daughter I +want to keep you for myself!--to have you near me!--to look at you +and love you!--" + +Her voice broke--her gaze instinctively wandered to the portrait +of the man whose memory she had cherished so long and so fondly. + +"What did you think--what must you have thought the first day you +came here when I asked you if you were any relation to Pierce +Armitage, and told you that was his portrait!" she said, +wistfully. + +"I thought that God had guided me to you," the girl answered, in +soft, grave accents--"And that my father's spirit had not forsaken +me!" + +There was a moment's silence. Then she spoke more lightly-- + +"Dear Lord Blythe," she said--"Now that you know so much may I +tell you my own story? It will not take long! Come and sit here-- +yes!"--and she placed a comfortable arm-chair for him, while she +drew Miss Leigh gently down on the sofa and sat next to her--"It +is nothing of a story!--my little life is not at all like the +lives lived by all the girls of my age that I have ever met or +seen--it's all in the past, as it were,--the old, very old past!-- +as far back as the days of Elizabeth!" + +She laughed, but there were tears in her eyes--she brushed them +away and holding Miss Leigh's hand in her own, she told with +simple truth and directness the narrative of her childhood's days +--her life on Briar Farm--how she had been trained by Priscilla to +bake, and brew, and wash and sew,--and how she had found her chief +joy and relaxation from household duties in the reading of the old +books she had found stowed away in the dower-chests belonging to +the "Sieur Amadis de Jocelin." + +As she pronounced the name with an unconsciously tender +accentuation Lord Blythe interrupted her. + +"Why, that's a curious thing! I know a rather clever painter named +Amadis de Jocelyn--and surely you were dancing with him on the +evening I first met you?" + +A wave of rosy colour swept over her cheeks. + +"Yes!--that is what I was just going to tell you!" she said. "He +is another Amadis de Jocelyn!--and he is actually connected with a +branch of the same family! HIS ancestor was the brother of that +very Amadis who lies buried at Briar Farm! Is it not strange that +I should have met him!--and he is going to paint my portrait!" + +"Is he indeed!" and Lord Blythe did not look impressed--"I thought +he was a landscape man." + +"So he is," she explained, with eagerness--"But he can do +portraits--and he wishes to make a picture of me, because I have +been a student of the books written by one of his ancient line. +Those books taught me all I know of literature. You see, it is +curious, isn't it?" + +"It is," he agreed, rather hesitatingly--"But I've never quite +liked Jocelyn--he's clever--yet he has always struck me as being +intensely selfish,--a callous sort of man--many artists are." + +Her eyes drooped, and her breath came and went quickly. + +"I suppose all clever men get self-absorbed sometimes!" she said, +with a quaint little air of wisdom--"But I don't think he is +really callous--" She broke off, and laughed brightly--"Anyhow we +needn't discuss him--need we? I just wanted to tell you what an +odd experience it has been for me to meet and to know someone +descended from the family of the old French knight whose spirit +was my instructor in beautiful things! The little books of his own +poems were full of loveliness--and I used to read them over and +over again. They were all about love and faith and honour--" + +"Very old-fashioned subjects!" said Lord Blythe, with a slight +smile--"And not very much in favour nowadays!" + +Miss Leigh looked at him questioningly. + +"You think not?" she said. + +He gave a quick sigh. + +"It is difficult to know what to think," he answered--"But I have +lived a long life--long enough to have seen the dispersal of many +illusions! I fear selfishness is the keynote of the greater part +of humanity. Those who do the kindest deeds are invariably the +worst rewarded--and love in its highest form is so little known +that it may be almost termed non-existent. You"--and he looked at +Innocent--"you write in a very powerful and convincing way about +things of which you can have had no real experience--and therein +lies your charm! You restore the lost youth of manhood by +idealisation, and you compel your readers to 'idealise' with you-- +but 'to idealise' is rather a dangerous verb!--and its conjugation +generally means trouble and disaster. Ideals--unless they are of +the spiritual kind unattainable on this planet--are apt to be very +disappointing." + +Innocent smiled. + +"But love is an ideal which cannot disappoint, because it is +everlasting!" she said, almost joyously. "The story of the old +French knight is, in its way, a proof of that. He loved his ideal +all his life, even though he could not win her." + +"Very wonderful if true!" he answered--"But I cannot quite believe +it! I am too familiar with the ways of my own sex! Anyhow, dear +child, I should advise you not to make too many ideals apart from +the characters in the books you write. Fortunately your special +talent brings you an occupation which will save you from that kind +of thing. You have ambition as an incentive, and fame for a goal." + +She was silent for a moment. In relating the story of her life at +Briar Farm she had not spoken of Robin Clifford,--some instinct +told her that the sympathies of her hearers might be enlisted in +his favour, and she did not want this. + +"Well, now you know what my 'literary education' has been," she +went on--"Since I came to London I have tried to improve myself as +much as I can--and I have read a great many modern books--but to +me they seem to lack the real feeling of the old-time literature. +For instance, if you read the account of the battle of the Armada +by a modern historian it sounds tame and cold,--but if you read +the same account in Camden's 'Elizabeth'--the whole scene rises +before you,--you can almost see every ship riding the waves!" + +Her cheeks glowed and her eyes shone,--Lord Blythe smiled +approvingly. + +"I see you are an enthusiast!" he said--"And you could not have +better teachers than the Elizabethans. They lived in a great age +and they were great men. Our times, though crowded with the +splendid discoveries of science, seem small and poor compared to +theirs. If you ever come to me, I can give you the run of a +library where you will find many friends." + +She thanked him by a look, and he went on-- + +"You will come and see me often, will you not?--you and Miss +Leigh--by-and-by, when the conventional time of mourning for my +poor wife is over. Make my house your second home, both of you!-- +and when I return from Italy--" + +"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, impulsively--"Are you going to Italy?" + +"For a few weeks--yes!--will you come with me--you and your +godmother?" + +His old heart beat,--a sudden joy lighted his eyes. It would have +been like the dawn of a new day to him had she consented, but she +shook her fair little head decisively. + +"I must not!" she said-"-I am bound to finish some work that I +have promised. But some day--ah, yes!--some day I should love to +see Italy!" + +The light went slowly from his face. + +"Some day!--well!--I hope I may live to be with you on that 'some +day.' I ought not to leave London just now--but the house is very +lonely--and I think I am best away for a time--" + +"Much best!" said Miss Leigh, sympathetically--"And if there is +anything we can do--" + +"Yes--there is one thing that will please me very much," said Lord +Blythe, drawing from his pocket a small velvet case--"I want my +friend Pierce's daughter to wear this--it was my first gift to her +mother." Here he opened the case and showed an exquisite pendant, +in the shape of a dove, finely wrought in superb brilliants, and +supported on a thin gold chain. "I gave it as an emblem of +innocence"--a quick sigh escaped him--"I little knew!--but you, +dear girl, are the one to wear it now! Let me fasten it round your +neck." + +She stooped forward, and he took a lingering pleasure in putting +the chain on and watching the diamonds flash against her fair +skin. She was too much moved to express any worded thanks--it was +not the value or the beauty of the gift that touched her, but its +association and the way it was given. And then, after a little +more desultory conversation, he rose to go. + +"Remember!" he said, taking her tenderly by both hands--"Whenever +you want a home and a father, both are ready and waiting for you!" +And he kissed her lightly on the forehead. "You are famous and +independent, but the world is not always kind to a clever woman +even when she is visibly known to be earning her own living. There +are always spiteful tongues wagging in the secret corners and +byways, ready to assert that her work is not her own and that some +man is in the background, helping to keep her!" + +He then shook hands warmly with Miss Leigh. + +"If she ever comes to me"--he went on--"you are free to come with +her--and be assured of my utmost friendship and respect. I shall +feel I am in some way doing what I know my old friend Pierce +Armitage would, in his best moments, approve, if I can be of the +least service to you. You will not forget?" + +Miss Leigh was too overcome by the quiet sweetness and dignity of +his manner to murmur more than a few scarcely audible words of +gratitude in reply--and when at last he took his leave, she +relieved her heart by throwing her arms round Innocent and having +what she called "a good cry." + +"And you Pierce's child!" she half laughed, half sobbed--"Oh, how +could he leave you at that farm!--poor little thing!--and yet it +might have been much worse--" + +"Indeed I should think so!" and Innocent soothed her fondly with +the tenderest caresses--"Very much worse! Why, if I had not been +left at Briar Farm, I should never have known Dad!--and he was one +of the best of men--and I should never have learned how to think, +and write my thoughts, from the teaching of the Sieur Amadis de +Jocelin!" + +There was a little thrill of triumph in her voice--and Miss Leigh, +wiping away her tears, looked at her timidly and curiously. + +"How you dwell on the memory of that French knight!" she said. +"When are you going to have your portrait painted by the modern +Amadis?" + +Innocent smiled. + +"Very soon!" she answered--"We are to begin our sittings next +week. I am to wear a white frock--and I told him about my dove +Cupid, and how it used to fly from the gables of the house to my +hand--and he is going to paint the bird as well as me!" + +She laughed with the joy of a child. + +"Fancy! Cupid will be there!" + +"Cupid?" echoed Miss Leigh, wonderingly. + +"Yes--Cupid!--usually known as the little god of love,--but only a +dove this time!--so much more harmless than the god!" + +Miss Leigh touched the diamond pendant at the girl's neck. + +"You have a dove there now," she said--"All in jewels! And in your +heart, dear child, I pray there is a spiritual dove of holy purity +to guard you from all evil and keep your sweet soul safe and +clean!" + +A startled look came into the girl's soft grey-blue eyes,--a deep +flush of rose flew over her cheeks and brow. + +"A blessing or a warning, godmother mine?" she said. + +Miss Leigh drew her close in her arms and kissed her. + +"Both!" she answered, simply. + +There was a moment's silence. + +Then Innocent, her face still warm with colour, walked close up to +the harpsichord where her father's picture stood. + +"Let us talk of HIM!" she said--"Now that you know I am his +daughter, tell me all you remember of him!--how he spoke, how he +looked!--what sort of pictures he painted--and what he used to say +to you! He loved you once, and I love you now!--so you must tell +me everything!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Fame, or notoriety, whichever that special noise may be called +when the world like a hound "gives tongue" and announces that the +quarry in some form of genius is at bay, is apt to increase its +clamour in proportion to the aloofness of the pursued animal,--and +Innocent, who saw nothing remarkable in remaining somewhat +secluded and apart from the ordinary routine of social life so +feverishly followed by more than half her sex, was very soon +classified as "proud"--"eccentric"--"difficult" and "vain," by +idle and ignorant persons who knew nothing about her, and only +judged her by their own limited conceptions of what a successful +author might or could possibly be like. Some of these, more +foolish than the rest, expressed themselves as afraid or unwilling +to meet her--"lest she should put them into her books"--this being +a common form of conceit with many individuals too utterly dull +and uninteresting to "make copy" for so much as the humblest +paragraphist. It was quite true that she showed herself sadly +deficient in the appreciation of society functions and society +people,--to her they seemed stupid and boresome, involving much +waste of precious time,--but notwithstanding this, she was invited +everywhere, and the accumulation of "R.S.V.P." cards on her table +and desk made such a formidable heap that it was quite a business +to clear them, as she did once a week, with the assistance of the +useful waste-paper basket. As a writer her popularity was +unquestionable, and so great and insistent was the public demand +for anything from her pen that she could command her own terms +from any publishing quarter. Her good fortune made very little +effect upon her,--sometimes it seemed as if she hardly realised or +cared to realise it. She had odd, almost child-like ways of +spending some of her money in dainty "surprise" gifts to her +friends--that is to say, such friends as had shown her kindness,-- +beautiful flowers and fruit for invalids--choice wines for those +who needed yet could not afford them,--a new drawing-room carpet +for Miss Leigh, which was, in the old lady's opinion, a most +important and amazing affair!--costly furs, also for Miss Leigh,-- +and devices and adornments of all sorts for the pleasure, beauty +or comfort of the house--but on herself personally she spent +nothing save what was necessary for such dress and appearance as +best accorded with her now acknowledged position. Dearly as she +would have loved to shower gifts and benefits on the inhabitants +of never-forgotten Briar Farm, she knew that if she did anything +of the kind poor lonely old Priscilla Friday and patiently +enduring Robin Clifford were more likely to be hurt than +gratified. For a silence had fallen between that past life, which +had been like a wild rose blossoming in a country lane, and the +present one, which resembled a wonderful orchid flower, flaming in +heat under glass,--and though she wrote to Robin now and again, +and he replied, his letters were restrained and formal--almost +cold. He knew too well how far she was removed from him by more +than distance, and bravely contented himself with merely giving +her such news of the farm and her former home surroundings as +might awaken her momentary interest without recalling too many old +memories to her mind. + +She seemed, and to a very great extent she was, unconscious of the +interest and curiosity both her work and her personality excited-- +the more so now as the glamour and delight of her creative +imagination had been obscured by what she considered a far greater +and more lasting glory--that of love!--the golden mirage of a +fancied sun, which for a time had quenched the steadier shining of +eternal stars. Since that ever memorable night when he had +suddenly stormed the fortress of her soul, and by the mastery of a +lover's kiss had taken full possession, Amadis de Jocelyn had +pursued his "amour" with admirable tact, cleverness and secrecy. +He found a new and stimulating charm in making love to a tender- +hearted, credulous little creature who seemed truly "of such stuff +as dreams are made of"--and to a man of his particular type and +temperament there was an irresistible provocation to his vanity in +the possibility of being able to lure her gradually and +insidiously down from the high ground of intellectual ambition and +power to the low level of that pitiful sex-submission which is +responsible for so much more misery than happiness in this world. +Little by little, under his apparently brusque and playful, but +really studied training, she began to think less and less of her +work,--the books she had loved to read and refer to, insensibly +lost their charm,--she went reluctantly to her desk, and as +reluctantly took up her pen,--what she had written already, +appeared to her utterly worthless,--and what she attempted to +write now was to her mind poor and unsatisfying. She was not moved +by the knowledge, constantly pressed upon her, that she was +steadily rising, despite herself, to the zenith of her career in +such an incredibly swift and brilliant way as to be the envy of +all her contemporaries,--she was hardly as grateful for her +honours as weary of them and a little contemptuous. What did it +all matter to her when half of her once busy working mornings were +now often passed in the studio of Amadis de Jocelyn! He was +painting a full-length portrait of her--a mere excuse to give her +facilities for visiting him, and ensure his own privacy and +convenience in receiving her--and every day she went to him, +sometimes late in the afternoons as well as the mornings, slipping +in and out familiarly and quite unnoticed, for he had given her a +key to the private door of his studio, which was reached through a +small, deeply shaded garden, abutting on an old-fashioned street +near Holland Park. She could enter at any time, and thought it was +the customary privilege accorded by an artist to his sitter, while +it saved the time and trouble of the rheumatic "odd man" or +servant whose failing limbs were slow to respond to a summons at +the orthodox front entrance. She would come in, dressed in her +simple navy blue serge walking costume, and then in a little room +just off the studio would change and put on the white dress which +her lover had chosen as the most suitable for his purpose, and +which he called the "portrait gown." It was simple, and severely +Greek, made of the softest and filmiest material which fell +gracefully away in enchanting folds from her childishly rounded +neck and arms,--it gave her the appearance of a Psyche or an +Ariadne,--and at the first sitting, when he had posed her in +several attitudes before attempting to draw a line, she had so +much sweet attractiveness about her that he was hardly to be +blamed for throwing aside all work and devoting himself to such +ardent delight in woman's fairness as may sometimes fall to the +lot of man. While moving from one position to another as he +suggested or commanded, she had playfully broken off one flower +from a large plant of "marguerite" daisies growing in a quaint +Japanese pot, close at hand, and had begun pulling off the petals +according to the old fanciful charm--"Il m'aime!--un peu!-- +beaucoup!--passionement!--pas du tout!" He stopped her at the word +"passionement," and caught her in his arms. + +"Not another petal must be plucked!" he whispered, kissing her +soft warm neck--"I will not have you say 'Pas du tout!'" + +She laughed delightedly, nestling against him. + +"Very well!" she said--"But suppose--" + +"Suppose what?" + +"Suppose it ever came to that?"