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diff --git a/75867-h/75867-h.htm b/75867-h/75867-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..17430d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/75867-h/75867-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9385 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Pride o' the Morning, by Agnes Giberne │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} + +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 555px; + } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75867 ***</div> + +<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>SHE SHRANK LOWER AND LOWER, TILL HER BOWED HEAD RESTED</b><br> +<b>ON HER KNEES.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h1>The<br> +<br> +Pride o' the Morning</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +AGNES GIBERNE<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +AUTHOR OF "SUN, MOON AND STARS," "THE MIGHTY DEEP,"<br> +"STORIES OF THE ABBEY PRECINCTS,"<br> +"ROY: A TALE IN THE DAYS OF SIR JOHN MOORE," ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">"And so the shadows fall apart,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">And so the west winds play:</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">And all the windows of my heart</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">I open to the day."</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 20.5em;">WHITTIER.</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +London<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO., LTD.<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +OLD BAILEY<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS<br> +</p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003"></figure> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CHAPTER</p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_1">I. COLIN'S RETURN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_2">II. MIDNIGHT MOVEMENTS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_3">III. MRS. WYVERNE'S GRAND-DAUGHTERS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_4">IV. THINGS PAST AND PRESENT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_5">V. THE MIDFELL ATMOSPHERE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_6">VI. A BURNISHED STREAM</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_7">VII. A STERN CHASE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_8">VIII. MR. DUGDALE'S OUTSPOKENNESS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_9">IX. A MOORLAND DEATH-TRAP</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_10">X. DIREFUL REALISATIONS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_11">XI. CASTLE HILL PERPLEXITIES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_12">XII. COLIN AND HIS WORK</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_13">XIII. THE OLD VILLAGE CHURCH</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_14">XIV. SCULPTOR AND SITTER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_15">XV. AN INADVERTENT DISCOVERY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_16">XVI. LEVEL PLAINS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_17">XVII. DUTY VERSUS DESIRE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_18">XVIII. A PAST EPISODE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_19">XIX. A VANISHED PORTRAIT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_20">XX. REVERSION TO A RUT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_21">XXI. THE THINGS THAT ARE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_22">XXII. THINGS THAT SHOULD BE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_23">XXIII. COLIN'S CONQUESTS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_24">XXIV. A FAMILIAR HANDWRITING</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_25">XXV. GILES OR SOMEBODY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_26">XXVI. AN UNQUIET MIND</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_27">XXVII. RENEWED FIGHTING</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_28">XXVIII. NEW DEVELOPMENTS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_29">XXIX. THE LOST HEIRLOOM</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_30">XXX. MRS. KEITH AND HER CORRESPONDENT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_31">XXXI. GILES AND HIS HOPES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_32">XXXII. A POSSIBLE COMPLICATION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_33">XXXIII. COMING TO THE POINT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_34">XXXIV. A FLARE-UP AND ITS SEQUELÆ</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_35">XXXV. THE OTHER MAN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_36">XXXVI. THE COIL IN ITS BEGINNING</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_37">XXXVII. READJUSTMENTS</a></p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +<b>THE PRIDE O' THE MORNING</b><br> +</p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>COLIN'S RETURN</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>A BEAM of sunshine from the far west came in at the oriel window +of Castle Hill library. As its name might imply, Castle Hill stood +somewhat high, at least for English Midlands. The house, an old one, +often added to in the course of centuries, was two hundred feet above +the village of Castlemere.</p> + +<p>It had, therefore, benefits of breeze and light; and this lengthy +irregular room, with its four windows, its carved black oak, its +hangings of dull green and old gold, enjoyed the latest kisses of the +monarch of day. The hour for those kisses was not yet come. Wavelets +of ether, shimmering billions to each beat of the venerable clock, +speeding across ninety-three millions of miles, still landed on wall +and carpet.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith's mind was occupied with other matters than scientific +causes for everyday phenomena, as she paced the room with impatient +steps, glancing in turn through each front window, in quest of the +expected dog-cart.</p> + +<p>She was a handsome woman, tall, with dark eyes of unusual size. The +rich brown hair, which held many silver threads, was well-dressed, +and she carried herself with a touch of conscious stateliness, which +failed to hide her present restless mood. A fixed red spot on either +cheek made the rest of her pale face paler; her lips worked; and she +continuously clenched and unclenched her right hand.</p> + +<p>Giles Randolph had risen when she rose, and he now stood in the oriel +window, reading; a man of large build, six feet in height and robust +in make. The face had strong outlines, with a straight solid nose, a +good mouth under the heavy brown moustache, sombre blue eyes dragged +downward at their outer corners, and a complexion of deep red-brown. +In the features was something not easy to decipher. There was fibre of +character, and a will to crush difficulty; yet that dim inscription +seemed to speak of something in the past that had mastered him, and had +given a bias to his life.</p> + +<p>"Half-past six! He ought to be here. I can't think why he is not," Mrs. +Keith was saying. "The train was due half-an-hour ago."</p> + +<p>She took another turn.</p> + +<p>"He must have missed it. How vexatious! When does the next come in? I +do wish you would look it out for me."</p> + +<p>Giles put down his book and walked to a side-table, where some fumbling +ended in the remark—"I don't see Bradshaw."</p> + +<p>"It's there, I know—on the top shelf of that bookcase."</p> + +<p>He took down the volume, remarking in his deep voice, which contrasted +with her somewhat querulous tones—"This train is often late."</p> + +<p>"O don't be sensible, pray! I'm not in the mood for it."</p> + +<p>Possibly her companion was at a loss how to be the reverse. He turned +over the pages, and remarked, "In case Colin should have missed—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I understand all that. The time of the train is what I +want." Then came an apology. "I really don't mean to be cross, Giles. +Somehow, I can't help it."</p> + +<p>He looked at her kindly. "Of course—I understand. One knows what this +must be to you—your own boy coming home!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is—he may be different."</p> + +<p>"No fear. Colin will be Colin still. Ah! Here is the page."</p> + +<p>She had moved again and now stood behind him. A breeze of feeling swept +over her face; something of protestation, for which nothing present +seemed to account. Tears filled her eyes and were with difficulty +blinked away; but she spoke in a tone of forced gaiety.</p> + +<p>"You have no business to talk like that. To speak as if Colin were more +to me than yourself. You know that you both are my boys—always have +been and always will be."</p> + +<p>He spoke soothingly. "At all events, if there has been any difference +it has lain the other way—more indulgence for me, more strictness for +him."</p> + +<p>"O surely not!" That which he meant to comfort her proved +exciting. "Don't say it, Giles! So hard as I have tried to make no +difference—even in my love!"</p> + +<p>"You have made none, beyond what was inevitable. Colin has the right +to your greater love, and he is infinitely more lovable. Venetian +glass can't be handled like granite. Come, you are not going to worry +yourself! Things are all right."</p> + +<p>"I hope so. I shouldn't like to think—" She left the sentence +unfinished, and began anew—"I often wonder—'can' one hold oneself even? +I know what you mean by 'greater strictness' and 'Venetian glass.' Just +because he is my own, I have tried to be more severe with him, and his +sweetness has made it impossible. He is so lovable, as you say."</p> + +<p>"Of course your own boy is and must be more to you than all the world +beside."</p> + +<p>"Yes—true," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"I should be the last ever to wish Colin to come second." Giles spoke +pointedly; for Mrs. Keith's endeavours to give her ward his full rights +had often resulted in giving her son less than his rights. "But here is +the dog-cart."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith's attempts at self-analysing were brushed aside. Colin was +through the front door before they could leave the library, moving with +an absence of hurry, yet forestalling them. He kissed his mother, shook +hands with Giles, patted the old hound who followed him with sniffs +and whines, exchanged some chaff with the stout butler which set that +excellent retainer grinning with delight, and finally took possession +of an armchair, asking and answering questions in a soft deliberate +undertone, which was the precise antithesis of his mother's variable +voice.</p> + +<p>He and Giles were made after different models. A stranger might easily +have set down the latter as a man of four-and-thirty, while few guessed +Colin to have passed his twenty-third year. Yet less than six weeks had +divided the birth of the one from the birth of the other; and each now +had passed his twenty-eighth birthday.</p> + +<p>Colin was the shorter, though he gained in apparent height from +his slightness. His fair pale complexion and chiselled delicacy of +feature contrasted with the powerful outlines of Giles, while the +finely-developed forehead spoke of intellect. The blue eyes were +singular, not unlike those of Giles in colour, observant, yet dreamy.</p> + +<p>He had suffered severely in health from an accident in boyhood. A +heavy blow on the head had resulted in disabling headaches, which for +years prevented study. His high spirit had made him less of an invalid +than might have been the case; still, education had been a negligible +quantity, so far as any regular "curriculum" was concerned. He had read +much by fits and starts, picking up any amount of general information, +but steady work had been impossible. Foreign travel at last had been +recommended, and much was expected from the three years of absence, now +ended.</p> + +<p>Glad to be back! Yes, certainly. Though he had enjoyed himself no +end—thanks to Giles!—with a glance at the latter.</p> + +<p>Then, presently—"Giles, I've been thinking—it is cool of me to talk of +this as 'home.' As if I had a shadow of right!"</p> + +<p>"You have every right."</p> + +<p>"Not a particle. Now I am stronger, I don't mean to be dependent."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" came emphatically.</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Keith stood up.</p> + +<p>"Going to dress for dinner," she murmured; and Colin showed surprise, +since the hour was early. He did not protest, but when she had +disappeared, his glance went to Giles.</p> + +<p>"Nervous!" came in reply.</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't a notion."</p> + +<p>Colin dropped the subject, and reverted to what he had been saying. +"That's all very well, you know; but I happen to have a trifle of +self-respect. Call it pride, if you like."</p> + +<p>"Between you and me pride is impossible."</p> + +<p>"The future Mrs. Randolph—"</p> + +<p>"Will feel as I feel, or she won't exist. What is mine is yours. And +not a man in the Empire is less likely to marry."</p> + +<p>"Bosh! Anyhow, I mean to work."</p> + +<p>"You shall do what you can, without suffering for it. But for pleasure, +not necessity."</p> + +<p>"It's a moral necessity that I should be independent."</p> + +<p>"And deprive me of the one thing—" A word of protest cut into the +utterance. "Yes, I know! I promised not to say it again. No need; for +you understand. I wish you also to understand that never while I live +will Castle Hill cease to be your home."</p> + +<p>"So be it! Meanwhile, I intend to work."</p> + +<p>"At what?"</p> + +<p>"Modelling, of course. Will the mater be exercised?" His words dropped +slowly.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why she should."</p> + +<p>"She hates to see me fingering clay. I never can conceive why. It is +the one thing I can do."</p> + +<p>"Better for you, at any rate, than head-work."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow! Do you suppose sculpture is not head-work?"</p> + +<p>"Better than books, I should have said. We must fit up a studio."</p> + +<p>Colin murmured a "Thanks." He added, "I've done a lot of modelling +lately—in Paris first, of course."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that was what kept you so long."</p> + +<p>"I went through a regular course. This winter I've had a fine time +in Italy, studying the great masters. Plaster casts want a lot of +practice. I've not made much way with them yet."</p> + +<p>"Don't try for the present. Modelling in clay will give scope for +your powers, and a practised moulder will do the casting better. For +a wonder, I know just the man in Market Oakley—a young fellow with +talent. I shall like to encourage him."</p> + +<p>"I dare say! But the cost—"</p> + +<p>"Will be my concern, till you can stand alone. When you are receiving +hundreds for a bust, you shall pay for your own casting."</p> + +<p>"Ah—when!! But I mean to stand alone."</p> + +<p>"What are a few pounds between you and me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps for a time!" reluctantly. "I had no end of encouragement +abroad. Some of my attempts won great praise."</p> + +<p>"Delighted to hear it," Giles said cordially. "What do you think of +the old schoolroom for your studio? It is out of the way, and has no +room over. You will want skylight windows, I fancy, and a tap of water, +and a modelling-stool, and instruments. There's a small inner room, +which will be useful. We will have it put in order at once. You must be +properly equipped at the outset."</p> + +<p>"Giles, you 'are' a good fellow!" murmured Colin.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MIDNIGHT MOVEMENTS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"HOW do you do?" a precise voice said.</p> + +<p>It was not needful to announce Mr. Thomas Dugdale. He was as much at +home in the house as its proper inmates. If a door were open, he walked +in; if not, the butler opened it, but did not venture to treat him like +a caller.</p> + +<p>The greeting was meant for Colin. He never said, "How do you do?" to +the others, since they met too often.</p> + +<p>He was elderly, composed, critical, daintily neat every inch of him, +from the smooth well-cut hair and the shaven face to the immaculate +shoes, which never, on the muddiest day, became soiled. Extreme +exactitude, inside and out, was his main characteristic. He lived +alone in a small house on the estate, built by a former owner for his +mother-in-law. Mr. Dugdale might have found a home with his widowed +daughter, on a neighbouring property, but he preferred "freedom."</p> + +<p>Dinner over, Colin usurped most of the talk, till Mr. Dugdale appeared.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith looked often from one to the other of "her boys," as she +called them, trying to impress upon both that neither was more to her +than the other. They, man-like, would have taken the fact for granted. +She could not let it alone. If she said "Dear Colin," she dragged in +a "Dear Giles" within two minutes. If she laid an affectionate hand +on Giles' shoulder, she gave a like caress to Colin. The balancing +of affection became irksome, and Mr. Dugdale's entrance made a not +unwelcome diversion.</p> + +<p>"Tired of travelling?" he suggested. "Three years—enough for the most +voracious appetite. What is to be the next step?"</p> + +<p>"Settle down at home," Giles replied for him.</p> + +<p>"Well—for a while. Give folks time to turn round." He took off the +far-sighted glasses with which he had surveyed Colin, put them away, +and with dainty finger-tips adjusted his near-sighted pince-nez, +pulling forth a letter.</p> + +<p>"Something to interest you here. A response to my letter. Signs of +yielding, too. It takes the old lady six weeks to evolve an answer."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith saw the writing. "Mrs. Wyverne!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Colin showed interest. "How about Phyllys?" he asked. "Something was +said lately about getting her to visit us."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wyverne ought to consent. Giles will be in that neighbourhood, +and he means to try persuasion—not asking leave beforehand."</p> + +<p>"Going to storm the fortress?" suggested Colin, with one of his +noiseless laughs. "Mind you don't capture by mistake the ogress!"</p> + +<p>"Not likely! Barbara must be a person to whom distance lends +enchantment," remarked Giles.</p> + +<p>"We have nothing to do with Miss Pringle. It is Phyllys whom we want. +Certainly not Barbara!" Mrs. Keith knitted her brows.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale began to fold up his letter in disgust. "Barbara Pringle +is an excellent person of her kind," he said stiffly. "Well-meaning +and conscientious. Most people are well-meaning. But the bane of +womanhood is to be always in the right. Barbara Pringle is always in +the right. She never makes a mistake. Therefore she is monotonous and +uninteresting."</p> + +<p>"Let us devoutly hope that Phyllys sometimes blunders," laughed Colin. +He saw the vanishing letter, and added, "But you were going to read us +something."</p> + +<p>"Nothing! Nothing!" Mr. Dugdale waved the subject aside with his +hand. "Merely a passing idea. Barbara Pringle has usurped its place. +Inadvertently I interrupted somebody—or somebody interrupted me. In +either case, I apologise."</p> + +<p>Glances were exchanged. Mr. Dugdale crossed his legs, and contemplated +an empty fireplace.</p> + +<p>"The Infinitely Little!" he mused. "It may be masculine; but it is more +commonly feminine. Woman, when she is small, is very small indeed. +When last I had the pleasure of seeing Barbara Pringle, I should have +described her as an excellent example of the Infinitely Little. Good, +no doubt; but narrow—painfully narrow. A woman whose whole Universe +might be packed into an egg-shell."</p> + +<p>"Think what her life has been," suggested Colin. "Forty years in a +Yorkshire burrow."</p> + +<p>"Narrowness is a matter of mental make, not of circumstances."</p> + +<p>"No doubt; but circumstances tell upon one's mental make. A plant, +whatever its make, can't develop without light and air. Miss Pringle +has had neither."</p> + +<p>"If she had, she could not have made use of them."</p> + +<p>"And the family aim is to rescue Phyllys from a like fate. Giles should +be equal to the old lady, even backed by the redoubtable Barbara."</p> + +<p>"Barbara Pringle is a woman not easily managed."</p> + +<p>"Ten years since you saw her," said Mrs. Keith.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale put his finger-tips together, and entered on a discussion +of dates. He proved, to his own satisfaction, that not ten years, but +precisely nine and a half, had elapsed since the date of his visit to +the Yorkshire village, where lived old Mrs. Wyverne and her pair of +grand-daughters. Then he stood up, his eyes bent upon Colin.</p> + +<p>"Sorry—no. Can't stay longer. Busy; and so are you." He was still +chafing under his supposed slight. "Ta-ta, everybody. Whom on earth has +Colin grown like?"</p> + +<p>"It's generally decided that I am like nobody," remarked the object of +his scrutiny. "Not the mater, in any case."</p> + +<p>"'I' should have said Colin was like everybody in turn," Mrs. Keith +observed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale, with wrinkled brows, pursued his quest.</p> + +<p>"Can't imagine," he repeated. "It is a definite resemblance." He +frowned anew, standing deep in thought. "I have it! That old portrait +in oils, which used to hang here—I never could understand why it was +banished to the gallery! It's one of the best things in the house!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith went into peals of laughter. She held her handkerchief to +her lips, overpowered with merriment. Colin laughed sympathetically in +his silent fashion, while the set gravity of Giles' features deepened.</p> + +<p>"My 'dear' Mr. Dugdale! You really are 'too' comical! The idea of +likening Colin to that ancient fogey! Young, was he?—Yes, I dare say he +was—two hundred years ago! But it's too rich!—too funny!" Her laughter +filled the room. She was not often noisy, but for once she let herself +go.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. Good-night. In future I shall keep my opinions to +myself!" And Mr. Dugdale walked off, affronted. He could stand anything +better than ridicule.</p> + +<p>Giles went with him to the door, and on his return Mrs. Keith's +merriment had subsided.</p> + +<p>Colin was saying—</p> + +<p>"I have reverted lately to my old love—sculpture."</p> + +<p>There was a movement of annoyance. "I hope you are not going to take +that up again!"</p> + +<p>"If I have the gift, why not use it?" asked Colin, in level tones.</p> + +<p>"You have not. It is a mere fancy."</p> + +<p>"A fancy that has survived twenty years."</p> + +<p>"You will never succeed." Her manner showed displeasure.</p> + +<p>"But at least he can try," put in Giles.</p> + +<p>"It will be utter waste of time."</p> + +<p>"That was not the opinion of an expert. He said there was no doubt +about my having the gift—if I could work hard enough."</p> + +<p>"You won't. You will never keep up anything long."</p> + +<p>The words brought a shadow to both faces, more especially to that of +Giles.</p> + +<p>"If you wish to find work, pray take up something worth doing." She was +greatly in earnest, and the red spot in either cheek began to burn.</p> + +<p>"This is worth doing, if Colin wishes it," said Giles gravely. He +counted her opposition unkind.</p> + +<p>The subject was dropped, but Mrs. Keith's face fell into a haggard set. +She went to bed early, Colin retiring also, and Giles retreated to his +private den beyond the billiard-room. Since he managed his own estate, +without an agent, he was sufficiently busy. Papers had to be examined, +letters had to be written; and this was his time of quiet.</p> + +<p>More than two hours had gone by, when a consciousness came over him of +something or somebody moving.</p> + +<p>The servants would be gone to bed, since it was past midnight. He went +out and listened, standing in a narrow passage, which at some distance +to the left joined the central hall; and the whole house seemed to be +in darkness, in absolute repose. But as he waited, he heard again that +suggestion of a sound—hardly a creak—and then he saw a needle of light +falling athwart one corner of the hall.</p> + +<p>He took an unlighted candle and a box of matches, and groped his way +thither; but the slender ray had vanished.</p> + +<p>Again he listened, and could detect nothing. Mrs. Keith or one of the +maids might be about: but what puzzled him was that the needle of +light had seemed to travel from the long corridor on the first floor, +known as the "gallery," its position and slant being in no other way +explainable.</p> + +<p>Not wishing to disturb sleepers by stumbling about in the dark, he +lighted his candle and went upstairs. Mrs. Keith's room was fast shut; +so was Colin's. He turned to the gallery, where a double row of old +pictures, portraits and landscapes, adorned one wall, the other being +broken by windows.</p> + +<p>Another glimmer ahead. The gallery ran round two sides of the house, +and this ray came from beyond the corner. He went faster, but on +rounding the corner he saw nothing. If anybody had been there, the +person must have gone through a door to the back staircase.</p> + +<p>Thither also went Giles. He descended the back stairs, which ended on +a part of the ground-floor divided by a swing-door from the main hall. +Still no one was visible. He pushed the door open and passed through, +to find himself in darkness. He could discover no presence except his +own. Going once more up the front stairs, to make assurance doubly +sure, he saw a light below Mrs. Keith's door, and tapped. She kept him +waiting a good two minutes, then opened and faced him in surprise—her +hair falling over a dressing-gown flung hurriedly on.</p> + +<p>"Giles! Is anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Some one is about, and I wanted to know if you had left your room."</p> + +<p>"I! I was in bed, almost asleep—but I heard a step, and I lighted +my candle. Then it was not 'your' step? Not thieves, I hope!" with +frightened eyes.</p> + +<p>"More likely one of the maids. Probably you heard my steps; but +somebody else was on the move."</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to the maids to-morrow. They have no business to be about +so late. You are 'sure' it is not a thief—" her breath quickening.</p> + +<p>"No need to feel anxious. I'm not going to bed yet, and I shall take a +look at all the fastenings."</p> + +<p>He said good-night, and went the round, but found no door or window +unbolted.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MRS. WYVERNE'S GRAND-DAUGHTERS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"PHYLLYS BELINDA WYVERNE."</p> + +<p>She wrote the words in large capitals with the point of a decrepit +sunshade upon a patch of smooth sand by the wayside, and read them +aloud.</p> + +<p>"And that is Me," she murmured. "That always was Me. That always will +be Me. Yet—when one comes to think of it—such a different Me now from +what I used to be in the old, old days!"</p> + +<p>So far as looks went, she might have been anywhere between seventeen +and twenty-one.</p> + +<p>"And such a different Me from what I might have been—if 'they' had +lived!" she added.</p> + +<p>She allowed a handful of dry sand to stream between her fingers, and +Wiggles, the rough Skye-terrier, with bright eyes under a shaggy +penthouse of hair, had the benefit of it. She broke into laughter at +his indignant bark.</p> + +<p>"Your temper is too easily upset, Wiggles. You should wait till you +have something to bark at. There are worse things in life than a +sprinkle of sand. Infinitely worse, dear Wiggles."</p> + +<p>Above the sand-patch rose a steep bank, clothed with trees and +underwood. She stood, her head thrown back, meditating an assault. +She dearly loved climbing, and nobody was at hand to protest, except +one who owned no right of protestation. She believed herself to be +alone. Wiggles knew better; and for a second time he ran to inspect the +intruder. A second time he decided that it was no case for a rousing +alarum. He was a dog of discrimination.</p> + +<p>Phyllys pursued her soliloquy in a voice which, though subdued, was +full and bell-toned.</p> + +<p>"On the whole I don't wish to be anybody else. But that is not to say +that I would not rather be 'Somewhere' else! Wiggles—" and she broke +into energy—"how I long—long—to get away! Right away—from everything +and everybody! I feel as if I were shut up in prison for evermore—never +to see, never to know, never to reach beyond this little round. I want +things different—and people to understand."</p> + +<p>She stopped to pat the dog, and he squirmed in rapturous response.</p> + +<p>"One thing is clear," she remarked aloud. "I can't and I won't go to +the meeting this evening. I'm old enough to judge for myself, though +Barbara does treat me like a child. I'm not in the mood, and it never +does me any good. I'll play truant till Grannie and Barbara are off—let +the consequences be what they may."</p> + +<p>The features of her unknown spectator relaxed with amusement. He was +about to make a forward move, when checked by a spring on her part. +She went lightly up the bank, as a sailor might have done, and swung +herself into the branches of a medium-sized tree. He drew back, fearing +to startle her if she should glance round in the midst of her acrobatic +feat.</p> + +<p>She settled herself on the fork of a bough, leant against the trunk, +and sighed with content.</p> + +<p>"This is something like! Imagine exchanging it for the stuffy +schoolroom, and all the 'Ha's' and 'Ho's' and 'Hi's,'—worse still for +Miss Robins and Mr. Timkins. Ah, Wiggles, my dear, if you knew what it +was to have to do with a Timkins—and 'such' a Timkins!"</p> + +<p>By this time her audience was smiling outright, though less easily +moved to a smile than some men.</p> + +<p>The bough on which she rested gave a creak. "I say!—I mustn't stay +long. But it is delicious. Why does one grow too old to do what one +likes?"</p> + +<p>Silence was broken by the trills of a wren, pouring forth its little +heart in song. A cricket chirped, and a large bumble-bee swung heavily +by, and a dragonfly with iridescent wings swept to and fro in dashes +after his prey.</p> + +<p>"Wough!" objected Wiggles, feeling himself in the lurch.</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, Wiggles. I'm coming soon."</p> + +<p>Her gaze wandered over the expanse beyond the opposite wall; a wall of +loose stones piled scientifically together, without aid from mortar. +Grass-fields, divided by similar walls, sloped downward into a hollow, +where lay the clustering stone houses of a village, well named Midfell, +since all around, at distances varying from two to four miles, broad +moor fells reared their summits. Their clear wide lines stood against +a sky of pure blue, and the bright green of grass-land contrasted +with the richer green of late July bracken, while other parts had +begun faintly to blush with the glow of opening heather. All was +grazing-land, varied only by uncultivated moor. No trace of corn could +be seen.</p> + +<p>It was a fair look-out; so calm that the whisper of a brooklet might be +heard on its way to join the main stream which cut the village in half. +Phyllys could see that stream from where she sat, and a stone bridge +over it, beside which was her home. Now and again a low "moo" floated +from one of the meadows, then the bark of a dog, and again a child's +voice.</p> + +<p>"Wough!" protested Wiggles anew.</p> + +<p>He went for a third survey of the stranger, feeling himself responsible +for his mistress' safety. There was a slight "Sh-sh!" and the +stranger's eyes gazed into his. Wiggles knew that no harm lay behind +those sombre blue orbs, and he wagged his tail.</p> + +<p>"Good dog!" the stranger said aloud.</p> + +<p>Phyllys overheard, and uttered an "Oh!" to herself. She had been well +lectured on the fact that at twenty-three she was years too old for +tree climbing, and she never now ventured on the amusement except in +privacy. There was nothing for it but to wait till the other should +have gone on. Owing to the nature of the ground a dignified descent +was impossible. She would have to come with a drop, a run, and a +leap—enjoyable enough, but not to be allowed before spectators.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," the intruder said, advancing to the foot of the bank, +and lifting his straw hat. "I could not help hearing your name. As it +happens that I am on my way to your house, perhaps I may venture to +introduce myself. If we are not acquainted, we ought to be."</p> + +<p>Phyllys paid but divided attention. She had discovered that her bough +was unequal to its task, and was giving way. If only the interloper +would hurry on and leave her to scramble down, all would be right. He +showed no such intention.</p> + +<p>"My name is Giles Randolph," he was remarking.</p> + +<p>"I say!" whispered Phyllys, as her support yielded more pronouncedly. +She clutched the trunk.</p> + +<p>"I hardly think you are comfortable up there," the deep voice observed, +while its owner steadied himself for instant action.</p> + +<p>"It is most delightful," hardily asserted Phyllys. "But if you would +please go on round the corner, I will come after you." She was chafing +with impatience, for each moment was of importance, and he stood as if +an earthquake would not dislodge him.</p> + +<p>"I think you had better let me help you down."</p> + +<p>"Help 'me!'"—with a laugh.</p> + +<p>The slight jerk was fatal, and the bough snapped clean off, leaving her +in peril. She strove to cling to a stem too large for her grasp, and +hung over the road, which lay far enough beneath to mean, if she fell, +at the least broken bones.</p> + +<p>Three bounds carried him up the bank, and as she dropped, he caught +her with outstretched arms. She was conscious at once of his rock-like +strength and firmness. He set her on the bank, and holding her hand +leaped down with her to the road.</p> + +<p>"You managed splendidly," was her first remark. "But I 'could' have got +down alone."</p> + +<p>"I hope you might have been able—if I had not been here."</p> + +<p>"Of course I could." She hesitated. "No—perhaps not, when the bough +broke. But if I had not seen you, I should have been off in time."</p> + +<p>He murmured an apology.</p> + +<p>"Of course it was not your fault, only everybody says I am too old for +climbing trees. What a pity the nicest things in life are just what one +ought not to do!"</p> + +<p>"Invariably?"</p> + +<p>"Very often. Did you say you were Giles Randolph—my cousin? How +curious! So many years since we have met!"</p> + +<p>They stood face to face, each trying to make out the other. She noted +with pleasure his powerful make, the strongly-knit frame, the sunburnt +face and grave eyes. "I like him!" she said to herself.</p> + +<p>And he liked her, though he did not say so, even to himself. Despite +the second-cousinship, he had not seen Phyllys since her childhood, and +he had never been to Midfell. Intercourse between the Castle Hill folks +and the two grand-daughters had been discouraged by the kind but strict +old grandmother, and during late years Barbara had used her influence +to stiffen the family separation.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was not what Giles had expected to find. Whether pretty or not +might be a matter of opinion, but he thought her engaging. She was a +trifle over middle height, lithe, and active. Her complexion was a +pale brown, and the eyes were violet in hue, not large, but with thick +black lashes, while the eyebrows were of a warm chestnut, matching the +loosely-knotted hair. She had a trick of half closing her eyes, so that +the upper and nether fringes all but met, and only a glimmer of blue +crept through.</p> + +<p>"We want you to pay us a visit at Castle Hill."</p> + +<p>She flushed up. "Do you—really? That is what I have longed for. But +Mrs. Keith—"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith is as anxious as anybody."</p> + +<p>"Really!" in surprise. "But why? We are strangers."</p> + +<p>Giles felt the puzzle insoluble.</p> + +<p>"It isn't as if she and I were related," the girl added.</p> + +<p>"No, she is only a connection even of mine. But she acted the part of a +mother for years, and Colin and I are brothers."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know Colin. Ought I to call him Mr. Keith? Everybody +says Colin. How odd it was that Wiggles did not bark at you! He must +have taken a fancy. I always say Wiggles is a reader of character."</p> + +<p>Her face broke into a smile, the eyelashes curling with mischief.</p> + +<p>Giles's smile was different. It could not be said to "break," but +rather to dawn with reluctance. It was rare, but when it did appear, it +transformed his face.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was conscious of the change, though she only said, "Now shall I +show you the way home?"</p> + +<p>"You did not wish to hurry. I am sorry, but I overheard what you said."</p> + +<p>"How could you help it? I was talking to Wiggles. Yes, I meant to stay +away till it should be too late for the meeting."</p> + +<p>"Shall we arrive later? I can see your grandmother to-morrow, if they +will give me a bed at the village Inn." He had not intended to spend +the night at Midfell, but decision was prompt.</p> + +<p>"I should have to say that I had made myself late on purpose. And +Grannie—" She came to a meaning pause.</p> + +<p>"Then shall we go at once?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," regretfully. She walked by his side down the narrow, +rutted, stony road, where purple geraniums grew in abundance on the +banks.</p> + +<p>"Grannie and Barbara love those meetings," she remarked. "The Vicar +doesn't. He calls them a sort of hodge-podge. But Barbara says I +dislike them because I am irreligious."</p> + +<p>The silence of Giles was more responsive than many people's talk, and +it drew her out.</p> + +<p>"Not that I'm really irreligious," she remarked, prodding the dust +with her ancient sunshade. "It depends upon circumstances. When they +sing 'O Paradise' in church on Sunday evening I feel any amount +religious—almost as if it would be nice to die. But Barbara says that +hymn is unsound."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>"She says the Vicar is unsound too. He has such a kind face, and +everybody loves him, except Barbara and Miss Robins and Mr. Timkins, +and perhaps Grannie. I wonder why people with wrong views are nicer +than people with right views."</p> + +<p>"You find that they are?