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+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
+
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