--and she sighed as she spoke-- +"Then the last petal must fall!" + +"Do you think it ever will or can come to that?" he asked, +pressing a kiss on the sweet upturned lips--"Does it seem like +it?" + +She was too happy to answer him, and he was too amorous just then +to think of anything but her soft eyes, dewy with tenderness--her +white, ivory-smooth skin--her small caressing hands, and the fine +bright tendrils of her waving hair--all these were his to play +with as a child plays with beautiful toys unconscious of or +indifferent to their value. + +Many such passages of love occupied their time--though he managed +to make a good show of progressive work after the first rough +outline drawing of the picture was completed. He was undeniably a +genius in his way, uncertain and erratic of impulse, but his art +was strong because its effects were broad and simple. He had begun +Innocent's portrait out of the mere desire to have her with him +constantly,--but as day after day went on and the subject +developed under his skilled hand and brush he realised that it +would probably be "the" picture of the Salon in the following +year. As this conviction dawned upon him, he took greater pains, +and worked more carefully and conscientiously with the happiest +results, feeling a thrill of true artistic satisfaction as the +picture began to live and smile in response to his masterly touch +and treatment. Its composition was simple--he had drawn the girl +as though she were slowly advancing towards the spectator, giving +her figure all the aerial grace habitual to it by nature,--one +little daintily shaped hand held a dove lightly against her +breast, as though the bird had just flown there for protection +from its own alarm,--her face was slightly uplifted,--the lips +smiled, and the eyes looked straight out at the world with a +beautiful, clear candour which was all their own. Yet despite the +charm and sweetness of the likeness there was a strange pathos +about it,--a sadness which Jocelyn had never set there by his own +will or intention. + +"You are a puzzling subject," he said to her one day--"I wanted to +give you a happy expression--and yet your portrait is actually +growing sad!--almost reproachful! ... do you look at me like +that?" + +She opened her pretty eyes wonderingly. + +"Amadis! Surely not! I could not look sad when I am with you!-- +that is impossible!" + +He paused, palette in hand. + +"Nor reproachful?" + +"How? When I have nothing to reproach you for?" she answered. + +He put his palette aside and came and sat at her feet on the step +of the dais where he had posed her. + +"You may rest," he said, smiling up at her--"And so may I." She +sat down beside him and he folded her in his arms. "How often we +rest in this way, don't we!" he murmured--"And so you think you +have nothing to reproach me for! Well,--I'm not so sure of that-- +Innocent!" + +She looked at him questioningly. + +"Are you talking nonsense, my 'Sieur Amadis'?--or are you +serious?" she asked. + +"I am quite serious--much more serious than is common with me," he +replied, taking one of her hands and studying it as the perfect +model it was--"I believe I am involving you in all sorts of +trouble--and you, you absurd little child, don't see it! Suppose +Miss Leigh were to find out that we make the maddest love to each +other in here--you all alone with me--what would she say?" + +"What COULD she say?" Innocent demanded, simply--"There is no +harm!--and I should not mind telling her we are lovers." + +"I should, though!" was his quick thought, while he marvelled at +her unworldliness. + +"Besides"--she continued--"she has no right over me." + +"Who HAS any right over you?" he asked, curiously. + +She laughed, softly. + +"No one!--except you!" + +"Oh, hang me!" he exclaimed, impatiently--"Leave me out of the +question. Have you no father or mother?" + +She was a little hurt at his sudden irritability. + +"No," she answered, quietly--"I have often told you I have no one. +I am alone in the world--I can do as I like." Then a smile +brightened her face. "Lord Blythe would have me as a daughter if I +would go to him." + +He started and loosened her from his embrace. + +"Lord Blythe! That wealthy old peer! What does he want with you?" + +"Nothing, I suppose, but the pleasure of my company!" and she +laughed--"Doesn't that seem strange?" + +He rose and went back to work at his easel. + +"Rather!" he said, slowly--"Are you going to accept his offer?" + +Her eyes opened widely. + +"I? My Amadis, how can you think it? I would not accept it for all +the world! He would load me with benefits--he would surround me +with luxuries--but I do not want these. I like to work for myself +and be independent." He laid a brush lightly in colour and began +to use it with delicate care. + +"You are not very wise," he then said--"It's a great thing for a +young girl like you who are all alone in the world, to be taken in +hand by such a man as Blythe. He's a statesman,--very useful to +his country,--he's very rich and has a splendid position. His +wife's sudden death has left him very lonely as he has no +children,--you could be a daughter to him, and it would be a great +leap upwards for you, socially speaking. You would be much better +off under his care than scribbling books." + +She drew a sharp breath of pain,--all the pretty colour fled from +her cheeks. + +"You do not care for me to scribble books!" she said, in low, +stifled accents. + +He laughed. + +"Oh, I don't mind!--I never read them,--and in a way it amuses me! +You are such an armful of sweetness--such a warm, nestling little +bird of love in my arms!--and to think that you actually write +books that the world talks about!--the thing is so incongruous--so +'out of drawing' that it makes me laugh! I don't like writing +women as a rule--they give themselves too many airs to please me-- +but you--" + +He paused. + +"Well, go on," she said, coldly. + +He looked at her, smiling. + +"You are cross? Don't be cross,--you lose your enchanting +expression! Well--you don't give yourself any airs, and you seem +to play at literature like a child playing at a game: of course +you make money by it,--but--you know better than I do that the +greatest writers"--he emphasized the word "greatest" slightly-- +"never make money and are never popular." + +"Does failure constitute greatness?" she asked, with a faintly +satirical inflection in her sweet voice which he had never heard +before. + +"Sometimes--in fact pretty often," he replied, dabbing his brush +busily on his canvas--"You should read about great authors--" + +"I HAVE read about them," she said--"Walter Scott was popular and +made money,--Charles Dickens was popular and made money--Thackeray +was popular and made money--Shakespeare himself seemed to have had +the one principal aim of making sufficient money enough to live +comfortably in his native town, and he was 'popular' in his day-- +indeed he 'played to the gallery.' But he was not a 'failure'--and +the whole world acknowledges his greatness now, though in his +life-time he was unconscious of it." + +Surprised at her quick eloquence, he paused in his work. + +"Very well spoken!" he remarked, condescendingly--"I see you take +a high view of your art! But like all women, you wander from the +point. We were talking of Lord Blythe--and I say it would be far +better for you to be--well!--his heiress!--for he might leave you +all his fortune--than go on writing books." + +Her lips quivered: despite her efforts, tears started to her eyes. +He saw, and throwing down his brush came and knelt beside her, +passing his arm round her waist. + +"What have I said?" he murmured, coaxingly--"Innocent--sweet +little love! Forgive me if I have--what?"--and he laughed softly-- +"rubbed you up the wrong way!" + +She forced a smile, and her delicate white hands wandered +caressingly through his hair as he laid his head against her +bosom. + +"I am sorry!" she said, at last--"I thought--I hoped--you might be +proud of my work, Amadis! I was planning it all for that! You +see"--she hesitated--"I learned so much from the Sieur Amadis de +Jocelin--the brother of your ancestor!--that I have been thinking +all the time how I could best show you that I was worthy of his +teaching. The world--or the public--you know the things they say +of me--but I do not want their praise. I believe I could do +something really great if YOU cared!--for now it is only to please +you that I live." + +A sense of shame stung him at this simple avowal. + +"Nonsense!" he said, almost brusquely--"You have a thousand other +things to live for--you must not think of pleasing me only. +Besides I'm not very--keen on literature,--I'm a painter." + +"Surely painting owes something to literature?" she queried--"We +should not have had all the wonderful Madonnas and Christs of the +old masters if there had been no Bible!" + +"True!--but perhaps we could have done without them!" he said, +lightly--"I'm not at all sure that painting would not have got on +just as well without literature at all. There is always nature to +study--sky, sea, landscape and the faces of lovely women and +children,--quite enough for any man. Where is Lord Blythe now?" + +"In Italy," she replied--"He will be away some months." + +She spoke with constraint. Her heart was heavy--the hopes and +ambitions she had cherished of adding lustre to her fame for the +joy and pride of her lover, seemed all crushed at one blow. She +was too young and inexperienced to realise the fact that few men +are proud of any woman's success, especially in the arts. Their +attitude is one of amused tolerance when it is not of actual sex- +jealousy or contempt. Least of all can any man endure that the +woman for whom he has a short spell of passionate fancy should be +considered notable, or in an intellectual sense superior to +himself. He likes her to be dependent on him alone for her +happiness,--for such poor crumbs of comfort he is pleased to give +her when the heat of his first passion has cooled,--but he is not +altogether pleased when she has sufficient intelligent perception +to see through his web of subterfuge and break away clear of the +entangling threads, standing free as a goddess on the height of +her own independent attainment. Innocent's idea of love was the +angelic dream of truth and everlastingness set forth by poets, +whose sweet singing deludes themselves and others,--she was ready +to devote all the unique powers of her mind and brain to the +perfecting of herself for her lover's delight. She wished to be +beautiful, brilliant, renowned and admired, simply that he might +take joy in knowing that this beautiful, brilliant, renowned and +admired creature was HIS, body and soul--existing solely for him +and content to live only so long as he lived, to work only so long +as he worked,--to be nothing apart from his love, but to be +everything he could desire or command while his love environed +her. She thought of the eternal union of souls,--while he had no +belief in the soul at all, his half French materialism persuading +him that there was nothing eternal. And like all men of his type +he estimated her tenderness for him, her clinging arms, and the +lingering passion of her caresses, to be chiefly the outflow of +pleased vanity--the kittenish satisfaction of being stroked and +fondled--the sense of her own sex-attractiveness,--but of anything +deep and closely rooted in the centre of a more than usually +sensitive nature he had not the faintest conception, taking it for +granted that all women, even clever ones, were more or less alike, +easily consoled by new millinery when lovers failed. + +Sometimes, during the progress of their secret amour, a thrill of +uneasiness and fear ran coldly through her veins--a wondering +doubt which she repelled with indignation whenever it suggested +itself. Amadis de Jocelyn was and must be the very embodiment of +loyalty and honour to the woman he loved!--it could not be +otherwise. His tenderness was ardent,--his passion fiery and +eager,--yet she wondered--timidly and with deep humiliation in +herself for daring to think so far--why, if he loved her so much +as he declared, did he not ask her to be his wife? She supposed he +would do so,--though she had heard him depreciate marriage as a +necessary evil. Evidently he had his own good reasons for +deferring the fateful question. Meanwhile she made a little +picture-gallery of ideal joys in her brain,--and one of her +fancies was that when she married her Amadis she would ask Robin +Clifford to let her buy Briar Farm. + +"He could paint well there!" she thought, happily, already seeing +in her mind's eye the "Great Hall" transformed into an artist's +studio--"and I almost think _I_ could carry on the farm--Priscilla +would help me,--and we know just how Dad liked things to be done-- +if--if Robin went away. And the master of the house would again be +a true Jocelyn!" + +The whole plan seemed perfectly natural and feasible. Only one +obstacle presented itself like a dark shadow on the brightness of +her dream--and that was her own "base" birth. The brand of +illegitimacy was upon her,--and whereas once she alone had known +what she judged to be a shameful secret, now two others shared it +with her--Miss Leigh and Lord Blythe. They would never betray it-- +no!--but they could not alter what unkind fate had done for her. +This was one reason why she was glad that Amadis de Jocelyn had +not as yet spoken of their marriage. + +"For I should have to tell him!" she thought, woefully--"I should +have to say that I am the illegitimate daughter of Pierce +Armitage--and then--perhaps he would not marry me--he might +change--ah no!--he could not!--he would not!--he loves me too +dearly! He would never let me go--he wants me always! We are all +the world to each other!--nothing could part us now!" + +And so the time drifted on--and with its drifting her work drifted +too, and only one all-absorbing passion possessed her life with +its close and consuming fire. Amadis de Jocelyn was an expert in +the seduction of a soul--little by little he taught her to judge +all men as worthless save himself, and all opinions unwarrantable +and ill-founded unless he confirmed them. And, leading her away +from the contemplation of high visions, he made her the blind +worshipper of a very inadequate idol. She was happy in her faith, +and yet not altogether sure of happiness. For there are two kinds +of love--one with strong wings which lift the soul to a dazzling +perfection of immortal destiny,--the other with gross and heavy +chains which fetter every hope and aspiration and drag the finest +intelligence down to dark waste and nothingness. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +In affairs of love a woman is perhaps most easily ensnared by a +man who can combine passion with pleasantry and hot pursuit with +social tact and diplomacy. Amadis de Jocelyn was an adept at this +kind of thing--he was, if it may be so expressed, a refined +libertine, loving women from a purely physical sense of attraction +and pleasure conveyed to himself, and obtusely ignorant of the +needs or demands of their higher natures. From a mental or +intellectual standpoint all women to him were alike, made to be +"managed" alike, used alike, and alike set aside when their use +was done with. The leaven of the Jew or the Turk was in the +temperament of this descendant of a long line of French nobles, +who had gained their chief honours by killing men, ravishing women +and plundering their neighbours' lands--though occasional flashes +of bravery and chivalry had glanced over their annals in history +like the light from a wandering will o' the wisp flickering over a +morass. Gifted in his art, but wholly undisciplined in his nature, +he had lived a life of selfish aims to selfish ends, and in the +course of it had made love to many women,--one especially, on +whose devoted affections he had preyed like an insect that +ungratefully poisons the flower from which it has sucked the +honey. This woman, driven to bay at last by his neglect and +effrontery, had roused the scattered forces of her pride and had +given him his conge--and he had been looking about for a fresh +victim when he met Innocent. She was a complete novelty to him, +and stimulated his more or less jaded emotions,--he found her +quaint and charming as a poet's dream of some nymph of the +woodlands,--her manner of looking at life and the things of life +was so deliciously simple--almost mediaeval,--for she believed +that a man should die rather than break his word or imperil his +honour, which to Jocelyn was such a primitive state of things as +to seem prehistoric. Then there was her fixed and absurd "fancy" +about the noble qualities and manifold virtues of the French +knight who had served the Duc d'Anjou,--and who had been to her +from childhood a kind of lover in the spirit,--a being whom she +had instinctively tried to serve and to please; and he had +sufficient imagination to understand and take advantage of the +feeling aroused in her when she had met one of the same descent, +and bearing the same name, in himself. He had run through the +gamut of many emotions and sentiments,--he had joined one or two +of the new schools of atheism and modernism started by certain +self-opinionated young University men, and in the earlier stages +of his career had in the cock-sure impulse of youth designed +schemes for the regeneration of the world, till the usual +difficulties presented themselves as opposed to such vast +business,--he had associated himself with men who followed what is +called the "fleshly school" of poetry and art generally, and had +evolved from his own mentality a comfortable faith of which the +chief tenet was "Self for Self"--a religion which lifts the mind +no higher than the purely animal plane;--and in its environment of +physical consciousness and agreeable physical sensations, he was +content to live. + +With such a temperament and disposition as he possessed, which +swayed him hither and thither on the caprice or impulse of the +moment, his intentions toward Innocent were not very clear even to +himself. When he had begun his "amour" with her he had meant it to +go just as far as should satisfy his own whim and desire,--but as +he came to know her better, he put a check on himself and +hesitated as one may hesitate before pulling up a rose-bush from +its happy growing place and flinging it out on the dust-heap to +die. She was so utterly unsuspicious and unaware of evil, and she +had placed him on so high a pedestal of honour, trusting him with +such perfect and unquestioning faith, that for very manhood's sake +he could not bring himself to tear the veil from her eyes. +Moreover he really loved her in a curious, haphazard way of love, +--more than he had ever loved any one of her sex,--and, when in her +presence and under her influence, he gained a glimmering of +consciousness of what love might mean in its best and purest +sense. + +He laughed at himself however for this very thought. He had always +pooh-pooh'd the idea of love as having anything divine or +uplifting in its action,--nevertheless in his more sincere moments +he was bound to confess that since he had known Innocent his very +art had gained a certain breadth and subtlety which it had lacked +before. It was a pleasure to him to see her eyes shine with pride +in his work, to hear her voice murmur dulcet praises of his skill, +and for a time he took infinite pains with all his subjects, +putting the very best of himself into his drawing and colouring +with results that were brilliant and convincing enough to ensure +success for all his efforts. Sometimes--lost in a sudden fit of +musing--he wondered how his life would shape itself if he married +her? He had avoided marriage as a man might avoid hanging,-- +considering it, not without reason, the possible ruin of an +artist's greater career. Among many men he had known, men of +undoubted promise, it had proved the fatal step downward from the +high to the low. One particular "chum" of his own, a gifted +painter, had married a plump rosy young woman with "a bit o' +money," as the country folks say,--and from that day had been +steadily dragged down to the domestic level of sad and sordid +commonplace. Instead of studying form and colour, he was called +upon to examine drains and superintend the plumber, mark house +linen and take care of the children--his wife believing in "making +a husband useful." Of regard for his art or possible fame she had +none,--while his children were taught to regard his work in that +line as less important than if he had been a bricklayer at so much +pence the hour. + +"Children!" thought Jocelyn--"Do I want them? ... No--I think not! +They're all very well when they're young--really young!