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there is Mr. Timkins!" Another flash. "Miss Robins—she is +Barbara's great friend and she gets up the meetings—she calls Mr. +Timkins a saint. He is not my notion of a saint—not one least little +scrap. He is one of my pet horrors. Grannie and Barbara and Miss Robins +admire him, because they say he is so truly excellent. Do you believe +in liking people only because they have right views and are truly good?"</p> + +<p>"One might, in certain cases, admire the goodness without liking the +individual."</p> + +<p>"But wouldn't you rather be a great deal beloved than have sound +views—if you could not do both, I mean? I think I would!"</p> + +<p>Giles felt that she would never have to grieve over being unloved. +Something in her stirred something in him which hitherto had lain +dormant.</p> + +<p>"And you don't think it is wrong to detest excellent people?" Then, +with a laugh—"But that is hardly a fair question. I forgot what +strangers you and I are!"</p> + +<p>"I hope we shall not be strangers long."</p> + +<p>"No. It does not feel now as if we were. I suppose that is because we +are cousins. Perhaps some day you and I will be friends!"</p> + +<p>She said the words smilingly, and he found his pulse throbbing in an +unwonted fashion.</p> + +<p>"I should very much like to be your friend."</p> + +<p>"Would you? Ah, you don't know me yet. I'm always saying things I have +to be sorry for. You would soon be disappointed in me."</p> + +<p>Then adroitly she turned the subject, as if unwilling to commit herself +further.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THINGS PAST AND PRESENT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MRS. WYVERNE waited in the front sitting-room of Burn Cottage, looking +out upon the stream, the murmur of which came pleasantly to her ears. +She always took care to be ready some time before she had to start +on any expedition, having reached an age when haste and flurry are +undesirable.</p> + +<p>She was stout and heavy in figure, but she held herself with dignity, +and there was a Quaker-like serenity about her handsome old face. Her +dress was of black silk, good as to material, plain in make, and her +bonnet was a copy of the Quaker type. In earlier years she had been +drawn to join for a while the Quaker community, and she still admired +many of their methods.</p> + +<p>By her side stood a small table, on which lay her spectacle case, her +large-print Bible, her knitting basket, and her writing case. The +centre of the room was filled by a round table, remnant of a bygone +age. The walls were adorned with texts, some printed and framed in +wood, some worked in silks on perforated cardboard, with fancy edgings +of home manufacture. A row of devotional books, most of them printed +fifty years earlier, with faded bindings, stood upon the quaint +chiffonier.</p> + +<p>Grace and charm had evidently not been the aim of those who saw to the +interior of Burn Cottage.</p> + +<p>The elder grand-daughter, Barbara Pringle, only child of Mrs. Wyverne's +only daughter—between whom and the father of Phyllys a wide gap in +age existed—had inherited nothing of the old lady's good looks. She +was clumsily made, bony and uncouth, with lustreless hair, dressed in +a flat and unbecoming style, features of an exaggerated type, and an +uncomfortable expression. Her dress seemed to have been put together +anyhow, with no effort after what might suit the individual; and +results were in marked contrast with the dignified simplicity of the +elder lady.</p> + +<p>Barbara Pringle was a good woman, but not so good as she counted +herself, which augured a lack of humility. One virtue she had—a supreme +devotion to her grandmother, for whom she would have done anything. But +out of this sprang an intense jealousy of anybody who should interfere +with her monopoly. Since Phyllys naturally came in for a large share of +grandmotherly affection, it followed that Barbara could see no good in +Phyllys.</p> + +<p>Barbara's was not a wide mind. Therein spoke Mr. Dugdale truly. Her +natural make was contracted, and her opportunities had been few. Left +an orphan at three, she had spent forty years at Midfell, and the two +or three people for whom she cared could not uplift her to a broader +view of life. Her method of weighing the worth of others was through +the test of—not the lives that they lived, but the opinions which they +held. Even this she failed to apply fairly in the case of Phyllys.</p> + +<p>She did not know herself to be unfair. Few people discover that defect +in themselves, and she was great at self-deception. Seldom if ever did +she admit, even in her innermost consciousness, that rank jealousy +underlay her persistent condemnation of the younger, more attractive, +and more lovable cousin. She honestly believed in Phyllys' unmitigated +perversity.</p> + +<p>Things were hard for her. During more than thirty years she had had +her own way, as the only grand-daughter at hand; had been exclusively +necessary to the old lady, who to her had been mother, father, all in +one.</p> + +<p>Then Phyllys, the only child of Mrs. Wyverne's beloved son, was also +left an orphan, and she too was adopted by the large-hearted though +narrow-minded old lady. At first Barbara had not realised what this +would mean.</p> + +<p>Not till the charming wilful child of thirteen arrived, not till her +winsomeness had been exerted over house and village, not till she had +begun to reign supreme in the little world around, did jealousy spring +in Barbara's heart. She failed to recognise the weed.</p> + +<p>Scarcely the whole of their little world; for Barbara's chosen friend, +Miss Robins, held out from the first against the young princess of +hearts, but she was almost the sole exception.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne did her best to discipline her darling, but the love which +she poured upon Phyllys took precedence of all other affection. The +forty years of Barbara's devotion became as nought beside one smile +from Phyllys, one touch of her sweet lips, one glimpse of the thick +black fringes which were so perfect a reproduction of her father's. +How Mrs. Wyverne had loved that only son, mothers alone can know. He +had been in some sort a sorrow to her. He had not thought with her on +many points. He had disappointed her expectations. She had been wont to +condemn him. But in spite of all, how she had loved him! No wonder her +heart went forth to the child whose every look and gesture recalled the +dead father.</p> + +<p>It all came about naturally, but it meant trouble for the cousin.</p> + +<p>So, being what she was, a good woman, but not in character noble or +generous, Barbara took twisted views of the younger cousin's actions, +constantly misjudging her. For instance—that Phyllys should not, at the +present moment, have returned in time for the weekly meeting, got up by +herself and Miss Robins, and good-humouredly tolerated by the Vicar, +was a case of rank ill-doing.</p> + +<p>"You told her to be back, grandmother."</p> + +<p>"I really do not feel sure. Phyllys is aware of my wishes. I shall have +to reprimand her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne drew out a huge old pinchbeck watch, then hunted for a +letter.</p> + +<p>"We shall be in time if we start in a few minutes." Being a trifle hard +of hearing, she preferred the front row. "I had another letter from Mr. +Dugdale this morning. He writes strongly on the duty of letting Phyllys +become acquainted with Giles and his people."</p> + +<p>Barbara spoke tartly. "I suppose by 'his people' you mean the Keiths. +He and they are alike—people without religion. Bent upon nothing but +pleasure. No doubt they go in for ceremonial observance, but as for +anything deeper—If Phyllys gets among them she will be utterly spoilt."</p> + +<p>Barbara, accustomed to have the upper hand in these questions, saw with +amazement a look of indecision.</p> + +<p>"It is out of the question," she added roughly. "There is no knowing +what might come of it."</p> + +<p>"I must do what is for the child's interests. Perhaps I have realised +too keenly the other side of the question. She is twenty-three. I +cannot always refuse to allow other relatives to see her. Giles +Randolph has no one nearer to him than Phyllys."</p> + +<p>"Than us, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But circumstances are different. If Giles should die unmarried, +Phyllys would inherit the property."</p> + +<p>"You would inherit it, grandmother."</p> + +<p>"I should hold it in trust for Phyllys. Nothing would induce me to +leave Midfell."</p> + +<p>"Giles is a healthy man. Nothing less likely than his death."</p> + +<p>"The healthiest are often the first taken."</p> + +<p>Since Mr. Timkins had unctuously enlarged on this truth at the last +meeting, Barbara was at a loss what to say.</p> + +<p>"I must admit," the old lady continued, "that what Mr. Dugdale says, +both in this and in his last letter, has tended to open my eyes to the +fact that another side exists." She spoke with old-fashioned precision. +"He is urgent about what her father would have desired."</p> + +<p>"You are more likely to understand that than Mr. Dugdale."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne was silent. In her heart she knew that she had not acted +as her son would have wished.</p> + +<p>"Besides, Phyllys has no notion about the property. Of course you do +not mean to tell her." Barbara's frown grew more forbidding.</p> + +<p>"There is no need to tell her at present."</p> + +<p>"If she goes to Castle Hill, she will learn it. You ought to prevent +that visit at all costs."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Wyverne did not bow to this decision. A long-dormant sense of +family obligation had been stirred in her; yet more, a sense of how +her son would have acted. While much under the control of her elder +grand-daughter, she could assert her will when once convinced that such +assertion was right. Duty held a paramount position in her life, though +her views of duty might be lop-sided; and the strongest longing of her +heart was to do the best that could be for Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"Grannie," a musical voice broke in. "Here is Giles Randolph. He has +come to see us."</p> + +<p>Nothing could have been more apposite to the subject of Mrs. Wyverne's +thoughts at that moment, and she took the intrusion philosophically. +Two minutes sufficed for Giles' explanation. Being in the +neighbourhood, he had promised to bring a message from Mrs. Keith, and +had also granted himself the pleasure of seeing his great-aunt. He had +walked across the moors from the station, and had overtaken Phyllys. +Mrs. Wyverne, he heard, had an engagement; but he proposed staying +a night at the inn, in hopes that she would spare him an hour next +morning.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>"GRANNIE, HERE IS GILES RANDOLPH."</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Giles used so few words that it was remarkable how much he conveyed. +Mrs. Wyverne was not glad to see him, and she refrained from saying +that she was; but her charming smile served in place of that which she +would have condemned as an untruth. Barbara, declining to smile, waited +in glum silence.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that we cannot offer to take you in here," observed +Mrs. Wyverne; and the involuntary word "sorry" caused her some +after-twinges. "The Cottage is small, and we have no spare room. But +you will be comfortable at the inn." Then she weighed carefully her +conflicting duties, and decided to remain at home. Barbara and Phyllys +would go without her to the meeting.</p> + +<p>There was no escape for Phyllys. Her face fell; but it was evident +that the old lady wished for a tête-à-tête with Giles. Barbara, curtly +nodding goodbye, marched off, and Phyllys followed. She had learnt +obedience in a strict school, and though inwardly rebellious she made +no outward sign.</p> + +<p>Then Giles bent his faculties to the task of winning the old lady. Now +that he had seen Phyllys, he was anxious for his own sake, at least +as much as for the sake of gratifying Mrs. Keith, to bring about the +proposed visit. He did not know that the path to success had been +made smoother by Mr. Dugdale; but he did realise that it might be a +difficult path.</p> + +<p>However, when Giles chose to be liked, he did not often fail in his aim.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE MIDFELL ATMOSPHERE</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>BREAKFAST over, Mrs. Wyverne sat in her usual place, darning a +tablecloth and entertaining a terribly early caller. Miss Robins +faced her solemnly. She was a solemn individual, impressed with the +importance of directing the duties of other people. In appearance she +had not much to boast of; but, as she was wont to ask, "Who cares for +looks?" Some unkind critics had been known to remark that Miss Robins +"had no looks."</p> + +<p>Despite her superiority, she had not cast off the shackles of a mundane +curiosity about her neighbours; and she was bent on finding out what +the old lady meant to do with Phyllys. "So very Important, for the sake +of that poor empty-headed child, that she should act with wisdom," +she observed to her devotee, Barbara. "If she does not hold that man +at arm's length, who can foretell the consequences?" Miss Robins was +nothing if not emphatic.</p> + +<p>From an abstract point of view, Mrs. Wyverne would have supported Miss +Robins' opinion; but she never could lose sight of the fact that she +was herself one of the Randolphs of Castle Hill, being only sister to +Giles' grandfather. And though, as a matter of theory, she would have +maintained that questions of descent like questions of "looks" were +unimportant, it gave her no small pleasure to see again the head of her +family, and to find him in many respects what she would have wished.</p> + +<p>"A singularly fine-looking man," she observed. "He gives the impression +of one who may be trusted."</p> + +<p>Barbara, who, in imitation of her friend, was a systematic man-hater, +spoke tartly, "No men are to be trusted—least of all men without +religion."</p> + +<p>"How do you know Giles has no religion?" asked Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"He may make a profession. There is no reality in it."</p> + +<p>"No. He carries the hall-mark of an essentially worldly nature." Miss +Robins was so pleased with the wording of her own sentence that she +made mental note of it for future use.</p> + +<p>Phyllys opened indignant lips and shut them again. What was the use +of remonstrance? Nothing ever shook Barbara or Miss Robins in their +judgments upon others. Moreover, the latter was delivering herself of +an exhortation.</p> + +<p>"He may be outwardly fine-looking, but what of that? What of mere +looks?" she inquired. "What signifies the body? That poor miserable +husk! The handsomest men in feature, the most agreeable in manner, +are often the most depraved. Dear Mrs. Wyverne, 'you' know the world +well enough to understand. Mere appearance—face, manner, dress,—how +unimportant these things!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne assented as in duty bound, though not without an inward +reservation.</p> + +<p>"We are called upon to ignore the body. 'I' have learnt to ignore it," +declared Miss Robins, with an air of fervent conviction. "All that +signifies is the spiritual part of one's self. The rest is dust and +ashes—'mere' dust and ashes."</p> + +<p>She swayed impressively on her chair.</p> + +<p>"If the body isn't of consequence, I wonder why one should care whether +one has hot or cold tea, or whether one's dinner is nicely cooked," +questioned Phyllys, laying her finger on the other's weak point.</p> + +<p>Miss Robins inspected her from a moral pinnacle. "That is different. To +care for one's health is a duty. I am speaking of the vanity of minding +about bodily appearance—whether one is good-looking or plain—seeking to +be admired. What do such things matter?"</p> + +<p>"I should have said they mattered a good deal," declared Phyllys, +standing up. "I 'love' beautiful people. The world is beautiful, +and God made people as well as things. I can't see why He should +like 'things' to be lovely, and not care if people are hideous and +disagreeable." Then she fled, not escaping the comment, "Really, +Phyllys is sadly irrev—"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Ten minutes later she stood, lost in a dream, beside the stream as it +flowed through a field, three hundred yards distant from the house. It +swept here round a curve, its course being partly arrested by a bank of +shingle; and beyond the shingle, in its détour, it poured in a rustling +flow, bubbling soft whispers and singing to itself.</p> + +<p>This hour after breakfast was Phyllys' most free time. At eleven +o'clock, if not sooner, Barbara would remorselessly summon her to +practise and read and darn. Time spent in the open air was wasted +in the elder cousin's estimation. Barbara believed in a brisk +constitutional, to and from a given point within a given time, for +health; but she never lounged under a tree, never dallied by a stream, +in dreamy thought. That with her meant "idleness."</p> + +<p>With Phyllys it neither meant nor was idleness. She was not idle, +standing on the grass bank, motionless, her hands clasped behind her +back. She wore no hat, and a breeze stirred her hair, bringing forth +reddish gleams.</p> + +<p>Her mind was at work. She loved Nature, loved the beauty of flower and +fell; read meanings in the voices of running water, rustling leaves, +singing birds. These things appealed to her artist-nature, and drew +her on to deeper thought. When she could escape from home and its +restraints, she was happy in what is called solitude, because in touch +with her surroundings.</p> + +<p>Yet, even in her happiest hours, she was conscious of a want. She +craved for some one to understand what she felt, to enjoy the beauty +with her. She craved to find the inner meanings of life. There was such +an infinitude that she could not fathom; and clues were lacking.</p> + +<p>This morning her thoughts were chiefly occupied with Giles.</p> + +<p>Once before she had seen him, when a child of nine; and then for years +she had been abroad, travelling with her widowed mother, in search +of lost health, never to be regained. Since her mother's death she +had lived at Midfell, paying an occasional visit to friends of her +grandmother, but secluded from other influences. Often she had heard of +Giles and Colin, though not in terms of praise. Mrs. Wyverne had rather +implied than asserted condemnation; but according to Barbara, Giles and +his friends were one and all to be avoided, as a dainty person shuns +pitch; and to withhold Phyllys from their influence was a matter of +duty.</p> + +<p>Which opinion, naturally, made Phyllys want to know them! For years her +dream of impossible delights had been—a visit to Castle Hill.</p> + +<p>Now the unlikely had come about. She had seen Giles, had talked with +him had felt that she and he might become friends. She felt it still, +though vexed with herself for letting the thought so soon slip into +words.</p> + +<p>And she might be again invited to Castle Hill. "If only I could go! To +know what it is to live! This is existence! And oh! to get away from +Barbara and Miss Robins. Even—for a time—from Grannie!"</p> + +<p>The tinkle of a bell aroused her. She was often thus recalled. But +already! She did not realise how long she had stood there. Was the +whole of this lovely day to be wasted indoors? She walked back with a +lagging step.</p> + +<p>Within doors the cloud on her face vanished. Barbara was not visible; +the grandmother wore a smile; and Giles stood waiting.</p> + +<p>"Put on your stout boots, child, and have a wrap. Your cousin wishes to +take you for a walk."</p> + +<p>The black fringes widened with delight.</p> + +<p>"He does not know his way about, and Barbara is too busy," explained +Mrs. Wyverne, apologising to herself. She felt uneasy, but, the +managing grand-daughter being out of reach, her resolution had not been +proof against his will. After all, the two were cousins; and since she +had just granted her consent to three weeks at Castle Hill, a walk now +could make little difference. The decision seemed lifted out of her +hands; and despite her bewilderment, she looked with gratified eyes +upon the great-nephew whom she had so long refused to see.</p> + +<p>"Must I be back at eleven, Grannie?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-day, for once. Giles wishes to go to the head of the dale, if +you can walk so far."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course I can. That will be splendid. I have not been there for +ages upon ages."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you should not make use of such exaggerated expressions."</p> + +<p>Phyllys tried to wear a penitent face as she fled. "If Barbara should +come in!" was the fear. Barbara might upset all.</p> + +<p>"Phyllys is a dear child, but too impulsive," the old lady +remarked. "It is desirable that she should be trained in habits of +self-restraint."</p> + +<p>Giles refrained from saying what he thought.</p> + +<p>Fortunately Barbara failed to appear, and the two set off at a brisk +rate. Phyllys was a quick walker, and she easily kept up with the pace +adopted by Giles. She was in a state of jubilant but veiled exultation. +While lacing her boots, she had resolved to behave with dignity; not to +allow her friendship to be regarded by him as a thing to be lightly won.</p> + +<p>But miles of happiness lay before her, miles of fresh air, of freedom, +exercise, pleasant companionship. No need to dwell on what might lie +beyond. No need to anticipate Barbara's comments. When the time came +for their acidity, she would have had her day of delights; and none +could rob her of the memory.</p> + +<p>Phyllys, as in duty bound, talked to interest her companion, perhaps +more from inclination than from duty; and she found in him an excellent +listener. She named for his information the various fells; those near +at hand, then more distant outlines, as they mounted higher. She +described the long cold winters and the deep snowdrifts. She chatted +of the sturdy self-respecting farmers, and of the welcome she had from +them and theirs.</p> + +<p>"None of the people about are very poor," she remarked. "They work +hard and live carefully and lay by. That is the way in these northern +villages. People say how different it is in the south."</p> + +<p>"When you come to Castle Hill, you will see for yourself."</p> + +<p>"They will never let me go."</p> + +<p>Then she did not yet know! He kept his counsel.</p> + +<p>"The farmers and their wives really are my friends, and they are so +good and true—so real. Blunt, of course, but that is their way. I know +all the cottagers. No, not district-visiting. When I go to see them, it +is because I love to go, not because I ought. Barbara and Miss Robins +call because they want to do the people good. But when I go, they do +'me' good—without any trying."</p> + +<p>"That might seem the better way." He was interested, but he wanted +to get her out of this sedate mood, to see again the long lashes +mischievously drooped.</p> + +<p>"Barbara says one ought to be always trying to do good to somebody. +Don't you hate being done good to as a duty?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure that I have had experience in that line."</p> + +<p>"How nice! But I've had any amount. There's Mr. Timkins. He's not a +Yorkshireman; he is from the south, and he mends old shoes. He thinks +he can mend people too!" with a gleam of fun. "Miss Robins says she has +'the very highest opinion of him.' But I dislike his prosy preachings."</p> + +<p>Phyllys stopped to pluck a flower, and surveyed it with eyes of loving +admiration.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Mr. Timkins really is 'good,'" she remarked, with the air +of one unravelling a perplexity. "But so are other people who don't +think as he does. I never can understand why all good people must have +exactly the same opinions about every single thing. Can you?"</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, no!"</p> + +<p>"I've never been allowed to go to Castle Hill, because all of you +don't see things just the same as Grannie and Barbara. I'm hardly ever +allowed to know strangers who come to Midfell in the summer, for fear +they should do me harm. And I'm not a child now. It is time I should +begin to think for myself."</p> + +<p>"You have not always lived here?"</p> + +<p>"About ten years. Since I was thirteen. Of course I was old enough then +to understand, and not to forget afterwards. When people talk as they +do, and say all sorts of hard things about those who think differently +from themselves, I always know that my father and mother would have +felt with those people, and not with people here. Don't you see, it +rubs me the wrong way awfully sometimes."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A BURNISHED STREAM</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"IS this what you call the Dale-head?" asked Giles.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps more properly higher up. But I think we mean the whole of the +valley, as far as you can see, and beginning here. Isn't it pretty?"</p> + +<p>It was more than pretty. She used a word inadequate.</p> + +<p>They were seated by the river, on its grass bank. Not the little +Midfell stream, but a more important watercourse; a river to which the +Midfell stream was a tributary.</p> + +<p>It flowed between steep banks; and the colour of the water was that of +a burnished red-brown chestnut. Hundreds of stones, large enough to +act as small breakwaters, lay scattered on the river-bed; and around +each separate stone curled a perpetual wave, foam-white, with a gleam +of golden light shining as from a fairy-lamp at its centre. This was +repeated times without number.</p> + +<p>Behind them and in front were rounded fells, like a series of +land-waves struck into immobility, forming the sides of the valley; and +every fell differed from its neighbour. Here was one shaded in purple +and brown; there another bright grassy-green; yet another dark from +base to summit with masses of bracken; a fourth clad in patches of +dull red, purple rather than crimson, from early heather-bloom; and a +round-topped hill which had donned a veil of blue gauze. To the left, +higher up, might be seen a solitary farmhouse; a rough pathway, deluged +with stones, winding thither.</p> + +<p>"They would give us milk at the farm," remarked Phyllys. But, with a +smile, he produced sandwiches and a cup.</p> + +<p>"I don't know any place like this," murmured Phyllys, after their +simple luncheon. She was in a state of measureless content.</p> + +<p>Giles said little, and she hardly looked at him; yet she knew that he +felt with her. That was the one thing she had lacked and longed for; +and it made all the difference.</p> + +<p>"Nor I." He had been thinking how like her hair was to the burnished +chestnut of the water. "One hardly expects such a spot in England. Few +of us know our own country."</p> + +<p>Phyllys lay back, resting her head on folded arms, and looking at the +sky. It gave Giles a fuller view than he had yet gained of her eyes. He +forgot fell and river in the contemplation.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she murmured, "whether other worlds are half as lovely +as this. I wonder whether they have stuffy meetings in Jupiter and +Mars—and horrid good people making speeches about the badness of other +good people?"</p> + +<p>"Jupiter is probably too warm."</p> + +<p>She went into a chime of laughter.</p> + +<p>"I forgot! I ought to have known." She sat up suddenly. "Tell me about +your home."</p> + +<p>"You would find it flat." He refrained still from letting her know how +soon she would see for herself. "No fells. No mountain-torrents."</p> + +<p>"And the house?"</p> + +<p>"Respectably old. There was a castle—once. Only a wall of it remains."</p> + +<p>"And Mrs. Keith and 'Colin' live there with you. He is not really your +cousin, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Giles explained the connection. Thomas Randolph, his grandfather, had +one son and one daughter, James and Annie. The son, James, married; +and his wife died soon after the birth of their only child—"myself," +interjected Giles—the widower dying a little later, thus leaving an +infant possessor of the Castle Hill property. The daughter, Annie, +married Geoffry Keith, and she too died early; after which her husband +married again, his second wife being a Miss Cecil Reeves. They had one +little boy, named Colin.</p> + +<p>"So at best he can only be called my step-cousin. But when my mother +was taken, Mrs. Keith had entire charge of me; and on the death of +my father that arrangement became permanent. Colin and I have been +brothers from babyhood."</p> + +<p>"I understand now. It always puzzled me. And was he not ill for a long +time? Somebody said he had an accident when he was a boy, and didn't +get over it for years."</p> + +<p>"Yes." A stern set came to Giles' face, darkening it as a landscape is +darkened by a cloud passing over the sun.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Barbara is as much your cousin as I am," she remarked, saying the +first thing that came into her head. "I suppose you would have asked +her first to visit Castle Hill!"—"Heaven forbid!" was on Giles' +lips—"But she never goes anywhere, so I come next."</p> + +<p>"I think you come first," he said drily, and she laughed.</p> + +<p>"If only I had the least hope of going!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it will be long before we meet again." His manner said +that he intended it should not be. "Till then, I hope you will remember +that you offered me your friendship."</p> + +<p>Her colour went up. "But that was silly. We were strangers. I spoke +without thinking."</p> + +<p>"It would disappoint me if you took your words back."</p> + +<p>"It was too soon. I am always saying things in a hurry, and then +wishing I had not." She twisted a grass-blade round her fingers. "Does +one ever quite get over doing that?"</p> + +<p>He ignored the question. "Don't you think we know one another well +enough now?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I've rather wanted a friend—sometimes," she admitted. "The +only one I had went away. There are Mr. and Mrs. Hazel, but Barbara +tries to keep me from them. And they are much older. But people ought +to wait till they are sure."</p> + +<p>"You do not feel sure yet?"</p> + +<p>The steady purposefulness of his gaze held her spellbound. It was not +that he saw deeply, but that he stirred deep feeling in her. For a +moment he had a curious sense that he might do what he willed with +Phyllys.</p> + +<p>It did not last. She dropped her eyes, and the spell was broken. He did +not really as yet will anything further. Their mutual knowledge each +of the other was small; and he only felt that he wished to know her +better. Besides, he was a man of punctilious honour, and she had been +confided to his care.</p> + +<p>So they reverted to surface topics, and no more was said about +friendship. The word to Giles meant little. If he wanted anything, he +wanted more; but it served as a stepping-stone to intimacy. To Phyllys +it meant, for the moment, a good deal—more than would have been guessed +from her next careless remark—"I was afraid this morning it was going +to be a wet day. That would have been provoking."</p> + +<p>"There was an early shower, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Just the Pride o' the Morning."</p> + +<p>He looked an inquiry.</p> + +<p>"It's a saying about here. When a little early shower comes, not +meaning a wet day, they say, 'Oh, it's just the Pride o' the Morning.' +Mr. Hazel sometimes calls 'me' that!"—smiling.</p> + +<p>The name sounded far from inappropriate, yet he was conscious of +revolt, as he inquired, "Who is Mr. Hazel?"</p> + +<p>"Our Vicar. Such a kind man. But I know why he calls me so. It was one +day—"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I don't very often give in, but things were worrying. And I had a +silly little cry in the meadow. He came upon me, and he said it was +just an early shower—'just the pride o' the morning.' He told me one +must not expect to have everything always smooth, but he hoped mine was +going to be a happy life. And since then when we meet, he often says, +'Well, little Pride of the Morning, how goes the world with you now?'"</p> + +<p>"I should like to know your Vicar."</p> + +<p>"Would you? Barbara doesn't like him. And Grannie—sometimes—says he's +too fond of ceremonies."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I should like him."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Not till well on in the afternoon did they once more stand at the +garden gate of Burn Cottage, within which sat the handsome old lady, +with a look of trouble on her face. She had been during the interim +sedulously lectured by her elder grand-daughter for lapse of principle; +and her own conscience was not happy.</p> + +<p>After all these years keeping the undesirable nephew out of reach, and +tabooing his acquaintance for Phyllys, it was a degree startling that +she should have succumbed at the first touch. To Barbara, over whom +Giles had exercised no attraction—perhaps could not if he would!—the +change of front was inexplicable. She had no imagination, and she could +not picture those memories of Phyllys' father, first stirred by Mr. +Dugdale, then called into life by Giles. In her eyes the consent was +simply an act of weakness and folly. She neither knew nor cared what +her grandmother's motives might be. She disliked the idea of Phyllys +going to Castle Hill, and she never dreamt of searching into her own +sub-surface workings, to find the hidden jealousy.</p> + +<p>Having been long used to submit to the joint dictum of Barbara and +Miss Robins, Mrs. Wyverne could not meet their condemnation with +indifference. She took herself seriously to task for allowing the walk +and consenting to the visit.</p> + +<p>Still, consent was consent. When, after Giles' departure, a fresh +attack was made upon her by the combined forces of the two women, she +refused to withdraw permission.</p> + +<p>"I cannot alter now," she said. "The matter is settled and I have given +my word. If I have yielded wrongfully, I trust I may be forgiven. And I +hope that Phyllys, when away from home, will not be led into evil."</p> + +<p>Phyllys kissed her grandmother, in token of right intentions. What +could she say? The idea of being "led into evil" by Giles was absurd. +Though she did not yet know him well, she had not a particle of doubt +as to his goodness.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A STERN CHASE</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>WITH concealed rapture Phyllys heard of the promised visit to Castle +Hill; and nothing was further from her expectations than to set eyes +again on Giles before going. She hardly even wished to do so. There was +so much to do and to think about during the next three weeks.</p> + +<p>With Giles things were otherwise. He found himself unable to rest +without another glimpse.</p> + +<p>He did not yet say to himself that Phyllys might be more than cousin. +He only knew that he could not get her out of his thoughts; that no +sooner was he away from Midfell than he wanted to get back.</p> + +<p>For five days he held out, determined not to act upon impulse. Then +a member of his host's family fell seriously ill; and visitors took +themselves off. Giles had a shooting engagement in the Highlands a +week later, and nothing between. He resolved to spend the time at +Midfell, asking no man's leave. The grandmother and cousin might not +be delighted, but that he would risk; and he posted a line to Mrs. +Wyverne, stating his intentions, remarking on the pleasure it would be +to see them again.</p> + +<p>The letter brought dismay. Mrs. Wyverne said nothing to Phyllys, still +looking on her younger grand-daughter as a child; but she consulted +with Barbara. Both recognised that nothing could be done. Giles had as +clear a right as any human being to put up at the village Inn, if he +chose, and to study the country. Though Mrs. Wyverne might demur, and +Barbara might frown, they could not interfere.</p> + +<p>"But of course you will not have him in and out all day long, turning +everything upside down," the latter said with disgust. "Phyllys will +be completely upset. Better to get her out of the way this afternoon, +so that you can have a few words alone with him. You will have to be +firm!" The speaker set her teeth. "I will make an errand for Phyllys, +and we will say nothing to her, or she may refuse to go. You see, he +intends to call directly he arrives."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne made no objection, and Phyllys, to her surprise, was asked +to take a long walk to an outlying farm, where she loved to go, but was +not often permitted. She had been only once without a companion, and +the idea was charming. Barbara seldom suggested anything so much to her +taste. To fetch a warm shawl, left there, was the ostensible motive. +Phyllys laughingly remarked that she would have a good "forenoon +drinking," the local colloquialism for a mid-morning lunch, and would +get something to eat at the farm. Barbara objected, not wishing her to +get back early. After "dinner" would be best, she said. The days were +long, and Phyllys could do her morning tasks.</p> + +<p>"All right," agreed the girl. "I shall have a rest, and come back by +the moor. It will be fun, won't it, Wiggles?"</p> + +<p>Wiggles wagged an appreciative tail.</p> + +<p>Not till she had left the house did Barbara note an ominous thickness +upon the surrounding fells. It occurred to her that she ought to have +warned Phyllys to return by the road, but it was now too late; so she +dismissed the question from her mind. After all, Phyllys was old enough +to be sensible.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Early in the afternoon, as Barbara had predicted, Giles Randolph walked +in.</p> + +<p>He greeted his great-aunt kindly, his cousin politely; and his eyes +went in search of some one else.</p> + +<p>"Where is Phyllys?" came soon.</p> + +<p>And Barbara thrust in a reply before Mrs. Wyverne could speak. "Gone on +the moors," she said, purposely vague, under a suspicion that he would +wish to follow.</p> + +<p>She over-reached herself.</p> + +<p>"The moors—to-day? With whom, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"Phyllis goes everywhere. She is used to it, and the dog is ample +protection."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean that she is alone!"</p> + +<p>His concern annoyed Barbara.</p> + +<p>"Of course, she will not go far. Phyllys knows what she is about. She +merely meant to cross part of a hill on her way back."</p> + +<p>"From where?"</p> + +<p>He had to put the question a second time, and facts were dragged out +with difficulty. "Thackers' Farm. Yes, I know the direction. I had +better go after her. The moors will be foggy."</p> + +<p>"A touch of mist." Barbara spoke in vexed accents.</p> + +<p>"It will be more than a touch of mist in an hour or two."</p> + +<p>His manner aroused Mrs. Wyverne to uneasiness. She was too old an +inhabitant of Midfell not to understand what a fog on the fells meant. +"I did not know it," she said; "or that Phyllys meant to cross the +moor. Surely you told her not to do so, Barbara. Not—alone!"</p> + +<p>"She ought to have sense enough to judge for herself." Barbara frowned +and bit her lips.</p> + +<p>"The child is so fearless," murmured Mrs. Wyverne.</p> + +<p>"I will start at once, and I hope to reach the farm before she leaves +it. You may trust me to look after her. If I do not meet her on the +road, I shall overtake her on the moor. The fog perhaps is not much +now, but it may thicken." As he reached the door, he turned. "You told +Phyllys I was coming?"</p> + +<p>The direct words claimed a direct answer. Mrs. Wyverne, forgetful in +small matters, looked at Barbara, who had to admit that Phyllys did not +know. A slight smile stirred Giles' lips. Phyllys had not of her own +free will avoided him.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>One or two inquiries in the village as to the route made all clear, +and he was off at his best pace—a pace few men could rival. By road +the distance was over five miles; and he made little of them, spurred +by observation of the grey-capped fells. He knew enough of moorland to +be aware that a fog, exceptional in density, covered the heights; and +he was anxious, if possible, to intercept Phyllys at the farm. But on +arrival, he found she had started fifteen minutes earlier; and since he +had not met her, she must have gone the other way. The old farmer heard +this with a shake of his head.</p> + +<p>"Noa, I doan't knaw," he said. "I'm a negligent lad not to ha' ma-ade +her go by t' ro-ad. Miss Phyllys ought to ha' knawed better."</p> + +<p>"Miss Phyllys is not easily frightened," remarked Giles. "Will you tell +me the way she has gone?"</p> + +<p>He wasted no time, and was off again. A rough lane, besprinkled with +stones, led to the edge of the moor; after which he had a grass track +to guide him. It led upward, crossing a high spur, shortening the +distance to Midfell by more than a mile.</p> + +<p>No mistake here about the "mistiness." Every dozen yards the air grow +thicker, as he widened his distance from the edge.</p> + +<p>That Phyllys should not have retreated on finding the state of things +perplexed him. Yet, had she done so, he must have met her. He wondered, +was she one of those people who, once resolved on a course of action, +stick to that course, whatever happens? He would not have credited her +with obstinacy. He did credit her with unusual fearlessness.</p> + +<p>The track, though faint, was distinct; visible by different shades of +colouring in the turf, the impress of passing feet. It was clearer +than many such tracks, being used a good deal in fine weather between +Midfell and a village on the other side. Here and there it was +broken by a rough outcrop of rock; but despite the fog, Giles had no +difficulty in picking it up again. And Phyllis was accustomed to such +walking. She might have thought it wiser to keep steadily on, rather +than to retrace her steps.</p> + +<p>No voice of man or beast, of bird or insect, interrupted the silence. +No stir in the air moved the heavy white curtain which hung around, +shutting him in a contracted circle which moved with him as he went. +The great moor-billows stretched away, he knew, for miles; but he could +not see them. Landscape and sky were blotted out.</p> + +<p>And Phyllys was alone in this! He walked rapidly, expecting every +minute to descry a slim figure ahead. Not far ahead, for beyond a few +yards, he could make out nothing. Now and again a shadowy form heaved +into view, raising his hopes; and each time it grew into a furze-bush, +dank and wet.</p> + +<p>Moro than once he stopped, noting what looked like a short-cut to the +lower level over Midfell, though no track was apparent. Phyllys might +have ventured on some such short-cut. Yet, no—acquainted as she was +with the country, she would understand the risk of quitting her path. +The farmer had assured him that there was but the one way. He thought +less of faint side-tracks, branching at right angles towards upper +heights. These plainly led from Midfell, and would not have tempted +Phyllys.</p> + +<p>Still no signs of her! He pressed on, in deepening uneasiness; and +sooner than might have seemed possible, he reached the verge, where a +steep descent led downward to the top of a hill behind the village.</p> + +<p>Here, being nearer the moor-edge, the air was clearer, and he could see +some way. But—no Phyllys!</p> + +<p>She could not so far have distanced him. No girl, even with the start +she had had, could have failed to be overtaken at the pace he had come. +With sickening dread, he realised that she was still upon the moors, +that she had left the track.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" he said, pulling himself together. "Too soon to be sure. +She may have come faster than I imagine. She 'may' have missed her way, +and be waiting near."</p> + +<p>He turned to retrace his steps. If indeed she had advanced so far as +this, she would easily manage to get home. His business now was to be +sure that she had not failed; and while he encouraged himself his heart +sank anew.</p> + +<p>To be lost on the moor in a dense fog! Too well he knew what that would +imply. Fifty men, searching, might search in vain. A night alone on the +moors for 'her!' The thought brought a stab of actual pain.</p> + +<p>Walking more slowly, he called at intervals in his strong base voice, +listening with the hope that she might respond.</p> + +<p>No sound, no whisper, reached his ears. It was deadly still. As he went +farther, the fog again grew dense, more dense than before, since the +afternoon was advanced. The dank white curtain closed him in.</p> + +<p>He made up his mind to return most of the way, shouting at intervals. +Then he would again traverse the path to Midfell, and would see whether +she had reached home. If not, a party of men including himself should +scour the hills.</p> + +<p>For this those who knew the country were necessary. To quit the track +now, with nothing to guide him, would only mean losing himself also, +being powerless to help her.</p> + +<p>Yet if indeed she were here, alone on these desolate moors!—the very +idea was unendurable.</p> + +<p>He felt this keenly, as he paced the turf, raising his cry of "Phyllys! +Are you there, Phyllys?"</p> + +<p>How familiar, how dear the name seemed! He could hardly believe that +ten days earlier she had been nothing to him or he to her. Was he +anything to her now? Perhaps not—yet. She had been ready to like him, +as cousin and friend. But Phyllys and he would not be "friends" only. +They would be much more or much less.</p> + +<p>On this deserted and fog-robed fell, he seemed to be growing intimate +with her, as he might not in weeks of common acquaintance. He was shut +out from all the world, except Phyllys; but she too was here. Though +apart, they were together; both on the moor; she needing him; he bent +on helping her. He did not now say that "perhaps" she was there. It had +grown to be a certainty.</p> + +<p>Were their spirits in touch, though bodily they were separate? He +was by no means an imaginative or sentimental man. But, looking at +the white wall, he saw her face—not smiling or mischievous; full of +distress; imploring his aid.</p> + +<p>He made a forward start, half distracted. She was on the moor. She +"was" lost. And how was he to know where?</p> + +<p>"Phyllys! Phyllys!" again he shouted, with the full strength of his +lungs.</p> + +<p>Something clammy touched his hand.</p> + +<p>"Wiggles!" with an immense revulsion of joy. Where Wiggles was, Phyllys +could not be far.</p> + +<p>"Where is she, Wiggles? Phyllys, where are you?"</p> + +<p>No human voice made reply. Wiggles whined, jumping on him, licking his +hand, taking hold of his trouser.</p> + +<p>"Where is she, Wiggles?" he asked, every nerve in him tense. There +could no longer be any doubt. She would not have left Wiggles behind. +That Wiggles should have left her seemed singular; but he might be a +dog prone to wander. He might—this flashed up, as Wiggles again laid +hold upon his trouser—have come for help.</p> + +<p>"You must take me to her," he said, addressing the dog as he might +have addressed a child. He drew a cord from his pocket, and passed it +through the collar. "Now—lead!"</p> + +<p>Wiggles seemed uncertain what to do. He sniffed the air, and whined +afresh. Was it that he did not know Phyllys' whereabouts? Or was he +stupid? Many affectionate little dogs are not brilliant in an emergency.</p> + +<p>Giles put matters to the test. He set off at a resolute pace, as if for +Midfell.</p> + +<p>That settled it. Wiggles refused to go. He struggled, protested, +howled, sat down. He might be dragged, but he would not walk. Giles +ceased to pull, and Wiggles moved in a new direction, gaining +confidence as he found Giles with him. He led away from the track, +across the turf, and Giles followed, urging him on, trying to keep note +of his bearings, though unsuccessfully. That troubled him little. If he +could reach Phyllys, all else was of small importance.</p> + +<p>"Phyllys—Phyllys!" he called again.</p> + +<p>And out of the dead stillness rang an agonised cry. He knew the voice.</p> + +<p>"I'm here! Where are you?"</p> + +<p>"O come! O save me!" she screamed, her bell-like tones for once thin +and shrill with horror.</p> + +<p>He dashed headlong in the direction whence the sound travelled.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MR. DUGDALE'S OUTSPOKENNESS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE model village of Castlemere had a fine aged church of grey stone, +with solid square tower and the sweetest chime of bells in the county. +A comfortable Rectory adjoined the churchyard; and picture cottages, +inhabited by well-to-do tenants, clustered around. Giles Randolph was a +liberal landlord.</p> + +<p>Castle Hill House, half-a-mile distant, was united to the village by +a private road, running through park and avenue; and nearly two miles +from Castlemere, in the other direction, flourished a country town, +Market Oakley by name.</p> + +<p>At the better end of the town, its "west-end," so to speak, was the +parish of S. John's, impinging in one direction on the extensive parish +of Castlemere. Outside Market Oakley, in this direction, was Brook-End +Grange, the home of Mr. Dugdale's daughter, Kathleen Alyn, a young +widow, with one little boy.</p> + +<p>She stood on the lawn, her gown flowing round her in a fashion peculiar +to herself. Whatever she wore flowed, and did not hang or drag. +The gown was perfect in make, for she never employed a second-rate +dressmaker; and her fair hair was equally perfect in arrangement, for +she always had a first-rate maid. Though she owned no good looks worth +mentioning, few people observed her once only. There was repose in her +bearing; and she was markedly graceful.</p> + +<p>No hat sheltered her head. She would run out thus—though "run" +is hardly the word for her gradual movements—into the charming, +old-fashioned garden, at any moment, at any time of the year, even +in winter with deep snow upon the ground. Now the stiff box hedges +contrasted with abundant leafage; and the quaint borders were crammed +with flowers.</p> + +<p>She was intently observing; a queer little smile on her lips.</p> + +<p>Some yards off was a small boy in knickerbockers, red-haired, +snub-nosed, extremely pleased with himself. Beside him on the gravel +path lay a birdtrap, and in front, on his own private bed or "garden," +reposed the dead bodies of three birds, two sparrows and a chaffinch.</p> + +<p>It seemed that a funeral function was in progress. He had dug five neat +graves in a row, and had deposited two birds in two of them. As Mrs. +Alyn watched, he took a third, consigned it to receptacle number three, +shovelled in the earth, and chanted a short requiem—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,<br> + What the little worms can't eat the big ones must."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>A variety of feelings struggled on the mother's face, amusement among +them. The boy, absorbed in his occupation, saw nothing. Bird number +four was laid to rest, and again came the chant—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,<br> + What the little worms—"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Gordon," she said.</p> + +<p>Gordon dropped his trowel, and turned.</p> + +<p>"What is all this, sonny?"</p> + +<p>"Gardener said the birds was just eating everything up."</p> + +<p>"Where did you find so many dead ones?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't. I caught 'em."</p> + +<p>"Killed them! In the trap?"</p> + +<p>Gordon's under-lip pouted.</p> + +<p>"And the words you were singing—who told you them?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody. It's a funeral."</p> + +<p>She found it difficult to keep her face serious. Stooping to pick up +Number Five, she said, "Poor little bird! And it might be still alive +and happy, enjoying the sunshine. I wouldn't have believed that my boy +could be cruel."</p> + +<p>She upset the trap with her foot, and walked away, her skirt swaying in +undulatory style. Gordon stared after her. The worst thing that could +happen in his little life was to have his mother displeased.</p> + +<p>He shovelled the earth into the untenanted fifth hole; then, with a +careless six-foot air, he marched towards the house, where Mrs. Alyn +stood in the porch, still handling the hapless bundle of feathers.</p> + +<p>"Going out, mum?"</p> + +<p>"No, sonnie."</p> + +<p>"Won't you take me for a walk?"</p> + +<p>"No, sonnie."</p> + +<p>Gordon's under-lip quivered.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to be cruel—course! I promise, I won't kill no more +birds."</p> + +<p>For Gordon to give in without a struggle meant much. She bent down, and +he flung two arms round her neck, anxiously glancing to make sure of no +witnesses.</p> + +<p>But witnesses there were, and he pulled himself erect.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale and Mrs. Keith came up the path; the former, as usual, +bland, neat, precise; the latter excited.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Kathleen? I am on my way to the station, to change my +books, and I thought I would look in on you for a few minutes. I have +left the carriage outside—your father was just coming in, so I got out +to walk with him. I suppose you would not care to drive to the station. +You don't subscribe to Smith's."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I should like it." Kathleen always enjoyed what other people +wanted; and part of her attractiveness was due to this fact. "Shall I +get my hat?"</p> + +<p>"Well, on second thoughts I hardly know if it is worth while. I shall +have to go straight home. Has Colin told you about his absurd fad? I +wish Giles would not encourage it."</p> + +<p>"Modelling?"</p> + +<p>"Messing about with wet clay. Such ridiculous nonsense! Four huge +packing-cases have come from Italy, with casts that he bought there. +He never said a word in writing. I can't conceive why he should be so +secretive; and I can't imagine what put the notion into his head."</p> + +<p>"Nature!" spoke Mr. Dugdale at her side. "It is inborn."</p> + +<p>She turned with a nervous movement of her hands, as if repudiating +something.</p> + +<p>"I never had the smallest taste that way. Nor any of my family."</p> + +<p>"That may be. A genius is often a family freak—not to be accounted for +by ordinary rules of heredity. No doubt traceable, if one had the means +of tracing it, to some distant ancestor. You ought to be thankful for +Colin's gift—no matter how he came by it."</p> + +<p>She asked "Why?" Her fine eyes going to his face, as if in search for +some sub-meaning. She was handsomer than Kathleen Alyn; yet the greater +charm rested with the younger woman. There was a lack of repose in Mrs. +Keith; and she seemed to be perpetually on the watch for something to +controvert.</p> + +<p>"At the least it is a harmless occupation; and he needs something to +do. Desk-work, of course, is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"I don't see it, now he is stronger. Besides—" She stopped.</p> + +<p>"He will never be strong enough for head-work. I don't mean strength +in the muscular sense. His brain wouldn't stand the tension. You were +going to say—besides—what?"</p> + +<p>"There is no need that he should work."</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with you. No self-respecting man will consent to be a +burden on another."</p> + +<p>"Colin is not a burden." Her eyes flashed resentfully. "It is Giles' +delight to give him a home."</p> + +<p>Kathleen made danger-signals from behind, but Mr. Dugdale failed to +read them. Although himself a man prone to take offence, he was apt to +say the wrong thing, thereby giving offence to others; and he never +could imagine why offence should be taken.</p> + +<p>"My dear lady, it may be Giles' delight to support half the +neighbourhood; but half the neighbourhood has no right to be supported +by him. Neither has Colin. The two are not related; and if they were, I +should still say he ought to work for himself. Eh, Kathleen? Yes?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith drew up a haughty head.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you consider me to be living on charity too," she said +coldly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; that is different," Mr. Dugdale interposed; but she +went on, refusing to listen—</p> + +<p>"I am extremely obliged! All those years that I lived for Giles do not +count! Goodbye, Kathleen. It is later than I thought. I must go on."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Alyn offered no protest. She signed to her father to remain where +he was, slipped an affectionate arm within Mrs. Keith's, and walked +down the carriage-drive. When she returned, a slight smile was on her +lips.</p> + +<p>"Now you 'have' put your foot in it, father!"</p> + +<p>"Eh? Have I? My dear, I merely spoke the truth. I merely suggested +what everybody is saying. Colin ought to do something. His choice is +circumscribed; but really there is no reason why he should live a life +of dependence. I'm glad he has the spirit to refuse it for himself."</p> + +<p>"Colin has any amount of spirit. I only hope he will not bring on +another breakdown. It would be a thousand pities."</p> + +<p>"He will do well enough if he isn't fussed. I never can fathom Mrs. +Keith," mused Mr. Dugdale, with knitted brows. "Whatever one expects +her to do, she is certain to do the opposite. I should have thought, +with her proud nature—Proud! Yes! A pikestaff isn't 'in' it beside +her!—I should have thought she would be charmed at the most distant +prospect of Colin making his own way in life. I'd have staked my credit +on it! Yet all she wants, apparently, is to keep him in blissful +idleness! Can't understand it, for my part. I imagined I knew something +of women: but they are a riddle and a delusion to the end of the +chapter."</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't count me a delusion."</p> + +<p>He looked oddly at her. "I had the training of you."</p> + +<p>Kathleen could not help laughing.</p> + +<p>"There's another puzzle. Why has Mrs. Keith set her mind on getting +Phyllys to Castle Hill? You wish it, and I wish it. Her father and I +were friends. Giles might wish it too. But Mrs. Keith has talked and +worried, bothered and insisted! And why? She has no connection with the +girl."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she thinks it will add to the liveliness of Castle Hill."</p> + +<p>"If that were all, she could invite a dozen young women. Giles never +says No to her—"</p> + +<p>"He has gone against her in the modelling."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale waved a protesting hand.</p> + +<p>"You are a woman too, my dear! Even you cannot let a man finish his +sentence before springing an opposite view. I was about to say that +Giles never says No to Mrs. Keith, unless saying Yes to her means No to +Colin."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she has an idea that Phyllys might make a good wife for Colin."</p> + +<p>"Absurd! She has never seen the girl."</p> + +<p>"According to Giles 'the girl' is worth seeing."</p> + +<p>"That is recent. Mrs. Keith set her mind years ago on getting hold of +her. However, I give it up. Woman's ways are beyond me."</p> + +<p>He spread forth deprecating hands; then made a new start. "'Lived for +Giles!' Nonsense! She lived for herself and Colin. Took care of Giles +by the way—and was well paid for it too! The allowance was absurd! It +has been a paying concern for Mrs. Keith from first to last."</p> + +<p>"At any rate she did her best for Giles."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith knows on which side of her bread lies the butter. I don't +blame her. There are advantages in worldly wisdom—for its possessor. +But when she talks in the high-falutin' style of all she has been and +done, as if, forsooth, 'she' were the family benefactor and Giles her +humble debtor—no, I can't stand that. Some day I shall speak out."</p> + +<p>"Better not. Giles would not thank you. So long as things go smoothly, +why stir up the mud?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale struck his hands together.</p> + +<p>"I have it! I vow, it never occurred to me before. Phyllys is the next +in succession. If anything happened to Giles, she would sooner or later +reign here. Unless Giles should have made provision for Mrs. Keith in +his will—"</p> + +<p>"Which of course he has done!"</p> + +<p>"There is no 'of course' in connection with any man's will. The most +unlikely arrangements are made; the most likely are left unmade. Mrs. +Keith means to provide for contingencies. Gloriously far-sighted!" Then +he turned to inspect a hairy caterpillar, reposing on the grubby palm +of his little grandson.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith, driving to the station, smoothed her ruffled plumage as +best she might. Mr. Dugdale had a knack of ruffling her.</p> + +<p>When Giles' mother died, and he was given over into the care of Mrs. +Keith, then a young newly-made widow with one baby-boy, Mr. Randolph +undertook to pay her, so long as she should have charge of his child, a +yearly income of eight hundred pounds. On the death soon after of the +father, the boy's guardian continued the payment; and Giles himself, +since coming of age, although she could no longer be reckoned "in +charge" of him, had made her the same allowance. These facts were known +to Mr. Dugdale; and Mrs. Keith knew that he knew them. She did not +really suspect him of having meant to say anything unkind. She had lost +her temper, because his manner ruffled her.</p> + +<p>Nobody, who observed this handsome well-dressed woman, seated in a +luxurious landau, would have imagined her to be in any sense "living +upon charity."</p> + +<p>And she was not, in her own opinion. She had for years been a "mother" +to Giles. She had given the best of her time, thought, and affection to +both boys; to Giles not less than Colin. She had earned an income, now +hers so long that she seemed to possess a right to it. Charity, indeed! +But the word had been foolishly her own, not Mr. Dugdale's; and this +she now recognised, regretting her unreasonable annoyance.</p> + +<p>As regarded Colin, she knew that Mr. Dugdale had only "voiced" what +everybody would think. A young man should certainly endeavour to make +his own way in life. In the present case there were, it is true, +peculiar circumstances which, if known to Mr. Dugdale, would tend to +put a different complexion on the whole. But Mr. Dugdale did not know +these circumstances—never would know them, she said to herself! It +would have been more sensible if she had fallen in with his utterances. +Of course she too wished Colin to do something, to find some pursuit, +even though she knew that it was Giles' greatest pleasure to provide +for him.</p> + +<p>Some pursuit,—only, "not" modelling!—"not" sculpture! Anything, rather!</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A MOORLAND DEATH-TRAP</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THOUGH Phyllys could hardly be called obstinate, she liked to carry +out her intentions. On the way to Thacker's farm she saw a thickness +clothing the fells, but it made no great impression on her mind. From +morning to night she thought now of little but the promised visit to +Castle Hill.</p> + +<p>After tea and a chat with the farmer and his wife, she spoke of return.</p> + +<p>"I should like to stay for hours," she said, "if it were only to see +the cows 'provened.'" She loved to use local colloquialisms, and +the old man chuckled, pleased with her pretty ways. "Oh, and I must +go along the fother'em and take a look at the stalls. Have you any +calves?—Any stirks? You see, I know all about it!"—merrily.</p> + +<p>At length she was off; and rather by a mechanical movement, than of +intent, she turned towards the moor, carrying over one shoulder the +heavy shawl.</p> + +<p>Not till on the lower slopes of the fell did she note how heavy was the +grey pall that hid the heights. As yet she approached only its dragging +fringes, but she had to ascend, and it was getting on for five o'clock. +The fog would thicken as evening advanced.</p> + +<p>But, as Giles had said, she was not easily frightened. She found the +shawl heavy; and she would have to go all the way back to the farm +before beginning the long round by the road. She had only to keep to +the track. When she reached the other side, descending towards Midfell, +she would soon leave fog behind.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go on, Wiggles?" she asked. "It looks rather horrid up there. +But turning back would be still more horrid. Shall we make a dash for +it?"</p> + +<p>Wiggles wagged his tail.</p> + +<p>"Ready for anything, are you not, you old dear? I'll try!" And she +murmured, touching in turn each coat-button, "Will go!—Won't go!—Will +go!—Won't go!" Till the last was reached. "The 'will' has it. Come +along."</p> + +<p>Having decided, she pressed forward, and was surprised to find how much +farther the way seemed in these conditions than in sunlight.</p> + +<p>Still, she was on the path, and she was all right.</p> + +<p>The fog at first was not so dense as when, later, Giles retraced his +steps, but it was dense enough to be unpleasant; and more than once she +regretted not having chosen the road. She met no human being, and heard +no voice. Dim outlines of bushes dawned as she walked, and disappeared +again. She advanced at a good pace; and presently, growing used to the +gloom, she fell into a muse upon the coming joys of Castle Hill.</p> + +<p>Giles would be there; and to know more of Giles would be charming. She +liked him. He was just the sort of friend she wanted; caring for the +things she cared for; ready to hear, prompt to understand. Then there +would be Mrs. Keith and Colin. She might not like the latter so much +as Giles; still the fact that Giles thought much of Colin proved that +there was good in him. About Mrs. Keith she was doubtful. Giles had +been reserved; but she had detected a something in his manner which +suggested lack of admiration.</p> + +<p>However, since Mrs. Keith had wanted Phyllys to go to Castle Hill, she +would be grateful.</p> + +<p>It would be such an escape! She would be in a new world, free to see +with her own eyes, to hear with her own ears, to form her own ideas, +to observe, to learn, to feel, without home trammels. She would be no +longer in a stiff groove, where everybody was expected to think the +same as everybody else, under penalty of condemnation.</p> + +<p>How dense the fog was! Absorbed in anticipations, she had not noted +surroundings, but had followed the track in a mechanical fashion. Now +she realised that it was time to have reached the brow of the fell.</p> + +<p>Wiggles drew her attention. He was close to heel, not running about +as was his wont. When she looked, he sat down, as if unwilling to go +farther.</p> + +<p>"Why, Wiggles, are you tired?"</p> + +<p>She went on, and he followed, then again sat down, with a whine.</p> + +<p>Phyllys knew that in keeping to the track she was all right, fog or no +fog. She had but to go on. But a doubt assailed her. This "was" the +track, of course—this shadowy line. She bent to look more closely, and +stood up, grave in face.</p> + +<p>Not the right path. It was a mere sheep-track, probably leading to the +top of the fell. In sheer absence of mind she had quitted the path to +Midfell—perhaps at one of the rocky breaks—and had turned along this +instead.</p> + +<p>Vexed at her carelessness, she hurriedly retraced her steps, following +the feeble little line. Soon she was brought to a standstill; for it +died out, and she searched in vain for a continuation. The ground here +was stony, and doubtless a continuation did exist; but she could not +find it.</p> + +<p>Phyllys kept her head. She stood still, striving to grasp her situation.</p> + +<p>No easy matter this, to the most experienced man, in such a fog, with +all landmarks blotted out. She did not understand fully the risks +involved. Had she felt more afraid, she might have allowed Wiggles to +act as her guide; but she was naturally confident, and the idea did not +so much as occur to her. Wiggles, satisfied that she no longer aimed +for the summit, awaited her pleasure.</p> + +<p>"All right," she said aloud, having made up her mind whereabouts she +stood. She pictured the way that she had—must have—come. She placed the +hills mentally, localised Midfell, and decided on her direction. Then +she started briskly, and Wiggles followed—reluctantly still, as if not +happy.</p> + +<p>No sign of the vanished track appeared, but she went on in good +spirits, convinced that she was nearing the ridge behind Midfell, +expecting each minute to find the path. According to her reasoning, +this was a certainty. If the top of the fell lay "there," and the +village of Midfell "there," then the track along the hillside "must" +cut across somewhere in front.</p> + +<p>She failed to gauge the momentous character of that word "if."</p> + +<p>That she should have lost all count of the true positions of hill-top +and of village; that north and south, east and west, should be as one +to her consciousness; that in the fog she should not know whether +she was going uphill or downhill; that when she supposed herself to +be following a straight line, she was describing a semi-circle which +brought her indeed within half-a-mile of the lost track, but to a part +of the fell which beyond every other ought to have been avoided—all +this was miles from her imagination.</p> + +<p>It did occur as curious that the fog should thicken instead of +lessening as she—according to her belief—neared the moor-edge. But the +advance of evening might account for so much. The track must now be +close, and she hurried on, shivering with the clammy atmosphere. The +heavy shawl still hung over her left shoulder; and lifting its front +folds she flung them over her right shoulder, for warmth.</p> + +<p>She was growing anxious, and because she would not give in to the +feeling, she hurried on more recklessly, not noting how Wiggles hung +back.</p> + +<p>Ah, here was boggy ground. "I must keep clear of that," she thought, +being used to such patches on the moors. Many a time she had crossed +them, springing from root to root of heather, deftly avoiding insecure +parts.</p> + +<p>A yelp made her glance round. Nose in air, with cocked ear, Wiggles had +made out something which failed to reach her duller senses. Then he was +off, regardless of her recall. Perhaps he knew that disobedience had +become a duty.</p> + +<p>Phyllys hesitated, but she could not follow, for he was out of sight, +swallowed up in the white curtain. She supposed that he had caught +sight of some small creature, and had started in chase. He would be +back directly, and would find her.</p> + +<p>She scanned her limited circle of visibility. In front and to the +right lay an expanse of green—bright green, so far as anything could +be bright in such an atmosphere. It was mottled with red and yellow, +variegated moss-hues; and dotted with clumps of rushes. Here and +there grew the white-tufted cotton-grass; and wiry bog-grass of an +olive-green with red tintings might be seen in abundance. Despite the +dulness, these colours, which in sunshine would have been ominously +brilliant, suggested a need for caution.</p> + +<p>She could not see far. She did not suspect that this was no mere patch +of boggy soil—that a wide reach of treacherous slime, with only a thin +coating of moss and grass, a death-trap for the unwary, lay around. On +a clear day she would have read tokens of peril in the very brightness +of colouring, which alike concealed and revealed the deadly danger. But +though she had been in sunshine to this place, and had been warned of +the trap which that fair surface offered, she never dreamt that she was +now on its verge.</p> + +<p>It was just a bit of "saft" ground, as they call it in Scotland, and +she was not troubled. She went on again, more swiftly than before, +eager to cross it, then to wait for Wiggles. One moment later she would +have heard Giles' voice shouting—but—</p> + +<p>A false step; and she plunged in, over both ankles. It took her by +surprise. The effort to save herself might have proved successful, +had she been going cautiously. But the impetus of her run made it +impossible to stop; and as she tried to leap to what looked like a firm +spot, she caught her foot in a tangle of rushes.</p> + +<p>She fell far forward, spread-eagle fashion, sliding on with the +struggle to save herself, down into the horrible slimy bog, which +yielded beneath her.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was a girl of high courage, but in that moment of terrible +helplessness and sinking, the soft, sucking, sticky grip upon her limbs +and the sense of nothing to cling to, nothing to hold by, nothing to +pull against, brought a sickening agony of terror.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>DIREFUL REALISATIONS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>SHE knew what it meant. Thought at such a time is rapid; and as she +went down, as she felt the black slime rising around her, she knew she +was in a quaking bog, that bog upon the fell against which she had +been often warned; that bog which, had she been questioned one minute +sooner, she would have averred to be at least half-a-mile away, in the +most unfrequented part of the moor.</p> + +<p>And she was in it—lying face downward upon its treacherous surface; the +bright deceptive moss giving way like paper under her weight, the dark +half-liquid peat covering her limbs.</p> + +<p>Had this been winter, had the accident happened after any spell of +heavy rain, no hope for Phyllys could have existed. At such seasons +the whole swamp was a lake of foul watery mud, in which she would have +instantly sunk, and from the first plunge nothing more would have been +seen or heard of the hapless girl. Strong men, lost on the moors after +dark, had so met their end; and as she fell, she remembered the last—a +traveller who had inadvertently leaped upon the smooth surface, and had +disappeared from sight.</p> + +<p>But the weather lately had been dry, and the peat-mud was in a +semi-liquid, tenacious condition, capable of bearing up a prone body +for at least several minutes.</p> + +<p>One other pressing peril was met. Falling thus, she might have met with +immediate suffocation, but that her heavy shawl, thrown from the front +over both shoulders, dropped upon the bog outspread below her face, +guarding nose and mouth from the smothering grip of the mud.</p> + +<p>At the first moment, as she realised what had occurred, she fought +wildly, desperately, to escape. But she had gone too far, sliding +beyond reach of firm ground, and she had nothing to hold by. She was +powerless to drag her feet from the gripping black stuff. She had +nothing to grasp, nothing which would give her a purchase, and each +effort sent her deeper. It seemed that she was being slowly dragged +under.</p> + +<p>She tried to shriek for help, but voice was gone. Breath and strength +failed with horror. Again she strove to raise herself, and again she +sank lower. Her only hope lay in keeping still.</p> + +<p>The position in which she lay was the best she could have chosen—her +weight distributed, the shawl under her face. But she could not +long remain thus. In a little while the black mud would rise up and +overpower her.</p> + +<p>Afraid to stir, prone and helpless, every nerve was alive, every +faculty wide awake. Thoughts flashed like lightning one upon another; +past, present, future intermingled. She strove to be calm, to pray for +help. She knew that death meant life beyond, and she was conscious of +a definite clinging to the One Great Name, which alone has power in +man's last extremity. She tried to think of re-union with the father +and mother whom she loved. But she was so young, and life in this +world held much of promise, and she wanted to learn more, to do more, +to understand more, before the final passage. She shrank from such a +passage as this. Suffocation, alone in a horrible bog, mantled over by +the white fog-pall, was ghastly.</p> + +<p>"O God, save me!—Save!" she panted.</p> + +<p>A shout reached her ears. Somebody was coming. She tried to call, and +it seemed that her voice went no distance. If she could keep up till +help came!—but the slime was creeping higher. She saw it, felt it. It +was making its way round the borders of her shawl. She watched with +fascinated eyes. Soon the shawl would be sucked under; then the mud +would reach her lips; then—nobody would know what had become of her.</p> + +<p>Would Giles be sorry? She thought so, and she sobbed a little. The man +whose voice she had heard must have gone by; it seemed hours since the +sound reached her. Had she been told that not five minutes had passed +since her fall, she would have counted the words wild.</p> + +<p>Another shout roused her from despair. She called, "O come! O save me!" +And the mud began to pour in a slow stream over the shawl.</p> + +<p>Led by Wiggles, Giles had aimed for the swamp, and suddenly Phyllys +knew his voice. Her courage revived, for if anybody could save her, he +could. She felt no surprise at his appearance.</p> + +<p>"Where are you?" he called.</p> + +<p>"In the bog. Take care; don't get in too!"</p> + +<p>He had to approach with caution; but he made her out, lying nearly +submerged, head and shoulders alone visible above the dark surface.</p> + +<p>Had he not been compelled to give his whole mind to the problem of +rescue, the horror of her condition would have overwhelmed him. He +realised how awfully critical it was, how great the need for action. +But he also realised that to rush recklessly in would only seal her +fate.