--two to +five years old is the enchanting age,--but, most unfortunately, +they grow! Yes!--they grow,--often into hideous men and women--a +sort of human vultures sitting on their fathers' pockets and +screaming 'Give! Give!' The prospect does not attract me! And +she?--Innocent? I don't think I could bear to watch that little +flower-like face gradually enlarging into matronly lines and +spreading into a double chin! Those pretty eyes peering into the +larder and considering the appearance of uncooked bacon! Perish +the thought! One might as well think of Shakespeare's Juliet +paying the butcher's bill, or worse still, selecting the butcher's +meat! Forbid it, O ye heavens! Of course if ideals could be +realised, which they never are, I can see myself wedded for pure +love, without a care, painting my pictures at ease, with a sweet +woman worshipping me, ever at my beck and call, and shielding me +from trouble with all the tender force of her passionate little +soul!--but commonplace life will net fit itself into these sort of +beatific visions! Babies, and the necessary provision of food and +clothes and servants--this is what marriage means--love having +sobered down to a matter-of-fact conclusion. No--no! I will not +marry her! It would be like catching a fairy in the woods, cutting +off its sunbeam wings and setting it to scrub the kitchen floor!" + +It was curious that while he pleased himself with this fanciful +soliloquy it did not occur to him that he had already caught the +"fairy in the woods," and ever since the capture had been engaged +in cutting off its "sunbeam wings" with all a vivisector's +scientific satisfaction. And in his imaginary pictures of what +might have been if "ideals" were realised, he did not for a moment +conceive HIMSELF as "worshipping" the woman who was to worship +HIM, or as being at HER "beck and call," or as shielding HER from +trouble--oh no! He merely considered himself, and how she would +care for HIM,--never once did he consider how he would care for +HER. + +Meanwhile things went on in an outwardly even and uneventful +course. Innocent worked steadily to fulfil certain contracts into +which she had entered with the publishers who were eager to obtain +as much of her work as she could give them,--but she had lost +heart, and her once soaring ambition was like a poor bird that had +been clumsily shot at, and had fallen to the ground with a broken +wing. What she had dreamed of as greatness, now seemed vain and +futile. The "Amadis de Jocelin" of the sixteenth century had +taught her to love literature--to believe in it as the refiner of +thought and expression, and to use it as a charm to inspire the +mind and uplift the soul,--but the Amadis de Jocelyn of the +twentieth had no such lessons to teach. Utterly lacking in +reverence for great thinkers, he dismissed the finest passages of +poetry or prose from his consideration with light scorn as "purple +patches," borrowing that hackneyed phrase from the lower walks of +the press,--the most inspired writers, both of ancient and modern +times, came equally under the careless lash of his derision,--so +that Innocent, utterly bewildered by his sweeping denunciation of +many brilliant and famous authors, shrank into her wounded self +with pain, humiliation and keen disappointment, feeling that there +was certainly no chance for her to appeal to him in any way +through the thoughts she cherished and expressed with truth and +fervour to a listening world. That world listened--but HE did +not!--therefore the world seemed worthless and its praise mere +mockery. She had no vanity to support her,--she was not "strong- +minded" enough to oppose her own individuality to that of the man +she loved. And so she began to droop a little,--her bright and +ardent spirit sank like a sinking flame,--much to the concern of +Miss Leigh, who watched her with a jealous tenderness of love +beyond all expression. The child of Pierce Armitage, lawfully or +unlawfully begotten, was now to her the one joy of existence,--the +link that fastened her more closely to life,--and she worried +herself secretly over the evident listlessness, fatigue and +depression of the girl who had so lately been the very embodiment +of happiness. But she did not like to ask questions,--she knew +that Innocent had a very resolute mind of her own, and that if she +elected to remain silent on any subject whatsoever, nothing, not +even the most affectionate appeal, would induce her to speak. + +"You will not let her come to any harm, Pierce!" murmured the old +lady prayerfully one day, standing before the portrait of her +former and faithless lover--"You will step in if danger threatens +her!--yes, I am sure you will! You will guide and help her again +as you have guided and helped her before. For I believe you +brought her to me, Pierce!--yes, I am sure you did! In that other +world where you are, you have learned how much I loved you long +ago!--how much I love you now!--and how I love your child for your +sake as well as for her own! All wrongs and mistakes are forgiven +and forgotten, Pierce! and when we meet again we shall +understand!" + +And with her little trembling worn hands she set a rose, just +opening its deep red heart-bud into flower, in a crystal vase +beside the portrait as a kind of votive offering, with something +of the same superstitious feeling that induces a devout Roman +Catholic to burn a candle before a favourite saint, in the belief +that the spirit of the dead man heard her words and would respond +to them. + +Just at this time, Innocent went about a good deal among the few +friends who had learned to know her well and to love her +accordingly. Lord Blythe was still away, having prolonged his tour +in order to enjoy the beauty of the Italian lakes in autumn. +Summer in England was practically over, but the weather was fine +and warm still, and country-house parties, especially in Scotland, +were the order of the day. The "social swim" was subsiding, and +what are called "notable" people were beginning to leave town. +Once or twice, infected by the general exodus, Innocent thought of +going down to Briar Farm just for a few days as a surprise to +Priscilla--but a feeling for Robin held her back. It would be +needless unkindness to again vex his mind with the pain of a +hopeless passion. So she paid a few casual visits here and there, +chiefly at houses where Amadis de Jocelyn was also one of the +invited guests. She was made the centre of a considerable amount +of adulation, which did not move her to any sort of self- +satisfaction, because in the background of her thoughts there was +always the light jest and smile of her lover, who laughed at +praise, except, be it here said, when it was awarded to himself. +Then he did not laugh--he assumed a playful humility which, being +admirably acted, almost passed for modesty. But if by chance he +had to listen to any praise of "Ena Armitage" as author or woman, +he changed the subject as soon as he could conveniently do so +without brusquerie. And very gradually it dawned upon her that he +took no pride in her work or in the position she had won, and that +he was more reluctant than glad to hear her praised. He seemed to +prefer she should be unnoticed, save by himself, and more or less +submissive to his will. Had she been worldly-wise, she would by +every action have moved a silent protest against this, his +particular form of sex-dominance, but she was of too loving a +nature to dispute any right of command he chose to assume. Other +men, younger and far higher in place and position than Jocelyn, +admired her, and made such advances as they dared, finding her +very coldness attractive, united as it was to such sweetness of +manner as few could resist, but they had no chance with her. Once +or twice some of her women friends had sounded her on the subject +of love and lovers, and she had put aside all their questions with +a smile. "Love is not to be talked about," she had said--"It is +like God, served best in silence." + +But by scarcely perceptible degrees, busy rumour got hold of a +thread or two of the clue leading to the labyrinth of her +mystery,--people nodded mysteriously at each other and began to +whisper suggestions--suggestions which certainly did not go very +far, but just floated in the air like bits of thistledown. + +"She is having her portrait painted, isn't she?" + +"Yes--by that man with the queer name--Amadis de Jocelyn." + +"Has she given him the commission?" + +"Oh no! I believe not. He's painting it for the French Salon." + +"Oh!" + +Then there would follow a silence, with an exchange of smiles all +round. And presently the talk would begin again. + +"Will it be a 'case,' do you think?" + +"A 'case'? You mean a marriage? Oh dear no! Jocelyn isn't a +marrying man." + +"Isn't she a little--er--well!--a little taken with him?" + +"Perhaps! Very likely! Clever women are always fools on one point +--if not on several!" + +"And he? Isn't he very attentive?" + +"Not more so than he has been and is to dozens of other women. +He's too clever to show her any special attention--it might +compromise him. He's a man that takes care of Number One!" + +So the gossip ran,--and only Jocelyn himself caught wind of it +sufficiently to set him thinking. His "affaire de coeur" had gone +far enough,--and he realised that the time had come for him to +beat a retreat. But how to do it? The position was delicate and +difficult. If Innocent had been an ordinary type of woman, vain +and selfish, fond of frivolities and delighting in new conquests, +his task would have been easy,--but with a girl who believed in +love as the ultimatum of all good, and who trusted her lover with +implicit faith as next in order of worship to God, what was to be +done? + +"We talk a vast amount of sentimental rubbish about women being +pure and faithful!" he soliloquised--"But when they ARE pure and +faithful we are more bored with them than if they were the worst +women in town!" + +He had however one subject of congratulation for which he +metaphorically patted himself on the back as being "a good boy"-- +he had not gone to such extremes in his love-affair as could +result in what is usually called "trouble" for the girl. He had +left her unscathed, save in a moral and spiritual sense. The sweet +body, with its delicate wavering tints of white and rose was as +the unspoilt sheath of a lily-bud,--no one could guess that within +the sheath the lily itself was blighted and slowly withering. One +may question whether it is not a more cruel thing to seduce the +soul than the body,--to crush all the fine faiths and happy +illusions of a fair mind and leave them scorched by a devastating +fire whose traces shall never be obliterated. Amadis de Jocelyn +would have laughed his gayest and most ironical laugh at the bare +possibility of such havoc being wrought by the passion of love +alone. + +"What's the use of loving or remembering anything?" he would +exclaim--"One loves--one tires of love!--and by-and-by one forgets +that love ever existed. I look forward to the time when my memory +shall dwell chiefly on the agreeable entremets of life--a good +dinner--a choice cigar! These things never bother you afterwards, +--unless you eat too much or smoke too much,--then you have +headache and indigestion--distinctly your own fault! But if you +love a woman for a time and tire of her afterwards she always +bothers you!--reminding you of the days when you 'once' loved her +with persistent and dreadful monotony! I believe in forgetting,-- +and 'letting go.'" + +With these sentiments, which were the true outcome of his real +self, it was not and never would be possible for him to conceive +that with certain high and ultra-sensitive natures love is a +greater necessity than life itself, and that if they are deprived +of the glory they have been led to imagine they possessed, nothing +can make compensation for what to them is eternal loss, coupled +with eternal sorrow. + +Meanwhile Innocent's portrait on which he had worked for a +considerable time was nearly completed. It was one of the best +things he had ever done, and he contemplated it with a pleasant +thrill of artistic triumph, forgetting the "woman" entirely in +satisfied consideration of the "subject." As a portrait he +realised that it would be the crown of the next year's Salon, +bearing comparison with any work of the greater modern masters. He +was however a trifle perplexed, and not altogether pleased at the +expression, which, entirely away from his will and intention, had +insensibly thrown a shadow of sadness on the face,--it had come +there apparently of itself, unbidden. He had been particularly +proud of his success in the drawing of the girl's extremely +sensitive mouth, for he had, as he thought, caught the fleeting +sweetness of the smile which was one of her greatest charms,--but +now, despite his pains, that smile seemed to lose itself in the +sorrow and pathos of an unspoken reproach, which, though +enthralling and appealing to the beholder as the look of the +famous "Mona Lisa," had fastened itself as it were on the canvas +without the painter's act or consent. He was annoyed at this, yet +dared not touch it in any attempt to alter what asserted itself as +convincingly finished,--for the picture was a fine work of art and +he realised that it would add to his renown. + +"I shall not name it as the portrait of a living woman," he said +to himself--"I shall call it simply--'Innocent.'" + +As he thought this, the subject of the painting herself entered +the studio. He turned at the sound of the door opening, and caught +a strange new impression of her,--an impression that moved him to +a touch of something like fear. Was she going to be tiresome, he +wondered?--would she make him a "scene"--or do something odd as +women generally did when their feelings escaped control? Her face +was very pale--her eyes startlingly bright,--and the graceful +white summer frock she wore, with soft old lace falling about it, +a costume completed in perfection by a picturesque Leghorn hat +bound with black velvet and adorned with a cluster of pale roses, +made her a study worthy the brush of many a greater artist than +Amadis de Jocelyn. His quick eye noted every detail of her dainty +dress and fair looks as he went to meet her and took her in his +arms. She clung to him for a moment--and he felt her tremble. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, with unconscious sharpness--"Is +anything wrong?" + +She put him away from her tenderly and looked up smiling--but +there was a sparkling dew in her eyes. + +"No, my Amadis! Nothing wrong!" + +He heaved a quick sigh of relief. + +"Thank heaven! You looked at me as if you had a grievance--all +women have grievances--but they should keep them to themselves." + +She gave the slightest little shrug of her shoulders; then went +and sat on the highest step of the familiar dais where she had +posed for her picture, and waited a moment. He did not at once +come to sit beside her as he had so often done--he stood opposite +his easel, looking at her portrait but not at her. + +"I have no grievance," she said then, making an effort to steady +her voice, which trembled despite herself--"And if I had I should +not vex you with it. But--when you can quite spare the time I +should like a quiet little talk with you." + +He looked round at her with a kind smile. + +"Just what I want to have with you! 'Les beaux esprits se +rencontrent'--and we both want exactly the same thing! Dear little +girl, how sensible you are! Of course we must talk--about the +future." + +A lovely radiance lit up her face. + +"That is what I thought you would wish," she said--"Now that the +portrait is finished." + +"Well,--all but a touch or two," he rejoined--"I shall ask a few +people to come here and see it before it leaves London. Then it +must be property packed in readiness for Paris before--before I +go--" + +Her eyes opened in sudden terrified wonderment. + +"Before you go--where?" + +He laughed a little awkwardly. + +"Oh--only a short journey--on business--I will explain when we +have our talk out--not now--in a day or two--" + +He left the easel, and coming to where she sat, lifted her in his +arms and folded her close to his breast. + +"You sweet soul!" he murmured--"You little Innocent! You are so +pretty to-day!--you madden me--" + +He unfastened her hat and put it aside,--then drawing her closer, +showered quick eager kisses on her lips, eyes and warm soft neck. +He felt her heart beating wildly and her whole body trembling +under his gust of passion. + +"You love me--you truly love me?" she questioned, between little +sighs of pleasure--"Tell me!--are you sure?" + +"Am I not proving it?" he answered--"Does a man behave like this +if he does not love?" + +"Ah, yes!" And she looked up with a wild piteousness in her sweet +eyes--"A man will behave like this to any woman!" + +He loosened his clasp of her, astonished--then laughed. + +"Where did you learn that?" he asked--"Who told you men were so +volatile?" + +"No one!"--and her caressing arms fell away from him--"My Amadis, +you find it pleasant to kiss and to embrace me for the moment--but +perhaps not always will you care! Love--real love is different--" + +"What do YOU mean by love?" he asked still smiling. + +She sighed. + +"I can hardly tell you," she said--"But one thing I DO know--love +would never hurt or wrong the thing it loved! Words, kisses, +embraces--they are just the sweet outflow of a great deep!--but +love is above and beyond all these, like an angel living with +God!" + +He was silent. + +She came up to him and laid her little hand timidly on his arm. + +"It is time we were quite sure of that angel, my Amadis!" she +said--"We ARE sure--but--" + +He looked her full and quietly in the eyes. + +"Yes, child!" he answered--"It is time! But I cannot talk about +angels or anything else just now--it is growing late in the +afternoon and you must not stay here too long. Come to-morrow or +next day, and we'll consult together as to what is best to be done +for your happiness--" + +"For yours!" she interposed, gently. + +He smiled, curiously. + +"Very well! As you will! For mine!