</p> + +<p>"Keep still; don't move," he urged. "I'll have you out. Don't be +afraid."</p> + +<p>He measured the space at a glance, and tested the boggy earth with his +stick, to find a spot which would bear his weight. Whatever he felt, +he was composed, and she now made no sound, but lay motionless on her +loathsome bed. The white brave face—so much as he could see of it, +which was little—went to his heart.</p> + +<p>Three steps, taken in a direct line, would have carried him within +reach; but those steps were impossible. A few feet farther he found a +tongue of firm ground jutting into the bog, and this brought him nearer +to where she lay. Not yet within touch—a single long step would do the +business, but he sought in vain for standing ground.</p> + +<p>She was sinking—visibly—and his dread was that she might go under. Few +though the moments were since his arrival, he saw a change.</p> + +<p>The mud here was drier, less soft than farther out. He pulled off his +coat, spread it upon the boggy surface, and went down full length, +creeping gingerly towards her.</p> + +<p>"Don't struggle; keep still and trust yourself to me," he said.</p> + +<p>Never in after-life would Phyllys forget what the first grip of his +hand meant after the past interminable horror. She obeyed him, and did +not struggle—at what a cost of will she alone knew. For still the slime +was around, and during one terrible moment it seemed that Giles was +sinking, that her last hope was gone.</p> + +<p>But slowly he drew her towards himself; then worked his way to firmer +turf, where his feet rested; and as he went, he pulled her with him.</p> + +<p>He was on it at last, kneeling deep sunk in "saft" earth, but not drawn +under. Another moment, and he had regained his feet; another, and they +were on solid ground.</p> + +<p>"Come this way—farther," he said.</p> + +<p>He stood still, breathing hard, and Phyllys said nothing. She could +not speak at first, the awfulness of what she had escaped rendering +her dumb. She was a mass of black mud, except the head; and Giles was +clothed in the same.</p> + +<p>"Thank God I was in time!" he faltered, and the break in his voice made +her look up.</p> + +<p>"I can't thank you—" she tried to say, and because a lump in her throat +choked her, she laughed. "What a state we are both in!"</p> + +<p>The laugh grated on her own hearing, but not on his, for he read in the +strain of its unnatural tone a fresh effort of her undaunted courage. +She stood gazing towards where she had fallen. "If you had not come +just when you did, I should have been—"</p> + +<p>"Don't!" he entreated.</p> + +<p>She gave him a wistful glance. "Isn't it strange? Just one step wrong, +and everything nearly at an end. No going to Castle Hill!"</p> + +<p>He knew this was not lightness. Her limbs shook, and she was ashen. +"Come," he said, and he led her farther. "The question is how we are to +get to Midfell."</p> + +<p>"I know about where we are. There's a path near—if we could find it. It +leads straight to the village,—and to a farm half way, where we might +stop."</p> + +<p>"A good plan. Wiggles will lead us; he brought me to you."</p> + +<p>"Did he?" in surprise. "I shouldn't have thought he could." A cold +nose was thrust into her hand, and she surprised herself by bursting +into tears. "Dear old Wiggles," she sobbed, and then—"I'm sorry to be +stupid."</p> + +<p>"It's all right; don't mind. Try not to think about things yet."</p> + +<p>He slipped the string once more through Wiggles' collar, and looked at +her with solicitude. "You are sure you can walk?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I can!" indignantly. "Please don't tell Barbara I cried. +It's only—if you knew what it was—"</p> + +<p>"I know. Not many girls would have shown such pluck," and the +admiration in his voice brought a smile to her lips. "You were +splendidly brave. Of course you are shaken now. Suppose you try to make +Wiggles understand that we want to go home."</p> + +<p>This acted as a diversion, and she was soon her usual self, though +pale. Giles explained how it was that he had come to Midfell; and +Wiggles proved a reliable guide, so that in no long time they reached +the farm, where they were glad to get rid of encasing mud. A man was +despatched to bring clean clothing for both, and later they reached +Burn Cottage, where extreme anxiety had reigned.</p> + +<p>The old lady listened in agitated thankfulness to the tale of her +grandchild's narrow escape; and her gratitude to Giles knew no bounds. +She held his hand in her soft withered palms, tears in her eyes, words +trembling on her lips. She folded her restored darling in a close +embrace—no common action for one so undemonstrative—and prayed and +wept over her. Phyllys shed tears also, and realised how dear the old +grandmother was, despite certain misunderstandings.</p> + +<p>What Barbara felt at this outcome of her scheming did not so fully +appear. A word of blame with regard to Phyllys' "stupidity" in not +keeping clear of the bog received settlement at the hand of Giles.</p> + +<p>"Phyllys ought not to have been allowed to go at all," he said; and +Barbara understood. She fumed, but was silent.</p> + +<p>This event put the presence of Giles in Midfell on a new footing. +The cousin to whom Mrs. Wyverne owed Phyllys' life could not be held +at arms' length. Let his opinions be what they might, he had earned +a right to come in and out. For once, Barbara and Miss Robins were +powerless to touch the old lady's determination. Her thankful joy was +too deep not to find expression.</p> + +<p>During his week at the Inn, he made the best of his opportunity. He and +Phyllys strolled about the fields together, had long walks together, +talked together endlessly,—though in such talks hers was the lion's +share, and he acted the part of charmed listener. He was not a man of +many words.</p> + +<p>These days of intercourse settled the question for him. Before the week +ended, he loved Phyllys, loved her with his whole being. She was not, +perhaps, his first fancy, but she was his first true love. She might be +his last.</p> + +<p>He had no thought, however, of showing in haste what he felt. His +attentions were simple and cousin-like in kind; and no one guessed the +truth. He knew that he had to win Phyllys, and that the winning might +not prove easy.</p> + +<p>She was friendly, even affectionate, and delighted with his +companionship. He could see that she never forgot what she owed to him; +but he had no wish that she should marry out of gratitude; and he would +not take her at a disadvantage.</p> + +<p>With all her frankness, Phyllys was not easy to read. The very +readiness with which she had taken to him, and the easy gladness with +which day after day she met him, were, he knew, not hopeful symptoms.</p> + +<p>Had she been more shy, less responsive, he might have felt more +sanguine. Hopeful he did feel, but hardly of immediate results; and his +chief fear was lest he should be drawn into a too hasty betrayal of his +love.</p> + +<p>That she liked him as a cousin he saw. Whether she would like him +equally as a lover was another question. He had to proceed cautiously.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>CASTLE HILL PERPLEXITIES</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AT the appointed hour for Phyllys' arrival, Mrs. Keith went to the +station.</p> + +<p>And together they drove through the town, the elder lady exchanging +bows with acquaintances by the way. Phyllys took everything in with +interested eyes.</p> + +<p>Leaving Market Oakley behind, they bowled swiftly along the smooth +high-road till Castlemere was reached; then by a lodge-gate they +entered the private grounds leading to Castle Hill.</p> + +<p>Once indoors Mrs. Keith unbent. Thus far she had merely made herself +agreeable. Now her gloved hands held those of Phyllys, and she looked +tenderly in the girl's face. After a momentary hesitation, real or +assumed, she bent for a kiss.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was touched, and a wonder stirred within her. Why should Mrs. +Keith be so affectionate? That Giles should have liked to know her had +seemed natural, since he was near of kin; but that Mrs. Keith should +care was puzzling.</p> + +<p>Then she recalled her late peril, and the fact that Giles had rescued +her. This might give Mrs. Keith a peculiar feeling. Or perhaps Mrs. +Keith was so fond of Giles as to be gladdened by anything that gave +him pleasure. Phyllys smiled over the latter solution, and Mrs. Keith +kissed her again.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I am delighted to get you here. We have wanted it for years. +Giles particularly."</p> + +<p>"It is delightful to come."</p> + +<p>This little scene took place in the ante-room, between hall and +drawing-room; and as they entered the latter a slight gasp broke from +Phyllys.</p> + +<p>It was large and many-windowed, with nooks and retreats, a ceiling +artistically designed and coloured, fine paintings on the walls, a +broad general harmony of outline and tinting, and a delicate beauty of +contrast in details, which at once appealed to Phyllys. She thought +of the prim little sitting-room at home, its stiff squareness, its +ponderous furniture, its framed texts.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" murmured Mrs. Keith.</p> + +<p>"I never saw anything like it!"</p> + +<p>"Unusual, is it not? I am glad you can appreciate. Now you will like +some tea. Where can Colin be?" She rang the bell. "Tell Mr. Keith we +are here," she said to the butler.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Keith desired not to be disturbed, ma'am. Tea was taken by his +wish to the studio."</p> + +<p>A fretted look came, and one cup clicked against another. "Nonsense! +What nonsense!" Mrs. Keith's brows drew together.</p> + +<p>"Does Colin paint?" asked Phyllys. "Mr. Keith, I mean."</p> + +<p>"He is 'Colin,' not 'Mr. Keith,' to you, my dear. Yes, he dabbles in +painting; and lately he has taken an absurd fancy for messing with wet +clay, trying to model. Sheer waste of time, for he has no gift in that +direction."</p> + +<p>The resentful tone in which she alluded to Colin's pursuit was in +contrast with the note of her next remark.</p> + +<p>"Such a pity Giles is still away. Yes,—" seeing with pleasure Phyllys' +disappointment—"he was to have got home yesterday. But the friend with +whom he has been shooting in the Highlands fell ill, and cannot travel. +Giles has stayed to take care of him. So like Giles! Always thinking of +others before himself! And I know what a disappointment it must be to +him. Till he arrives, you must put up with Colin and me."</p> + +<p>Phyllys tried to hide what she felt. This was indeed a "Waterloo +without a Wellington." She hoped she had succeeded, but was not sure. +Those fine restless eyes seemed to see a great deal; and so surely +as she glanced up she met them. The scrutiny was kind, however, and +conveyed approval.</p> + +<p>This first evening at Castle Hill was very unlike what Phyllys had +pictured. One figure, large and quiet, with straight gaze and few +utterances, had never been absent from previous visions; but while +others, hazy in anticipation, were taking shape, that was the one +lacking.</p> + +<p>Not for long! She found consolation in this thought, and also in Mrs. +Keith's assurances that her disappointment was shared by Giles. She +could not know that he had given Mrs. Keith no right to make such an +assertion, for she had yet to learn the liberal manner in which her +hostess was wont to draw upon a vivid imagination.</p> + +<p>She did find, to her surprise, that nothing was known by Mrs. Keith +of her bog adventure or of the part played by Giles. She told the +tale simply not without a shivering aversion which she could not yet +conquer. Mrs. Keith showed excitement.</p> + +<p>"My dear, what an awful thing! Too dreadful! If Giles had not been +near! Yes, he saved your life! How thankful he must have been! No, +he said nothing in his letters. But he would not. That is Giles all +over—never speaking of what he has done himself. But you and he will +never forget. It seems quite a link between you." She shot a glance to +see if this was appreciated. Phyllys took it quietly.</p> + +<p>Till the dinner-gong sounded, nothing was heard of Colin. Then the +butler announced, "Mr. Keith is sorry not to come to dinner."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith made a sharp turn. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Keith does not wish for any dinner, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Absurd!" she muttered. Then to Phyllys, with a constrained smile, +"You and I must make the most of each other. Colin is treating us +cavalierly."</p> + +<p>"He must be very fond of modelling," the girl said, as they went +through the hall.</p> + +<p>"A great deal too fond. Such a waste of time."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so? My father used to love it. They said he was a born +sculptor."</p> + +<p>She had an odd impression that her words had administered a blow. +Tightening lips and drawn brows showed strong feeling. Not till they +were seated did a reply come, with evident unconsciousness of the +interval.</p> + +<p>"There are so many things better worth doing."</p> + +<p>Phyllys wisely resolved to avoid a discussion.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne, despite opposition from Barbara and exhortations from +Miss Robins, on the score of encouraging vanity, had taken care that +her grandchild should not do her discredit. Phyllys had one evening +frock, which she wore now, pretty, and in good taste. Perhaps she felt +its prettiness a trifle thrown away under present circumstances; yet +she enjoyed herself.</p> + +<p>The great dining-room, with its ancestral portraits, its heavy silver +candelabra, its antique furniture, its well-laid table, its flowers, +its butler and footman waiting in deferential silence, all laid +pleasant hold upon her. She had no sense of embarrassment. Everything +seemed natural and as should be. Travelling abroad in childhood, and +being much among grown-up people before the age of thirteen, had given +her an ease which she could not have acquired in Midfell alone, despite +the old lady's excellent manners.</p> + +<p>Great as was the contrast between Castle Hill arrangements and those +of Burn Cottage, she behaved as if all her life used to the former. +Mrs. Keith, narrowly observant, was more and more satisfied. The slight +upset to her equanimity, whatever it had meant, passed off, and she +talked continuously.</p> + +<p>When they returned to the drawing-room, Mr. Dugdale appeared, making at +once for Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"I knew your father well," was his first remark. "Wyverne and I were +friends. He was one of the best men it has ever been my good fortune to +come across."</p> + +<p>Had Mr. Dugdale set himself to win her liking, he could have chosen +no wiser method. For years she had lived among those who condemned +her father—Barbara "in toto;" the old lady, not without deep motherly +love, yet with grief and regret, because on certain religious points +he had not seen with herself. And here was one who had known him, had +understood him. Her heart went out towards the elderly man, with his +cool cynical manner. Let him be what he might, he had cared for her +father. Mr. Dugdale adjusted his pince-nez, and examined her with +interest. Then Colin came in.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to have been so unsociable. I hope you forgive me," he said, +as he shook hands with Phyllys. He spoke in a low dragging voice, and +found a seat where his face was in shade.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not come to dinner?" his mother asked in displeasure.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would excuse me for once,"—cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"And of course you have eaten nothing since luncheon. Just like him—" +turning to Mr. Dugdale. "Colin never can do anything in moderation. +This fad of his will undo the whole good of his time abroad. It is +ridiculous."</p> + +<p>"Fad!" repeated Mr. Dugdale, with meaning.</p> + +<p>Colin fenced quietly, beating off the attack with a half languid but +graceful good-humour, which Phyllys thought charming. Then attention +was distracted, Mr. Dugdale falling into a discussion with Mrs. Keith +on some trivial point of difference. Colin moved to a chair near +Phyllys, and she had for the first time a distinct view.</p> + +<p>Unlike Giles, certainly. He looked very tired, and there were purple +shades below the eyes, which had a fixed inwardness of expression. A +hand was lifted between them and the nearer lamp.</p> + +<p>"So Giles stole a march upon us, making your acquaintance in the north."</p> + +<p>"If he had not, I should not be here now." Somehow she did not at +once feel at home with Colin as with Giles. He awakened a shy side of +her, seldom visible. Giles from the first had drawn her out. Colin +unconsciously repressed her. It might have been his ease of bearing, +his calm aloofness. Giles possessed a cultivated ease; but Colin's was +an intrinsic ease, which perhaps nothing could disturb. In Giles it was +an acquired possession; in Colin it seemed to be a part of himself.</p> + +<p>"Ah, then we must be grateful to him."</p> + +<p>"I think I am." She tried to speak naturally. "Pity he cannot get home +yet."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm sorry." A pause, and Phyllys pulled herself together. The +feeling of bashfulness was absurd. "Mrs. Keith says you are fond of +modelling."</p> + +<p>A shade of interest dawned. "Do you know anything of it?"</p> + +<p>"My father used to model in clay."</p> + +<p>"Then you understand the grip it takes upon one."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I used to see that. He was a busy clergyman, and had very little +spare time. But when he could get to it, he was happy. I was only ten +years old when he died; still one doesn't forget."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will take a look at my studio to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"May I? That will be delightful. Are you doing statues?"</p> + +<p>"Busts chiefly. I may take to statuettes by-and-by. Portrait-sculpture +seems to be my line."</p> + +<p>"My father did only small things. I used to stand and watch him, and +the clay looked so tempting! I longed to try. They were afraid it might +make me rheumatic."</p> + +<p>"No uncommon result. So far I have been lucky."</p> + +<p>"Have you worked hard to-day?" she asked, noting that he talked +mechanically, like a machine wound up.</p> + +<p>"Rather."</p> + +<p>"Till after dinner?"</p> + +<p>"I gave in before that."</p> + +<p>"You look as if—" She hesitated, doubtful how far she might venture. +The doubt had not assailed her with Giles, yet of the two, Colin was +the more gentle. He responded to what she had not said.</p> + +<p>"One can't stick to work without paying for it; but the game is worth +the candle."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if it is!"</p> + +<p>The heavy blue eyes, still with that curious oppressed "inward" look, +met hers, but could not gaze. "You are a trifle too keen-sighted. Don't +betray me, please."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be better for you not to talk?"</p> + +<p>He took her at her word, and soon beat a retreat.</p> + +<p>The others did not notice until he was gone; and Mrs. Keith drew her +lips together. "At it again!" was written on her face.</p> + +<p>"Had she really not seen?" wondered Phyllys.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>COLIN AND HIS WORK</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>COLIN did not appear next morning till breakfast was ended; and a cup +of tea met his wants. Mrs. Keith was short in manner, as if still +offended; but her vexation seemed powerless to ruffle him. Phyllys +wondered whether he felt it more than he showed.</p> + +<p>She scanned him with interest. A gift to delve below the surface was +hers, but as yet it had not been developed; and while he interested, he +baffled her.</p> + +<p>Everything in this new world claimed attention: Colin not least. The +contrast was great between his slender outlines and dilettante ease, +and the muscular vigour of Giles. That she would like Colin she felt +sure; not as she liked Giles, yet perhaps not less. The intellectual +development of his face, the dreamy abstraction which seemed a part +of himself, laid hold on her imagination. He resembled no one she had +hitherto come across. It would be difficult, she thought, to view him +with indifference. He might be liked or disliked; he could not be +ignored. Her eyes were again and again drawn in his direction; and each +time she found herself to be the object of his study.</p> + +<p>The night before he had seen a pretty girl in a neat frock, hazily +indistinct. Things were apt to grow hazy, when overpowering headache +had him in its grasp. He would often talk on, while unable to see +across the room.</p> + +<p>To-day, though not at his best, he could use his faculties, and he +recognised that Phyllys was out of the common. The rounded outlines +of her slim figure, the flow of hair about her well-shaped head, the +subtleties of moulding in cheek and chin, the sweet expressiveness of +eyes half hidden under dense fringes, the changeful suggestions of +light and shade—these found their way to his brain, touching him as +artist, not as man. He scrutinised her, not as a girl of flesh and +blood, but as a subject for statuary.</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, he strolled through the French window, and indulged +in a cigarette; but when Mrs. Keith disappeared, Phyllys heard at her +side the soft dragging voice, which at first she had supposed to mean +physical weakness, but which she found to be habitual.</p> + +<p>"Will you come with me?" he said.</p> + +<p>On reaching the room, lately transformed into a studio, she gave +one of her little gasps of pleasure. It appealed to her artistic +instincts—hers by inheritance and early cultivation, not slain by ten +years of systematic asphyxiation.</p> + +<p>Two skylight windows had been made, with arrangements for modifying +light from either, and a heavy curtain was partly drawn across the +side-window. Near the stove at one end of the long room, on a square of +carpet, were a sofa and an armchair. The space remaining was boarded +and bare. At the centre stood a modelling-stand, heavy and four-legged, +with a revolving top, upon which was something hidden by cloths.</p> + +<p>Framed photographs of antique sculptures adorned the walls, varied by +fine bas-reliefs. Several statues occupied small pedestals; and on a +side-table lay plaster casts of limbs and hands, together with odd +little wooden tools, which she touched with pleasure, for they recalled +old days.</p> + +<p>"And this?" she questioned, pausing beside a closed door. "Is this part +of the studio?"</p> + +<p>"If I should take to plaster-casting, that will be my casting-room. At +present I use it for odds and ends."</p> + +<p>He opened the door, and showed a large wooden box, lined with zinc and +half-full of damp clay, prepared for use; also a water-tap with its +sink, and a watering-pot with a fine rose. "One must have everything +ready."</p> + +<p>"You don't do the casting yourself, then, or cutting in marble?"</p> + +<p>"I have tried my hand at both. Here—" as they returned to the larger +room—"a bit of low relief, for practice. Not worth much. Carving in +marble is slow work. At present I give my attention to modelling in +clay."</p> + +<p>He took her round, pointing out some casts that he had brought from +Italy, imitations from historic masterpieces. They lingered over a bust +after the Venus of Milo; then over the copy of an ancient dilapidated +torso, which Phyllys surveyed with dubious eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I care about that. It might be anything."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but it is grand. The work of a great sculptor. See the moulding, +how squarely it is put in. Look at those flat surfaces, and the +relation of each to the whole. The main question in sculpture is not +so much what a man works at as how he works at it." Then a pause, and +a slow smile. "For the matter of that, the same may be said of all +Art—painting, music, writing. Now I will show you something that you +will appreciate."</p> + +<p>He lifted down a bas-relief in pure white plaster, a reduction from +Donatelli's S. Cecilia, exquisite in delicacy of modelling.</p> + +<p>Phyllys clasped her hands with a gesture of delight, pretty because +unconscious, as she drank in the beauty of that refined angelic face.</p> + +<p>Colin altered the slant of it. "See—if the light falls in a full glare +you hardly make out anything. Now, if I put it so that shadows are +thrown, you have the effect—you get the soul of it."</p> + +<p>He held the thing motionless, till with a sigh she murmured, "It is +'too' lovely. I'm sure of one thing—it can't be wrong to love what is +beautiful."</p> + +<p>He looked at her curiously.</p> + +<p>"Barbara and Miss Robins say it is wrong to care about looks—any sort +of looks—things or people. They say it is vanity and waste of time."</p> + +<p>"But true beauty is Divine."</p> + +<p>"Is it?" wistfully. "They say it is a snare."</p> + +<p>"Do they? Perhaps they have not eyes to see. True beauty is uplifting; +but only when one has power to see its inwardness."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to think it is not wrong," she murmured. "I do love things +that are beautiful. Won't you show me something you did yourself when +you were abroad?"</p> + +<p>"I left all behind me. Nothing worth bringing. Here is one attempt +since my return."</p> + +<p>He led her to a corner of the studio, where stood in shade a head of +bronzed plaster upon a stand.</p> + +<p>"Giles!" was her exclamation. "How like! Oh, how like!" She viewed it +from different positions. "It is his very self. And how wonderfully you +have given the look in his eyes. Only a little hollow for each eye—and +yet they are 'his!'"</p> + +<p>"Sure proof that character and expression reside more in the +surroundings than in the eyes themselves."</p> + +<p>"And you did this since you came home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'd awfully hard work to get him to sit; but he gave in now and +then. When he went north, I had to do my best with photographs. No, I +didn't attempt the moulding."</p> + +<p>Phyllys' next move was towards the centre modelling-table. She had +noticed that he kept clear of that, and her curiosity was roused. "May +I see what you are doing now?" she asked.</p> + +<p>And after a momentary hesitation, he removed the damp cloths, laying +bare a child's head in clay, life-size, nearly completed.</p> + +<p>It was a lovable little face, half-sad, yet with a tender shy peace. +The luxuriant hair was cut low on the forehead, and fell around in +heavy waves; and the effect of dark eyes was admirably given, under +drooping lids.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"Elsye Wallace. She died many years ago."</p> + +<p>"You have done it from memory?"</p> + +<p>"Partly from memory. Partly from an oil-painting and some photographs."</p> + +<p>"I heard a Dr. Wallace spoken of yesterday."</p> + +<p>"He is our medical man. Elsye was his only child."</p> + +<p>Phyllys gave her attention to the bust, scanning it from various +directions. "I like it!" came at length. "I can't tell you how much I +like it. Of course I don't know—I'm no judge—but she seems almost to +'live.' You make me love her, as if I had known the real Elsye. Were +you fond of her? Do you mind telling me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we knew her well."</p> + +<p>Phyllys looked up. "You ought to go on," she said earnestly. "You +'will' go on?"</p> + +<p>"You are encouraging."</p> + +<p>"But you don't want encouraging. You know you can do it."</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows it always."</p> + +<p>"You won't let anybody make you leave off?" She was thinking of his +mother.</p> + +<p>"No. I shall not be stopped."</p> + +<p>A chair was near, and Phyllys sat down, resting her cheek on one hand, +gazing earnestly. A smile broke over her face.</p> + +<p>"You little darling!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>Colin stood back, his attention diverted from his own work to Phyllys. +A longing seized him to make a sketch in clay of that pretty girl-head. +His fingers ached to reproduce the soft flow of hair, the delicate +moulding of brow and lips. She had the precise pose which he would +want; and he hardly dared to breathe for fear of making her move. He +was trying to learn every curve by heart, that he might be able to +replace her. When, in response to observation, she turned, she caught a +gleam of that gaze from under the penthouse of slender fingers.</p> + +<p>He at once explained. "I am wondering whether you would let me make a +study of your head."</p> + +<p>"Mine But why? Yes, if you like. That would be rather fun."</p> + +<p>"You promise?"</p> + +<p>"I should like it if—Will Mrs. Keith mind?"</p> + +<p>"I want an unconditional promise."</p> + +<p>Phyllys looked troubled.</p> + +<p>"She has always opposed my modelling. I think you will admit that a man +must choose for himself?"</p> + +<p>"Then it is not a new idea?"</p> + +<p>"Nearly as old as I am myself."</p> + +<p>Phyllys wondered, recalling contrary assertions.</p> + +<p>"I promise," she at length said. "But why should Mrs. Keith care?"</p> + +<p>"Can't imagine. Neither can Giles."</p> + +<p>He was replacing the wet cloths, and she said, "You won't try to work +at that to-day? You know you can't."</p> + +<p>He finished what he was doing, then replied, "But when Giles comes home +you must please see less. I don't betray myself to him, if I can help +it."</p> + +<p>"Why should he not know?"</p> + +<p>"It bothers him. My stupid headaches are a hindrance to work, and he +knows how much I want to get on. So please don't draw his attention. +That is all. And—" after a pause—"don't name to him this bust."</p> + +<p>"I won't, if you would rather I should not."</p> + +<p>"I would rather you should not. Now, shall we go?"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>In the hall they were joined by Mrs. Keith, who showed some annoyance +on hearing where Phyllys had been.</p> + +<p>"I have hunted for you all over the house," she complained.</p> + +<p>"Phyllys is going to let me make a model of her head."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith's movement was of protest. "You won't do anything so +ridiculous!"</p> + +<p>"I can hardly imagine anything less ridiculous."</p> + +<p>"Phyllys has come here to enjoy herself."</p> + +<p>"But indeed I shall enjoy that," urged Phyllys. "I love anything to do +with modelling."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith's face darkened. "I would rather it should be given up," she +said.</p> + +<p>Colin made no verbal reply. The gaze of mother and son met, and Phyllys +was conscious of a trial of strength between the two. Mrs. Keith's +restless dark orbs stared into the quiet blue eyes, which, with all +their courtesy, spoke absolute non-submission. Silence lasted hardly +three seconds, but in that space he rose superior.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was startled by his look of invincible resolution. Had it been +Giles she would have felt no surprise. But Colin—the embodiment rather +of charm than of strength—that in him should be found, underlying the +charm, a force of will which, though endlessly gentle, would have at +all costs its own way, she had not expected.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith's eyes sank, and she spoke sullenly. "Of course you will do +as you choose. 'My' wishes are of no importance."</p> + +<p>"Of very great importance; but one has sometimes to follow one's own +judgment. Some day I hope you will see with me. Shall I show Phyllys +the church this morning?"</p> + +<p>"No. She is coming with me."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go for a ride—" in unruffled calm; and he vanished.</p> + +<p>"A great pity! He will only make himself ill again," said Mrs. Keith. +"I have such a dread of another breakdown. He is a dear fellow." She +glanced quickly at Phyllys. "But I must have you appreciate Giles also."</p> + +<p>The girl smiled—a small subtle smile. She did not count that she was +in danger of undervaluing Giles. Already she had told herself that she +disapproved of Colin's manner to his mother during those three seconds. +To anybody else it would not have mattered; but to his mother! She was +sure that Giles would never so have contested in Colin's place. None +the less, she liked Colin, and she could not see why Mrs. Keith should +so persistently oppose his favourite occupation.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE OLD VILLAGE CHURCH</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>NEXT day, being Sunday, brought to light fresh aspects of the new world +in which Phyllys was plunged.</p> + +<p>To her the change had come as a veritable plunge, involving such +sensations of shock and breathlessness as a dip in the sea will +produce. The novelty of it all gripped her imagination. After years of +repression, of squeezing in a Procrustean bed, she found herself in an +atmosphere of ease and refinement, in a house where beauty was valued, +contrasting with the home where only abstract principle was exalted, +and things lovely were eschewed as evil. Something of intoxication was +the outcome.</p> + +<p>Her hour in the studio had awakened new thought, new feeling. The +masterpieces shown by Colin had touched her more deeply than might be +understood by one possessing no love of art. In Phyllys this love was +inherited, and in childhood it had received careful cultivation.</p> + +<p>All the ten years at Midfell, though trained to outward submission, +she had fought against the dictums which went in the teeth of her +parents' teaching. To some extent she had been moulded by persistent +pressure, had taken shape and colour, as a plant under training can +be educated into new forms. But, like such a plant, she had a strong +tendency to "revert" on the first chance; and here was her chance. The +spell of present surroundings was great, and she "reverted" quickly to +experiences of earlier days, never forgotten, though of late pushed out +of her mind.</p> + +<p>Colin fascinated her. His personal beauty—a type of beauty due +less to outline of feature, though that outline was fine, than to +expression—and his "apartness" from common life were both so unlike +aught she had ever come across that she could not dismiss him from her +thoughts. And even though she had not quite approved of his manner to +his mother, yet his serenity under that mother's resistance to his +cherished aim won her admiration.</p> + +<p>"I like him," she said to herself more than once. He was different from +Giles; and Giles was her friend. Colin might in time become her friend; +but this she doubted. She could not got to know him so quickly as she +had got to know Giles.</p> + +<p>As they walked to church on Sunday morning following the private +short-cut, where sunbeams made a swaying pattern of leaf-shadows on a +mossy carpet, her attention wandered to him much. She listened for what +he might say; she watched for what he might do. Each word and action on +his part, though subdued, had in it something suggestive. Giles had not +affected her thus. When with Giles she was mainly conscious of her own +power over him. When with Colin she was mainly conscious of his power +over her.</p> + +<p>Midfell Church and its services were plain, almost with an excess of +simplicity; less from any wish on the part of Mr. Hazel than from +a need to avoid startling the unsophisticated Midfell intellect by +"innovations," a word which held terror for the Wyvernes and their +coterie. Had such simplicity not been maintained, Phyllys would not +have been allowed to enter the porch.</p> + +<p>Here things were otherwise, and she was carried back to childhood's +days—to her father's church. Here was precisely what old Mrs. Wyverne +had dreaded for her grandchild, and had condemned in her son. Not only +an aged historic building, great in architectural beauty; but also more +of completeness, more of cultivated perfection of form and sound, more +of that which for years had been decried in the hearing of Phyllys as +unsound, unspiritual, a form of godliness without life, perilous to +true religion.</p> + +<p>Did it indeed mean peril? Was it perforce mere form, without life? Did +no reality underlie the beauty of structure and of sound?</p> + +<p>Beauty there was; a perfection of rendering seldom reached in a +country village; a well-trained choir; an organ of mellow tone, finely +handled. There was, too, the outward seeming of deep reverence, in +hushed stillness, in heads bowed reverently during prayers, in low +voices joining in the responses. No hurried slurring on the part of +Vicar or congregation, no shrill shouting on the part of the choir. All +was controlled and appropriate, a worthy expression of the Church's +adoration of her Divine Master. The Vicar, a college friend of Giles +Randolph, seemed to be a man of unusual intensity of feeling, if the +bent head and earnest face spoke truly.</p> + +<p>Who would venture to say that in the plain services of Midfell Church, +love and devotion and reverence were less than here, though differently +shown? But also, who should dare to assert that love and devotion and +reverence here were less, because allowed fuller expression? Only, +surely, a Barbara Wyverne or one like-minded would roughly thus tread +on holy ground, would carelessly so condemn. The Father of all, looking +into each heart, reads and values at their true worth the love, the +devotion, the reverence, whether uttered in this manner or expressed in +that manner before His footstool.</p> + +<p>To Phyllys, the surroundings, the spiritual atmosphere, the solemn +hush, the stirring music, appealing to her impressionable nature, meant +joy and comfort and a new realization of the Divine Presence. That +Presence is made known to men through many different channels and by +various modes. For years Phyllys had not felt her father and mother so +near, because for years she had not felt God so near. Their nearness +was involved in His; for they were in Him, with Him. Tears filled her +eyes as she knelt. She knew that this Church might be to her as a gate +of heaven.</p> + +<p>Her late terrible experience on the moor had deepened the sense of +spiritual need, and here might be what would satisfy that need. "O I am +glad to have come," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Presently, standing up, she noted Mrs. Keith's manner as peculiar. +Those fine eyes, troubled and restless, were gazing at the east window, +as if in protest, and the lips moved beseechingly.</p> + +<p>Did this mean prayer? Something had stirred the elder woman, as she had +been stirred; only in Mrs. Keith it looked like sorrow, not joy. But +what could Mrs. Keith have to grieve her, in her beautiful home, with +the most winning of sons, with Giles as a second son ready to give all +she wished?—Except indeed in so insignificant a desire as related to +Colin's modelling.</p> + +<p>Phyllys floated into a train of thought, which landed her beside a +chestnut-tinted stream, with golden glimmers in white wavelets, and +Giles by her side. Thence by a transition she was in the bog, sinking, +horror-stricken, in black slime, and once more she felt the grip of his +hand. "But for him—!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later she and Mrs. Keith stood in the empty church, +Colin having gone home.</p> + +<p>Architecture claimed attention, and Mrs. Keith pointed out the Norman +arches, the solid columns, the stalls and their carved canopies, the +aged rood-screen, the new seats of dark oak throughout the building.</p> + +<p>"Giles had it restored as soon as he came of age," she said. "It +was his first thought. Before that we had a three-decker, and +hideous galleries, and pews one could hardly see over, and whitewash +everywhere. He had the roof opened out as you see it now, and +everything put right. His whole heart was in the work. No, there is +very little old glass. The east window had been added early in the +century, and it was too frightful for words. So Giles gave this and one +other. Lovely, is it not?"</p> + +<p>They passed to the "one other" in the north aisle; a memorial window, +exquisite in design, the central figure that of a child borne up on +angels' wings. The child's face drew from Phyllys an exclamation.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith made a sound of inquiry, but Phyllys drew in. It might be +that Colin would not wish his mother, any more than Giles, to know what +he was doing. She went near, and read, "In Memory of E. W."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Wallace's child. She died when the boys were sixteen. An +occasional playmate." Mrs. Keith spoke coldly.</p> + +<p>"And she was—how old?"</p> + +<p>"About thirteen. When the church was restored, Giles put this to her +memory. Unnecessarily, I thought."</p> + +<p>"She must have been lovely. Was Giles fond of her?"</p> + +<p>"She was pretty. Both boys liked her. She died very suddenly."</p> + +<p>"And her father is your doctor?"</p> + +<p>"He is everybody's doctor. I do not care for him. I am afraid my +dislikes are as pronounced as my likes."</p> + +<p>"So many years ago?" thought Phyllys. And an "occasional playmate" +only! Both Giles and Colin must be very unforgetting. She decided that +a friendship with the former might last a lifetime.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_14">CHAPTER XIV</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>SCULPTOR AND SITTER</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FOR two hours daily did Colin lay claim upon Phyllys, and she +granted what he asked, albeit not easily. Mrs. Keith had ceased from +protestation, but many obstacles were put in the way, though in a +fashion hardly to be defined.</p> + +<p>Phyllys found her first morning in the studio enchanting. Colin +was at his best, ready for talk and quietly gay. She had begged to +watch the process from the beginning; and she gazed with delight at +his deft handling of the clay, as he filled in and covered over the +light framework of lead piping, shaped roughly the shoulders over +cross-pieces of wood designed for their support, and added lumps which +with firm touches he formed into nose, chin, ears, giving each in turn +a general resemblance to her own. It seemed that his task would be a +bagatelle, he advanced so fast. When she said so, he broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"This is preparation, not work. If you had not asked to come, it would +have been done before I troubled you."</p> + +<p>He went to and fro between the large and small room, bringing handfuls +of the moist clay, remarking once, "A great sculptor would have a boy +to keep him supplied."</p> + +<p>"You will be a great sculptor some day," she declared confidently.</p> + +<p>The opinion had no weight, yet he smiled. He was in a frame to be +easily pleased. For one thing the sun shone; for another, he was +free from headache; for a third, he felt that his sitter would bring +inspiration. With all his outward placidity, Colin was an artist in +temperament; a weather barometer; a creature of moods.</p> + +<p>"Do all sculptors work as fast as you?"</p> + +<p>"There are different modes. Not only one excellent way. Some do it +slowly, adding pellets, not lumps. Each has to follow the method by +which he can produce the best results. The broader and quicker method +suits me."</p> + +<p>"You seem to build it up," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"That is the essence of clay-modelling. It is a literal building up. In +marble sculpture one has the reverse—carving away material, and leaving +the figure exposed."</p> + +<p>"You mean it was there all the time, shut up in prison, and it had to +be set free," she suggested, with a happy little laugh.</p> + +<p>That brought his eyes upon her. "Precisely. But only a sculptor can see +it there, before he cuts away the mass that hides it."</p> + +<p>Colin had made a rough clay sketch of Phyllys in the attitude which +first attracted him, and this rendered it easy to place her anew in the +same position. She had to gaze at a bust, and could no longer watch +his manipulations: so time passed slowly. A quarter of an hour seemed +like a full hour; and to maintain the position was difficult. She tried +to find entertainment in chatting about Midfell, but his murmurs of +assent acted as a check, and she sank into silence, which soon meant an +expression utterly "dead."</p> + +<p>He had to arouse himself that he might arouse her.</p> + +<p>This day all went well, and he proved merciful, allowing frequent rests.</p> + +<p>In days following the work advanced more slowly; nay, even stood still. +He could not satisfy himself.</p> + +<p>He would stand, doing nothing, gazing at his sitter, with an air of +calm aloofness, as if trying to read her soul. The aloofness prevented +self-consciousness. Sometimes she wondered what it was that he saw or +wished to see. Sometimes she had a sense that he saw deeper than other +men—than Giles, for example. But all the while she recognised that she +was his "sitter" pure and simple. He was studying a model for artistic +purposes. He was not troubling himself to know Phyllys Wyverne for her +own sake.</p> + +<p>Then, when fifty minutes of endurance were ended, he would move, would +hope she was not tired, would offer her the armchair, would ask whether +she minded a cigarette, would change in a moment from the artist to the +host. She found in him a dual nature; not like that of Giles, simple, +homogeneous, the same throughout. One hour he was sculptor; another +hour he was man.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she admired him more as sculptor, and liked him more as man; +but the combination had power.</p> + +<p>By the fifth day things were going ill. Colin was not pleased with his +work. He foresaw that this bust would be less of a success than that +of Elsye Wallace; and the harder he toiled, the less he got on. He +was gaining a worn look, his features becoming sharply drawn. Phyllys +longed to advise a day's holiday, but did not venture.</p> + +<p>A rap at the door made him lift troubled eyes, and a box was brought in +from the moulder, containing, as he knew, the cast of Elsye.</p> + +<p>"Put it down," he murmured, and bent anew to his modelling. It was +characteristic that he should bestow his whole energy on the task in +hand, and should have no thought to spare for that last completed. +But presently, finding his sitter hopelessly "flat," he suggested an +adjournment, and took out the cast.</p> + +<p>"It's lovely," Phyllys said. "Are you not glad? Don't you feel proud?" +She stretched her arms and sat down, while Colin threw himself into the +armchair. "Isn't it perfect?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Ought you to do any more to-day?"</p> + +<p>There was a brief laugh. "Certainly I ought—if I can. That's the +question."</p> + +<p>"It seems getting on so nicely," she ventured.</p> + +<p>"It's a dead failure," he replied shortly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose people don't know their own faces. It seems to me all right."</p> + +<p>"It's not you! I can't get at yourself."</p> + +<p>Phyllys smiled, not ill-pleased. "But you don't expect to put my real +self straight off into a lump of clay?"</p> + +<p>"If not, I'm no sculptor."</p> + +<p>Phyllys' next remark was commonplace. "You've got my nose and mouth all +right."</p> + +<p>He laughed again. "If that were all! The veriest tyro could do so much. +An artist aims higher."</p> + +<p>Her eyes questioned him.</p> + +<p>"True Art means more than a copy," he murmured. "It means +interpretation; not copying. There's a lack of soul in what I have +done. You have an elusive personality. I can't get at your true +inwardness. Yet I'm not usually a duffer at character-reading."</p> + +<p>"That reminds me—" and Phyllys spoke eagerly—"I wanted to ask you, what +did you mean one day by the 'inwardness' of beauty? Do you remember?"</p> + +<p>She had to recall to him what had passed.</p> + +<p>"I meant the 'soul' of it. There is a soul to every outward form of +beauty."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I understand."</p> + +<p>He roused himself to explain. "In Art each body has a soul. That +is to say—in Nature, with which Art deals, which Art interprets. +One has to get at that soul, before interpretation is possible. A +superficial resemblance is nothing. Every thought of man may find +outward expression, in word or in shape; and the outward expression is +the body; the thought from which it sprang is the soul. Every thought +of God may—perhaps must—find expression in word or in form; and there +again, that which is manifest is the body, but the Divine underlying +thought is the 'soul' of that which is manifested. If once you realise +this, I don't think you will be in danger of undervaluing beauty."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I am," she said. Then, smiling—"I'm glad it isn't easy +to know me at first sight."</p> + +<p>"Much of you is easy; but you have many facets. When I think I have +reached the true Phyllys, I find myself mistaken. One day you are one +thing, next day another. My aim is to get to the background."</p> + +<p>"I wonder how you mean to do it," she laughed.</p> + +<p>She had recalled him to his purpose. He leant forward, examining her +with a penetrative gaze. She met it firmly, determined on resistance. +She would be as elusive as she chose.</p> + +<p>But those blue eyes had power. They differed from Giles' eyes; and they +were reaching deep. If this was a trial of strength, she knew that he +was gaining the mastery. She could not veil from him what he meant +to see. Despite her will-refusal, he was getting into touch with her +"inward" self. He was stronger than she. She knew it and resented the +fact, yet was oddly glad.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image005" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image005.jpg" alt="image005"></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>A HARSH VOICE BROKE THE PAUSE, "SO—USING PHYLLYS</b><br> +<b>FOR A MODEL."</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>An abrupt consciousness dawned that this meant more than artistic +interest. The indifference, the "apartness" had vanished. Her eyes fell +before his.</p> + +<p>Colin had never seen her thus, though he had for days analysed every +line in her face.</p> + +<p>This was no matter of lines; and though as sculptor, he thought less +of colouring than of form, yet the pretty flush, the troubled curve +of coral lips, the sweetness of downcast eyes, laid hold upon him. If +she was a being of many facets, he was the same, and a facet of hers +touched squarely a facet of his that moment.</p> + +<p>"I have come upon the real Phyllys at last," he was saying; and his joy +was only in part artistic.</p> + +<p>Phyllys said nothing. She knew that he was reading her still; and she +could not meet his gaze.</p> + +<p>A harsh voice broke the pause. "So—using Phyllys for a model! How is +that, pray?"</p> + +<p>Phyllys looked up in amaze. This—Giles? This—her Midfell friend, her +rescuer!</p> + +<p>He went across to shake hands with her, absently, as if the act were +mechanical; then stood between them, facing the fireplace, his back to +the long room; tall, solid, upright. His hands were clenched, and the +blaze of yellow light on his eyes was like that of a wild beast. Wrath +transformed the whole face. Its deep red was exchanged for a mottled +pallor.</p> + +<p>Phyllys stiffened into girlish dignity. If Giles felt no pleasure at +seeing her, she would show no pleasure at seeing him; and what could +make him behave in such an extraordinary way?</p> + +<p>Colin's first movement had been a start, but he replied in his lowest, +most dragging voice—</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm making a study of her head. Not a successful one, I'm afraid. +You didn't let us know you were coming to-day."</p> + +<p>Giles turned from the speaker with a passionate movement, towards the +bust of Elsye Wallace.</p> + +<p>Phyllys recalled Colin's not wishing him to know of its existence; and +she wondered—had he seen it on his first entrance?</p> + +<p>But no! This evidently was his first glimpse; and the surprise was not +a pleasant one. He stood gazing, his hands still clenched, his face set +as in iron.</p> + +<p>"That was not to have been seen," observed Colin.</p> + +<p>The words, meant in explanation, put a finish to Giles' anger. He +swung round, and strode blindly away, knocking against the heavy +modelling-stand with such force that the bust of Phyllys was hurled +to the ground. But he made no pause, and his step could be heard +retreating along the passage.</p> + +<p>Colin sat down, resting his brow on both hands.</p> + +<p>"What an awful duffer I am!" he murmured.</p> + +<p>"But nobody knew Giles was coming," ventured Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"One might have expected it."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why he is vexed."</p> + +<p>Silence replied. She knew that, whatever there was to learn, she would +not hear it from Colin.</p> + +<p>"You won't work any more now, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I can."</p> + +<p>Another break.</p> + +<p>"Had I better go? Mrs. Keith said she would want me."</p> + +<p>He stood up to open the door, relieved, she thought, at the suggestion. +Outside, remembering that she had left a book, she went back, to find +Colin flung prone on the sofa. The bust still lay where it had fallen.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't I get anything for you?" she asked. "Your head is bad!"</p> + +<p>"Rather! No, nothing I want, thanks. Is that your book? I'll have a +lazy hour."</p> + +<p>Phyllys went again, feeling flat. This was not the manner of meeting +with Giles that she had pictured. She was disappointed by his +indifference; and his display of temper left an unpleasant impression. +Could it be that he objected to Colin making a model of her head? But +that would be childish! Why should he mind?</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_15">CHAPTER XV</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AN INADVERTENT DISCOVERY</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was one of those links in the chain of life, which present +themselves unsought, which at the moment seem unimportant; yet which +have a grave bearing upon one's after happiness.</p> + +<p>Phyllys had no thought of making any discovery; indeed, she did not +recognise it as such. Her mind was bent upon the disappointing nature +of human friendships; though she did not use such phraseology, but +only said to herself that things were "horrid." She was perplexed and +uncomfortable; wondering what could have so upset Giles; wishing he +would behave like his former self.</p> + +<p>Little had been seen of him since his arrival. At luncheon he was +sombre, and Phyllys treated him with dignity. Colin looked ill, ate +nothing, and talked like a machine wound up; and since luncheon he too +had been invisible.</p> + +<p>Between five and six o'clock Phyllys was alone with Mrs. Keith. Rain +fell heavily, keeping them in, and keeping callers away. Mrs. Keith +knew nothing of the studio scene; but she had noted with dismay +Phyllys' bearing at luncheon, towards both Giles and Colin, and she +used this opportunity to descant on dear Giles' fine character, the +beautiful devotion between him and Colin, and the manner in which, +years earlier, he had been wont to deny himself amusement that he might +spend hours beside Colin in a darkened room, making time pass for the +invalid.</p> + +<p>"If you had any idea how Colin used to suffer, you really wouldn't +wonder at my anxiety," she observed. "For days together he could hardly +endure a glimmer of light. One dreads what might bring that back. And +Colin never can do anything without working himself into a state of +excitement."</p> + +<p>She reverted to the merits of Giles.</p> + +<p>"There is something about him so grand, so unlike the common run of +men. He has such control over himself. Colin is a dear fellow too; +still, his is the smaller and weaker nature."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have thought so; he seems to me anything but weak."</p> + +<p>"That may be hardly the right word; and if he is small, it is only +by comparison with Giles. Almost any man seems dwarfed beside him. +Yes, even my own boy. Is that odd? Why should love be blind? I do not +see Colin's faults the less, because he is dear to me. As for Giles' +faults, really I find it hard to say what they are, except a hot +temper, conquered long ago."</p> + +<p>Phyllys was silent. Morning recollections supplied a commentary.</p> + +<p>"Dear fellow, he is so unselfish," went on Mrs. Keith. "So wonderfully +kind. Giles' wife, by-and-by, will be the happiest of women. As for +Colin's wife, it is to be hoped that she will not mind his moods and +trying ways."</p> + +<p>But if Mrs. Keith wished to turn Phyllys from Colin to Giles, she went +to work in a wrong fashion. Talk presently branched to Kathleen Alyn +and her father, and Phyllys felt this to be a safer topic. She was +learning caution.</p> + +<p>"Kathleen is a fascinating woman," averred Mrs. Keith, beginning to +outline an elaborate pattern upon a square of silk. "Everybody likes +her. Mr. Dugdale can be disagreeable when he chooses."</p> + +<p>"I should think most people could." Phyllys liked Mr. Dugdale.</p> + +<p>"Tiresome!" muttered Mrs. Keith. "This silk will not do. I must get the +other piece."</p> + +<p>"What piece? Can I find it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith raised absent eyes. She was thinking what a pretty tractable +wife Phyllys might make for Giles. For reasons of her own, unknown to +other people, she had set her heart on this consummation.</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much, if it will not be a trouble. I don't want to +disarrange these things by moving. It is a square of crimson silk, and +you will see it on the shelf, just inside one of my black oak cabinets. +There are two in my room, you know. The one that is unlocked, on the +right side as you go in."</p> + +<p>Phyllys ran upstairs, thinking still of Giles, and suddenly found +herself face to face with him. He looked so solemn that she could not +resist a smile, and his face relaxed.</p> + +<p>"I have seen nothing of you yet," he observed. "But to-morrow—"</p> + +<p>"Are you going out now?"</p> + +<p>"I am obliged, unfortunately. But, if I might count on you in the +morning for a walk—would you come? We have no fells or mountain +streams; still, you shall see something pretty."</p> + +<p>Phyllys demurred, for she had hitherto devoted the better part of her +mornings to the studio. It would not do, however, to be at the beck and +call of Colin. Her proud spirit rose in protest, all the more because +she had felt his power.</p> + +<p>"I should like a walk," she said demurely; and Giles' face, growing +rigid under her hesitation, lighted anew. She could not but see the +change.</p> + +<p>"Then I may reckon on you," he said, and his look was eloquent.</p> + +<p>Friends still! That was what it uttered.</p> + +<p>She gave one slight flash, and ran off. With regard to him, as +with regard to Colin, questioning arose. Was it with the one only +artist-interest? Was it with the other only friendship?</p> + +<p>Phyllys made no attempt to find a reply. She knew that it was +delightful, after years of snubbing, to find herself the object of so +much attention.</p> + +<p>Reaching Mrs. Keith's bedroom, her recollections were confused. A black +oak cabinet, unlocked—so much remained. Turning to the left, she pulled +the door of the cabinet on that side, and it opened. Within she saw no +crimson silk. A pile of shawls and cloaks had been heaped together in +the space below; and she disturbed the pile, pulling it out, searching +for the silk. So doing, she came on something behind; a half-length +portrait in a black frame. A pair of blue eyes, dreamy, observant, met +her own. "How like!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The style of dress belonged to a bygone period, and the face as a whole +was hardly that of Colin. It was a resemblance less of form and colour +than of the spirit which gleamed through.</p> + +<p>"Some near relation," she conjectured. "But why keep it hidden here?"</p> + +<p>Convinced that the silk was not within the cabinet, she restored the +portrait, piled the clothes as before, and tried to shut the door.</p> + +<p>Then she saw that it had been locked, and that the hasp had failed to +catch. No key was visible. She recollected Mrs. Keith's words, "On the +'right' side as you go in." This cabinet stood on the left.</p> + +<p>She went to the second cabinet, found that to be genuinely unlocked, +and saw the crimson silk. She caught it up and ran downstairs.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to have been so long," she said. "I opened the wrong cabinet +by mistake. Somebody had locked it in a hurry, and had not shut it +first. I forgot all about right and left, and wasted time hunting. +I could not help noticing the oil-painting under the things. It has +such a look of Colin. A young man, in a queer old-fashioned dress. I +wondered whether it might be Colin's grandfather, and whether he was +dressed for theatricals." She stopped; for Mrs. Keith's face had grown +colourless.</p> + +<p>"Are you faint?" she asked. "May I get anything for you?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, no; it is nothing. I shall be all right. So stupid of me!" And +Mrs. Keith smiled. "I have had three or four such turns lately. I shall +have to ask Dr. Wallace for a tonic; only I do so dislike the man. +Well—" and she pressed her handkerchief to her lips—"now I am better. +What were you saying, just before the faintness came on? Something +about—how absurd of me to forget! My head is confused."</p> + +<p>"Only about that old painting in your cabinet. I thought it must be +some relative, because of the likeness to Colin," She would not suggest +Mrs. Keith's husband, though the idea had occurred. A wife would hardly +bury her husband's portrait beneath a pile of old clothes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, to be sure—yes!—I remember. An old painting of my brother +Jock—Colin's uncle. Not so old, of course, as it looks. The artist had +a fancy to do it in that style. You are right about the dress. It was +for theatricals. He was good at acting—very much in request. You found +the silk?"</p> + +<p>Phyllys gave it, remarking, "I had not heard of your brother."</p> + +<p>"Really! But you would not. Jock has been so long in Australia, never +coming home, that friends forget his existence."</p> + +<p>"Had you not better rest?" asked the girl, pitying her blanched lips.</p> + +<p>"It really is of no consequence. I am used to these turns, and I think +nothing of them. One word, before any one comes. Phyllys, I am going to +treat you as a friend."</p> + +<p>Phyllys waited, and Mrs. Keith's lips worked nervously.</p> + +<p>"That old portrait—no one except myself knows about it, and I +'particularly' wish that others should not know. There are reasons +which I am not able to explain. It has—painful associations. The very +sight of it makes me miserable for days."</p> + +<p>"But Colin—" the girl said.</p> + +<p>"Colin has no idea of its existence."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will say nothing."</p> + +<p>"That is what I was going to ask. If you had kept to my directions you +would not have opened the wrong cabinet. Under the circumstances, I +have a right to ask you never to mention the portrait. It would mean no +end of talk and explanation—and pain to myself, which really I cannot +stand. Will you give me your promise, on your word of honour?"</p> + +<p>It seemed to Phyllys a considerable fuss about nothing; but she readily +made answer, "Yes, of course. I promise never to say a word to anybody +about the painting unless you give me leave. I'm sorry I went to the +wrong cabinet."</p> + +<p>"That does not matter, my dear. All I wish is to avoid tiresome and +useless discussions. But I know I may depend upon you, and now we can +dismiss the subject. I think I must have some sal volatile after all—I +feel so queer still. Thanks, no—I had better go myself. It will do me +good to move."</p> + +<p>She mounted the wide staircase, stepping languidly till within her own +room. Then her manner changed. She bolted the door, and went to the +left-hand cabinet, finding it as described by Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"How insane of me!" she muttered. She began to pile more clothes over +the picture, but stopped.</p> + +<p>"No; now it has been seen, it must not stay there."</p> + +<p>Her eyes wandered round questfully, and she went to a large cupboard, +within which was a heavy wooden box. This with difficulty she drew out. +It contained several summer gowns of thin materials, too old-fashioned +for use. She had a weakness for storing away disused articles of dress.</p> + +<p>In the bottom she laid the portrait, face downward, finding just +sufficient space. Over it she spread a woollen shawl; over that the +gowns neatly folded; then she shut the lid, turned the key, and pushed +the box to its former position.</p> + +<p>Somebody was tapping at the door. She straightened herself, hid away +the box-key in an inner drawer of her writing-table, locked the +left-hand cabinet, and resumed her languid air before admitting Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"Can't I help you?" asked the girl, with astonished eyes. "I came to +see if you wanted anything—and I heard you pulling something heavy +about."</p> + +<p>"I had to look for a business letter. Nothing of importance; but it +was rather out of reach. Thanks, no; I do not want anything. I am much +better—quite myself again."</p> + +<p>Phyllys was perplexed, remembering the energetic sounds which had +drowned her raps.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_16">CHAPTER XVI</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>LEVEL PLAINS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>KATHLEEN ALYN, though not given to fancies, had taken a fancy to +Phyllys. She had a large circle of acquaintances, but did not make +friends.</p> + +<p>Not that hers was a cold nature. On the contrary, she was famed +for universal cordiality. Any human being who came was secure of a +welcome. "Dear Mrs. Alyn is so sweetly affectionate," her lady admirers +declared. "Kathleen is always interested," her father often said.</p> + +<p>She would appear to each in turn, as if that person were the one being +in the world for whom she cared; no whit the less one hour with Mrs. +Brown, than the next with Mrs. Green. "Such a 'dear' woman!" would be +said by the departing caller.</p> + +<p>Some, of more critical tendency, noting the universality of her +friendliness, questioned its worth, since that which is given to all +loses its value for the few. Yet even they could not but admire the +self-mastery which showed equal warmth to the acquaintance of to-day +and the friend of years.</p> + +<p>Only—as above said—she did not make friends. That discovery came next; +and a step farther would convince the observer that Mrs. Alyn had no +heart.</p> + +<p>Had she not? Kathleen could be as "elusive" to the world as Phyllys to +the sculptor.</p> + +<p>"My daughter is one of the most fascinating women that ever trod this +earth," Mr. Dugdale had been known to observe. "None the less, she is a +humbug. A delightful humbug, I grant. She has cultivated the giving of +sympathy, till she has reduced it to a fine art; and that which is Art +ceases to be Nature. She has developed into a patent machine, warranted +to produce so many gallons of sympathy per hour. Nothing can be more +satisfactory—for those who are content with sympathy by the gallon!"</p> + +<p>Despite this judgment, which he would have been the first to repudiate +from any lips but his own, he went to her as often as he wished for an +agreeable listener, which was not seldom.</p> + +<p>Towards Phyllys she was disposed from the first to show an interest +differing in kind from that paid out by the gallon. Phyllys had her +faults, but she was true and dependable; and perhaps it was mainly +this, combined with originality and charm, that appealed to the young +widow, who gave much and received little, and who was at heart lonely, +despite her popularity.</p> + +<p>For if Kathleen were a humbug, she was so unknowingly; and beneath a +stratum of unreality lay a heart which had loved and could love, though +few came into touch with it.</p> + +<p>She was feeling her loneliness the morning after Giles' return, not +knowing of that return; and she sent her small boy, Gordon, to Castle +Hill with a message, "Would Phyllys come to luncheon and spend the +afternoon with her?"</p> + +<p>Gordon arrived in time to hear that Phyllys had started with Giles some +time before. He was a young man with independent views for his limited +age, and he promptly resolved to follow them up, breathing no hint of +his intentions, since he would certainly be forbidden. Having in a +casual fashion asked the walkers' direction, he strolled out of sight, +presumably on his way home, and then started at a trot.</p> + +<p>But his legs were very short, and the chase proved a long one.</p> + +<p>No question had arisen that morning as to studio-work, for Colin had +not appeared. "One of his worst headaches," explained Mrs. Keith. "His +own fault entirely, poor boy! If only he would have the sense not to be +always at that ridiculous modelling!"</p> + +<p>Phyllys fired up in his defence, with a promptitude which for once +rendered Mrs. Keith dumb. Giles' face had darkened at the news of +Colin's state; and he now looked at her strangely. She was soon ashamed +of her little outburst.</p> + +<p>What most vexed her was the calling of Colin "poor." Whether she liked +him or Giles the more she could not decide; but no question existed +about her admiration for Colin, whom she regarded as one gifted beyond +the common run.</p> + +<p>No more was said, and the walk came as a matter of course. It was a +perfect morning, and she might have congratulated herself on being +in the open air, instead of having to sit for two hours like a waxen +image—only such congratulation seemed unkind to Colin. She felt it +to be hard that whatever he set himself to do should be hampered by +ill-health, and opposed by the one individual of whose sympathy he +ought to have been sure. Giles had everything—good health, vigour of +mind and body, wealth, position, and the favour of Colin's mother. And +yet—Phyllys felt that, had the choice been offered to her whether to +possess Giles' many gifts or Colin's one gift, she would have had no +hesitation in choosing the latter.</p> + +<p>"Anybody may be strong and rich," she thought. "But to have +genius!—that is best of all—that is above everything." In her girlish +judgment no doubt existed that Colin's power held the Divine spark +which means so very much more than mere talent.</p> + +<p>Presently she woke to her own abstraction, and consequent silence. A +side-glance revealed the gravity of her companion's look. Their eyes +met, and he said—</p> + +<p>"You are thoughtful to-day."</p> + +<p>She would not let slip her thoughts. He and she were friends; but she +had her reservations. Who has not, with the dearest of friends? Two +days earlier she might have chatted frankly of Colin and his pursuit; +but now she was not able. She could not forget the experience of the +day before, and Giles' anger. The latter had made her afraid of a false +step; and she was still more afraid of awakening in herself renewed +sensations of consciousness. It was safer to keep to the surface.</p> + +<p>So she launched into light chatter about Castle Hill and Midfell; +making little jests, laughing, and doing her best to make him laugh.</p> + +<p>For the moment she succeeded. Her winsome ways captivated him anew; and +his very silence, the reluctance of his smile, his absorption in what +she said, all drew her out, making it easy to pour out her thoughts.</p> + +<p>Yet she was keenly alive to the contrast between this morning and +previous mornings. Being with Giles after being with Colin was +like walking on a level plain after climbing a mountain peak. The +simplicity, the whole-heartedness, were refreshing; but she found +herself longing for the mountain-heights.</p> + +<p>The two men were different in mind as in body. With Colin she had a +sense of inferiority; a consciousness of being pulled to a higher +level. She was fascinated, and afraid; not sure how far she understood; +eager to understand more; delighted when he responded; ready at any +moment to fall flat, if he treated a remark with indifference.</p> + +<p>With Giles she had no especial sense of inferiority, unless in respect +of muscles. She was aware of her power over him, aware that she could +make him like her—perhaps as much as she willed. She knew she could +touch his happiness: and she was dimly conscious now that something +connected with herself made him unhappy.</p> + +<p>Once, Giles had had the feeling that he could do what he chose with +Phyllys. That had been a momentary sensation, true, but fleeting. In +the studio, on his entrance, he had known that "Colin" could do what he +willed with Phyllys; and the mad pain and wrath which carried him away +would have opened his eyes, had they not been opened already, to the +nature of his love.</p> + +<p>To-day it was Phyllys who felt that she could do what she desired with +Giles; that she could twist this powerful man, if she would, round her +slim little finger.</p> + +<p>The sense of command was delicious, as it generally is. And yet! When a +vision arose of the studio, and of Colin's delicate absorbed face, with +penetrative eyes searching her soul, she knew she would rather be there +than here, even though she had no such sense of control over him, and +could no more twist him round her finger than she could turn aside the +winds of heaven in their paths.</p> + +<p>Not that she preferred Colin to Giles. Giles was her friend. Colin had +not even sought her friendship. But to some natures there is an even +greater charm in the sense of being controlled by the personality of +another, than in having control over another. And Colin attracted her. +She wanted to watch him again at his work, to study his curiously dual +nature, to learn from his murmured suggestions, to grasp his ideals, +to breathe the mental and spiritual atmosphere which he breathed. +Giles awoke in her no such cravings. She was not sure that he would +understand what they meant.</p> + +<p>Phyllys pulled herself up. This was heterodox. She remembered all +that Giles had done; not only saving her life at risk to his own, +which probably any man passing would have tried to do; but in cousinly +kindness, day after day. She was forgetting anew to talk to him. Pretty +apologetic eyes went in his direction.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you are tired," he said.</p> + +<p>"I! I'm never tired!" she declared.</p> + +<p>"We are there now, and you will be able to rest," he said, with a smile +of melancholy.</p> + +<p>He had promised "something pretty," and he kept his word. The spot to +which he led her was beside a river, broad and swift; not chestnut-hued +or broken by stones with swirls of white foam and gleams of golden +light; yet a most fair scene, after a more ordinary type. An arched +stone bridge spanned the stream; cows clustered under its shadow; +and on the other side flags grew in abundance. On their own side of +the water, which faithfully reflected the tint of heaven, a clump of +willows sparkled in sunshine.</p> + +<p>This was what Giles had pictured beforehand; and Phyllys exclaimed in +admiration. He found her a seat, and she sank into silence, forgetting +to talk, her cheek supported on one ungloved hand, her lashes dropped +till they half-veiled her eyes.</p> + +<p>It was the attitude which had inspired Colin's artistic sense. It +inspired another sense in Giles.</p> + +<p>He could not turn his gaze from her. Not that he was seeking, like +Colin, to penetrate her soul. He was only enchained, taken captive, at +her mercy. He was not analysing his own feelings. He was not good at +self-analysing, and words never flowed with him, even in the secret +chambers of his mind. But without words, without verbal definition, +he realised to the tips of his fingers that to have Phyllys thus was +happiness; that to have her always would be heaven. And then with a +throb of pain, he realised that not to have her, never to possess her, +would be—</p> + +<p>He dared not face that possibility. It was enough to unman him. Cold +drops broke out.</p> + +<p>What was she musing about, as she sat there, sweet as a rosebud, not +dreaming the passion of longing which shook the strong man at her side? +She was not occupied with him. Yet his gaze drew her attention, and she +looked up, with a sigh of pleasure.</p> + +<p>"People who don't love beautiful things must lose a great deal of +happiness."</p> + +<p>Giles thought so too, feasting his eyes on a beauty which was not of +inanimate Nature.</p> + +<p>"Colin says beauty is Divine," she murmured; and the words gave him a +shock. Though taken less by surprise than on the day before, he felt a +flame of wrath through his frame.</p> + +<p>He thought he had known before! Now he knew that he had only +conjectured. It "was" then—Colin! Colin had stolen her from him. +Colin—his more than brother! A wave of resentment rushed into the +affection which had bound those two since infancy.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think so?" she asked, turning towards him.