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Lord Blythe stood at the open window of his sitting-room in the +Grand Hotel at Bellaggio--a window opening out to a broad balcony +and commanding one of the most enchanting views of the lake and +mountains ever created by Divine Beneficence for the delight of +man. The heavenly scene, warm with rich tints of morning in Italy, +glowed like a jewel in the sun: picturesque boats with little red +and blue awnings rocked at the edge of the calm lake, in charge of +their bronzed and red-capped boatmen, waiting for hire,--the air +was full of fragrance, and every visible thing appealed to beauty- +loving eyes with exquisite and irresistible charm. His attention, +however, had wandered far from the enjoyable prospect,--he was +reading and re-reading a letter he had just received from Miss +Leigh, in which certain passages occurred which caused him some +uneasiness. On leaving England he had asked her to write +regularly, giving him all the news of Innocent, and she had +readily undertaken what to her was a pleasing duty. His thoughts +were constantly with the little house in Kensington, where the +young daughter of his dead friend worked so patiently to bring +forth the fruits of her genius and live independently by their +results, and his intense sympathy for the difficult position in +which she had been placed through no fault of her own and the +courage with which she had surmounted it, was fast deepening into +affection. He rather encouraged this sentiment in himself with the +latent hope that possibly when he returned to England she might +still be persuaded to accept the position he was so ready to offer +her--that of daughter to him and heiress,--and just now he was +troubled by an evident anxiety which betrayed itself in Miss +Leigh's letter--anxiety which she plainly did her best to conceal, +but which nevertheless made itself apparent. + +"The dear child works incessantly," she wrote, "but she is very +quiet and seems easily tired. She is not as bright as she used to +be, and looks very pale, so that I fear she is doing too much, +though she says she is perfectly well and happy. We had a call +from Mr. John Harrington the other afternoon--I think you know +him--and he seemed quite to think with me that she is over-working +herself. He suggested that I should persuade her to go for a +change somewhere, either with me or with other friends. I wonder +if you would care for us to join you at the Italian Lakes? If you +would I might be able to manage it. I have not mentioned the idea +to her yet, as I know she is finishing some work--but she tells me +it will all be done in a few days, and that then she will take a +rest. I hope she will, for I'm sure she needs it." + +Another part of the letter ran as follows:-- + +"I rather hesitate to mention it, but I think so many prolonged +sittings for her portrait to that painter with the strange name, +Amadis de Jocelyn, have rather tired her out. The picture is +finished now, and I and a few friends went to see it the other +day. It is a most beautiful portrait, but very sad!--and it is +wonderful how the likeness of her father as he was in his young +days comes out in her face! She and Mr. de Jocelyn are very +intimate friends--and some people say he is in love with her! +Perhaps he may be!--but I do hope she is not in love with HIM!" + +Lord Blythe took off his spectacles, folded up the letter and put +it in his pocket. Then he looked out towards the lake and the +charming picture it presented. How delightful it would be to see +Innocent in one of those dainty boats scattered about near the +water's edge, revelling with all the keenness of a bright, +imaginative temperament in the natural loveliness around her! +Young, and with the promise of a brilliant career opening out +before her, happiness seemed ready and waiting to bless and to +adorn the life of the little deserted girl who, left alone in the +world, had nevertheless managed to win the world's hearing through +the name she had made for herself--yet now--yes!--now there was +the cruel suggestion of a shadow--an ugly darkness like a black +cloud, blotting the fairness of a blue sky,--and Blythe felt an +uncomfortable sense of premonition and wrong as the thought of +Amadis de Jocelyn came into his head and stayed there. What was he +that he should creep into the unspoiled sphere of a woman's +opening life? A painter, something of a genius in his line, but +erratic and unstable in his character,--known more or less for +several "affairs of gallantry" which had slipped off his easy +conscience like water off a duck's back,--not a highly cultured +man by any means, because ignorant of many of the finer things in +art and letters, and without any positively assured position. Yet, +undoubtedly a man of strong physical magnetism and charm-- +fascinating in his manner, especially on first acquaintance, and +capable of overthrowing many a stronger citadel than the tender +heart of a sensitive girl like Innocent, who by a most curious +mischance had been associated all her life with the romance of his +medieval name and lineage. + +"Yes--of course she must come out here," Blythe decided, after a +few minutes' cogitation. "I'll send a wire to Miss Leigh this +morning and follow it up by a letter to the child herself, urging +her to join me. The change and distraction will perhaps save her +from too much association with Jocelyn,--I do not trust that man-- +never have trusted him! Poor little girl! She shall not have her +spirit broken if I can help it." + +He stayed yet another few minutes at the open window, and taking +out a cigar from his case began to light it. While doing this his +eye was suddenly caught by the picturesque, well-knit figure of a +man sitting easily on a step near the clustering boats gathered +close to the hotel's special landing place. He was apparently one +of the many road-side artists one meets everywhere about the +Italian Lakes, ready to paint a sunset or moonlight on Como or +Maggiore on commission at short notice for a few francs. He was +not young--his white hair and grizzled moustache marked the +unpleasing passage of resistless time,--yet there was something +lissom and graceful about him that suggested a kind of youth in +age. His attire consisted of much worn brown trousers and a loose +white shirt kept in place by a red belt,--his shirt sleeves were +rolled up to the elbow, displaying thin brown muscular arms, +expressive of energy, and he wore a battered brown hat which might +once have been of the so-called "Homburg" shape, but which now +resembled nothing ever seen in the way of ordinary head-gear. He +was busily engaged in sketching a view of the lake and the +opposite mountains, evidently to the order of some fashionably +dressed women who stood near him watching the rapid and sure +movements of his brush--he had his box of water-colours beside +him, and smiled and talked as he worked. Lord Blythe watched him +with lively interest, while enjoying the first whiffs of his +lately lit cigar. + +"A clever chap, evidently!" he thought. "These Italians are all +artists and poets at heart. When those women have finished with +him I'll get him to do a sketch for me to send to Innocent--just +to show her the loveliness of the place. She'll be delighted! and +it may tempt her to come here." + +He waited a few minutes longer, till he saw the artist hand over +the completed drawing to his lady patrons, one of whom paid him +with a handful of silver coin. Something in the bearing and +attitude of the man as he rose from the step where he had been +seated and lifted his shapeless brown hat to his customers in +courteous acknowledgment of their favours as they left him, struck +Blythe with an odd sense of familiarity. + +"I must have seen him somewhere before," he thought. "In Venice, +perhaps--or Florence--these fellows are like gipsies, they wander +about everywhere." + +He sauntered out of the Hotel into the garden and from the garden +down to the landing-place, where he slowly approached the artist, +who was standing with his back towards him, slipping his lately +earned francs into his trouser pocket. Several sample drawings +were set up in view beside him,--lovely little studies of lake and +mountain which would have done honour to many a Royal Academician, +and Blythe paused, looking at these with wonder and admiration +before speaking, unaware that the artist had taken a backward +glance at him of swift and more or less startled recognition. + +"You are an admirable painter, my friend!" he said, at last-- +speaking in Italian of which he was a master. "Your drawings are +worth much more than you are asking for them. Will you do one +specially for me?" + +"I've done a good many for you in my time, Blythe!" was the half- +laughing answer, given in perfect English. "But I don't mind doing +another." + +And he turned round, pushing his cap off his brows, and showing a +wonderfully handsome face, worn with years and privation, but fine +and noble-featured and full of the unquenchable light which is +given by an indomitable and enduring spirit. + +Lord Blythe staggered back and caught at the handrail of the +landing steps to save himself from falling. + +"My God!" he gasped. "You! You, of all men in the world! You!-- +you, Pierce Armitage!" + +And he stared wildly, his brain swimming,--his pulses beating +hammer-strokes--was it--could it be possible? The artist in brown +trousers and white shirt straightened himself, and instinctively +sought to assume a less tramp-like appearance, looking at his +former friend meanwhile with a half-glad, half-doubtful air. + +"Well, well, Dick!" he said, after a moment's pause--"Don't take +it badly that you find me pursuing my profession in this +peripatetic style! It's a nice life--better than being a pavement +artist in Pimlico! You mustn't be afraid! I'm not going to claim +acquaintance with you before the public eye--you, a peer of the +realm, Dick! No, no! I won't shame you..." + +"Shame me!" Blythe sprang forward and caught his hand in a close +warm grip. "Never say that, Pierce! You know me better! Thank God +you are here--alive!--thank God I have met you!--" + +He stopped, too overcome to say another word, and wrung the hand +he held with unconscious fervour, tears springing to his eyes. The +two looked full at each other, and Armitage smiled a little +confusedly. + +"Why, Dick!" he began,--then turning his head quickly he glanced +up at the clear blue sky to hide and to master his own emotion--"I +believe we feel like a couple of sentimental undergrads still, +Dick in spite of age and infirmities!" + +He laughed forcedly, while Blythe, at last releasing his hand, +took him by the arm, regardless of the curious observation of some +of the hotel guests who were strolling about the garden and +terraces. + +"Come with me, Pierce," he said, in hurried nervous accents--"I +have news for you--such news as you cannot guess or imagine. Put +away all those drawings and come inside the hotel--to my room--" +"What? In this guise?" and Armitage shook his head--"My dear +fellow, your enthusiasm is running away with you! Besides--there +is some one else to consider--" + +"Some one else? Whom do you mean?" demanded Blythe with visible +impatience. + +Armitage hesitated. + +"Your wife," he said, at last. + +Blythe looked him steadily in the eyes. + +"My wife is dead." + +"Dead!" Armitage loosened his arm from the other's hold, and stood +inert as though he had received a numbing blow. "Dead! When did +she die?" + +In a few words Blythe told him. + +Armitage heard in silence. Mechanically he began to collect his +drawings and put them in a portfolio. His face was pale under its +sun-browned tint,--his expression almost tragic. Lord Blythe +watched him for a moment, moved by strong heart-beats of affection +and compassion. + +"Pierce," he then said, in a low tone--"I know everything!" + +Armitage turned on him sharply. + +"You--you know?--What?--How?--" + +"She--Maude--told me all," said Blythe, gently--"And I think--your +wrong to her--was not so blameworthy as her wrong to you! But I +have something to tell you of one whose wrong is greater than hers +or yours--one who is Innocent!" + +He emphasised the name, and Armitage started as though struck with +a whip. + +"Innocent!" he muttered--"The child--yes!--but I couldn't make +enough to send money for it after a while--I paid as long as I +could--" + +He trembled,--his fine eyes had a strained look of anguish in +them. + +"Not dead too?" he said--"Surely not--the people at the farm had a +good name--they would not be cruel to a child--" + +Blythe gripped him by the arm. + +"Come," he said--"We cannot talk here--there are too many people +about--I must have you to myself. Never mind your appearance--many +an R. A. cuts a worse figure than you do for the sake of 'pose'! +You are entirely picturesque"--and he relieved his pent-up +feelings by a laugh--"And there's nothing strange in your coming +to my room to see the particular view I want from my windows." + +Thus persuaded, Armitage gathered his drawings and painting +materials together, and followed his friend, who quickly led the +way into the Hotel. The gorgeously liveried hall-porter nodded +familiarly to the artist, whom he had seen for several seasons +selling his work on the landing, and made a good-natured comment +on his "luck" in having secured the patronage of a rich English +"Milor," but otherwise little notice was taken of the incongruous +couple as they passed up the stairs to "Milor's" private rooms on +the first floor, where, as soon as they entered, Blythe shut and +locked the door. + +"Now, Pierce, I have you!" he said, affectionately taking him by +the shoulders and pushing him towards a chair. "Why, in heaven's +name, did you never let me know you were alive? Everyone thought +you were dead years and years ago!" + +Armitage sat down, and taking off his cap, passed his hand through +his thick crop of silvery hair. + +"I spread that report myself," he said. "I wanted to get out of it +all--to give up!--to forget that such a place as London existed. I +was sick to death of it!--of its conventions, and vile +hypocrisies--its 'bounders' in art as in everything else!-- +besides, I should have been in the way--Maude was tired of me--" + +He broke off, with an abstracted look. + +"You know all about it, you say?" he went on after a pause--"She +told you--" + +"She told me the night she died," answered Blythe quietly--"After +a silence of nearly twenty years!" + +Armitage gave a short, sharp sigh. "Women are strange creatures!" +he said. "I don't think they know when they are loved. I loved +her--much more than she knew,--she seemed to me the most beautiful +thing on earth!--and when she asked me to run away with her--" + +"She asked you?" + +"Yes--of course! Do you think I would have taken her against her +own wish and will? She suggested and planned the whole thing--and +I was mad for her at the time--even now those weeks we passed +together seem to me the only real living of my life! I thought she +loved me as I loved her--and if she had married me, as I begged +her to do, I believe I should have done something as a painter,-- +something great, I mean. But she got tired of my 'art-jargon,' as +she called it--and she couldn't bear the idea of having to rough +it a bit before I could hope to make any large amount of money. +Then I was disappointed--and I told her so--and SHE was +disappointed, and she told ME so--and we quarrelled--but when I +heard a child was to be born, I urged her again to marry me--" + +"And she refused?" interposed Blythe. + +"She refused. She said she intended to make a rich marriage and +live in luxury. And she declared that if I ever loved her at all, +the only way to prove it was to get rid of the child. I don't +think she would have cared if I had been brute enough to kill it." + +Blythe gave a gesture of horror. + +"Don't say that, man! Don't think it!" + +Armitage sighed. + +"Well, I can't help it, Blythe! Some women go callous when they've +had their fling. Maude was like that. She didn't care for me any +more,--she saw nothing in front of her but embarrassment and +trouble if her affair with me was found out--and as it was all in +my hands I did the best I could think of,--took the child away and +placed it with kind country folks--and removed myself from England +and out of Maude's way altogether. The year after I came abroad I +heard she had married you,--rather an unkind turn of fate, you +being my oldest friend! and this was what made me resolve to +'die'--that is, to be reported dead, so that she might have no +misgivings about me or my turning up unexpectedly to cause you any +annoyance. I determined to lose myself and my name too--no one +knows me here as Pierce Armitage,--I'm Pietro Corri for all the +English amateur art-lovers in Italy!" + +He laughed rather bitterly. + +"I think I lost a good deal more than myself and my name!" he went +on. "I believe if I had stayed in England I should have won +something of a reputation. But--you see, I really loved Maude--in +a stupid man's way of love,--I didn't want to worry her or remind +her of her phase of youthful madness with me--or cause scandal to +her in any way--" + +"But did you ever think of the child?" interrupted Blythe, +suddenly. + +Armitage looked up. + +"Think of it? Of course I did! The place where I left it was +called Briar Farm,--a wonderful old sixteenth-century house--I +made a drawing of it once when the apple-blossom was out--and the +owner of it, known as Farmer Jocelyn, had a wonderful reputation +in the neighbourhood for integrity and kindness. I left the child +with him--one stormy night in autumn--saying I would come back for +it--of course I never did--but for twelve years I sent money for +it from different places in Europe--and before I left England I +told Maude where it was, in case she ever wanted to see it--not +that such an idea would ever occur to her! I thought the +probabilities were that the farmer, having no children of his own, +would be likely to adopt the one left on his hands, and that she +would grow up a happy, healthy country lass, without a care, and +marry some good, sound, simple rustic fellow. But you know +everything, I suppose!--or so your looks imply. Is the child +alive?" + +Lord Blythe held up his hand. + +"Now, Pierce, it is my turn," he said--"Your share in the story I +already knew in part--but one thing you have not told me--one +wrong you have not confessed." + +"Oh, there are a thousand wrongs I have committed," said Armitage, +with a slight, weary gesture. "Life and love have both +disappointed me--and I suppose when that sort of thing happens a +man goes more or less to the dogs--" + +"Life and love have disappointed a good many folks," said Blythe-- +"Women perhaps more than men. And one woman especially, who hardly +merited disappointment--one who loved you very truly, Pierce!-- +have you any idea who it is I mean?" + +Armitage moved restlessly,--a slight flush coloured his face. + +"You mean Lavinia Leigh?" he said--"Yes--I behaved like a cad. I +know it! But--I could not help myself. Maude drew me on with her +lovely eyes and smile! And to think she is dead!--all that beauty +in the grave!--cold and mouldering!" He covered his eyes with one +hand, and a visible tremor shook him. "Somehow I have always +fancied her as young as ever and endowed with a sort of earthly +immortality! She was so bright, so imperious, so queen-like! You +ask me why I did not let you know I was living? Blythe, I would +have died in very truth by my own hand rather than trouble her +peace in her married life with you!" He paused--then glanced up at +his friend, with the wan flicker of a smile--"And--do you know +Lavinia Leigh?" + +"I do," answered Blythe--"I know and honour her! And--your +daughter is with her now!" + +Armitage sprang up. + +"My daughter! With Lavinia! No!--impossible--incredible!--" + +"Sit down again, Pierce," and Lord Blythe himself drew up a chair +close to Armitage--"Sit down and be patient! You know the lines-- +'There's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we +will'? Divinity has worked in strange ways with you, Pierce!--and +still more strangely with your child. Will you listen while I tell +you all?" + +Armitage sank into his chair,--his hands trembled--he was greatly +agitated,--and his eyes were fixed on his friend's face in an +eager passion of appeal. + +"I will listen as if you were an angel speaking, Dick!" he said. +"Let me know the worst!