</p> + +<p>The smile died out. He could not control his face, and what she saw +startled her.</p> + +<p>"Are you vexed with anything I have said?"</p> + +<p>"Never!" He strove to clear the thickness from his voice. "I never +could be vexed with you. It is—only—" He had difficulty in speaking, +and she looked with perplexed eyes. "Only—a passing thought—a +recollection. If I was vexed, it was with somebody else—not you!" Then +he mastered himself. "You were saying something about beauty being +Divine. Colin's idea, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"But you did not like that, so we can talk of something else," she +said, with a touch of reserve which wounded him to the quick.</p> + +<p>"I should like you to explain."</p> + +<p>"Colin could explain better. You should ask him. Why—there is Gordon!" +she cried. "Here we are, Gordon! Come along."</p> + +<p>Gordon marched composedly up, with failing legs and his most aggressive +six-foot air.</p> + +<p>"I say, you have brought me an awful long way," he declared. "Mother +says Phyllys has got to come to lunch with her to-day."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will, and if we start directly, we shall be in time." She +jumped up, almost too eagerly.</p> + +<p>The sense of relief was patent, and it meant a fresh stab for Giles. He +walked to the water's edge, to recover himself.</p> + +<p>Gordon surveyed his broad back, then turned to Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"I say—have a bite?" He extended benignly a red-cheeked apple, dented +on one side.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks. What made you come all this way, Gordon?"</p> + +<p>"Mother wanted you. Course I came," said Gordon.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_17">CHAPTER XVII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>DUTY VERSUS DESIRE</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>GILES had not meant to ask Phyllys for that walk.</p> + +<p>After the studio scene, he had felt that his duty was to wait, until he +should know which way lay Colin's intentions. But when he met Phyllys +on the stairs, when he read pleasure in her smile, his resolution +melted like ice in sunshine, and the request slipped out.</p> + +<p>Though he realised what his action meant, he did not draw back.</p> + +<p>The evening passed unremarkably. Mr. Dugdale and his daughter came to +dinner; Colin could not appear, and the conversation was general. Giles +made futile efforts to hold aloof from Phyllys, and only succeeded in +seeing nobody else.</p> + +<p>Through the night following he had no sleep. Two wakeful hours he spent +in bed; then he got up and dressed, and let himself out of the house to +walk fast and far in moonlight, fighting a tough battle.</p> + +<p>He had to come to a decision. The earlier intention held now no force; +and its failure only served to show more truly how things stood.</p> + +<p>On arrival he had made his way into the studio, as was his wont, +expecting to find Colin absorbed in his beloved occupation, caring for +naught else, wrapped up in the effort to reproduce in clay some form +of beauty. He had been told that Mrs. Keith was out; he had taken for +granted that Phyllys was with her. And when he stood within the studio +door it was to see—not Colin only, but Phyllys also; the two seated +together; Phyllys with downcast eyes and soft flush, and a look upon +the sweet face which "he" had never been able to evoke; while Colin's +gaze, and the light in those blue eyes, told the worst!</p> + +<p>At the instant Giles' one sensation had been of furious wrath against +Colin for daring to interfere with "his" love—wrath that he would have +felt towards any man. Already in his secret soul he looked upon Phyllys +as his own.</p> + +<p>But, in the silence of his room before luncheon, far more in the +dimness of the moonlit lanes at night, other counsels succeeded. Other +elements would not be defined. It was no simple matter of two men, +both in love with one girl, waiting to see which she might prefer. The +question really was—if Colin had set his heart on Phyllys, ought Giles +to seek her at all? Ought he not at once to give up the thought?</p> + +<p>As an abstract question this carried no difficulty. To his mind the +duty was plain. If Colin loved Phyllys, the right step for him was to +leave the coast clear.</p> + +<p>Years earlier, under peculiar circumstances, he had made a definite +resolve never to stand in the way of Colin's happiness; never to allow +himself any good which might react in the form of pain for Colin. He +had registered this vow in the recesses of his heart. It rose up and +faced him, while he hurried through lonely lanes, unable to see his +way. Cold moonlight, flooding fields on either side, seemed alive +with one word, "Remember!" Black tree-shadows, lying in patches at +his feet, echoed "Remember!" The creak of an elm-bough, swayed by the +breeze, groaned "Remember!" The cry of an owl sounded the same solemn +"Remember!"</p> + +<p>He did remember. He would never forget the heartbreaking misery, the +awful load of woe, which had culminated in that resolve. If life should +last a hundred years, each incident of those days would remain vivid to +the last.</p> + +<p>That he should ever in years to come, under any provocation, be +betrayed into wrath with Colin, had seemed to lie beyond possibility. +And until the day just ended he had not only shown no anger, but had +never been tempted to show it, towards Colin. He had found it easy to +preserve his self-control.</p> + +<p>Now the testing-time had come. Now, in one moment, his resolve had +broken down. He had under stress given way to violent anger; and he +found that past resolution opposed by the full force of his will.</p> + +<p>He was free to draw back. He had not yet avowedly sought Phyllys. Thus +far he had been, to the best of his knowledge, no more than cousin and +friend. Whatever he had felt at Midfell, he had not shown it. He would +do "her" no wrong by retiring, by giving to Colin the first innings. +He would wrong no one but himself. And, in the light of his past, he +knew it was right—a matter of simple justice—that he of all men should +refuse to stand between Colin and happiness. The question was not +"Ought he?" but "Could he?"</p> + +<p>As he walked he made up his mind that he would do the thing that was +right; that he would carry out his early resolution; that he would +endure the cost.</p> + +<p>Thus, during hours of moonlight, followed by darkness. But in the chill +light of dawn, as he tramped wearily to his room, tired, not with +bodily exertion but with mental strain, another spirit took possession.</p> + +<p>Ho had meant to get off his walk with Phyllys. Better for him, safer +and wiser, not to go. Yet, when it came to the point, he made no +effort. He let things drift. He had the walk.</p> + +<p>Then, for yielding, he was the weaker, as for yielding, one can hardly +fail to be. A paralysis seemed to lay hold upon him, though his had +always been reckoned a manly will. And when he sat by her side, on the +river-bank, he knew that, even for Colin's sake, he could not give her +up. He could not! There was a limit to what might be expected of a man; +and this reached beyond the limit.</p> + +<p>In so short a space she had grown to be everything to him; to be his +love, his life. One month before she was but a name—Phyllys Wyverne, +younger grand-daughter of his old great-aunt, living in the wilds of +Yorkshire. He was vaguely interested in her, and he supposed that one +day they might meet again: but whether he saw her or not was of no +particular moment. Then they met; and his life was changed. Now nothing +in the world was of moment except the overwhelming desire to win her.</p> + +<p>Give her up! See those two husband and wife! Her sweetness, all for +Colin! Her love, Colin's right! Himself, in measureless desolation!</p> + +<p>He could not do it! The thing was impossible. The idea was preposterous.</p> + +<p>Colin had been dear to him; more dear than a brother. But besides this +new passion, that quiet affection became as naught. Not that he did not +care for Colin still, but that Phyllys was everything to him: Phyllys +was his world, his universe.</p> + +<p>True, even if he held aloof now, she might in the end reject Colin; and +he would then be free to seek her. But of this he had small hope. Colin +had seldom, if ever, sought to win affection, and sought in vain.</p> + +<p>He felt his own position so far not unhopeful. Phyllys liked him; she +was cousinly, even confiding. To persevere might mean success.</p> + +<p>And if success for him meant unhappiness, despair, for Colin! Again the +past rolled up. Again he saw his own resolve, and the causes which had +led to it.</p> + +<p>"One may have strained ideas of duty," he muttered. "There is such a +thing as common sense in the affairs of life."</p> + +<p>Yes; and there is also such a thing as putting self aside for the sake +of another.</p> + +<p>This, too, he knew. But he saw once more her sweetness, and resistance +collapsed. He acknowledged himself beaten.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_18">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A PAST EPISODE</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"YOU are staying for some time at Castle Hill?" observed Kathleen Alyn, +with her air of interest.</p> + +<p>They were under a tree on the lawn; Mr. Dugdale having retreated to a +basket-chair and a book within earshot. Giles had walked with Phyllys +and Gordon to Brook-End Grange, and had stayed to luncheon. A business +engagement then claimed him, and Mrs. Alyn would not hear of Phyllys +going before six. Since Phyllys welcomed the delay, nothing remained +for Giles but gloomily to depart alone.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not. Mrs. Keith did ask me to stay longer, but Grannie gave +leave only for three weeks." Phyllys did not hear her own sigh. "The +days are going so awfully fast."</p> + +<p>"You don't begin to feel home-sick yet?"</p> + +<p>"No. Ought I?"</p> + +<p>"It is natural that you should enjoy change. Midfell seems so out of +the world."</p> + +<p>"It 'is' out of the world. It belongs to two centuries ago. Everything +and everybody is asleep."</p> + +<p>"So even quiet Castle Hill seems gay by contrast."</p> + +<p>"No, not gay, but awake—alive. One sees and learns here."</p> + +<p>"You begin to know Giles and Colin by this time. I wonder which of the +two strikes you, on an early acquaintance, as the finer character?"</p> + +<p>"Is it an early acquaintance?" Phyllys felt as if she had known them +always. "They are so unlike. One can hardly compare them."</p> + +<p>"Colin is popular."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale was peering over the edge of his book. "So is Giles, among +his own set. Which does Phyllys say she prefers?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say either," laughed Phyllys. "I like both—each in his own +way."</p> + +<p>"One feels so sorry for poor Colin," remarked Kathleen; and, as before, +the word annoyed Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"I can't see why one should be sorry for him. He is to be envied—not +pitied. He is so much above ordinary men. I think he can afford not to +be so—so—"</p> + +<p>"Muscular," suggested Mr. Dugdale. "I see you rate a man's intellect +above his biceps."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Some don't in this athletic age."</p> + +<p>"But I do," decisively. "And Colin is a genius. That is a thousand +times better than being able to walk thirty miles without feeling +tired."</p> + +<p>"Colin is to be congratulated. He has found some one to fight his +battles," Mr. Dugdale lowered his book, and scanned Phyllys with +quizzical eyes. She stood her ground.</p> + +<p>"I mean it. I would rather be a genius than anything. Much rather than +just be rich and strong."</p> + +<p>"Not that Colin falls short in the length of his walks," murmured Mr. +Dugdale. "It's rather in the extent of his mental exertions."</p> + +<p>"That was what I meant—that he cannot use his powers," put in Kathleen. +"He has always been hampered by ill-health, since he was sixteen."</p> + +<p>"Not before?" asked Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"No. He was delicate-looking, but wiry, and up to anything. Giles was +the more robust, but Colin could outdo even Giles in endurance."</p> + +<p>"Giles was not the more robust in their infancy," declared Mr. Dugdale.</p> + +<p>"He was when I first knew them, father. But Colin had such spirit. He +never flagged, and nothing ailed him till that unhappy accident."</p> + +<p>"What was the accident?" asked Phyllys. "No one has told me."</p> + +<p>"Your grandmother must know. You will hear no mention of it at Castle +Hill. Mrs. Keith dislikes the subject; and neither Giles nor Colin +allude to what happened. They were so devoted to poor little Elsye." +A word from Phyllys made her add—"Did you not know Elsye Wallace was +killed then?"</p> + +<p>"No. Please tell me about it."</p> + +<p>"She and the boys were always together. It was pretty to see them—she +like a little queen, and they her devoted knights. A lovely child, full +of fun, yet with that pathetic look in her eyes which you see on the +memorial window. Quite unnatural, for there never was a happier being."</p> + +<p>"But what was the accident?"</p> + +<p>"They were at the seaside. Elsye had been poorly, and Mrs. Keith took +her away for change, with the boys. Rather unusual, for she never liked +Dr. Wallace, and I do not think she cared for Elsye. Still, it came +about somehow—perhaps brought on by Giles. He was masterful even at +sixteen, as you may imagine."</p> + +<p>Phyllys assented.</p> + +<p>"And he worshipped Elsye. It was adoration. Colin was fond of her, but +not in the same vehement style. One day they were on the cliff, and I +suppose were playing too near the edge. Nobody ever seemed to know how +it happened, but Elsye and Colin fell over. There was a rough shingle +beach below, with rock-boulders lying about. Elsye, I believe, slipped, +and dragged Colin with her—and Giles was too late to save them. Elsye +was undermost, and she never regained consciousness. Colin's head +struck on a rock, and he was stunned; but at the time they did not +think him so badly hurt. Everybody's attention was taken up with Elsye. +She breathed for an hour or two, but died before her father could +arrive."</p> + +<p>"How dreadful for them!"</p> + +<p>"It 'was' dreadful; all the more because one could not help feeling +that the boys ought to have been more careful. When I saw them a +fortnight later Giles seemed to have grown into a man—so grave and +silent! Colin looked awfully ill, and we thought it was Elsye's death. +But in time it came out that he was suffering fearfully from his head, +and was making a fight to keep about as usual, that nobody might know. +He soon had a breakdown, and was worse than if he had been taken in +hand at first. He had fallen with the back of his head against a +boulder, and the doctors said that the front part of the brain had +been badly jarred against the skull by the concussion; so there was +double injury. For more than two years he was ill; often kept for days +in a dark room. The boy's patience was wonderful, and the pluck with +which he would struggle to be well, the moment he was easier. Of course +school was out of the question. He was hardly allowed to look at a +book. Giles used to read to him when he could bear to listen—which was +not for a long while. The marvel is that he has turned out so well, +considering his disadvantages. Still, there always is a something +about him not like other men. He lives a life of his own. And he is so +dreamy—so mystical, if that is the right word."</p> + +<p>"He is a genius," remarked Phyllys, as if that explained everything.</p> + +<p>"Public school life would have done his genius no harm. I wish he could +have had it."</p> + +<p>"He didn't model—then?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith snubbed him if he began. He always was trying. Of course, +as a boy, he could not take his own way. She tried him at times—made +him ill, when he might have been fairly well. The least worry brings on +his headache, and she can't help worrying. Colin somehow excites her, +while she never minds anything done by Giles."</p> + +<p>"My dear, she is a woman with a temper; but her prosperity depends on +keeping straight with Giles," said Mr. Dugdale.</p> + +<p>"Yet I have seen him furious with her, for Colin's sake."</p> + +<p>"Is Giles a man with a temper?" asked Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"I should hardly call him so," Mrs. Alyn replied. "He is not touchy +about little things—not quick to imagine slights. But if once he 'is' +upset—"</p> + +<p>She made a pause. Mr. Dugdale's book had risen to its former position, +and he looked over its edge.</p> + +<p>"My nephew Jack was at school with Giles. He once remarked that it took +a jolly lot to put Giles into a wax; but when, by combined efforts, +that feat had been accomplished, Jack's expression was, 'My eyes! We +fellows take care to be in the treetops out of his reach.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I suppose he 'could' be angry," murmured Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"But never with Colin," added Kathleen.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was silent. She knew better.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_19">CHAPTER XIX</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A VANISHED PORTRAIT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"ARE you really better? I'm glad."</p> + +<p>Phyllys spoke warmly. Dinner was over, and she and Mrs. Keith had +quitted the dining-room, leaving Giles with Mr. Dugdale, this evening, +as often, a self-invited guest. Mrs. Keith was gone to her boudoir, and +Phyllys found Colin in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>He had been three days invisible, prostrate with headache, and she had +been told that he could not appear this evening. Here, however, he was, +in the deep armchair, close to the oriel window. He stood up when she +came in, despite an eager "Oh, don't!" but was glad to go back.</p> + +<p>She sat down and scanned the ivory-tinted face.</p> + +<p>"Ought you to have come down?" she asked, as one hand was pressed +slowly over the fair hair, its slender fingers perceptibly thinner for +three days of starvation and intense pain.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, I'm all right now."</p> + +<p>She glanced at a book on his knee, half-open, his hand between the +leaves. "Have you been trying to read?"</p> + +<p>"Not much. There's a paragraph by Kingsley that I thought you might +like."</p> + +<p>"May I see it?" She took the book and read eagerly the sentence +indicated:—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful. Beauty is +God's handwriting; a wayside Sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, +every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank for it Him, the Fountain +of all loveliness, and drink it in simply and earnestly with 'all' your +eyes. It is a charmed draught, a cup of blessing.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Phyllys's own face was very fair with thoughts evoked.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you've shown me that. It is just what one wants to feel—to +do. If beauty really is—that—one can't be wrong in loving it."</p> + +<p>"One might rather be wrong not to value it," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"But—" and a pause—"there are ugly things in Nature."</p> + +<p>"Many things that we stamp as ugly are not so. Part of our condemnation +is conventional. Part is due to imperfect sight. We don't detect +the exquisite finish—or the balancing of parts. What looks to us +like ugliness may belong merely to roughness of outline, due to our +blindness. Then, too, we fail to make out the true inwardness. The +beauty of Divine handwriting may be there, yet the key is wanting, and +we can't translate into the vernacular."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't say that there is beauty in everything!"</p> + +<p>"No. But there is an enormous amount more of it than men see. It needs +a trained eye and a brain awake. Form and colour are lost upon those +who are Nature-blind and Art-blind. And for the most part you will find +unlovely outlines—hardness, stiffness, angularity—in human conceptions, +not in Divine."</p> + +<p>"You like flat surfaces in sculpture," she suggested with quickness.</p> + +<p>"Flat surfaces in sculpture—and in Nature—don't mean the rigid flatness +of a sheet of iron. There are delicate mouldings—roundings—the melting, +so to speak, of one surface into another. Nature's divisions, like +Nature's tints, merge by gradations. You don't find squares and +oblongs. In a rainbow no man living can define where one colour ends +and the next begins."</p> + +<p>She smiled acquiescence. Colin's words had power to set her thinking. +She did not know how rarely he opened out like this; how studiously his +true self was hidden. In Giles she saw the reserve of a man habitually +silent; but she had not divined in Colin the deeper reserve of an +apparent frankness which told nothing. Once in a way he was really +frank with Phyllys; but she was almost the sole exception. He could +seldom bring to the surface those things for which he most cared.</p> + +<p>He murmured another quotation:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Nature is a poem written by God; and Art is man's translation of it!'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I forget who said that. But if Nature is a Divine poem, the least we +can do is to try to read it."</p> + +<p>Phyllys repeated the words to herself.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether all sculptors feel as you do?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"I was not speaking from the sculptor's point of view." His voice had +altered, becoming indifferent. Without looking up Phyllys knew that he +and she were no longer alone.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith had appeared, and was in one of her restless moods. She had +not known that Colin meant to come down, and the fact seemed to annoy +her. She could not sit still, but fidgeted from chair to chair, talking +without a break.</p> + +<p>There was a draught from the oriel window, and would Colin mind its +being shut? No, she really couldn't have any window open. It was so +chilly. If he wanted more air, why did he not stay in the study? Mr. +Dugdale would be in directly, and Mr. Dugdale was such a fatiguing +person, particularly if one was ill. But Colin never took advice, as +all the world knew—much better for him if he would.</p> + +<p>All this and more was endured with a calm which Phyllys had once taken +for unshakeable serenity. She knew better now. She had learnt to +decipher the dent in his forehead, the compression of his under-lip, +the increased slowness of the dragging voice; and this evening his +self-control was more severely tested than usual, from weakness.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Keith, whose one aim was to separate those two, to have +Phyllys as a "close preserve" for Giles, saw nothing. She fidgeted and +fussed till the door opened.</p> + +<p>"Here they come!" And she started up. "Now we must have some music. I +want Phyllys to play the Moonlight Sonata."</p> + +<p>Giles interposed in curt tones, "Not to-night. Colin can't stand it."</p> + +<p>Colin frowned slightly. "Pray make no difference for me," he said. "If +you do, I must decamp."</p> + +<p>"But we don't want music. Nobody wants it. We all want to talk," urged +Phyllys.</p> + +<p>She greeted Giles with a smile, and he came to her side, not speaking. +Mrs. Keith was insisting energetically on music. Phyllys played so +well, and she and Giles loved listening. Colin would not mind, she knew.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. Shall I get the sonata?" asked Colin.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" There was a roughness in the "timbre" of Giles' voice which +Phyllys had heard before, and it always surprised her. "You must keep +still."</p> + +<p>Phyllys gave the speaker a reproachful glance; then turned to Colin. +He submitted, but not as if obliged to do so. She noticed a curious +reticent dignity in his manner. She met his eyes—blue depths, full of +expression—and wondered whom he recalled. The hidden picture flashed up +before her mind, and she forgot the question of music, gazing at him.</p> + +<p>Somebody else gazed also. Mr. Dugdale's remark might have been an echo +of her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Odd! That look again!"</p> + +<p>"'Isn't' he like?" Phyllys all but said. The words were on her lips +when she remembered that she had undertaken not to allude to the +picture, and that nobody except herself and Mrs. Keith was supposed to +be aware of its existence.</p> + +<p>Yet plainly Mr. Dugdale was aware! What could Mrs. Keith have meant?</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary!" continued the cool tones. "I've not taken a look at +the old portrait for ages: but my memory is good. Colin brings it back."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," Colin said.</p> + +<p>"The old painting in a corner of the gallery—used to hang in this room. +You've developed an astonishing resemblance to it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith stood listening, her face hard set; her fingers clutched +about her fan.</p> + +<p>"You had that fancy before," she said. "Utterly ridiculous!"</p> + +<p>For once she made a mistake. Had she acquiesced, the matter might have +dropped. Opposition made Mr. Dugdale eager to prove his point.</p> + +<p>"We'll compare him with the original. Come, Colin."</p> + +<p>Colin did not stir. "Another time," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ah! I forgot your head. Well, I'll take a look myself. Never can +imagine why that picture should have been banished to the darkest +corner in the house!" he muttered as he went—not the first time he had +made such a remark.</p> + +<p>He was gone for some time, and Mrs. Keith moved restlessly, as if +unable to sit still. Phyllys thought her looking old and haggard, and +her mouth had a drawn look. No further mention was made of music; and +when Mr. Dugdale returned, he said bluntly—"Been moved again! Where, +pray?"</p> + +<p>"The portrait not there?" asked Giles in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Not that I can discover. I've looked all round."</p> + +<p>"But of course it is there!" exclaimed Mrs. Keith, facing him +indignantly. "It has not been moved."</p> + +<p>"Not taken from the corner!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not! Unless Giles—"</p> + +<p>Giles made a negative gesture.</p> + +<p>"Of course I could not tell. Giles might have moved it, unknown to me. +I have had no authority here for years." She spoke with a hard laugh.</p> + +<p>"It was in its usual corner not long ago," observed Giles. "I remember +seeing it."</p> + +<p>"It is not there now," stated Mr. Dugdale in his most dogmatic manner.</p> + +<p>"You are sure you have not overlooked it!"</p> + +<p>"Come and see for yourself," and the two went off.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith sat down. "How hot it is! I should like the window open."</p> + +<p>Phyllys started up, but was forestalled by Colin. He remained at the +casement, as if thankful for outer air.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith moved again, wandering to the further end of the room.</p> + +<p>And Phyllys asked in an undertone, "Why should Mr. Dugdale want to +prove that you are like that picture?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." Colin spoke wearily, as if the discussion tried him. +"Having once made the assertion, he sticks to it."</p> + +<p>"You don't care whether you are or not!"</p> + +<p>"Not a fig! Anybody may be like anybody." She could not rival his +indifference, and waited in suspense till the two came back, Mr. +Dugdale saying triumphantly—"Just as I told you! Vanished!"</p> + +<p>"The picture gone! You really mean to say that it is not there!" +Mrs. Keith drew near with amazed looks. "My dear Giles! You must be +dreaming. Not there!"</p> + +<p>"It is not in the gallery."</p> + +<p>"But where 'can' it be?"</p> + +<p>"That is the question. We have to find out."</p> + +<p>"Certainly you must find out," broke in Mr. Dugdale. "A valuable +painting can't be allowed to disappear."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith gave an odd laugh. "But, Giles, it is impossible. The thing +can't have walked off of itself."</p> + +<p>"No. To-morrow morning I must question the servants."</p> + +<p>"The servants would not dare! And they could have no object in moving +it."</p> + +<p>"They might know its value. Not that I suspect them. It is rather a +question whether any one has been in and walked off with it."</p> + +<p>Her face lighted up. "Giles! I remember now! That evening, when we +heard steps about the house—you can't have forgotten! When we thought a +thief might have got in."</p> + +<p>"I found no signs of one."</p> + +<p>"So you said; but one does not know. The picture was in its place +before. I am sure, because that was the day Colin came home. Mr. +Dugdale said something of the same sort about Colin's face, and before +going to bed, I took a look at the portrait—out of curiosity. The +likeness I found to be purely imaginary!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale grunted dissent.</p> + +<p>"Purely imaginary," she repeated. "Still, the painting was safe then. +An hour or two later we heard sounds about—footsteps—what I always +shall believe to have been a thief. Now we know what he carried off."</p> + +<p>Giles seemed half convinced.</p> + +<p>"I've never noticed the painting since that day—and it seems that you +have not either," she added.</p> + +<p>"I have not looked for it."</p> + +<p>"It was in its place before. It is not in its place now. What other +explanation is possible?"</p> + +<p>"If it was taken then, I can't understand its not being missed sooner," +objected Mr. Dugdale.</p> + +<p>"Why should it be? Nobody has given it a thought."</p> + +<p>Giles was silent. His glance had wandered to Colin, who seemed trying +to decipher Phyllys. She looked up, met his eyes, and blushed. Giles' +sombreness increased.</p> + +<p>"Great mistake its ever having been removed from this room," Mr. +Dugdale declared.</p> + +<p>"A mistake possibly, but a natural one," protested Mrs. Keith. "The +picture was out of its place. Well enough in a study or a gallery; but +not in a drawing-room. Mr. Penrhyn did not mind."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Penrhyn never minded anything."</p> + +<p>"At all events, I acted for the best. One can't do more. Of course I +never dreamt of thieves."</p> + +<p>"I shall not rest till it is found," said Giles.</p> + +<p>In Phyllys' mind a thought suggested itself. Could Mrs. Keith be a +trifle "peculiar" mentally—a degree "touched in the upper story?" Did +she suffer from delusions? Had she herself hidden the lost picture, +honestly believing it to be, as she had stated, the portrait of her own +brother? Or were there two portraits: the one of Giles' ancestor stolen +by a thief; the other of Mrs. Keith's brother, its existence unknown? +It would be odd that Colin should resemble both portraits; yet less odd +than might appear at first sight, since one of the two was a likeness +of his own uncle. Whichever might be the explanation, Mrs. Keith showed +eccentricity.</p> + +<p>"Poor thing!" mused Phyllys. "I dare say that is why Giles hardly ever +contradicts what she says. Perhaps it is why Colin sometimes has to get +the upper hand—not to give in too much."</p> + +<p>The butler brought in a telegram addressed to herself, and she opened +it in trepidation, telegrams at Midfell being rare.</p> + +<p>"'Grandmother ill, come home to-morrow by early train,'" she read.</p> + +<p>Her face changed, and she saw those around change also.</p> + +<p>That of Mrs. Keith might have expressed relief. Giles had the look of +one who has received a blow. Colin—was it her fancy that his pale face +grew paler?</p> + +<p>Then she knew that Mrs. Keith was talking—was exclaiming, inquiring, +advising. Perhaps there was some mistake. Would Phyllys like to +telegraph inquiries? It seemed such a pity to cut short her visit. She +had intended dear Phyllys to stay at least another six weeks. One never +could tell what telegrams meant—they were so curtly worded; still it +might not be anything serious.</p> + +<p>"Grannie must be very ill, or Barbara would not send for me," Phyllys +said. "Could some one tell me the first train?"</p> + +<p>"The 7.10," Colin observed gently.</p> + +<p>"Is that too early? Thanks—then I will go by it. I had better put up my +things to-night." She glanced from one to another. "I am so sorry. It +has been a very happy time; and you have all been so good to me! But of +course. I must leave."</p> + +<p>She went upstairs, and Mrs. Keith followed immediately.</p> + +<p>"Giles is looking out particulars," she said. "He will go with you to +the Junction, and will put you into a through carriage for the north. +Your packing shall be done for you, my dear. It is early still, and you +can come down for another hour, perhaps—but of course you must get to +bed in good time. We are all so sorry. I had written to Mrs. Wyverne to +beg for a longer stay. No—I did not tell you. But you must come to us +again, some day."</p> + +<p>Phyllys tried to listen. She felt numbed; whether more at her +grandmother's probable danger, or at the abrupt need to leave Castle +Hill, she hardly knew. The former she did not yet grasp. The latter was +a pressing pain. She wondered why the pain should be so acute.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith moved about the room, restless still.</p> + +<p>"About that picture," she said. "Odd—isn't it?" She broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"I could not help remembering," murmured Phyllys. "Of course I said +nothing, as I had promised."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith wore a look of astonishment.</p> + +<p>"You could not help remembering—what?"</p> + +<p>"The portrait I saw in your cabinet—the one so like Colin! Don't you +know?"—as Mrs. Keith seemed puzzled. "When I went to look for the piece +of silk."</p> + +<p>"My dear, how droll!" Mrs. Keith laughed again, rather loudly. "That +you should think of the two together, I mean. It is quite comic. I am +glad you did not say what you thought—though of course you could not, +because you had promised."</p> + +<p>"No—I remembered."</p> + +<p>"Besides—that is my own concern—the likeness of my brother. Dear +harum-scarum old Jock—how long it is since I saw him! But, as I told +you, nobody knows of that picture, and it is worth nothing to anybody. +This disappearance is another matter. The picture we cannot find is +a family heirloom, by a famous artist, and is of great value. Mr. +Dugdale's notion of its being like Colin is ridiculous. There is no +resemblance." Her cheeks had red spots, as if she were angry. "He is +such a fanciful man—always imagining things. The likeness that you +saw is real enough—only what one might expect! But this notion of Mr. +Dugdale's—if it were less absurd, one might be annoyed."</p> + +<p>She stopped for a moment.</p> + +<p>"The loss of that picture is a real misfortune. Giles will never rest +till he has found it. He has all the persistency of the Randolph +nature. Not much chance of his succeeding, I am afraid, for the thief +has had plenty of time—most likely has sent the picture to America. +But if you should be questioned, my dear—which is not likely, as you +do not even know the painting—if you should be, please remember that +there is no connection between the two things. You must guard yourself, +in talking about the family heirloom, not to allude to my little +affair—not to break your word."</p> + +<p>Then she moved towards the door. "Now we will go down, and have a last +chat."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_20">CHAPTER XX</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>REVERSION TO A RUT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>BARBARA PRINGLE stood outside a garden gate in Midfell, interviewing +Miss Robins.</p> + +<p>A black hat of no particular shape was jammed low upon Miss Pringle's +forehead, and a brown blouse of no particular cut "topped" a short +skirt of uncompromising apple-greenness. Miss Robins, standing hatless +within the gate, had clothed herself in dust-colour, apparently with +the aim of matching her own complexion, an aim in which she had +succeeded, without resulting loveliness. But what signified looks to +one at Miss Robins' mental altitude?</p> + +<p>Past this cottage, as past Burn Cottage, swept the busy stream, +rustling musical murmurs, telling things unspeakable by human tongues, +though not unreadable by human ears, if those ears are attuned and +attent. The ears of Miss Robins and Miss Pringle were neither attent +nor attuned. Each good lady was too well occupied with her own and her +neighbours' concerns to listen to Nature's whispers.</p> + +<p>"No time to waste in such dawdling!" they would have said.</p> + +<p>"Too much time wasted in gossip for leisure to study the Divine poem!" +would have been Colin's version.</p> + +<p>So widely different is the view taken by different people from +different standpoints.</p> + +<p>Behind and before, within sight of both ladies, lay long lines of moor +fells, reaches of moorland, across which battalions of cloud-shadows +travelled fast and heather-bloom mingled with the greens of grass and +bracken. But they did not feast their eyes on Nature's tinting.</p> + +<p>"I felt it my duty," Barbara remarked, and she spoke with a grim +resolution which squared her jaw, and perhaps angered uneasiness +below—"I felt it my duty to act. My grandmother has not been herself +for some time; anybody must have seen. She has fretted ridiculously +about Phyllys; not about her being away, but about the influences under +which she is thrown. No doubt there is self-reproach. The child never +ought to have gone. And really—the coolness of that woman—Mrs. Keith, +I mean—asking if Phyllys might spend another six weeks at Castle Hill! +The idea! Of course Phyllys put her up to it. That was what made my +grandmother ill yesterday. I told Mr. Jones, and he said it was enough +to account for her attack. He agreed that the wisest plan was to have +Phyllys back; so I telegraphed on my own responsibility. I felt it to +be my duty."</p> + +<p>"Unquestionably; unequivocally!" purred Miss Robins. "And really, poor +dear Mrs. Wyverne was very far from well; you could not have done +otherwise."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was quite a sharp attack—she is not given to faintness. And +at her age, you know! The fact is, one never knows what that sort of +thing may mean. One has to be on the safe side." Barbara seemed to be +carrying on an argument in defence of herself. "I did not mention to +my grandmother what I had done till this morning's telegram arrived, +saying when Phyllys would come, and by that time she was on her way."</p> + +<p>"So she could not be stopped. How sensible of you! And Mrs. Wyverne was +pleased—gratified?"</p> + +<p>"She seemed worried lest Phyllys should be vexed. That shows the +position of affairs," added Barbara with vagueness. "But as I said to +her, 'What does vexation matter so long as we do what is right?'"</p> + +<p>"Very true! Very true indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Things will settle themselves when Phyllys is under proper control. I +shall take care that she does not go to Castle Hill again in a hurry. +One can see that her head is completely turned. She will come home able +to think of nothing but her looks. I wish I could have gone to meet her +myself to put things in a right light. But it was impossible, and when +Mr. Hazel said he was driving over, and would bring her back, I had to +agree. Mrs. Hazel says he hadn't thought of going till he knew about +Phyllys." Miss Pringle drove the point of a protesting umbrella into +the earth. "The way everybody jumps to do any earthly thing for that +silly child—really it is too much!"</p> + +<p>"She has a wheedling way with men," suggested Miss Robins, who, though +a man-despiser, was not above a touch of jealousy towards a woman +admired by men.</p> + +<p>"Three other people have offered since to fetch Phyllys, and I wish any +of them had spoken before Mr. Hazel. The Hazel influence for Phyllys is +objectionable."</p> + +<p>"The man is more than half a Jesuit at heart," declared Miss Robins.</p> + +<p>"The most extraordinary thing is the way Giles Randolph has managed to +wheedle my grandmother," said Barbara, frowning. No one but herself +would have applied such a word to Giles. "He seems to do whatever he +chooses with her."</p> + +<p>"Fascination—captivation," murmured Miss Robins, in her favourite +sing-song voice. "Your grandmother is so truly excellent a woman, it +is inconceivable that she should have given in to the wiles of an +unprincipled man, without regard to the welfare of Phyllys, but for +some occult influence on his part. Really, no other explanation is +possible. I only trust we shall not find Phyllys' character completely +deteriorated through the baleful associations of Castle Hill and the +contaminations of irreligious society."</p> + +<p>Miss Robins was a lover of polysyllabic words.</p> + +<p>"Not much chance, I'm afraid. The girl has no strength of principle; +she cares for nothing but admiration. Well—" with a solemn satisfaction +in her own forebodings—"we shall see. My own belief is that they have +got hold of the girl, and that nothing now will break her loose. But I +shall do my best."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Meanwhile Phyllys, reaching Garfield Station, nearly ten miles distant +from Midfell, looked out for some familiar face. If no "lift" were to +be had, a cab would be there; but this expense was, when possible, +avoided, and those who owned vehicles seldom failed to place them at +the disposal of others less well off.</p> + +<p>Nor was she disappointed. As the train steamed in she caught a glimpse +of the Vicarage pony-carriage; then found herself face to face with +the Vicar. His ruddy face was framed in soft grey hair; a shapeless +wide-awake sat far back on his broad head; tan gloves of unknown +antiquity were gripped in one rugged veined hand; the other was +outstretched in welcome; and a beaming but embarrassed smile lit up his +features.</p> + +<p>"Well, little Pride of the Morning," he said, "so here you are! Bright +and well, eh? We are glad to have you back."</p> + +<p>"But Grannie?" she questioned anxiously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazel, recalling his wife's injunctions—injunctions primed by Miss +Pringle—but forgetting what he had been told to say, smiled perplexedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Ah! Yes; to be sure, yes! She was ailing yesterday; upset and out +of sorts. They had to send for Mr. Jones, and he thought her—" The +sentence died into a mumble. "But she is all right again to-day, so +no need to worry your little head." The very remark which Barbara had +stipulated should not be made. "Now for your luggage," and to escape +questioning he marched to where her trunks lay. The smaller could be +carried with them; the larger had to be sent next day. Mr. Hazel gave +directions, and Phyllys stood by in silence.</p> + +<p>She understood; his words had brought the truth before her in one +sinister flash, and she grew white to the lips.</p> + +<p>It was Barbara's doing! Barbara had summoned her home without cause. +Barbara had cut short her happiness. But for Barbara she might still be +at Castle Hill.</p> + +<p>She saw the whole; yet at first she said nothing. She dared not let +herself go. So strong was the wave of resentment which rolled up, that +it all but had the mastery.</p> + +<p>But she held herself in, following the Vicar, hearing his orders. She +went out of the station, listened like one in a dream to his remarks, +and patted kindly her old friend the Vicarage "pony," so-called—really +a fine cob—who lifted his head in pleased response. And all the while +that great wave was surging to and fro.</p> + +<p>It frightened her; she had never felt so wrathful. Hers was a quick +temper—quick to take fire, quick to burn itself out.</p> + +<p>"A flash in the pan," her father had called it.</p> + +<p>She had many a time been annoyed with Barbara, but never to this extent.</p> + +<p>As they drove through the small town, calling at one or two shops, she +was silent still, feeling rather than thinking, for her thoughts were +in a maze. It seemed hard that she should not have had to the end her +time of pleasure; the visit had meant so much.</p> + +<p>And to have her joy cut short for nothing by Barbara's interference—she +hardly knew how to endure it. Again and again passionate resentment all +but mastered her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazel, busy with reins and shopping, did not at first notice what +was wrong. Gradually it dawned upon him that the bright smile was +lacking, the merry voice still.</p> + +<p>He waited, as it was his way to wait. Not till they had left the town, +and had begun the first long ascent after, did the storm that was +raging find expression. He put some question, and she turned a rigid +face to him.</p> + +<p>"Then Barbara has cheated me out of my pleasure! Grannie has 'not' been +ill! There was no need for me to come home!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_21">CHAPTER XXI</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE THINGS THAT ARE</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>BETWEEN the claims of truth and a desire not to compromise other +people, the Vicar was in difficulties. He gave a jerk to the reins, and +murmured indistinct words.</p> + +<p>"Barbara is not nervous." Phyllys caught the suggestion, only to +repudiate it. She sat bolt upright. "Barbara is never nervous."</p> + +<p>Another murmur. This time she heard "mistake."</p> + +<p>"No; there is no mistake. It is on purpose. She knew how happy I +was—how I wanted to stay. And she loves to make me miserable. It is +'her' doing."</p> + +<p>The Vicar made no rejoinder. He cast a concerned glance at the set +face; commented to himself on the thunder-cloud overshadowing his +"Pride o' the Morning;" and chirruped to the cob. A fresh pull carried +them faster, till the increased gradient made slowness a necessity. +Then he jumped out, lightly for his years.</p> + +<p>"Take the reins, child."</p> + +<p>"No." She was already by his side. "Cobweb has weight enough with my +box."</p> + +<p>He offered no protest, and they mounted a stiff rise in silence, the +Vicar keeping up an easy long-limbed swing, born of habit. No quickened +breath troubled him; and the reins hung loosely over one wrist, or were +flung upon the cob's back.</p> + +<p>Phyllys, deep in thought, showed no signs of fatigue, though this came +at the end of a long journey. As they ascended, the widening view of +distant moors, the rich tints of the fell over which their road led, +spoke with the calming power which Nature has over some minds. Three +times she forgot herself, standing in contemplation. Each time the +Vicar halted, as if for Cobweb's sake; and the look which crept into +her face gladdened his heart. A fourth time this happened, and she +glanced towards him, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know how lovely it was!" she said. "Must we hurry? I didn't +know how dearly I loved it all. Those wavy lines against the sky! And +the purples and greens—and the bracken!"</p> + +<p>She remembered Colin's quotation,—"Drink it in with 'all' your +eyes,"—and into the words new meaning dawned. Eyes of the body; eyes of +the mind; eyes of the spirit. Through the eyes of the body, to the eyes +of the mind; through the eyes of the mind, to the eyes of the spirit. +Had Colin opened for her those inward eyes? She saw with them as never +before. Nature around was as it ever had been; but for her it held +fresh perfection, fresh meaning. She was enchained by the mouldings of +the hill-sides, the delicate fadings of one tint into another. Each +hummocked fell demanded hours of study. She would be able to give the +hours; and Colin had taught her how to use them.</p> + +<p>Through the railway journey her thoughts had been much with Giles, +and the look in his face when they parted. Sorry as she had been to +leave, her sorrow was of a composite nature, made up of many elements. +She began to see a contrast between him and herself; to realise the +homogeneousness of his mental make. She wanted many things,—Castle +Hill, Colin, Art, freedom, fresh ideas—as well as Giles. He wanted one +thing—herself. She perceived this, after a fashion, without grasping +that his "want" meant something infinitely beyond mere "friendship." +She had a sense that Giles was giving her more than she could give him. +Her feelings towards him were mixed. His towards her were unblended.</p> + +<p>Now, instead of thinking about him, she was thinking about Colin, +recalling what Colin had said, studying old scenes in the light of +Colin's teaching, wishing she could be in the studio with Colin. As at +this moment she might have been—but for Barbara.</p> + +<p>Uprolled another wave of anger; and the Vicar saw. He had known it must +return. She was not yet victor.</p> + +<p>She met his glance. "Why are people allowed to do such things?" she +asked abruptly. "Such a beautiful world!—And 'such' people in it!"</p> + +<p>"Try to be fair," he said; irrelevantly some might have thought.</p> + +<p>"But it is she who is not fair to me. She never was fair. It isn't that +I'm sorry to come back to you and Mrs. Hazel—or to Grannie! It is the +being made like this—forced!—without any choice. She has no right. I am +not a child now. And I did so count on the next few days—if it might +not be more, just those days. I was learning so much that was new and +lovely!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But the lessons we want to learn are not always those that the +Great Teacher sets us." He spoke in an everyday tone, not as one +preaching.</p> + +<p>"It isn't—'that?' It is Barbara!"</p> + +<p>"It is always 'that,' my child—no matter how the disappointment comes."</p> + +<p>"If she had explained—if Grannie needed me. It is the being made that I +hate. Wouldn't you, in my place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, and her face grew softer.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad. Then it isn't altogether wrong to be vexed."</p> + +<p>"No; perhaps not. But if I were you, I wouldn't waste too much time +over your cousin's share. If she has wronged you, she has to be +forgiven; and it is more dignified not to show offence. People make +foolish blunders; but one may credit them with a right intention."</p> + +<p>"Ought one? Only, I'm sure she did mean unkindness." Then, with a laugh +of apology—"Perhaps I am as unfair to her as she is to me."</p> + +<p>"Good!" They were now moving on. "To see in oneself that possibility is +a first step towards a right spirit. Nine-tenths of the disagreements +in this world arise from a want of fairness in judging others. We have +too often one rule for ourselves, another for other people." He flipped +off a dandelion-head with the tip of his whip. "One should be fair +towards everybody—" and he could not resist adding—"even Miss Pringle."</p> + +<p>Phyllys' eyes twinkled. She knew that her cousin and her cousin's +friend were thorns in the Vicar's side. Whatever he did they opposed; +whatever he said they contradicted. But he met their opposition in +a large and manly way, and laughed at their contradiction. It was +more serious when they systematically upset his influence among the +cottagers; yet even there the Vicar was reasonable. He insisted that +though their methods were, from his point of view, entirely wrong, +their aims were good; and he would allow no wholesale condemnation. +Phyllys, aware of all this, realised the force of his advice.</p> + +<p>"I'll try," she said. "Only Barbara isn't fair towards 'them!'"</p> + +<p>"Towards—?"</p> + +<p>"Giles and Colin—and Mrs. Keith. She thinks unjustly. She says they are +bad."</p> + +<p>"And you have found them good?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" emphatically. Then, "Yes," more slowly. "I suppose there are +different sorts of goodness. I don't mean that they are—perfect."</p> + +<p>"We need not expect from others what others don't find in us."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith puzzles me; still, in a way she is religious. I am sure she +is. And Giles—he doesn't say much, but I couldn't tell you how kind he +is, how he thinks of everybody. Of course—" and a fresh pause—"he has +faults."</p> + +<p>"So have we!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And then—Colin—when he talks it isn't like anybody here. Not +like Miss Robins, one 'least' little bit. Or like—. No, I don't think +he says things in the way you do. Only you would like him. Colin feels +and understands. He is different from other people. And I think his +goodness—his religion—somehow has to be different, to fit his mind. +If I were to say that to Barbara, she would think it wicked. Is it? I +can't help feeling so when I'm with him."</p> + +<p>"There are many developments of Christ-likeness."</p> + +<p>"You don't think he must be wrong because he says things in a different +way from—what you would?"</p> + +<p>The Vicar's smile was beautiful. It showed a new side of him. She +wondered—had Colin opened her eyes with regard to human beings as well +as inanimate Nature?</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazel made another halt, letting the cob browse. He led Phyllys +to the edge, where a steep slope fell away towards a wide extent of +country, bounded by hills. Across the plain meandered a river, shining +like silver in sunlight. There were green meadows; and in one direction +lay ploughed fields. He drew her attention to each.</p> + +<p>"The same sun shines upon all. But not all surfaces can respond equally +to his shining. Is it the fault of the brown earth that it remains +dull? He who made water and grass made earth also. Will He be unfair +in His expectations? Will He blame the soil because it cannot respond +to His light with green beauty like grass, or gleam and flash like +water? Would it be right of the river to condemn the grass because it +does not shine? Or of the grass to declare earth a failure because it +is not green? Or of the earth to condemn grass and water for giving a +different response from its own? In each case the make has much to say +to results. And—God made it."</p> + +<p>Phyllys' face grew radiant.</p> + +<p>"I never saw that before! Why did you not tell me? It would have been a +help."</p> + +<p>"You were not ripe for it earlier. This visit has brought you on. You +are older." Then, after a break, "But to decide which of those about us +is, in the Divine sight, as earth or grass or water, lies beyond our +power."</p> + +<p>Phyllys blushed. She had already been thinking that Barbara was like +dull earth.</p> + +<p>"I'll try to be fair," she replied, and when they reached the Cottage +no trace remained of past billows. Barbara had expected a storm, and +though she would not admit the fact, she was a trifle relieved, even +touched, by "the child's" forbearance.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_22">CHAPTER XXII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THINGS THAT SHOULD BE</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IF Giles had lived through years in a week when he awoke to his love +for Phyllys, Phyllys lived through months in three weeks, while +striving to reduce a chaos of new ideas to what has been called "a +workable philosophy of life."</p> + +<p>Not that she, in so many words, put this before herself. She only +tried "to get things straight," and even in that she failed. She was +too young, life was too new, the "things" in question were too large, +for immediate success. She did not yet know herself; and till we know +ourselves, we cannot know those about us—those who make our "world"—or +grapple with the problems of their and our existence.</p> + +<p>From an artistic and contemplative atmosphere, from a home where the +cult of beauty ranked foremost, from a new breadth of view and a new +rush of thought, she was plunged in the old narrow circle, where what +she best loved was condemned, where beauty was regarded as a snare, +where the love of Nature was a synonym for wasted time, where Art was a +delusion and a plaything for a dying world.</p> + +<p>The contrast tried her. With the unbalanced eagerness of youth, she +expected to find all good on one side, all evil on the other; and, +like a child, impatient of consideration, she was as ready to condemn +Barbara, Miss Robins, even her grandmother, as they were to condemn her +friends.</p> + +<p>Yet she had begun to see with wider eyes,—to realise that others too +found difficulties, and that the same clues do not serve for all minds. +She had begun to feel the need in herself of a kinder and fairer +spirit. She had begun to appreciate the saintly goodness of her stern +old grandmother, to perceive the true beauty which underlay superficial +blemishes.</p> + +<p>"It is all bewilderment," she had often said. But step by step she was +being led to levels where she could look over dividing walls which once +had shut her in.</p> + +<p>She was gaining glimpses of the true unity which underlies +diversity—that unity which meets in Christ. She was dimly seeing that +all ideals of beauty centre in Him; that the highest types of beauty +are reflected from Him. So these weeks meant much to her. She was +learning tolerance from the bigotry of others, and sympathy through +her own struggles. Such lessons once mastered, differences of opinion +on lesser points fall into their right positions, and the pursuit of +beauty rises to a higher level.</p> + +<p>The old Vicar saw, and he would not meddle. He had faith in the Divine +training of individuals; and he had learnt something of that quality, +rare in human beings,—Divine patience. He would not hurry her faster +than she could go safely. A word here, a sentence there, gave the +needed touches. They were oftener together than in past days. Phyllys' +absence had made a difference, setting her more at liberty. But the +ruthless condemnation of people and things went on as of old; and +Phyllys was far from having Divine patience.</p> + +<p>Barbara, Miss Robins, even Mrs. Wyverne, with all her single-hearted +devotion, knew nothing of the many-sidedness of truth. The simple fact +that Christ is truth, and that in possessing Him a man possesses Divine +truth, they recognised verbally; but the Impossibility that any human +mind should grasp truth in its completeness, because no man can grasp +God, they did not see. It was with them as with Giles on the foggy +moor. Each walked in her tiny circle of mist, perceiving a patch of +grass, a bush; while of the world, the Universe, beyond, nothing was +visible.</p> + +<p>Giles had known, though he could not see, that a world, a Universe, did +exist. They, walking in their foggy circles, did not believe in aught +beyond.</p> + +<p>Yet, despite these limitations, Mrs. Wyverne lived a life which many of +loftier conceptions might have envied; for it was a life of personal +knowledge of God, of personal intercourse with her Heavenly Father, +little hindered by the narrowness of her theories. The theories were on +one plane; the life lived was on another. She fell into the error of +severely judging those from whom she differed: yet even this she did as +a high Christian duty, "verily thinking that she ought," and not from +lack of love.</p> + +<p>"They won't see! They won't understand," Phyllys one day broke out.</p> + +<p>The Vicar, in his shabbiest coat, tended a large rose-bed, his pride +and delight. Some fine blooms lingered still.</p> + +<p>"I would put a 'can't' for the 'won't,'" he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Barbara says there is no such thing as 'fineness' in human nature. +I said Giles had a fine character. And he has! And she said that was +wrong, for human nature is all failure and wickedness."</p> + +<p>"Ah, we learn to know others by ourselves. She finds it so, does she?"</p> + +<p>Phyllys laughed. The Vicar always brought her round.</p> + +<p>"And when I told her that he was a really good man, she was horrified. +She says no man is good."</p> + +<p>"Miss Pringle is wiser than her Bible. She should hunt out the word +with a Concordance."</p> + +<p>"And she says the idea of singing prayers in Church is foolish—nobody +can pray, singing. It is all outward show."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless Miss Pringle cannot!" The Vicar chuckled, recalling grim +sounds wont to issue from Mrs. Wyverne's pew. "She is not precisely +musical."</p> + +<p>"You don't think that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. Music, like any art, may become an avenue to higher +things—but only with those capable of using it. To my mind, the highest +uses of music are for the noblest purposes—above all, for God's +children, addressing their Father in concert. But, my little girl, you +can't make everybody see as you see. Some can pray, singing; some can +only pray, speaking. Some can speak to God in poetry, some only in +prose. Our Father in heaven hears all, understands all. No use to try +to stuff our own opinions down other people's throats."</p> + +<p>"Only, if one knows they are wrong—!"</p> + +<p>"For the matter of that, Miss Pringle knows you are wrong."</p> + +<p>"Must one never persuade them to think differently?"</p> + +<p>"I've no vast faith in the power of argument." The Vicar stood, hoe in +hand, looking down on his companion. "The great foundation-truths of +Christianity have to be fought for. But breath and temper are often +wasted on non-essentials. People have to work out doubtful points for +themselves."</p> + +<p>"Only Barbara 'was' wrong!"</p> + +<p>"So are you and I on a hundred points. We hope to be set right in time; +if not in this life, then in the next."</p> + +<p>"Then oughtn't one to try to understand now?"</p> + +<p>"Try your hardest; and be ready always for fresh teaching. But try much +more to do, to be, to live! It signifies less whether you have a great +deal of light than whether you make the best possible use of such light +as you have."</p> + +<p>She murmured a "Yes."</p> + +<p>"Beyond all, don't condemn others for seeing on these lesser questions +not so clearly, perhaps, as you are conscious of seeing yourself. They +may be all the while more fully after God's own heart. An ounce of true +humility is worth gallons of excellent opinions. A cupful of Christlike +self-abnegation is worth an ocean of correct definitions."</p> + +<p>He went back to his weeding, and presently a sound made Phyllys turn.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Colin stood on the gravel path with lifted cap and a light in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I have come to finish the bust," he said.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_23">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>COLIN'S CONQUESTS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>COLIN conquered them all, "straight off," as the Vicar said, though +with variations of speed, and apparently without effort.</p> + +<p>First to succumb was the Vicar himself. He gave unqualified approval +to the delicate-looking young fellow, whom nobody would have taken for +more than two or three and twenty; and the Vicar's wife followed suit.</p> + +<p>"He's the sweetest boy I ever saw," she declared with an enthusiasm +which made her husband laugh.</p> + +<p>"Giles knows nothing about my coming," he said. "I'm supposed to be in +the Highlands, abjuring work. Don't betray confidence, please. I wrote +yesterday, and needn't write again."</p> + +<p>Phyllys supposed that he was under orders not to model, and that he +intended to disobey.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne next fell a victim. She was fascinated at first sight, +like the Vicar. She had given in to Giles, partly out of respect to +the head of her family, partly as a result of pains on his part. Colin +took no pains. He was introduced, smiled, announced that he had come +to complete a work of art, Phyllys being the subject, and opposition +collapsed like a pricked bubble. The old lady could hardly take her +eyes from him.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are counted like your mother," she said in unbelieving +tones. "Not like what she was when she and I met; but, perhaps—"</p> + +<p>"My mother says I am like everybody in turn, which is much the same as +being like nobody."</p> + +<p>"You certainly remind me of some one."</p> + +<p>Phyllys wondered, but would not suggest—was Mrs. Wyverne conscious of +his resemblance to the lost painting? She might have spoken her thought +but for a second question—could Mrs. Wyverne have seen that other +picture, hidden in the cabinet, if, indeed, it was another?</p> + +<p>She took an opportunity to inquire whether the lost portrait had been +found, and Colin replied in the negative. He showed little interest in +the topic.</p> + +<p>Barbara yielded more slowly. Colin was a man, and she detested men; he +was an artist, and she despised Art. The bust aroused her righteous +indignation; not altogether righteous, since jealousy of Phyllys had +a share. Though not great in self-knowledge, she perhaps knew this. +But she gave the reins to what she felt, and ruthlessly stigmatised +sculpture as worldly, wasteful, an encouragement to vanity; not sparing +words, till silence on his part grew impressive, and she met those blue +eyes, looking not "at" but "into" her, with a depth of understanding +which brought her to a dead halt.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said slowly, and waited.</p> + +<p>She had no more to say. Did he read to the ground of her motives? Was +she to him a transparency?</p> + +<p>Then came his winning smile; a smile which few could withstand. It took +her captive on the spot.</p> + +<p>"Try for yourself," he said sweetly.</p> + +<p>And the household stood open-mouthed to see Miss Pringle seated before +the improvised modelling-stool which, with Mrs. Wyverne's permission, +had been set up in the study. She clumsily fingered a lump of clay; +she submitted to be lectured. The results of her fingering need not be +described. The results of his manipulation were that he thenceforth +dragged her, a helpless victim, at his chariot wheels.</p> + +<p>"It's too comical for anything," declared the Vicar, his shoulders +shaking. "Miss Pringle, of all people! That lad could make the trees +run after him if he chose."</p> + +<p>How much Colin laughed privately no one knew. He maintained in public +his gentle and detached demeanour.</p> + +<p>Difficulties were cleared away so far as might be from his path, the +household uniting to supply his wants. He had the exclusive use of +the little back-room; and a water-tap was outside his door. Phyllys +was allowed to sit to him for two hours each day, Mrs. Wyverne being +present with her knitting, while Barbara came in and out, hanging round +in wordless admiration, never dreaming how her fidgety movements and +creaking shoes tried the young sculptor.</p> + +<p>She did not agree with his views; she counted still that Art was a +delusion. But Colin Keith she confessed to be the one really agreeable +man whom she had met on the face of the earth.</p> + +<p>For a week all went well, and the bust made progress. Colin was +unusually vigorous; perhaps from the light moor air which seemed to +keep headache at bay. "I shall know where to go next time when I want +change," he said. He looked his best; active, joyous, full of delight +in his task, full also of bright expectancy in another direction, which +the Vicar saw with gladness, and Mrs. Wyverne with anxiety.</p> + +<p>Phyllys enjoyed having him. She delighted in his artistic talk; she +chatted freely as she sat for her clay portrait; and the hours slid by. +It was reflection of Castle Hill happiness.</p> + +<p>But after days of work and intercourse, a change dawned. Mrs. Wyverne +had one morning been called away, and Phyllys occupied the usual +position.</p> + +<p>"I've had to write at last to let them know where I am," he remarked. +Then—"You are tired. Take it easy for five minutes. You must rest."</p> + +<p>She had found it out herself earlier. A weariness had taken possession +of her, a longing for something, she could not define what. All this +seemed not worth while. She stood and stretched herself while he turned +to do something with one of the little wooden instruments.</p> + +<p>And the thought came—if Giles had been there instead of Colin!</p> + +<p>It was like a wave of understanding poured over her. In a moment she +saw that she was tired of having Colin only in place of Giles. She +liked him, admired his gifts, enjoyed his conversation. But her real +want was for Giles. She wanted him, not for his mental gifts, not for +aught that he might say or do, but for himself. She wanted the strong +manly presence, the intense devotion. "Was" it devotion? Did he care +for her further than as a friend? How was she to know?</p> + +<p>Colin by comparison was nothing. Suddenly she had grown satiated with +Nature and Art, with his thoughts about both. He had fascinated her, +and he might fascinate her again; but he could not give all she wanted. +Not Nature, not Art, still less theories about either, could meet her +claims. It was love that she needed; Giles' love.</p> + +<p>To her artistic, her intellectual, her imaginative sides, Colin +appealed. But these were not the whole Phyllys. A more powerful claim +rose up and would not be silenced. Her inner self cried out for +Giles—Giles with his faults, his temper, his difficulty of expression, +his silence—just Giles Randolph as he was. When she could escape, she +went to her own room, recognising that Giles was more to her than any +other in the world. The discovery brought something of dread lest her +love should be unreturned; yet it shed a new radiance on her life. She +had not known the strength with which it was in her to love. A pent-up +flood had burst its barriers, flowing in a rush throughout her being, +and the loosened waters freshened everything they touched, glorifying +the world around. All had become beautiful. Colin had poured new +meanings into Nature and Art. But Giles had poured new light, new love, +into the very springs of her existence. Life was transformed by this +new knowledge. Even if he should never return what she felt for him, +nothing could rob her of the power of loving.</p> + +<p>Did he care? She put the question many times. A few days earlier she +had believed herself to be more to him than he was to her. But in the +light of this realisation, she saw him and herself from a fresh point +of view. His reticence made it difficult to gauge what he felt. Yet +things might be as she hoped.</p> + +<p>There was a glow in her eyes that evening which awoke hope in Colin, +and aroused Mrs. Wyverne to uneasiness.</p> + +<p>She came late to Phyllys' room, and found her at the open window, her +candle out. The old lady closed the window, sat down, and smoothed the +soft hair with unwonted tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Thee should be in bed, my child," she said, with her occasional +reversion to the old-fashioned Quaker speech. "Thee should be asleep."</p> + +<p>"Very soon, Grannie. The stars are lovely."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne spoke abruptly. "Colin Keith is a pleasant youth; but I +fear I have acted with imprudence. He and thee are friendly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very," assented Phyllys. "I like him so much. He is delightfully +artistic."</p> + +<p>"He is winsome, but, I fear, a man of this world only."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, I don't think that. He doesn't talk—men don't, you know. +They are so afraid of saying what might be taken for cant, and they +hate to make a show of goodness. He 'does' think of—that sort of thing. +I am sure he is good; truly good."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne shook a decisive head. Her rules were arbitrary, and would +not include Colin.</p> + +<p>"I should fear greatly for thy future, Phyllys, should he and thee +desire to marry."</p> + +<p>Phyllys's colour went up in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not the least chance!" she said. "We are only a sort of cousins. +Not that kind of thing at all. He would not wish it, any more than I +do."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wyverne's uneasiness was deepened, rather than mitigated.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Next day, to the astonishment of everybody, Mrs. Keith walked in.</p> + +<p>She was in York, having arrived three days earlier, and she had been +taken by surprise at the news of Colin's presence in Midfell, forwarded +from home. It was extremely wrong of Colin, just when he had been +ordered complete rest. He would suffer for it, &c.; and she had come to +see about things herself.</p> + +<p>That Colin showed gratification at her advent could hardly be said. He +was, as always, courteous; but her arrival broke into a plan of his +own. Last touches having been given to the bust of Phyllys, he was on +the point of proposing to make a cast of Mrs. Wyverne's fine old head. +Now he waited for developments.</p> + +<p>They soon appeared. Mrs. Keith was primed with a scheme to circumvent +him.</p> + +<p>The friends with whom she was staying in York—an old school-chum and +her husband—had lately bought a châlet on the borders of Lake Thun, +and had asked her to return with them for a month. She brought also an +invitation for Phyllys. Would Mrs. Wyverne spare her? Expense should be +Mrs. Keith's concern; she promised every care; the excursion would be +enjoyable for Phyllys; and for herself it would mean gain in the added +cheerfulness of a young companion.</p> + +<p>So much passed in public; and Phyllys' hopes of being allowed to go +were faint. But a few words in private settled the question.</p> + +<p>"No—not the least chance of Colin joining us," Mrs. Keith said, in +response to a query. "He is due in Scotland; and the Forsyths scarcely +know him."</p> + +<p>This induced the old lady to give in, despite Barbara's remonstrances.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_24">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A FAMILIAR HANDWRITING</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>PHYLLYS sat alone in the garden of Châlet S. Jacques, intent on the +scene before her. Ah, but it was lovely!</p> + +<p>Had she never come across Colin Keith, it would have been less to her +than now; yet the underflow of her mind was towards Giles, not Colin. +Which seemed, perhaps, ungrateful.</p> + +<p>Ten days earlier she and Mrs. Keith, travelling with Mr. and Mrs. +Forsyth, had reached this villa or "châlet," lately purchased as a +summer resort by Mrs. Keith's friends. Here they would remain another +ten days. After that, possibly, Mrs. Keith and she might move to +another part of Switzerland before returning home.</p> + +<p>The wailings of an ill-handled violin from the châlet behind disturbed +her musing. Mr. Forsyth, kindest of men, never dreamt that his tuneless +dirges could affect others unpleasantly. He was always happy, violin +in hand. So was his wife, while she could talk. A ceaseless murmur +travelled through the open window, underneath that which held the +violin. The two elder ladies had been at work for an hour, discussing +the latest fashion in toques and bodices; one of the two with her back +to Nature's sublimity, the other with eyes on her knitting. Of course +they had both looked out, and had said how pretty it was.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was content to be left to her studies of that sublimity. They +were always fearing she would be dull, with no young companions of +her own age. She laughed at the notion. Dull!—with this to look upon! +Dull!—with Giles to think about!</p> + +<p>It could hardly be called a "lawn" on which she sat. It was more like a +field, sloping downward. Two small trees sheltered her head; below the +garden lay more grass-land; then the road which skirted the lake; then +some rough wooden structures and a vegetable garden; then the lake; +then the mountain amphitheatre.</p> + +<p>Prominent in front, across the translucent blue-green water, stood a +mountain of pyramidal shape, by name the "Niesen"—a useful friend to +the neighbourhood, acting as weather barometer by the simple process +of putting on and pulling off his cloud-cap. He had slipped it on and +whisked it off three or four times this day, as if unable to make up +his mind. A range of half-cumulous clouds was creeping along the sides; +and above towered the hoary mass of the Blumlisalp, one keen-cut edge +over a dull barrier of rock glowing like a piece of white enamel.</p> + +<p>Far away to the left stood forth the three chief giants of the +scene—the mighty Jungfrau, sharply outlined, pure and snowy, with grey +hollows and shades; the white Mönch; and the rocky Eiger.</p> + +<p>Phyllys drank it all in, finding each minute some new beauty, some +fresh dent or fold, some perfect moulding, some wonderful contrast in +light and shade, some unexpected harmony of form.</p> + +<p>"One would never get to the end," she whispered; "not in years and +years."</p> + +<p>Doleful sounds ceased, and hardly had she congratulated herself, before +she found Mr. Forsyth at her side; an elderly man, scarcely taller than +herself, with eyes full of kindness and full also of anxious worry, +echoed by horizontal lines on his retreating forehead. Not that he had +anything to worry about, but that he never could resist worrying about +nothing. He suffered from nervous depression, and found chief solace in +his violin.