--or the best--of everything!" + +And Blythe, in a low quiet voice, thrilled in its every accent by +the affection and sympathy of his honest spirit, told him the +whole story of Innocent--of her sweetness and prettiness--of her +grace and genius--of the sudden and brilliant fame she had won as +"Ena Armitage"--of the brief and bitter knowledge she had been +given of her mother--of her strange chance in going straight to +the house of Miss Leigh when she travelled alone and unguided from +the country to London--and lastly of his own admiration for her +courage and independence, and his desire to adopt her as a +daughter in order to leave her his fortune. + +"But now you have turned up, Pierce, I resign my hopes in that +direction!" he concluded, with a smile. "You are her father!--and +you may well be proud of such a daughter! And there is a duty +staring you in the face--a duty towards her which, when once +performed, will release her from a good deal of pain and +perplexity--you know what it is?" + +"Rather!" and Armitage rose and began pacing to and fro--"To +acknowledge and legalise her as my child! I can do this now--and I +will! I can declare she was born in wedlock, now Maude is dead-- +for no one will ever know. The real identity of her mother"--he +paused and came up to Blythe, resting his hands on his shoulders-- +"the real identity of her mother is and shall ever be OUR secret!" + +There was a pause. Then Armitage's mellow musical voice again +broke the silence. + +"I can never thank you, Blythe!" he said--"You blessed old man as +you are! You seem to me like a god disguised in a tweed suit! You +have changed life for me altogether! I must cease to be a +wandering scamp on the face of the earth!--I must try to be worthy +of my fair and famous daughter! How strange it seems! Little +Innocent!--the poor baby I left to the mercies of a farm-yard +training!--for her I must become respectable! I think I'll even +try to paint a great picture, so that she isn't ashamed of her +Dad! What do you say? Will you help me?" + +He laughed,--but there were great tears in his eyes. They clasped +hands silently. + +Then Lord Blythe spoke in a light tone. + +"I'll wire to Miss Leigh this morning," he said. "I'll ask her to +come out here with Innocent as soon as possible. I won't break the +news of YOU to them yet--it would quite overpower Miss Leigh--it +might almost kill her--" + +"Why, how?" asked Armitage. + +"With joy!" answered Blythe. "Hers is a faithful soul!" + +He waited a moment--then went on: + +"I'll prepare the way cautiously in a letter--it would never do to +blurt the whole thing out at once. I'll tell Innocent I have a +very great and delightful surprise awaiting her--" + +"Oh, very great and delightful indeed!" echoed Armitage with a sad +little laugh. "The discovery of a tramp father with only a couple +of shirts to his back and a handful of francs in his pocket!" + +"My dear chap, what does that matter?" and Blythe gave him a light +friendly blow on the shoulder. "We can put all these exterior +matters right in no time. Trust me!--Are we not old friends? You +have come back from death, as it seems, just when your child may +need you--she DOES need you--every young girl needs some protector +in this world, especially when her name has become famous, and a +matter of public talk and curiosity. Ah! I can already see her joy +when she throws her arms around your neck and says 'My father!' I +would gladly change places with you for that one exquisite +moment!" + +They stayed together all that day and night. Lord Blythe sent his +wire to Miss Leigh, and wrote his letter,--then both men settled +down, as it were, to wait. Armitage went off for two days to +Milan, and returned transformed in dress, looking the very beau- +ideal of an handsome Englishman,--and the people at Bellaggio who +had known him as the wandering landscape painter "Pietro Corri" +failed to recognise him now in his true self. + +"Yes," said Blythe again, with the fine unselfishness which was +part of his nature, when at the end of one of their many +conversations concerning Innocent, he had gone over every detail +he could think of which related to her life and literary success-- +"When she comes she will give you all her heart, Pierce! She will +be proud and glad,--she will think of no one but her beloved +father! She is like that! She is full of an unspent love--you will +possess it all!" + +And in his honest joy for the joy of others, he never once thought +of Amadis de Jocelyn. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +It was a gusty September afternoon in London, and autumn had given +some unpleasing signs of its early presence in the yellow leaves +that flew whirling over the grass in Kensington Gardens and other +open spaces where trees spread their kind boughs to the rough and +chilly wind. A pretty little elm in Miss Leigh's tiny garden was +clothed in gold instead of green, and shook its glittering foliage +down with every breath of air like fairy coins minted from the +sky. Innocent, leaning from her study window, watched the falling +brightness with an unwilling sense of pain and foreboding. + +"Summer is over, I'm afraid!" she sighed--"Such a wonderful summer +it has been for me!--the summer of my life--the summer of my love! +Oh, dear summer, stay just a little longer!" + +And the verse of a song, sung so often as to have become +hackneyed, rang in her ears-- + +"Falling leaf and fading tree, Lines of white in a sullen sea, +Shadows rising on you and me--The swallows are making them ready +to fly, Wheeling out on a windy sky: Good-bye, Summer! Good-bye, +good-bye!" + +She shivered, and closed the window. She was dressed for going +out, and her little motor-brougham waited for her below. Miss +Leigh had gone to lunch and to spend the afternoon with some old +friends residing out of town,--an unusual and wonderful thing for +her to do, as she seldom accepted invitations now where Innocent +was not concerned,--but the people who had asked her were +venerable folk who could not by the laws of nature be expected to +live very much longer, and as they had known Lavinia Leigh from +girlhood she considered it somewhat of a duty to go and see them +when, as in this instance, they earnestly desired it. Moreover she +knew Innocent had her own numerous engagements and was never +concerned at being left alone--especially on this particular +afternoon when she had an appointment with her publishers,--and +another appointment afterwards, of which she said nothing, even to +herself. She had taken more than usual pains with her attire, and +looked her sweetest in a soft dove-coloured silk gown gathered +about her slight figure in cunning folds of exquisite line and +drapery, while the tender gold of her hair shone like ripening +corn from under the curved brim of a graceful "picture" hat of +black velvet, adorned with one drooping pale grey plume. A small +knot of roses nestled among the delicate lace on her bodice, and +the diamond dove-pendant Lord Blythe had given her sparkled like a +frozen sunbeam against the ivory whiteness of her throat. She +glanced at herself in the mirror with a smile,--wondering if "he" +would be pleased with her appearance,--"he" had been what is +called "difficult" of late, finding fault with some of the very +points of her special way of dress which he had once eagerly +admired. But she attributed his capricious humour to fatigue and +irritability from "over-strain"--that convenient ailment which is +now-a-days brought in as a disguise for mere want of control and +bad temper. "He has been working so hard to finish his portrait of +me!" she thought, tenderly--"Poor fellow!--he must have got quite +tired of looking at my face!" + +She glanced round her study to see that everything was in order-- +and then took up a neatly tied parcel of manuscript--her third +book--completed. She had a fancy--one of many, equally harmless,-- +that she would like to deliver it herself to the publishers rather +than send it by post, on this day of all days, when plans for the +future were to be discussed with her lover and everything settled +for their mutual happiness. Her heart grew light with joyous +anticipation as she ran downstairs and nodded smilingly at the +maid Rachel, who stood ready at the door to open it for her +passing. + +"If Miss Leigh comes home before I do, tell her I will not be +long," she said, as she stepped into her brougham and was whirled +away. At the office of her publishers she was expected and +received with eager homage. The head of the firm took the precious +packet of manuscript from her hand with a smile of entire +satisfaction. + +"You are up to your promised time, Miss Armitage!" he said, +kindly--"And you must have worked very hard. I hope you'll give +yourself a good long rest now?" + +She laughed, lightly. + +"Oh, well!--perhaps!" she answered--"If I feel I can afford it! I +want to work while I'm young--not to rest. But I think Miss Leigh +would like a change--and if she does I'll take her wherever she +wishes to go. She is so kind to me!--I can never do enough for +her!" + +The publisher looked at her sweet, thoughtful face curiously. + +"Do you never think of yourself?" he asked--"Must you always plan +some pleasure for others?" + +She glanced at him in quick surprise. + +"Why, of course!" she replied--"Pleasure for others is the only +pleasure possible to me. I assure you I'm quite selfish!--I'm +greedy for the happiness of those I love--and if they can't or +won't be happy I'm perfectly miserable!" + +He smiled,--and when she left, escorted her himself out of his +office to her brougham with a kind friendliness that touched her. + +"You won't let me call you a brilliant author," he said, as he +shook hands with her--"Perhaps it will please you better if I say +you are a true woman!" + +Her eyes flashed up a bright gratitude,--she waved her hand in +parting--as the brougham glided off. And never to his dying day +did that publisher and man of hard business detail forget the +radiance of the face that smiled at him that afternoon,--a face of +light and youth and loveliness, as full of hope and faith as the +face of a pictured angel kneeling at the feet of the Madonna with +heaven's own glory encircling it in gold. + +The quick little motor-brougham seemed unusually slow-going that +afternoon. Innocent, with her full happy heart and young pulsing +blood, grew impatient with its tardy progress, yet, as a matter of +fact, it travelled along at its most rapid speed. The well-known +by-street near Holland Park was reached at last, and while the +brougham went off to an accustomed retired corner chosen by the +chauffeur to await her pleasure, she pushed open the gate of the +small garden leading to the back entrance of Jocelyn's studio--a +garden now looking rather damp and dreary, strewn as it was with +wet masses of fallen leaves. It was beginning to rain--and she ran +swiftly along the path to the familiar door which she opened with +her private key. Jocelyn was working at his easel--he heard the +turn of the lock and looked round. She entered, smiling--but he +did not at once go and meet her. He was finishing off some special +touch of colour over which he bent with assiduous care,--and she +was far too unselfishly interested in his work to disturb him at +what seemed to be an anxious moment. So she waited. + +Presently he spoke, with a certain irritability in his tone. + +"Are you there? I wish you would come forward where I can see +you!" + +She laughed--a pretty rippling laugh of kindly amusement. + +"Amadis! If you are a true Knight, it is you who should turn round +and look at me for yourself!" + +"But I am busy," he said, with the same sharpness of voice-- +"Surely you see that?" + +She made no answer, but moved quietly to a position where she +stood facing him at about an arm's length. Never had she made a +prettier picture than in that attitude of charming hesitation, +with a tender little smile on her pretty mouth and a wistful light +in her eyes. He laid down his palette and brushes. + +"I must give up work for to-day," he said--and going to her he +took her in his arms--"You are too great an attraction for me to +resist!" He kissed her lightly, as he would have kissed a child. +"You are very fascinating this afternoon! Are you bent on some new +conquest?" + +She gave him a sweet look. + +"Why will you talk nonsense, my Amadis!" she said--"You know I +never wish for 'conquests' as you call them,--I only want you! +Nothing but you!" + +With his arm about her he drew her to a corner of the studio, half +curtained, where there was a double settee or couch, comfortably +cushioned, and here he sat down still holding her in his embrace. + +"You only want me!--Nothing but me!" he repeated, softly--"Dear +little Innocent!--Ah!--But I fear I am just what you cannot have!" + +She smiled, not understanding. + +"What do you mean?" she asked--"You always play with me! Are you +not all mine as I am all yours?" + +He was silent. Then he slowly withdrew his arm from her waist. + +"Now, child," he said--"listen to me and be good and sensible! You +know this cannot go on." + +She lifted her eyes trustfully to his face. + +"What cannot go on?" she queried, as softly as though the question +were a caress. + +He moved restlessly. + +"Why--this--this love-making, of ours! We mustn't give ourselves +over to sentiment--we must be normal and practical. We must look +the thing squarely in the face and settle on some course that will +be best and wisest for us both--" + +She trembled a little. Something cold and terrifying began to +creep through her blood. + +"Yes--I know," she faltered, nervously--"You said--you said we +would arrange everything together to-day." + +"True! So I did! Well, I will!" He drew closer to her and took her +little hand in his own. "You see, dear, we can't live on the +heights of ecstasy for ever" and he smiled,--a forced, ugly smile +--"We've had a very happy time together, haven't we?"--and he was +conscious of a certain nervousness as he felt her soft little body +press against him in answer--"But the time has come for us to +think of other things--other interests--your career,--my future--" + +She looked up at him in sudden alarm. + +"Amadis!" she said--"What is it? You frighten me!--you speak so +strangely! What do you mean?" + +"Now if you are unreasonable I shall go away!" he said, with +sudden harshness, dropping her hand--"I shall leave you here by +yourself without another word!" + +She turned deathly pale--then flushed a faint crimson--a sense of +giddy faintness overcame her,--she put up her hands to her head +tremblingly, and loosening her hat took it off as though its +weight oppressed her. + +"I--I am not unreasonable, Amadis," she faltered--"only--I don't +understand--" + +"Well, you ought to understand," he answered, heatedly--"A clever +little woman like you who writes books should not want any +explanation. You ought to be able to grasp the whole position at a +glance!" + +Her breath came and went quickly--she tried to smile. + +"I'm afraid I'm very stupid then," she answered, gently--"For I +can only see that you seem angry with me for nothing." + +He took her hand again. + +"Dear little goose, I am not angry," he said--"If you were to make +me a 'scene' I SHOULD be angry--very angry! But you won't do that, +will you? It would upset my nerves. And you are such a wise, +independent little person that I feel quite safe with you. Well, +now let us talk sensibly,--I've a great deal to tell you. In the +first place, I'm going to Algiers." + +Her lips were dry and stiff, but she managed to ask-- + +"When?" + +"Oh, any time!--to-morrow... next day--before the week is over, +certainly. There are some fine subjects out there that I want to +paint--and I feel I could do good work--" + +Her hand in his contracted a little,--she instinctively withdrew +it... then she heard herself speaking as though it were someone +else a long way off. + +"When are you coming back?" + +"Ah!--That's my own affair!" he answered carelessly--"In the +spring perhaps,--perhaps not for a year or two--" + +"Amadis!" + +The name sprang from her lips like the cry of an animal wounded to +death. She rose suddenly from his side and stood facing him, +swaying slightly like a reed in a cruel wind. + +"Well!" he rejoined--"You say 'Amadis' as though it hurt you! What +now?" + +"Do you mean," she said, faintly--"by--what--you--say,--do you +mean--that we are--to part?" + +The strained agony in her eyes compelled him to turn his own away. +He got up from the settee and left her where she stood. + +"We must part sooner or later," he answered, lightly--"surely you +know that?" + +"Surely I know that!" she repeated, with a bewildered look,--then +running to him, she caught his arm--"Amadis! Amadis! You don't +mean it!--say you don't mean it!--You can't mean it, if you love +me! ... Oh, my dearest!--if you love me! ..." + +She stopped, half choked by a throbbing ache in her throat,--and +tottered against him as though about to fall. Alarmed at this he +caught her round the waist to support her. + +"Of course I love you!" he said, hurriedly--"When you are good and +reasonable!--not when you behave like this! If I DON'T love you, +it will be quite your own fault--" + +"My own fault?" she murmured, sobbingly--"My own fault? Amadis! +What have I done?" + +"What have you done? It's what you are doing that matters! Giving +way to temper and making me uncomfortable! Do you call that +'love'?" + +She dropped her hand from his arm and drew herself away from him. +She was trembling from head to foot. + +"Please--please don't misunderstand me!" she stammered, like a +frightened child--"I--I have no temper! I--I--feel nothing--I only +want to please you--to know what you wish--" + +She broke off--her eyes, lifted to his, had a strange, wild stare, +but he was too absorbed in his own particular and personal +difficulty to notice this. He went on, speaking rapidly-- + +"If you want to please me you will first of all be perfectly +normal," he said--"Make up your mind to be calm and good-natured. +I cannot stand an emotional woman all tantrums and tears. I like +good sense and good manners. You ought to have both, with all the +books you have read--" + +She gave a sudden low laugh, empty of mirth. + +"Books!" she echoed--and raising her arms above her head she let +them drop again at her sides with a gesture of utter abandonment. +"Ah yes! Books! Books by the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!" + +Her hair was ruffled and fell about her face,--her cheeks had +flamed into a feverish red. The tragic beauty of her expression +annoyed him. + +"Your hair is coming down," he said, with a coldly critical smile +--"You look like a Bacchante!" + +She paid no attention to this remark. She was apparently talking +to herself. + +"Books!" she said again--"Such sweet love-letters and poems by the +Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!" + +He grew impatient. + +"You're a silly child!" he said--"Are you going to listen to me or +not?" + +She gazed at him with an almost awful directness. + +"I am listening!" she answered. + +"Well, don't be melodramatic while you listen!" he retorted--"Be +normal!" + +She was silent, still gazing fixedly at him. + +He turned his eyes away, and taking up one of his brushes, dipped +it in colour and made a great pretence of working in a bit of sky +on his canvas. + +"You see, dear child," he resumed, with an unctuous air of patient +kindness--"your ideas of love and mine are totally different. You +want to live in a paradise of romance and tenderness--I want +nothing of the sort. Of course, with a sweet caressable creature +like you it's very pleasant to indulge in a little folly for a +time,--and we've had quite four months of the 'divine rapture' as +the poets call it,--four months is a long time for any rapture to +last! You have--yes!--you have amused me!--and I've made you +happy--given you something to think about besides scribbling and +publishing--yes--I'm sure I have made you happy--and,--what is +much more to my credit--I have taken care of you and left you +unharmed. Think of that! Day after day I have had you here +entirely in my power!--and yet--and yet"--here he turned his cold +blue eyes upon her with an under-gleam of mockery in their steely +light--"you are still--Innocent!" + +She did not move--she scarcely seemed to breathe. + +"That is why I told you it would be a good thing for you if you +accepted Lord Blythe's offer,--in his great position he would be +able to marry you well to some rich fellow with a title"--he went +on, easily. "Now I am not a marrying man. Domestic bliss would not +suit me. I have sometimes thought it would hardly suit YOU!" + +She stirred slightly, as though some invisible creature had +touched her, and held up one little trembling hand. + +"Stop!" she said, and her voice though faint was clear and steady +--"Do you think--can you imagine that I am of so low and common a +nature as to marry any man, after--" She paused, struggling with +herself. + +"After what?" he queried, smilingly. + +She shuddered, as with keenest cold. + +"After your kisses!" she answered--"After your embraces which have +held me away from everything save you!--After your caresses--oh +God!--after all this,--do you think I would shame my body and +perjure my soul by giving myself to another man?" + +He almost laughed at her saintly idea of a lover's chastity. + +"Every woman would!" he declared--"And I'm sure every woman does!" + +She looked straight before her into vacancy. + +"I am not 'every woman,'" she said, slowly--"I am only one unhappy +girl!" + +He was still dabbing colour on his canvas, but now threw down his +brush and came to her. + +"Dear child, why be tragic?" he said--"Life is such a pleasant +thing and holds so much for both of us! I shall always love you-- +if you're good!" and he laughed, pleasantly--"and you can always +love ME--if you like! But I cannot marry you--I have never thought +of such a thing! Marriage would not suit me at all. I know, of +course, what YOU would like. You would like a grand wedding with +lots of millinery and presents, and then a honeymoon at your old +Briar Farm--in fact, I daresay you'd like to buy Briar Farm and +imprison me there for life, along with the dust and ashes of my +ancestor's long-lost brother--but I shouldn't like it! No, child! +--not even you, attractive as you are, could turn me into a Farmer +Jocelyn!" + +He tried to take her in his arms, but she drew herself back from +him. + +"You speak truly," she said, in a measured, lifeless tone-- +"Nothing could turn you into a Farmer Jocelyn. For he was an +honest man!" + +He winced as though a whip had struck him, and an ugly frown +darkened his features. + +"He would not have hurt a dog that trusted him," she went on in +the same monotonous way--"He would not have betrayed a soul that +loved him!" + +All at once the unnatural rigidity of her face broke up into +piteous, terrible weeping, and she flung herself at his feet. + +"Amadis, Amadis!" she cried. "It is not--it cannot be you who are +so cruel!--no, no!--it is some devil that speaks to me--not you, +not you, my love, my heart! Oh, say it isn't true!--say it isn't +true! Have mercy--mercy! I love you, I love you! You are all my +life!--I cannot live without you! Amadis!" + +Vexed and frightened for himself at her sudden wild abandonment of +grief, he stooped, and gripping her by the arm tried to draw her +up from the floor. + +"Be quiet!" he said, roughly--"I will not have a scandal here in +my studio! You'll bring my man-servant up in a moment with your +stupid noise! I'm ashamed of you!--screaming and crying like a +virago! If you make this row I shall go away!" + +"Oh, no, no, no!--do not go away!" she moaned, sobbingly--"Have +some little pity! Do not leave me, Amadis! Is everything forgotten +so soon? Think for a moment what you have said to me!--what you +have been to me! I thought you loved me, dear!--yes, I thought you +loved me!--you told me so!" And she held up her little hands to +him folded as in prayer, the tears raining down her cheeks--"But +if for some fault of mine you do not love me any more, kill me +now--here--just where I am!--kill me, Amadis!--or tell me to go +away and kill myself--I will obey you!--but don't--don't send me +into the empty darkness of life again all alone! Oh, no, no! Let +me die rather than that!--you would not think unkindly of me if I +were dead!" + +He took her uplifted hands in his own--he began to be +"artistically" interested,--with the same sort of interest Nero +might have felt while watching the effects of some new poison on a +tortured slave,--and a slight, very slight sense of regret and +remorse tugged at his tough heart-strings. + +"I should think of you exactly as I do now," he said, resolutely-- +"If you were to kill yourself I should not pity you in the least! +I should say that though you were a bit of a clever woman, you +were much more of a fool! So you would gain nothing that way! You +see, I'm sane and sensible--you are not. You are excited and +hysterical--and don't know what you are talking about. Yes, +child!--that's the fact!" He patted the hands he held consolingly, +and then let them go. "I wish you'd get up from the floor and be +reasonable! The position is quite simple and clear. We've had an +ideal time of it together--but isn't it Shakespeare who says +'These violent delights have violent ends'? My work calls me to +Algiers--yours keeps you in London--therefore we must part--but we +shall meet again--some day--I hope..." + +She slowly rose to her feet,--her sobbing ceased. + +"Then--you never loved me?" she said--"It was all a lie?" + +"I never lie," he answered, coldly--"I loved you--for the time +being. You amused me." + +"And for your 'amusement' you have ruined me?" + +"Ruined you?" He turned upon her in indignant protest--"You must +be mad! You have been as safe with me as in the arms of your +mother--" + +At this she laughed,--a shrill little laugh with tears submerging +it. + +"You may laugh, but it is true!" he went on, in a righteously +aggrieved tone--"I have done you no harm,--on the contrary, you +have to thank me for a great deal of happiness--" + +She gave a tragic gesture of eloquent despair. + +"Oh, yes, I have to thank you!" she said, and her voice now +vibrated with intense and passionate sorrow--"I have to thank you +for so much--for so very much indeed! You have been so kind and +good! Yes! And you have never thought of yourself or your own +pleasure at all--but only of me! And I have been as safe with you +as in my mother's arms, ... yes!--you have been quite as careful of +me as she was!" And a wan smile flitted over her agonised face-- +"All this I have to thank you for!--but you have ruined me just +the same--not my body, but my soul!" + +He looked at her,--she returned his gaze unflinchingly with eyes +that glowed like burning stars--and he thought she was, as he put +it to himself, "calming down." He laughed, a little uneasily. + +"Soul is an unknown quantity," he said--"It doesn't count." + +She seemed not to hear him. + +"You have ruined my soul!" she repeated steadily--"You have stolen +it from God--you have made it all your own--for your 'amusement'! +What remainder of life have you left to me? Nothing! I have no +hope, no faith, no power to work--no ambition to fulfil--no dreams +to realise! You gave me love--as I thought!--and I lived; you take +love from me, and I die!" + +He bent his eyes upon her with a kind, almost condescending +gentleness,--his personal vanity was immense, and the utter +humiliation of her love for him flattered the deep sense he had of +his own value. + +"Dear little goose, you will not die!" he said--"For heaven's sake +have done with all this sentimental talk!--I am not a man who can +tolerate it. You are such a pleasant creature when you are +cheerful and self-possessed,--so bright and clever and +companionable--and there is no reason why we shouldn't make love +to each other again as often as we like,--but change and novelty +are good for both of us. Come!--kiss me!--be a good child--and let +us part friends!" + +He approached her,--there was a smile on his lips--a smile in +which lurked a suspicion of mockery as well as victorious self- +satisfaction. She saw it--and swiftly there came swooping over her +brain the horrible realisation of the truth--that it was all +over!--that never, never again would she be able to dwell on the +amorous looks and words and love-phrases of HER "Amadis de +Jocelyn!"--that no happy future was in store for her with him-- +that he had no interest whatever in her cherished memories of +Briar Farm, and that he would never care to accept the right of +dwelling there even if she secured it for him,--moreover, that he +viewed her very work with indifference, and had no concern as to +her name or fame--so that everything--every pretty fancy, every +radiant hope, every happy possibility was at an end. Life +stretched before her dreary as the dreariest desert--for her, +whose nature was to love but once, there was no gleam of light in +all the world's cruel darkness! A red mist swam before her eyes-- +black clouds seemed descending upon her and whirling round about +her--she looked wildly from right to left, as though seeking to +escape from some invisible pursuer. Startled at her expression +Jocelyn tried to hold her--but she shook him off. She made a few +unsteady steps along the floor. + +"What is it?" he said--"Innocent--don't stare like that!" + +She smiled strangely and nodded at him--she was fingering the +plant of marguerite daisies that stood in its accustomed place +between the easel and the wall. She plucked a flower and began +hurriedly stripping off its petals. + +"'Il m'aime--un peu!--beaucoup--passionement--pas du tout!' Pas du +tout!" she cried--"Amadis! Amadis de Jocelyn! You hear what it +says? Pas du tout! You promised it should never come to that!--but +it has come!" + +She threw away the stripped flower, ... there was a quick hot +throbbing behind her temples--she put up her hands--then all +suddenly a sharp involuntary scream broke from her lips. He sprang +towards her to seize and silence her--she stuffed her handkerchief +into her mouth. + +"I'm sorry!" she panted--"Forgive!--I couldn't help it!--Amadis-- +Amadis!--" + +And she flung herself against his breast. Her eyes, large and +feverishly brilliant, searched his face for any sign of +tenderness, and searched in vain. + +"Say it isn't true!" she whispered--"Amadis--oh my love, say it +isn't true!" Her little hands caressed him--she drew his head down +towards her and her pleading kiss touched his lips. "Say that you +didn't really mean it!--that you love me still--Amadis!--you could +not be cruel!--you will not break my heart!--" + +But he was too angry to be pitiful. Her scream had infuriated him +--he thought it would alarm the street, bring up the servant, and +give rise to all sorts of scandal in which he might be implicated, +and he roughly loosened her clinging arms from his neck and pushed +her from him. + +"Break your heart!" he exclaimed, bitterly--"I wish I could break +your temper! You behave like a madwoman; I shall go away to my +room! When I come back I expect to find you calm, and reasonable-- +or else, gone! Remember!" + +She stood gazing at him as though petrified. He swung past her +rapidly, and opening the principal door of the studio passed +through it and disappeared. She ran to it--tried to open it--it +was locked on the other side. She was alone. + +She looked about her bewildered, like a child that has lost its +way. She saw her pretty little velvet hat on the settee where she +had left it, and in a trembling hurry she put it on--then paused. +Going on tip-toe to the easel, she looked vaguely at her own +portrait and smiled. + +"You must be good and reasonable!" she said, waving her hand to +it--"When you have lost every thing in the world, you must be +calm! You mustn't think of love any more!--that's only a fancy!-- +you mustn't--no, you mustn't have any fancies or your dove will +fly away! You are holding it to your heart just now--and it seems +quite safe--but it will fly away presently--yes!--it will fly +away!" + +She lifted the painter's palette and looked curiously at it,--then +took up the brush, moist with colour, which Jocelyn had lately +used. Softly she kissed its handle and laid it down again. Then +she waited, with a puzzled air, and listened. There was no sound. +Another moment, and she moved noiselessly, almost creepingly to +the little private door by which she had always entered the +studio, and unlocking it, slipped out leaving the key in the lock. +It was raining heavily, but she was not conscious of this,--she +had no very clear idea what she was doing. There was a curious +calm upon her,--a kind of cold assertiveness, like that of a dying +person who has strength enough to ask for some dear friend's +presence before departing from life. She walked steadily to the +place where her motor-brougham waited for her, and entered it. The +chauffeur looked at her for orders. + +"To Paddington Station," she said--"I am going out of town. Stop +at the first telegraph office on your way." + +The man touched his hat. He thought she seemed very ill, but it +was his place to obey instructions, not to proffer sympathy. At +the telegraph office she got out, moving like one in a dream and +sent a wire to Miss Leigh. + +"Am staying with friends out of town. Don't wait up for me." + +Back to the brougham she went, still in a dream-like apathy, and +at Paddington dismissed the chauffeur. + +"If I want you in the morning, I will let you know," she said, +with matter-of-fact composure, and turning, was lost at once in +the crowd of passengers pouring into the station. + +The man was for a moment puzzled by the paleness of her face and +the wildness of her eyes, but like most of his class, made little +effort to think beyond the likelihood of everything being "all +right to-morrow," and went his way. + +Meanwhile Miss Leigh had returned to her house to find it bereft +of its living sunshine. There were two telegrams awaiting her,-- +one from Lord Blythe, urging her to start at once with Innocent +for Italy--the other from Innocent herself, which alarmed her by +its unusual purport. In all the time she had lived with her "god- +mother" the girl had never stayed away a night, and that she was +doing so now worried and perplexed the old lady to an acute degree +of nervous anxiety. John Harrington happened to call that evening, +and on hearing what had occurred, became equally anxious with +herself, and, moved by some curious instinct, went, on his way +home, to Jocelyn's studio to ascertain if Innocent had been there +that afternoon. But he knocked and rang at the door in vain,--all +was dark and silent. Amadis de Jocelyn was a wise man in his +generation. When he had returned to confront Innocent again and +find her, as he had suggested, either recovered from her "temper" +and "calm and reasonable"--or else "gone"--he had rejoiced to see +that she had accepted the latter alternative. There was no trace +of her save the unlocked private door of the studio, which he now +locked, putting the key in his pocket. He gave a long breath of +relief--a sort of "Thank God that's over!"--and arranged his +affairs of both art and business with such dispatch as to leave +for Paris in peace and comfort by the night boat-train. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +That evening the fitful and gusty wind increased to a gale which +swept the land with devastating force, breaking down or uprooting +great trees that had withstood the storms of centuries, and +torrential rain fell, laying whole tracts of country under water. +All round the coast the sea was lashed into a tossing tumult, the +waves rolling in like great green walls of water streaked with +angry white as though flashed with lightning, and the weather +reports made the usual matter-of-fact statement that "Cross- +Channel steamers made rough passages." Winds and waves, however, +had no disturbing effect on the mental or physical balance of +Amadis de Jocelyn, who, wrapped in a comfortable fur-lined +overcoat, sat in a sheltered corner on the deck of the Calais +boat, smoking a good cigar and congratulating himself on the ease +with which he had slipped out of what threatened to have been a +very unpleasant and embarrassing entanglement. + +"If she were an ordinary sort of girl it wouldn't matter so much," +he thought--"She would be practical, with sufficient vanity not to +care,--she would see more comedy than tragedy in the whole thing. +But with her romantic ideas about love, and her name in +everybody's mouth, I might have got into the devil's own mess! I +wonder where she went to when she left the studio? Straight home, +I suppose, to Miss Leigh,--will she tell Miss Leigh? No--I think +not!--she's not likely to tell anybody. She'll keep it all to +herself. She's a silly little fool!--but she's--she's loyal!" + +Yes, she was loyal! Of that there could be no manner of doubt. +Callous and easy-going man of the world as he had ever been and +ever would be, the steadfast truth and tender devotion of the poor +child moved him to a faint sense of shamed admiration. On the inky +blackness of the night he saw her face, floating like a vision,-- +her little uplifted, praying hands,--he heard her voice, piteously +sweet, crying "Amadis! Amadis! Say you didn't mean it!--say it +isn't true!--I thought you loved me, dear!--you told me so!" + +The waves hissed round the rolling steamer, and every now and +again white tongues of foam darted at him from the crests of the +heaving waters, yet amid all the shattering roar and turbulence of +the storm, he could not get the sound of that pleading voice out +of his ears. + +"Silly little fool!" he repeated over and over again with inward +vexation--"Nothing could be more absurd than her way of looking at +life as though it was only made for love! Yet--she suited her +name!--she was really the most 'innocent' creature I have ever +known! And--and--she loved me!" + +The sea and the wind shrieked at him as the vessel plunged heavily +on her difficult way--his nerves, cool as they were, seemed to +himself on edge: and at certain moments during that Channel +passage he felt a pang of remorse and pity for the young life on +which he had cast an ineffaceable shadow,--a life instinct with +truth, beauty, and brightness, just opening out as it were into +the bloom of fulfilled promise. He had not "betrayed" her in the +world's vulgar sense of betrayal,--he had not wronged her body-- +but he had done far worse,--he had robbed her of her peace of +mind. Little by little he had stolen from the flower of her life +its honey of sweet content,--he had checked the active impulses of +her ambition, and as they soared upwards like bright birds to the +sun, had brought them down, to the ground, slain with a mere word +of light mockery,--he had led her to judge all things of no value +save himself,--and when he had attained to this end he had +destroyed her last dream of happiness by voluntarily proving his +own insincerity and worthlessness. + +"It has all been her own fault," he mused, trying to excuse and to +console himself--"She fell into my arms as easily as a ripe peach +falls at a touch--that childish fancy about 'Amadis de Jocelin' +did the trick! Curious!--very curious that a sixteenth-century +member of my own family tree should be mixed up in my affair with +this girl! Of course she'll say nothing,--there's nothing to say! +We've kept our secret very well, and except for a few playful +suggestions and hints dropped here and there, nobody knows we were +in love with each other. Then--she's got her work to do,--it isn't +as if she were an idle woman without an occupation,--and she'll +think it down and live it down. Of course she will! I'm worrying +myself quite needlessly! It will be all right. And as she doesn't +go to her Briar Farm now, I daresay she'll even forget her fetish +of a knight, the 'Sieur Amadis de Jocelin'!" + +He laughed idly, amused as he always had been at the romantic +ideal she had made of the old French knight who had so strangely +turned out to be the brother of his own far-away ancestor,--and +then, on landing at Calais, was soon absorbed in numerous other +thoughts and interests, and gradually dismissed the whole subject +from his mind. After all, for him it was only one "little affair" +out of at least a dozen or more, which from time to time had +served to entertain him and provide a certain stimulus for his +artistic emotions. + +The storm had it all its own way in the fair English country,-- +sweeping in from the sea it tore over hill and dale with haste and +fury, working terrible havoc among the luxuriant autumnal foliage +and bringing down whirling wet showers of gold and crimson leaves. +Round Briar Farm it raged all day long, tearing away from the +walls one giant branch of the old "Glory" rose and snapping it off +at its stem. Robin Clifford, coming home from the fields in the +late afternoon, saw the fallen bough covered with a scented +splendour of late roses, and lifting it tenderly carried it into +the house, thinking somewhat sadly that in the old days Innocent +would have been grieved had she seen such havoc made. Setting it +in a big brown jar full of water, he put it in the entrance hall +where its shoots reached nearly to the ceiling, and Priscilla +Priday exclaimed at the sight of it-- + +"Eh, eh, is the old rose-tree broken, Mister Robin! That's never +happened before in all the time I've been 'ere! I don't like the +looks of it!--no, Mister Robin, I don't!" + +"It's only one of the bigger branches," answered Robin soothingly. +"The rose-tree itself is all right--I don't think any storm can +hurt that--it's too deeply rooted. This was certainly a very fine +branch, but it must have got loosened by the wind." + +Even as he spoke a fierce gust swept over the old house with a +sound like a scream of wrath and agony, and a furious torrent of +rain emptied itself as though from a cloud-burst, half drowning +the flower-beds and for the moment making a pool of the court- +yard. Priscilla hurried to see that all the windows were shut and +the doors well barred, and when evening closed in the picturesque +gables of the roof were but a black blur in the almost incessant +whirl of rain. + +As the night deepened the storm grew worse, and the howling of the +wind through the cracks and crannies of the ancient building was +like the noise of wild animals clamouring for food. Priscilla and +Robin Clifford sat together in the kitchen,--the most comfortable +apartment to be in on such an unkind night of elemental uproar. It +had become more or less their living-room since Innocent's +departure, for Robin could not bear to sit in the "best parlour," +as it was called, now that there was no one to share its old-world +charm and comfort with him,--and when Priscilla's work was done, +and everything was cleared and the other servants gone to their +beds, he preferred to bring his book and pipe into the kitchen, +and sit in an old cushioned arm-chair on one side of the fire- +place, while Priscilla sat on the other, mending the house-linen, +both of them talking at intervals of the past, and of the happy +and unthinking days when Farmer Jocelyn had been alive and well, +and when Innocent was like a fairy child flitting over the meadows +with her light and joyous movements, her brown-gold hair flying +loose like a trail of sunbeams on the wind, her face blossoming +into rose-and-white loveliness as a flower blossoms on its slender +stem,--her voice carrying sweet cadences through the air and +making music wherever it rang. Latterly, however, they had not +spoken so much of her,--the fame of her genius and the sudden leap +she had made into a position of public note and brilliancy had +somewhat scared the simple soul of Priscilla, who felt that the +child she had reared from infancy had been taken by some strange +and not to be contested fate away, far out of her reach,--while +Robin--whose experiences at Oxford had taught him that persons of +his own sex attaining to even a mild literary celebrity were apt +to become somewhat "touch-me-not" characters--almost persuaded +himself that perhaps Innocent, sweet and ideally simple of nature +as he had ever known her to be, might, under the influence of her +rapid success and prosperity, change a little (and such change, he +thought, would be surely natural!)--if only just as much as would +lessen by ever so slight a degree her former romantic passion for +the home of her childhood. And,--lurking sometimes at the back of +all his thoughts there crept the suggestive shadow of "Amadis de +Jocelyn,"--not the French Knight of old, but the French painter, +of whom she had told him and of whose very existence he had a +strange and secret distrust. + +On this turbulent night the old kitchen looked very peaceful and +home-like,--the open fire burned brightly, flashing its flame- +light against the ceiling's huge oak beams--everything was swept +clean and polished to the utmost point of perfection,--and the +table on which Robin rested the book he was reading was covered +with a tapestried cloth, embroidered in many colours, dark and +bright contrasted cunningly, with an effect that was soothing and +restful to the eyes. In the centre there was placed a quaintly +shaped jar of old brown lustre which held a full tall bunch of +golden-rod and deep wine-coloured dahlias,--a posy expressing +autumn with a greater sense of gain than loss. Robin was reading +with exemplary patience and considerable difficulty one of the old +French poetry books belonging to the "Sieur Amadis de Jocelin," +and Priscilla's small glittering needle flew in and out the open- +work stitchery of a linen pillow-slip she was mending as deftly as +any embroideress of Tudor times. Over the old, crabbed yet +delicately fine writing of the "Sieur" whose influence on +Innocent's young mind had been so pronounced and absolute, and in +Robin's opinion so malign, he pored studiously, slowly mastering +the meaning of the verses, though written in a language he had +never cared to study. He was conscious of a certain suave +sweetness and melancholy in the swing of the lines, though they +did not appeal to him very forcibly. + + "En un cruel orage + On me laisse perir; + En courant au naufrage + Je vois chacun me plaindre et mil me secourir, + Felicite passee + Qui ne peux revenir + Tourment de ma pensee + Que n'ai-je en te perdant perdu le souvenir! + Le sort, plein d'injustice + M'ayant enfin rendu + Ce reste un pur supplice, + Je serais plus heureux si j'avais tout perdu!" + +A sudden swoop of the wind shook the very rafters of the house as +though some great bird had grasped it with beak and talons, and +Priscilla stopped her swift needle, drawing it out to its full +length of linen thread and holding it there. A strange puzzled +look was on her face--she seemed to be listening intently. +Presently, taking off her spectacles, she laid them down, and +spoke in a half whisper: + +"Mister Robin! Robin, my dear!" + +He looked up, surprised at the grave wistfulness and wonder of her +old eyes. + +"Yes, Priscilla?" + +"I'm thinkin' my time is drawin' short, dear lad!" she said, +slowly--"I've got a call, an' I'll not be much longer here! That's +a warnin' for me--" + +"A warning? Priscilla, what do you mean?" + +Drawing in her needle and thread, she pricked it through the linen +she held and looked full at him. + +"Didn't ye hear it?" she asked. + +A sudden chill crept through the young man's blood,--there was +something so wan and mournful in her expression. + +"Dear Priscilla, you are dreaming! Hear what?" + +She lifted one brown wrinkled hand with a gesture of attention. + +"The crying of the child!" she answered--"Crying, crying, crying! +Crying for me!" + +Robin held his breath and listened. The wind had for the moment +lessened in violence, and its booming roar had dropped to a +moaning sigh. Now and again there was a pause that was almost +silence, and during one of these intervals he fancied--but surely +it was only fancy!--that he actually did hear a faint human cry. +He looked at Priscilla questioningly and in doubt,--she met his +eyes with a fixed and solemn resignation in her own. + +"It's as I tell you," she said--"My time has come! It's for me the +child is calling--just as she used to call whenever she wanted +anything." + +Robin rose slowly and moved a step or two towards the door. The +storm was gathering fresh force, and heavy rain pattered against +the windows making a continuous steely sound like the clashing of +swords. Straining his ears to close attention, he waited,--and all +at once as he stood in suspense and something of fear, a plaintive +sobbing wail crept thinly above the noise of the wind. + +"Priscilla! ... Priscilla!" There was no mistaking the human voice +this time--and Priscilla got up from where she sat, though +trembling so much that she had to lean one hand on the table to +steady herself. + +"Ye heard THAT, surely!" she said. + +Robin answered her by a look. His heart beat thickly,--an awful +fear beset him, paralysing his energies. Was Innocent dead? Was +that pitiful wail the voice of her departed spirit crying at the +door of her childhood's home? + +"Priscilla! ... Oh, Priscilla!" + +The old woman straightened her bent figure and lifted her head. + +"Mister Robin, I must answer that call!" she said--"Storm or rain, +we've no right to sit here with the child's voice crying and the +old house shut and barred against her! We must open the door!" + +He could not speak--but he obeyed her gesture, and went quickly +out of the kitchen into the adjacent hall,--there he unbarred and +unlocked the massive old entrance door and threw it open. A sheet +of rain flung itself in his face, and the wind was so furious that +for a moment he could scarcely stand. Then, recovering himself, he +peered into the darkness and could see nothing,--till all at once +he became vaguely aware of a small dark object crouching in one +corner of the deep porch like a frightened animal or a lost child. +He stooped and touched it--it was wet and clammy--he grasped it +more firmly, and it moved under his hand shudderingly and lifted +itself, turning a white face up to the light that streamed out +from the hall--a face wan and death-like, but still the face he +had ever thought the sweetest in the world--the face of Innocent! +With a loud cry of mingled terror and rapture, he caught her up +and held her to his heart. + +"Innocent!--My little love!--Innocent!" + +She made no answer--no sort of resistance. Her little body hung +heavily in his arms--her head drooped helplessly against his +shoulder. + +"Priscilla!" he called--"Priscilla!" + +Priscilla was already beside him--she had hurried into the hall +directly she heard his exclamation of fear and amazement, and now +as she saw him carrying the forlorn little burden tenderly along +she threw up her hands with a piteous, almost despairing gesture. + +"God save us all!--It's the child herself!" she exclaimed--"Mercy +on the poor lamb!--what can have happened to her?--she's half +drowned with rain!" + +As quickly as Robin's strong arms could bear her, she was carried +gently into the kitchen and laid in Robin's own deep arm-chair by +the fire. Roused to immediate practical service and with all her +superstitious terrors at an end, old Priscilla took off a soaked +little velvet hat and began to unfasten a wet mass of soft silk +that clung round the fragile little figure. + +"Go and bar the door fast, Mister Robin, my dear!" she said, +looking up at the young man's pale, agonised face,--"We don't want +any one comin' in here to see the child in trouble!--besides, the +wind's enough to scare a body to death! Poor lamb, poor lamb!-- +where she can have come from the good Lord only knows! It's for +all the world like the night when she was left here, long ago! +Lock and bar the door, dearie, and get me some of that precious +old wine out of the cupboard in the best parlour." Here her active +fingers came upon the glittering diamond pendant in the shape of a +dove that hung by its slender gold chain round Innocent's neck. +She unclasped it, looking at it wonderingly--then she handed it to +Robin who regarded it with sombre, grudging eyes. Was it a love- +gift?--and from whom? + +"And while you're about helping me," went on Priscilla--"you might +go to the child's room and fetch me that old white woolly gown she +used to wear--it's warm and soft, and we'll put it on her and wrap +her in a blanket when she comes to herself. She'll be all right +presently." + +Like a man in a moving dream he obeyed, and while he went on his +errands Priscilla managed to get off some of the dripping garments +which clung to the girl's slight form as closely as the wrappings +of a shroud. Chafing the small icy hands, she smoothed the +drenched fair hair, loosening its pins and combs, and spreading it +out to dry, murmuring fond words of motherly pity and tenderness +while the tears trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. + +"My poor baby!--my pretty child!" she murmured--"What has broken +her like this?--The world's been too rough for her--I misdoubt me +if her fancies about love an' the like o' that nonsense aren't in +the mischief,--but praise the Lord that's brought her home again, +an' if so be it pleases Him we'll keep her home!" + +As she thought this, Innocent suddenly opened her eyes. Beautiful, +wild eyes that stared at her wonderingly without recognition. + +"Amadis!" The voice was thin and faint, but exquisitely tender. +"Amadis! How kind you are! Ah, yes!--at last!--I was sure you did +not mean to be cruel--I knew you would come back and be good to me +again! My Amadis!--You ARE good!--you could not be anything else +but good and true!" She laughed weakly and went on more rapidly-- +"It is raining--yes! Oh, yes--raining very much!--such a cold, +sharp rain! I've walked quite a long way--but I felt I must come +back to you, Amadis!--just to ask you once more to say a kind +word-to kiss me..." + +She closed her eyes again and her head fell back on the pillow of +the chair in which she lay. Priscilla's heart sank. + +"She doesn't know what she's talking about, poor lamb!" she +thought,--"Just wandering and off her head!--and fancying things +about that old French knight again!" + +Here Robin entered, and stood a moment, lost in a maze of +enchanted misery at the sight of the pitiful little half-disrobed +figure in the chair, till Priscilla took the white garment he had +been sent to fetch out of his passive hand. + +"There, dear lad, don't look like that!" she said. "Go, and come +back in a few minutes with the wine--we'll be ready for you then. +Cheer up!--she's opened her pretty eyes once--she'll open them +again directly and smile at you!" + +He moved away slowly with an aching heart, and a tightness in his +throat that impelled him to cry like a woman. Innocent!--little +Innocent!--she who had once been all brightness and gaiety,--was +this desolate, half-dying, stricken creature the same girl? Ah, +no! Not the same! Never the same any more! Some numbing blow had +smitten her,--some withering fire had swept over her, and she was +no longer what she once had been. This he felt by a lover's +intuition,--intuition keener and surer than all positive +knowledge; and not the faintest hope stirred within him that she +would ever shake off the trance of that death-in-life into which +she had been plunged by some as yet unknown disaster--unknown to +him, yet dimly guessed. Meanwhile Priscilla's loving task was soon +done, and Innocent was clothed, warm and dry, in one of the old +hand-woven woollen gowns she had been accustomed to wear in former +days, and a thick blanket was wrapped cosily round her. She was +still more or less unconscious, but the reviving heat gradually +penetrated her body, and she began to sigh and move restlessly. +She opened her eyes again and fixed them on the bright fire. Robin +came in with the glass of wine, and Priscilla held it to her lips, +forcing her to swallow a few drops. + +The strong cordial started a little pulse of warmth in her failing +blood, and she made an effort to sit up. She looked vaguely round +her,--then her wandering gaze fixed itself on Priscilla's anxious +old face, and a faint smile, more pitiful than tears, trembled on +her lips. + +"Priscilla!" she said--"I believe it is Priscilla I Oh, dear +Priscilla! I called you but you would not hear or answer me!" + +"Oh, my lamb, I heard ye right enough!"--and Priscilla fondled and +warmed the girl's passive hands--"But I couldn't think it was +yourself--I thought I was dreaming--" + +"So did I!" she answered feebly--"I thought I was dreaming...yes! +--I have been dreaming such a long, long time! All dreams! I have +walked through the rain--it was very dark and the wind was cold +and cruel--but I walked on and on--I don't know how I came--but I +wanted to get home to Briar Farm--do you know Briar Farm?" + +Stricken to the soul by the look of the wistful eyes expressing a +mind in chaos, Priscilla answered gently-- + +"You're in Briar Farm now, dearie!--Surely you know you are! This +is your own old home--don't you know it?--don't you remember the +old kitchen?--of course you do! There, there!--look up and see!" + +She lifted her head and gazed about her in a lost way. + +"No!" she murmured--"I wish I could believe it, but I cannot. I +believe nothing now. It is all strange to me--I have lost the way +home, and I shall never find it--never--never!" Here she suddenly +pointed to Robin standing aloof in utter misery. + +"Who is that?" she asked. + +Irresistibly impelled by love, fear, and pity, he came and knelt +beside her. + +"It's Robin!" he said--"Dear Innocent, don't you know me?" + +She touched his hair with one little hand, smiling like a pleased +child. + +"Robin?" she queried--"Oh, no!--you cannot be Robin--he is ever so +many miles away!" She looked at him curiously,--then laughed, a +cold, mirthless little laugh. "I thought for a moment you might be +Amadis--his hair is like yours, thick and soft--you know him, of +course--he is the great painter, Amadis de Jocelyn--all the world +has heard of him! He went out just now and shut the door and +locked it--but he will come back--yes!--he will come back!" + +Robin heard and understood--the whole explanation of her misery +suddenly flashed on his mind, and inwardly he cursed the man who +had wreaked such havoc on her trusting soul. All at once she +sprang up with a wild cry. + +"He will come back--he must come back! Amadis!--Amadis!--you will +not leave me all alone?--No, no, you cannot be so cruel!" She +stretched out her arms as though to embrace some invisible +treasure in the air--"Priscilla! ... Priscilla!" Then as Priscilla +took her gently round the waist and tried to calm her she began to +laugh again. "The old motto!--you remember it?--the motto of the +Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!--'Mon coeur me soutien!' You know what it +means--'My heart sustains me.' Yes--and you know why his heart is +so strong? Because it is made of stone! A stone heart can sustain +anything!--it is hard and firm and cold--no rain, no tears can +soften it!--no flowers ever grow on it--it does not beat--it feels +nothing--nothing!"--and her hands dropped wearily at her sides. +"It is not like MY heart! my heart burns and aches--it is a +foolish heart, and my brain is a foolish brain--I cannot think +with it--it is all dark and confused! And I have no one to help +me--I am all alone in the world!" + +"Innocent!" cried Robin passionately--"Oh, my love, my darling!-- +try to recall your dear wandering mind! You are here in the old +home you used to love so well--you are not alone--you never shall +be alone any more. I am with you to love you and take care of you +--I have loved you always--I shall love you till I die!" + +She looked at him with a sudden smile. + +"Robin!--It is Robin!--you poor boy! You always talked like that! +--but you must not love me,--I have no love to give you--I would +make you happy if I could, but I cannot!" + +A violent shudder as of icy cold shook her limbs--she stretched +out her hands pitifully. + +"Would you take me somewhere to sleep?" she murmured--"I am very +tired! And when he comes you will wake me--I will not keep him a +moment waiting! Tell him I am quite well--and that I knew he did +not mean to be unkind--" + +Her voice broke--she tottered and nearly fell. Robin caught her in +his arms and laid her gently back in the chair, where she seemed +to lapse into unconsciousness. He turned a white, desperate face +on Priscilla. + +"What is to be done?" he asked,--"Shall I go for the doctor?" + +Priscilla shook her head. + +"The doctor would be no use," she answered--"She's just fairly +worn out and wants rest. Her little room is ready,--I've kept it +aired, and the bed made warm and cosy ever since she went away-- +lest she should ever come back sudden like... could you carry her +up, d'ye think? She'll be better in her bed--and she would come to +herself quicker." + +Gently and with infinite tenderness he lifted the girl as though +she were a baby and carried her lightly up the broad oak +staircase, Priscilla leading the way--and soon they brought her +into her own room, unchanged since she had occupied it, and kept +by Priscilla's loving and half superstitious care ready for her +return at any moment. Laying her down on her little bed, Robin +left her, though hardly able to tear himself away, and going +downstairs again he flung himself into a chair and wept like a +child for the ruin and wreck of the fair young life which might +have been the joy and sunshine of his days! + +"Amadis de Jocelyn!" he muttered--"A curse on him! Why should the +founder of this house bring evil on us?--Rising up like a ghost to +overshadow us and spoil our happiness?--Let the house perish and +all its traditions if it must be so, rather than that she should +suffer!--for she is innocent!" + +Yes--she was quite innocent,--the little "base-born" intruder on +the unbroken line and history of the Jocelyns!--and yet--it was +with a kind of horror that the memory of that unbroken line and +history recurred to him. Was there--could there be anything real +in the long prevalent idea that if the direct line of the Jocelyns +were broken, the peace and prosperity so long attendant on the old +farm would be at an end? He put the thought away with a sense of +anger. + +"No, no! She could only bring joy wherever she went--no matter who +her parents were, or how she was born, my poor little one!--she +has suffered for no fault at all of her own!" + +He listened to the dying clamour of the storm--the wind still +careered round the house, making a noise like the beating wings of +a great bird, but the rain was ceasing and there was a deeper +sense of quiet. An approaching step startled him--he looked up and +saw Priscilla. She smiled encouragingly. + +"Cheer up, Mister Robin!" she said. ... "She is much better--she +knows where she is now, bless her heart!--and she's glad to be at +home. Let her alone--and if she 'as a good sleep she'll be a'most +herself again in the morning. I'll leave my bedroom door open all +night--an' I'll be lookin' in at 'er when she doesn't know it, +watchin' her lovin' like for all I'm worth! ... so don't ye worry, +my lad!--there's a good God in Heaven an' it'll all come right!" + +Robin took her rough work-worn hands and clasped them in his own. + +"Bless you, you dear woman!" he said, huskily. "Do you really +think so? Will she be herself again?--our own dear little +Innocent?" + +"Of course she will!" and Priscilla blinked away the tears in her +eyes--"An' you'll mebbe win 'er yet!--The Lord's ways are ever +wonderful an' past findin' out--" + +A clear voice calling from the staircase interrupted them. + +"Priscilla! Robin!" + +Running to answer the summons, they saw Innocent at the top of the +stairs, a little vision of pale, smiling sweetness, in her white +wool wrapper--her hair falling loose over her shoulders. She +kissed her hands to them. + +"Only to say good-night!" she said,--"I know just where I am now! +--it was so foolish of me to forget! I am at home--and this is +Briar Farm--and I feel almost well and--happy! Robin!" + +He sprang up the stairs and, kneeling, took one of her hands and +kissed it. + +"That's my true knight!" she said. "Dear Robin! You deserve +everything good--and if it will give you joy I will marry you!" + +"Marry me!" he cried, scarcely believing his ears--"Innocent! You +will?--Dearest little love, you will?" + +She looked down upon him where he knelt, like some small +compassionate angel. + +"Yes--I will!--To please you and Dad!--Tomorrow if you like! But +you must say good-night now and let me sleep!" + +He kissed her hand again. + +"Good-night, sweet!" + +She started--and drew her hand away. + +"He said that once,--and once--in a letter--he wrote it. It seemed +to me beautiful!--'Good-night, sweet!'" She waited as if to think +a moment, then-- + +"Good-night!" again she said--"Do not be anxious about me--I shall +sleep well! Good-night!" + +She waved her hand once more, and disappeared like a little white +phantom in the dark corridor. + +"Does she mean it, do you think?" asked Robin, turning eagerly to +Priscilla--"Will she marry me, after all?" + +"I shouldn't wonder!" and the old woman nodded sagaciously--"Let +her sleep on it, lad!--an' you sleep on it, too!--The storm's nigh +over--an' mebbe our dark cloud 'as a silver lining!" + +Half-an-hour later on she went to her own bed--and on the way +thought she would peep into Innocent's room and see how she fared +--but the door was locked. Vexed at her own lack of foresight in +not possessing herself of the key before the girl had been carried +to her room, she left her own door open that she might be ready in +case of any call--and for a long time she lay awake watchfully, +thinking and wondering what the next day would bring forth--till +at last anxiety and bewilderment of mind were overcome by sheer +fatigue and she slept. Not so Robin Clifford. Excited and full of +new hope which he hardly dared breathe to himself, he made no +attempt to rest--but paced his room up and down, up and down, like +a restless animal in a cage, waiting with hardly endurable +impatience for the dawn. Thoughts chased each other in his brain +too quickly to evolve any practical order out of them,--he tried +to plan out what he would do with the coming day--how he would let +the farm people know that Innocent had returned--how he would send +a telegram to her friend Miss Leigh in London to say she was safe +in her old home--and then the recollection of her literary success +swept over his mind like a sort of cloud--her fame!--the celebrity +she had won in that wider world outside Briar Farm--was it fair or +honest to her that he should take advantage of her weak and half- +distraught condition and allow her to become his wife?--she, whose +genius was already acknowledged by a wide and discerning public, +and who might be considered as only at the beginning of a +brilliant and prosperous career? + +"For, after all, I am only a farmer," he said--"And with the +friends she has made for herself she might marry any one! The best +way for me will be to give her time--time to recover from this-- +this terrible trouble she seems to have on her mind--this curse of +that fancy for Amadis de Jocelyn!--by Heaven, I'd kill him without +a minute's grace if I had him in my power!" + +Still pacing to and fro and thinking, he wore the slow hours away, +and at last the grey peep of a misty, silvery dawn peered through +his window. He threw the lattice open and leaned out--the scent of +the wet fields and trees after the night's storm was sweet and +refreshing, and copied his heated blood. He reviewed the whole +situation with greater calmness,--and decided that he must not be +selfish enough to grasp at the proffered joy of marriage with the +only woman he had ever loved unless he could be made sure that it +would be for her own happiness. + +"Just now she hardly knows what she is saying or doing," he mused, +sadly--"Some great disappointment has broken her spirit and she is +wounded and in pain,--but when she is quite herself and has +mastered her grief, she will see things in a different light--she +will realise the fame she has won,--the brilliant name she has +made--yes!--she must think of all this--she must not wrong herself +or injure her position by marrying me!" + +The silver-grey dawn brightened steadily, and in the eastern sky +long folds of silky mist began to shred away in thin strips of +delicate vapour showing peeps of pale amber between,--fitful +touches of faint rose-colour flitted here and there against the +gold,--and with a sense of relief that the day was at last +breaking and that the sky showed promise of the sun, he left his +room, and stepping noiselessly into the outside corridor, +listened. Priscilla's door was wide open--and as he passed he +looked in,--she was fast asleep. He could not hear a sound,--and +though he walked on cautious tip-toe along the little passage +which led to the room where Innocent slept and waited there a +minute or two, straining his ears for any little sigh, or sob, or +whisper, none came;--all was silent. Quietly he went downstairs, +and, opening the hall door, stepped out into the garden. Every +shrub and plant was dripping with wet--many were beaten down and +broken by the fury of the night's storm, and there was more +desolation than beauty in the usually well-ordered and carefully- +tended garden. The confusion of fallen flowers and trailing stems +made a melancholy impression on his mind,--at another time he +would scarcely have heeded what was, after all, only the natural +havoc wrought by high winds and heavy rains,--but this morning +there seemed to be more than the usual ruin. He walked slowly +round to the front of the house--and there looked up at the +projecting lattice window of Innocent's room. It was wide open. +Surprised, he stopped underneath it and looked up, half expecting +to see her,--but only a filmy white curtain moved gently with the +first stirrings of the morning air. He stood a moment or two +irresolute, recalling the night when he had climbed up by the +natural ladder of the old wistaria and had heard her tell the +plaintive little story of her "base-born" condition, with tears in +her eyes, and the pale moonshine lighting up her face like the +face of an angel in a dream. + +"And she had written her first book already then!" he thought-- +"She had all that genius in her and I never knew!" + +A deeper brightness in the sky began to glow, and a light spread +itself over the land--the sun was rising. He looked towards the +low hills in the east, and saw the golden rim lifting itself like +the edge of a cup above the horizon,--and as it ascended higher +and higher, some fleecy white clouds rolled softly away from its +glittering splendour, showing glimpses of tenderest ethereal blue. +A still and solemn beauty invested all the visible scene,--a +sacred peace--the peace of an obedient and law-abiding nature +wherein man alone creates strange discord. Robin looked long and +lovingly at the fair prospect,-the wide meadows, the stately trees +warmly tinted with autumnal glory, and thought-- + +"Could she be happier than here?--safe in the arms of love?--safe +and sheltered from all trouble in the home she once idolised?" + +He would not answer his own inward query--and suddenly the fancy +seized him to call her by name, as he had called her on that +moonlit night long ago, and persuade her to look out on the +familiar fields shining in the sunlight of the morning. + +"Innocent!" + +There was no answer. + +He called a little louder-- + +"Innocent!" + +Still silence. A robin hopped out from the cover of wet leaves and +peered at him questioningly with its bold bright eye. Acting on an +irresistible impulse he set his foot on the gnarled root of the +old wistaria and started to climb to the window-sill. Three +minutes sufficed him to reach it--he looked into the little room, +--the room which had formerly been the study of the "Sieur Amadis +de Jocelin"--and there seated at the old oak table with her head +bowed down upon her hands and her hair covering her as with a +veil, was Innocent. The sunlight flashed brightly in upon her--and +immediately above her the golden beams traced out as with a pencil +of light the arms of the old French knight with the faded rose and +blue of his shield and motto illumining with curiously marked +distinctness the words he himself had carved beneath his own +heraldic emblems: + +"Who here seekynge Forgetfulness Did here fynde Peace!" + +She was very strangely still,--and a cold fear suddenly caught at +Robin's heart and half choked his breath. + +"Innocent!" he cried. Then, leaping into the room like a man in +sudden frenzy, he rushed towards that motionless little figure-- +threw his arms about it--lifted it--caressed it... + +"Innocent! Look at me! Speak to me!" + +The fair head fell passively back against his shoulder with all +its wealth of rippling hair--the fragile form he clasped was +helpless, lifeless, breathless!--and with a great shuddering sob +of agony, he realised the full measure of his life's despair. +Innocent was dead!--and for her, as for the "Sieur Amadis," the +quaint words shining above her in the morning sunlight were aptly +fitted-- + +"Who here seekynge Forgetfulness Did here fynde Peace!" + + . . . . . . . + +Many things in life come too late to be of rescue or service, and +justice is always tardy in arrival. Too late was Pierce Armitage, +after long years of absence, to give his innocent child the simple +heritage of a father's acknowledgment; he could but look upon her +dead face and lay flowers on her in her little coffin. The world +heard of the sudden death of the young and brilliant writer with a +faintly curious concern--but soon forgot that she had ever +existed. No one knew, no one guessed the story of her love for the +French painter, Amadis de Jocelyn--he was abroad at the time of +her death, and only three persons secretly connected him with the +sorrow of her end--and these were Lord Blythe, Miss Leigh and +Robin Clifford. Yet even these said nothing, restrained by the +thought of casting the smallest scandal on the sweet lustre of her +name. And Amadis de Jocelyn himself?--had he no regret?--no pity? +If the truth must be told, he was more relieved than pained,--more +flattered than sorry! The girl had died for him,--well!--that was +more or less a pleasing result of his power! She was a silly +child--obsessed by a "fancy"--it was not his fault if he could not +live up to that "fancy"--he liked "facts." His picture of her was +the success of the Salon that year, and he was admired and +congratulated,--this was enough for him. + +"One of your victims, Amadis?" asked a vivacious society woman he +knew, critically studying the portrait on the first day of its +exhibition. + +He nodded, smilingly. + +"Really? And yet--Innocent?" + +He nodded again. + +"Very much so! She is dead!" + + . . . . . . . + +Sorrow and joy, strangely intermingled, divided the last years of +life for good Miss Leigh. The shock of the loss and death of the +girl to whom she had become profoundly attached, followed by the +startling discovery that her old lover Pierce Armitage was alive, +proved almost too much for her frail nerves--but her gratitude to +God for the joy of seeing the beloved face once again, and hearing +the beloved voice, was so touching and sincere that Armitage, +smitten to the heart by the story of her long fidelity and her +tenderness for his forsaken daughter, offered to marry her, +earnestly praying her to let him share life with her to the end. +This she gently refused,--but for the rest of her days she--with +him and Lord Blythe--made a trio of friends,--a compact of +affection and true devotion such as is seldom known in this work- +a-day world. They were nearly always together,--and the memory of +Innocent, with her young life's little struggle against fate +ending so soon in disaster, was a link never to be broken save by +death, which breaks all. + + + + +L'ENVOI + +A few evenings since, I who have written this true story of a +young girl's romantic fancy, passed by Briar Farm. The air was +very still, and a red sun was sinking in a wintry sky. The old +Tudor farmhouse looked beautiful in the clear half-frosty light-- +but the trees in the old bye road were leafless, and though the +courtyard gate stood open there were no flowers to be seen beyond, +and no doves flying to and fro among the picturesque gables. I +knew, as I walked slowly along, that just a mile distant, in the +small churchyard of the village, Innocent, the "base-born" child +of sorrow, lay asleep by her "Dad," the last of the Jocelyns,--I +knew also that not far off from their graves, the mortal remains +of the faithful Priscilla were also resting in peace--and I felt, +with a heavy sadness at my heart, that the fame of the old house +was wearing out and that presently its tradition, like many +legendary and romantic things, would soon be forgotten. But just +at the turn of a path, where a low stile gives access to the road, +I saw a man standing, his arms folded and leaning on the topmost +bar of the stile--a man neither old nor young, with a strong quiet +face, and almost snow-white hair--a man quite alone, whose +attitude and bearing expressed the very spirit of solitude. I knew +him for the master of the farm--a man greatly honoured throughout +the neighbourhood for justice and kindness to all whom he +employed, but also a man stricken by a great sorrow for which +there can be no remedy. + +"Will he never marry?" I thought,--but as I put the question to +myself I dismissed it almost as a blasphemy. For Robin Clifford is +one of those rarest souls among men who loves but once, and when +love is lost finds it not again. Except,--perhaps?--in a purer +world than ours, where our "fancies" may prove to have had a surer +foundation than our "facts." + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Innocent, by Marie Corelli + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INNOCENT *** + +This file should be named nncnt10.txt or nncnt10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, nncnt11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, nncnt10a.txt + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/nncnt10.zip b/old/nncnt10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f1cb2b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nncnt10.zip |