</p> + +<p>He came with a cautious step, as if picking his way; yet when he spoke, +words tumbled fast, one upon another.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Wyverne, tired of sitting here all alone! Pretty view, +eh?—very pretty! I've been trying that tune over again—you know it."</p> + +<p>Phyllys had vainly sought to pin a name to the concatenation of wails.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't manage it yesterday. Goes better now. Just a matter of +practice. We'll try again after dinner?"</p> + +<p>And she smiled assent, though with an internal shiver at the prospect.</p> + +<p>"First-rate thought of my wife, hiring that piano. A little music, +always cheerful. Would you like a run into Thun—get tea, and come back +for dinner?"</p> + +<p>Phyllys jumped up. A "run" to any part of the lake was charming, and +in a few minutes they were off, hurrying through the village of brown +and yellow châlets, with their verandahs and overhanging eaves. It was +about ten minutes' walk to the boat-station, and they were in time for +the next steamer, zigzagging from side to side of the lake, in progress +from Interlaken to Thun. She had been to the quaint old town more than +once, but one could not go too often, and Mr. Forsyth made an excellent +conductor. They wandered through the streets, visited the castle, +admired the views, and enjoyed themselves.</p> + +<p>"Pity Randolph refuses to come out! Great pity!" remarked Mr. Forsyth.</p> + +<p>Phyllys had not heard this.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith was sure he would come. Can't understand it! She didn't +want her own son—odd, rather!—come to think of it. Bent on having +Randolph. My wife and I quite willing, of course—room enough for both. +Mrs. Keith seems to have urged it—but letter this morning decisive. +No—yesterday, was it? I've no memory. Says he has too much to do—can't +get away. Mrs. Keith will have told you."</p> + +<p>"No. Was I meant not to know it?"</p> + +<p>"She told us—spoke openly. By-the-by—that wretched memory of mine!—she +did say she wanted his coming to be a surprise. But now of course—no +matter, since he can't come."</p> + +<p>"It would have been nice if he could," she said.</p> + +<p>A shadow had fallen; for this might mean much. If Mrs. Keith had tried +to persuade Giles to join them, and had urged in vain, it looked +as if he did not greatly care to see more of Phyllys. Was he so +overwhelmingly busy that he could not spare a few days? She found it +hard to believe. He was his own master.</p> + +<p>"Getting tired, eh?" demanded Mr. Forsyth.</p> + +<p>"O no," and she roused herself. "But ought we not to go back?"</p> + +<p>He assured her there was no hurry, and they started for a fresh tramp. +She did her best to seem interested, and to laugh at his little jokes; +but the strain became severe. Soon she could not hide that she really +was tired—with a heartsickness which he did not suspect. He grew +concerned, and took her to the nearest inn, insisting on a fresh supply +of tea, though they had had some earlier. She remonstrated in vain. He +wandered into the passage, and came back, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Now how is that?" he asked, holding out a letter. "Sent to this inn, +of all places! 'To be kept till called for.' What chance that Mrs. +Keith ever would call?"</p> + +<p>Phyllys' heart gave a throb. "From Giles!" escaped her lips.</p> + +<p>"Giles Randolph?" Mr. Forsyth examined the envelope. "Now you mention +the fact, I 'have' seen his hand. Characteristic! But I say—" turning +the letter round—"if so, he is in Switzerland. The postmark is +Swiss—Interlaken."</p> + +<p>Another throb, this time of hope.</p> + +<p>"But you said he would not come."</p> + +<p>"So Mrs. Keith assured me—yesterday—or was it the day before? I'm +wretched at dates. He may have changed his mind. Though why he should +stay at Interlaken, and should address a letter to Mrs. Keith at a Thun +hotel beats me!" Mr. Forsyth passed a puzzled hand across his forehead. +"Beats me!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>Phyllys' colour was bright.</p> + +<p>"Beats me utterly!" he said a third time. Then—"Fine fellow, Randolph."</p> + +<p>"He and Colin are both nice."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes—Colin rather handicapped, poor chap. But Randolph—very fine +fellow. Good landlord—good shot—makes himself liked."</p> + +<p>Phyllys had lost her tired look, and was eager to get home. They went +to the boat-station, and caught the next steamer.</p> + +<p>"We'll have a little fun with her," suggested Mr. Forsyth, as they +mounted the hill. Phyllys smiled, full of the thought that Giles was +near—perhaps already on the way to join them. He would come that +evening. No doubt he meant to take them by surprise. On arrival, her +colour was commented on by Mrs. Keith. "Swiss air is doing you good," +she said.</p> + +<p>"By-the-by, did you say Randolph was still at home," asked Mr. +Forsyth—"not able to come out?"</p> + +<p>She glanced towards Phyllys. "I hope he may join us—but yesterday I +heard he was too busy. I have another letter to-day, saying the same." +She tapped the floor with her foot. "I don't mean to let him off."</p> + +<p>"What would you say—if he is already in Switzerland?"</p> + +<p>She looked in astonishment. "Giles in Switzerland! Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"But he must have come! He must have changed his mind,"—and Phyllys +laughed with happiness. "He is at Interlaken."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. Why are you trying to take me in?" with a suspicious glance.</p> + +<p>"We are not so unkind," Mr. Forsyth protested. "It is the oddest +thing—we happened to go into an inn at Thun, and we found a letter for +you, waiting. 'To be left till called for.'"</p> + +<p>She made a movement—and tried to smile.</p> + +<p>"I must have given the wrong address to some friend. How absurd!"</p> + +<p>"But Giles knows your address." A strong sense of Mrs. Keith's +untruthfulness took possession of Phyllys. She could conjecture no +reason for false statements, yet that something of falsity underlay the +other's last utterance was evident.</p> + +<p>"I was not speaking of Giles—of course—" hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"And this letter is from Giles. It is his own handwriting; and it has +the Interlaken postmark. Giles must be at Interlaken."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith received the envelope from Mr. Forsyth—turned it over—looked +at the postmark—muttered something indistinct—then, to the amazement of +all present, she fainted dead away.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_25">CHAPTER XXV</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>GILES OR SOMEBODY</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"MY dear, it is absolutely unimportant. You make such a fuss. I have +told you before that I have a weak heart; and I must expect attacks of +this kind. The fact is, I ought to be more careful; and these steep +hills try me. I shall get a quiet day to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith spoke in feverish accents, her lips working. She seemed +entirely unstrung. She had rallied from the faint, and had insisted on +going to her own room, carrying the unopened letter, begging to be left +alone. Phyllys, anxious and perplexed, crept in later, and found her on +the sofa. A whisper of inquiry brought remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"The attacks seem to come without cause, so I shall have to be more +particular."</p> + +<p>"Had" there been no cause—no connection between Giles' handwriting and +the swoon? Yet, why should Giles' presence at Interlaken startle her, +when she so wished him to come?</p> + +<p>"And really," she went on, "they are of no consequence, so long as I +do not over-exert myself. But I feel that I 'must' have a day of real +rest, all to myself." She sighed, as if oppressed. "These dear good +people are most kind, but I get so worn out with the perpetual talk. I +want you to help me, dear. If you could contrive to have them off my +hands for a day, it would be a mercy."</p> + +<p>She fixed troubled eyes on the girl.</p> + +<p>"I don't think they would like that."</p> + +<p>"They would not mind. I have thought it out. We will persuade them to +go to S. Beatenberg to-morrow; and at the last moment I shall slip out +of it. You must give them no hint. I hate the idea of that funicular +railway."</p> + +<p>"But—if Giles were to come—only of course you will be here, so that +will be all right."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith seemed amazed. "Giles!" she said. "I wish he would."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he will look in to-night—if he is still at Interlaken." The +other's bewildered face made her add, "The letter we brought from +Thun—don't you remember? In Giles' handwriting."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith broke into a loud laugh; then put her hand to her head.</p> + +<p>"These fainting-fits leave me so confused. Yes; now I remember. You +did say something of the kind. But, my dear, that is a mere business +epistle—from 'quite' another quarter. A man with an altogether +different name."</p> + +<p>Phyllys felt sorely disappointed; and Mrs. Keith, pulling herself up, +brought from her pocket a torn envelope.</p> + +<p>"Now you can see. Not Giles' writing at all, though I grant there is +a resemblance. One of those accidental likenesses, which have nothing +to account for them. Giles is at home still, and the tiresome fellow +seems determined not to come out. I am beginning to think—" and she +smiled—"that my best plan will be to cut short the Swiss trip, and to +take you there. Would you like to see Castle Hill again? Ah, I thought +so. I have you for a month, and I do not mean to be cheated out of any +part of it. We shall see to-morrow. These attacks leave one hardly fit +for anything but home."</p> + +<p>Castle Hill—and Giles! Had it not been for the thought of Giles, a +cutting short of the Swiss trip would have meant dire disappointment. +Things being as they were, Phyllys only hoped she did not betray too +much gladness. She lowered her eyes for an examination of the envelope; +and again the strong resemblance to Giles' writing impressed her. +Certain letters were differently formed; but the remainder she could +have declared in a Court of Justice to be his.</p> + +<p>"A mere chance likeness, you see," Mrs. Keith said lightly; and Phyllys +forebore to contradict.</p> + +<p>The proposed excursion was taken up by their host and hostess, though +not without hesitation on the score of Mrs. Keith's unfitness. It was a +shock to Phyllys' sense of honesty, when the latter cheerfully assured +them that she was "perfectly well," that "nothing would do her so much +good as a trip up the mountain," and that she was "longing to try one +of those charming mountain railways."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Next day proved fine, and Mrs. Keith went so far as to dress for the +start. Not till the last moment did she draw back, sinking into a +chair, faintly professing herself so much fatigued, that she hoped +they would excuse her. No—she would not let Mrs. Forsyth remain at +home. Rather than that, she would go, though it might mean another +fainting-fit. All she needed was a quiet day on the sofa.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly the Forsyths yielded, left her in charge of the Swiss +maids, and went without her.</p> + +<p>Not, however, to S. Beatenberg. No sooner were they on the steamer, +than Mrs. Forsyth suggested a day at Interlaken, deferring the S. +Beatenberg excursion until Mrs. Keith could form one of their party. +She had so wanted to try the mountain railway!</p> + +<p>Mr. Forsyth agreed, and it was not Phyllys' place to set them right. So +instead of landing below S. Beatenberg, they steamed to the farther end +of the lake, amid a goodly number of excursionists, though not so many +as a few weeks earlier. It was a cool autumn day, and the woods were +gay with red and gold.</p> + +<p>At Interlaken they wandered along the Barnhofstrasse, poked in and out +of shops, and picked up presents for friends at home. It was all too +smart and fashionable, Phyllys decided, and not to be compared with +the village where they stayed; yet she enjoyed it much. The Jungfrau, +solemnly overlooking the town, had not here the aspect of a white +guardian angel as when viewed from Châlet S. Jacques.</p> + +<p>"More like a lump of chalk," suggested Mr. Forsyth, and though Phyllys +repudiated the suggestion it recurred to her mind.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>One way and another the hours slipped by. Late in the afternoon they +had tea outside a shop, then went to the chief Promenade, the Hoheweg, +where they encountered English friends. Mr. Forsyth disappeared with +the gentleman of the party, and Mrs. Forsyth sat down for a talk with +two elderly ladies.</p> + +<p>Phyllys joined in for a while, then wandered a short distance, and +gave herself up to the study of the Jungfrau. No look of "chalk" now! +Something in the state of the morning atmosphere must have caused that +aspect. The mountain-mass reared its mighty head in majestic style, +and broad reaches of snow descended low like trailing skirts of white. +Higher peaks were partly hidden by drifting clouds, but one and another +appeared in turn: and each moment the mountain altered, the shapes of +rifts and hollows changing as she gazed. A clear basin of snow, for a +time visible, vanished utterly.</p> + +<p>She watched with interest the Schynige Platte, where the Forsyths had +promised to take her. In the far distance she could make out a tiny +mountain-train creeping slowly up the steep sides, carrying a minute +cloud of steam.</p> + +<p>Glancing to make sure that she was not wanted, she received a nod from +Mrs. Forsyth; and she wandered farther, getting among trees. It was +evident that her friends were in no hurry to move. Suddenly her heart +gave a throb, stopped, then beat furiously.</p> + +<p>Could it be—Giles?</p> + +<p>A big man, broad-shouldered, sat alone at a small table; his face +turned half away. The shape of his powerful shoulders; the attitude; +the manner in which he leaned his head on one hand; the grave +immobility—all indicated Giles. He seemed to be deep in thought; lost +to his surroundings.</p> + +<p>She was not near enough to make out more. She stood partly behind a +tree, gazing. Whether or not in consequence of her gaze, he turned, and +she had a glimpse of his strong sunburnt profile.</p> + +<p>"Giles!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>Why had Mrs. Keith denied his presence?</p> + +<p>But the face looked older than when she had seen him last; not thinner; +not paler; only markedly older. She almost thought his hair had gained +a touch of grey. Could he have been in some terrible trouble lately? +Was there some mystery about him, hidden by Mrs. Keith, sufficient to +account for his refusal to come to S. Jacques?</p> + +<p>It was all bewilderment; and she began to wonder if she were dreaming. +She put her hands over her eyes for three or four seconds. When she +looked again, the figure was gone.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image006" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image006.jpg" alt="image006"></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>SUDDENLY HER HEART GAVE A THROB.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>She went slowly back, in a dazed condition, questioning whether it +had been a trick of the imagination. She wished now that she had gone +nearer, to make sure. Yet, no! For if Giles were there, and chose to +avoid her presence, it was not for Phyllys to go after him.</p> + +<p>To the Forsyths she said nothing of what she had seen or imagined.</p> + +<p>On arrival they found that Mrs. Keith had retired to her room. "Madame" +had been a long time away, the Swiss girl said, when questioned. She +had twice been out in the morning, and had received two telegrams; and +then she had said that she would get fresh air on the lake.</p> + +<p>She had returned but lately—by the boat preceding that which had +brought back Monsieur and Madame and Mademoiselle. Yes, surely, Madame +had returned by that boat, for she would not all these hours have +walked about Hilterfingen and Oberhofen, not once entering the châlet.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forsyth and Phyllys made their way to the bedroom, to find Mrs. +Keith hard at work, packing. Her cheeks were flushed; her manner showed +excitement.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I went out," she said. "I thought it might do me good. My nerves +seem all to pieces, and I could not keep still. So I took the boat to +Interlaken and back—for the sake of the air. You there—too!" with a +start. "Then you gave up S. Beatenberg. What a pity! No, I did not see +you. I was—no time ashore. Just for a cup of tea."</p> + +<p>"I think you would have been better quiet," remarked Mrs. Forsyth.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. It may have been a mistake. But something in Swiss air +does not suit me. I seem to be a wreck of myself—" and she laughed +nervously. "So I have decided to go home. To start to-morrow. Phyllys +will not object—and you must not think me ungrateful. I have made up my +mind."</p> + +<p>Had she seen Giles? Phyllys all but asked the question; and then +something in that unhappy face, with its haggard flush, held her +silent. As once before, the wonder arose—"was" Mrs. Keith perfectly +sane? Could it be that her brain was ever so slightly "touched"? +Phyllys decided not to risk exciting her further.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_26">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AN UNQUIET MIND</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>NO persuasions would induce Mrs. Keith to put off her departure more +than one night. The Forsyths had a fight to gain that concession.</p> + +<p>"But I must and will have a clear day for the Schynige Platte," Mrs. +Forsyth declared to her husband. "Phyllys has been promised that +excursion from the first."</p> + +<p>She gained her point; though, probably, if Mrs. Keith had guessed what +her consent would involve, it would not have been granted. When she +was further enlightened, too late to draw back, she hotly combated the +plan, then insisted on being one of the party.</p> + +<p>Phyllys was allowed no voice. She still kept silence about her supposed +glimpse of Giles; and Mrs. Keith talked confidently of finding him at +Castle Hill. Phyllys had begun to distrust her own eyesight. If he were +at Interlaken, he would surely have appeared. If, on the contrary, +he were at Castle Hill, she could not regret going there—unless her +appearance would be unwelcome; but as she recalled the past, she could +not believe that. Her "friend" would not be untrue, though he might +never be more than "friend." She was gaining hope.</p> + +<p>A lurid sunset made them anxious about next day. Heavy clouds clothed +the mountain tops; and the Niesen had donned a dark cap and short +mantle. But the sun shone brightly over Thun, and shed crimson upon the +lower slopes and lake. Strangers could not decipher what this meant.</p> + +<p>Phyllys, an early riser, did not fail next morning. She sprang out of +bed and went to the open window, with chestnut hair falling loose over +her frilled nightdress.</p> + +<p>It was a sight worth waking for—the pale lake lying in shadow, +the pyramidal Niesen mass rising darkly beyond. Further shone the +snow-peaks of the Blumlisalp and tips of the Jungfrau range with a +silver glow from the coming sun. The tint could hardly be otherwise +described. It was not rose or gold, nor was it ordinary "cold" +silver, but a pale rose-silver, if such a colour exists. She watched +breathlessly, kneeling, lost in admiration; unknowing whether the +sight appealed more to her artistic or her spiritual self. It made her +think of Colin and his ideals. It made her think of Giles. It lifted +her heart to the Divine Source of all earthly and heavenly beauty. She +whispered her prayers softly, looking with bodily and mental eyes on +that indescribable light, while her spiritual eyes were uplifted to her +Father in heaven.</p> + +<p>Then the ascending monarch of day crushed out the delicate tinting, and +flooded heights and vales with gold.</p> + +<p>By half-past six Phyllys was down to breakfast, as was Mr. Forsyth, +but the elder ladies were later. Had they not arranged to drive to the +boat-station, they would have failed to catch the steamer.</p> + +<p>A sharp air assailed them on the lake, and Mrs. Keith looked blue, by +no means in condition for exertion. She held to her point, however, and +refused to turn back.</p> + +<p>Phyllys could have been in dancing spirits. The beauty of lake and +mountain, the charms of the coming ascent, the prospect of Castle Hill, +the hopes that her fears would prove groundless and that Giles would +be in the future all he had been in the past—these buoyed her up; +and the one wet blanket was Mrs. Keith's unhappiness. As they neared +Interlaken, she did indeed force a cheerful manner; but when they +landed her eyes were everywhere, nervously on the look-out. Phyllys +could not but notice this, could not but conjecture explanations.</p> + +<p>From Interlaken they went by train to a station at the base of the +mountain, where they entered the tiny mountain-train.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith would not be hurried, and they nearly lost their first +chance. Though late in the season, enough tourists appeared to fill +the train—but they managed to pack in; Mrs. Keith close to a window; +Phyllys beside her; the Forsyths in front, whence they could lean +back to talk. As the gradient became more steep, the engine puffed +vigorously.</p> + +<p>"Schynige Platte—not far from seven thousand feet high," announced +Mr. Forsyth, dividing his attention between his Guide-book and +Phyllys. "Subtract from that the eighteen hundred feet altitude of the +lake—leaves a respectable amount still to climb! Engine worked with a +cog-wheel—very safe—all precautions taken. Ascent lasts about an hour +and a half—or less. I beg your pardon—" at a gasp from Mrs. Keith.</p> + +<p>"I thought it lasted twenty minutes!"—in dismay.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, no. You are thinking of S. Beatenberg. This is a longer +affair."</p> + +<p>"It won't seem any time at all—there is so much to see," murmured +Phyllys.</p> + +<p>As they rose, the landscape widened by leaps and bounds. From one side, +then from the other, they gazed over a growing expanse. The Lake of +Thun lay far beneath. The Lake of Brienz had shrunk to a puddle of +greenish water. There was an overmastering sense of loftiness, as they +looked into sheer depths, across valleys, over precipitous walls of +rock falling from the very verge of the line on which they travelled. +Moat of the travellers took the journey composedly. It was the correct +thing to do; everybody did it; and nobody expected to be the worse. +To Phyllys the outlook was too wonderful to whisper of fear. But she +became aware that the lady on her other side was growing nervous, and +that Mrs. Keith trembled like a leaf.</p> + +<p>Three or four tunnels had to be gone through, and the breaking out from +each into a broader world was grand. Ascent by rail has an unromantic +sound; yet no man, climbing slowly on foot or on mule-back, gains these +marvellous upward leaps.</p> + +<p>The nervous lady fidgeted anew. "Well, one comfort is," she remarked, +"if anything 'did' go wrong, it wouldn't be a case of getting mangled +only. It would be—the end!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, don't talk nonsense. Nothing is going wrong," a man's voice +made reply.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith clutched the window, and Phyllys slipped a hand through her +arm. "It's all right," the girl said cheerily. "Nothing to be afraid +of. These trains go all through the summer."</p> + +<p>She met the haggard eyes, with a look in them which she would not +easily forget. A look of shrinking dread.</p> + +<p>"But—if it 'did'—" she heard.</p> + +<p>They stopped at a small station, and Mrs. Keith started up. Phyllys +caught her hand.</p> + +<p>"This isn't the top yet."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mrs. Keith. A little longer. We are two-thirds up," added +Mrs. Forsyth.</p> + +<p>But she dragged her hand from Phyllys, and pushed her way out. "I +must—I can't stand this any longer," she panted. "It—terrifies me! I +can't stand it!"</p> + +<p>Remonstrances were useless. She stood on the platform, her face a +mottled pallor.</p> + +<p>"I can't—I tell you, I can't—I won't!" she declared. "I haven't the +nerve for it. No use asking me. I'll never again get into a funicular +train after to-day. You are all to go on without me, and you can take +me up as you come back. I shall be all right till then. No, I won't +have any of you. I won't allow it."</p> + +<p>So imperious was her manner, that resistance was impossible. Mr. +Forsyth had sprung out, but she almost pushed him back, with +insistence, in the face of his polite desire to stay. He had to yield, +and she was left standing on the platform.</p> + +<p>Since she refused their help, all they could do was to put aside +the thought of her, and to enjoy the views. Another tunnel was gone +through; and as they emerged, the Jungfrau burst upon them in dazzling +radiance.</p> + +<p>The last station was reached, and a walk of twenty minutes took them +to the top. A party of loud-voiced Germans, who had kept up a rattle +during the ascent, now did their best to mar the solemn grandeur of +Nature. Phyllys and the Forsyths moved to a distance, where they might +study the scene in quiet.</p> + +<p>Far below, branching different ways, lay the Lauterbrunen and the +Grundelwald Valleys; and in front, from right to left, swept a range +of snowy heights and towering peaks, including the three giants daily +scanned from Châlet S. Jacques—the Jungfrau, the Mönch, the Eiger—a +lordly trio. These and other mountains of the Bernese Oberland seemed +to have placed themselves in a stately order, on view. It was a perfect +day; some clouds floating, but all the greater heights sharp in +definition. Through a binocular Phyllys could see the very crevasses in +the Grundelwald glacier, the châlets dotting the Grundelwald valley.</p> + +<p>When the time came to return, they kept a look-out for Mrs. Keith at +the station; but she was not visible. Mr. Forsyth left the train to +inquire.</p> + +<p>"She has set off to walk down," he said on return, with a lined +forehead. "Very unwise! Of course she's not equal to it. Over four +miles! I must go after her. She might have a fainting-fit."</p> + +<p>No time to discuss the question, for the train was starting. Mrs. +Forsyth could not resist a murmur of—"Really too bad!"</p> + +<p>The small engine, which had puffed and snorted on its upward way, kept +silence in descent. Down and down they slipped—winding to and fro from +edge to edge; the mountains gaining in height as they slid into valleys +between; the distant views contracting, the horizon narrowing.</p> + +<p>Nothing below was seen or heard of Mrs. Keith or Mr. Forsyth; and Mrs. +Forsyth decided on going at once to Interlaken, there to await their +appearance. It was surely impossible that Mrs. Keith could yet have +walked the whole way.</p> + +<p>The wait was a long one. Mrs. Forsyth and Phyllys had tea, then hovered +about the boat-station, till patience was exhausted. When the absent +pair drove up, Mrs. Keith, drooping and feeble, seemed not to realise +the trouble she had given. Mr. Forsyth had overtaken her not far from +the foot of the mountain, and she had been so ill as to make a halt +needful. She was barely able now to drag one foot after the other. They +helped her on board—Mr. Forsyth moving away for a talk with his wife.</p> + +<p>"Not at all grateful for my going after her, I assure you," he +murmured. "You'd have been astonished if you had seen the pace at +which she was going—before she saw me. After that, all weakness and +faintness. My dear, your friend is rather—eccentric, to say the +least! However, not a word of this. She is bent on starting for home +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Phyllys had taken a seat close to Mrs. Keith, and the latter said, "You +are a kind girl!"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you are feeling so ill. Would it not be better to put off +our journey home?"</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not. Everything is arranged. I cannot wait a day longer. +My nerves seem all to rags!"—and she tried to laugh.</p> + +<p>The laugh turned into a shudder. "Was that thunder? I have a horror of +a storm in a boat—all the iron about!"</p> + +<p>Phyllys had hoped that she would not notice. A change had developed +after the brilliant day; and lurid cloud-masses covered the summits, +broken by yellow streaks.</p> + +<p>"I don't like that. How long shall we be? An hour? More than an hour! +Ask somebody if the storm will hold off so long. Find out—pray!"</p> + +<p>Phyllys went obediently, though aware that "somebody" was not likely +to have positive information. She came back to her seat, remarking, "I +dare say it won't be much."</p> + +<p>"What does Mr. Forsyth think?"</p> + +<p>"He says it looks rather threatening."</p> + +<p>They ploughed their way, zigzagging from side to side of the lake; +and the cloud-capped heights grew more densely black. Another rumble +sounded, winning a shiver from Mrs. Keith.</p> + +<p>"If it gets worse, I shall land. I won't be stopped."</p> + +<p>But for a while the storm held off; and when it broke, she seemed +paralysed.</p> + +<p>The Niesen, always a prominent object, showed now no pyramidal form. +From summit to base it was one mass of black vapours. From within that +darkness rolled heavy reverberating peals, each louder and longer than +the last, issuing with solemn echoes from the shrouding canopy. Thus +far no lightning had been seen. The battle of forces was carried on +behind a curtain.</p> + +<p>Then a dazzling double-forked arrow leaped forth, with a crashing roar, +which drowned Mrs. Keith's scream. She clutched at Phyllys' wrist, +holding it with a force which gave pain. Mr. Forsyth came to ask if she +would go into the cabin, but she shook her head, moaning.</p> + +<p>"No, no! The boat may go down. We may all go down."</p> + +<p>Another resplendent flash, lighting up the scene with rose-colour; and +another burst of heaven's artillery. Mrs. Keith hid her face, while +Phyllys watched, fascinated. The black-clothed pyramid, the issuing +sword-flashes, the rolling peals, had an impressive solemnity, which +brought to mind the giving of the law from Mount Sinai in days of old.</p> + +<p>At a pause in the lengthened reverberations, she heard, "If only one +could—!"</p> + +<p>Phyllys slipped an arm round her companion.</p> + +<p>"If one could live the past over again!"</p> + +<p>Should she say anything? But—what to say?</p> + +<p>"Phyllys,—if death came, would God have mercy? If one had not meant—"</p> + +<p>"Had not meant to do wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is—had not intended. Circumstances sometimes—"</p> + +<p>"But circumstances never can 'make' one do wrong," the girl said +staunchly.</p> + +<p>"In the past. I mean, in the past. One can't help the past."</p> + +<p>"One may confess and try to make amends."</p> + +<p>"Too long ago."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it can be too long." Phyllys thought of Zacchaeus coming +to the Divine Giver of pardon, with "fourfold restitution" on his lips.</p> + +<p>Another dazzling sword of light; another echoing crash; and the +reverberations rolled from mountain to mountain.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith stooped forward, shaken by a sob.</p> + +<p>"But if one cannot—cannot—confess—will He have mercy?"</p> + +<p>"He knows if you really cannot. If it is for the sake of others—not +your own sake—that you don't speak." Afterwards she wondered what made +her say this. "I think one should always tell—if not publicly, at least +to some one. And then one might be helped."</p> + +<p>No reply came. Mrs. Keith remained in the same position till they +reached their station. By that time the storm was lessening, and she +walked from the boat with little help, her face averted from Phyllys. +The girl wondered—had she given offence?</p> + +<p>On reaching the châlet, a fresh effort was made to induce Mrs. Keith to +put off her journey, but she was obdurate. She meant to go; she would +go. She was fit only for home.</p> + +<p>Then, in her own room,—"Did I talk nonsense in the boat, Phyllys? +Lightning affects my head so strangely. I never know what I am saying +while a storm lasts."</p> + +<p>Phyllys looked at her with serious eyes. "I don't know," she said. "It +didn't sound at the time like nonsense."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt it was, if it makes you so terrifically grave. Well, +thank goodness, this is nearly the end. I shall never attempt another +funicular railway, and I have had enough of Switzerland. Now you must +go to bed. Most of your packing is done, I suppose. You said you would +see to it yesterday evening. That is right. I long to be safe at my +beloved Castle Hill."</p> + +<p>And the next day they started.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_27">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>RENEWED FIGHTING</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"IN the lives of most men there has been a week, at the memory of which +ever afterwards a dark cloud comes down, and makes a possibly sunny +world momentarily a place of gloom." So says that forceful writer, +"Linesman."</p> + +<p>Such a week had Giles known earlier; a week, followed by months of +pain, but in itself sufficient when recalled to bring a cloud, making +his "possibly sunny world a place of gloom." The sorest loss, the most +passionate remorse, though they may promise to shadow life's future, +do from the nature of things, in the course of time, sink into the +background, and fail to quench all hope; forming indeed a burden, yet +one to which the shoulders have grown used. But in the background the +burden still is, at seasons making itself felt.</p> + +<p>That week, the recollection of which could never grow dim, the results +of which could never cease to be, belonged to boyhood.</p> + +<p>Since then, recently, he had lived through another stringent week—in +which he had awakened to his love for Phyllys, and to the fact that +she was beloved by Colin. Which last discovery involved two other +discoveries; first, that it was his duty to yield her up; and secondly, +that he had not power to do so. In the strife, his sense of duty +succumbed before the vehemence of his love.</p> + +<p>But to be beaten is not always to be conquered. Nay, to be +twice-beaten, thrice-beaten, may still lead to victory. With human +beings generally, a defeat weakens the moral fibre, lessens the power +to resist. Yet there does exist a stamp of soldier, notably in the +British Army, with whom defeat seems to stiffen the moral fibre, to +strengthen the will, so as to render more resistless his next onset.</p> + +<p>Something of his struggle might have been visible to watching angels, +themselves unseen of men, as Giles went to and fro those autumn days. +He said nothing to anybody. It was not his way to talk about himself, +to appeal for sympathy. He fought his bitter fight alone.</p> + +<p>Not Colin, with his keen vision, not Mrs. Keith, with all her +eagerness, could penetrate the surface, could lift the covering and +gaze below. Colin might have begun to suspect, but that now he was much +away. Though one outburst of wrath had suggested a good deal, passion +thereafter had been held down, and even Colin was deceived by Giles' +calm. He spent time as usual over the management of his property, rode +and cycled, saw friends, was the busy country gentleman,—too composed, +too solid and occupied, for those around to imagine that within was a +long-continued conflict.</p> + +<p>He had been worsted. He had retreated before the foe. Then, at a +critical moment, Phyllys had been snatched away. He had time to +recollect himself, time to be confronted afresh by his resolution. He +took it up again, clenched his teeth, and—in Phyllys' absence—resolved +anew.</p> + +<p>This was not impossible, when her presence no longer enchained him, +when Colin seemed languid, and Giles could conjecture why.</p> + +<p>The thought of giving up Phyllys to another, though that other was +Colin, shook him to the core; and it was a relief when Colin started +for Edinburgh. Giles could get on better alone, thinking always of +Phyllys, yet struggling not to think of her, striving to make up his +mind that Colin should have the first chance.</p> + +<p>A fresh shock came, in the shape of a letter from the latter, gay in +tone, announcing that he had been at Midfell for a week, and had all +but finished the bust of Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"Not bad either, though I shouldn't be the one to say so!" he added.</p> + +<p>He did not write like a lover; but of course he would not. His presence +in Midfell spoke plainly enough.</p> + +<p>Wrath again had Giles in its grip. To determine that Colin should +be allowed a chance was one thing; to see Colin taking that chance, +without a "with or by your leave," was another. He could face no human +being that morning. He went off on his favourite horse for hours of +misery; galloping across fields; refusing to think; conscious that he +was once more overcome; yet aware that fresh power would dawn when he +had rallied from the blow. He returned to dinner, a sombre meal, for +Mrs. Keith was away; and so much the better. Her questions would have +made the one straw too much.</p> + +<p>At night he went out again, and paced the lanes till early morning, +getting home in time for an hour in bed, whereby he avoided comment.</p> + +<p>By post arrived a letter from Mrs. Keith, telling of her visit to +Midfell, of her plan to take Phyllys abroad.</p> + +<p>"I have a delightful suggestion to make," she wrote. "You must join us +on Lake Thun. The Forsyths send you an invitation. Write and say how +soon you can be there."</p> + +<p>He understood, for he knew her wish, a wish which too well chimed +in with his own desires. By this time he craved for Phyllys with a +consuming passion. And Mrs. Keith, for reasons of her own, was bent on +the same end. She cleared the path for him, and he had but to walk in +it.</p> + +<p>But, Colin! His past resolve!</p> + +<p>He fought the battle again. He wrote to say that he would go, and +he burnt the letter. Next day was a repetition. Another letter of +acceptance was written, and destroyed. Then he achieved a third, +declining the invitation. He sent this off, and felt that life held no +more of joy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith cannonaded him with remonstrances, and he held to his point. +He was too busy; a lame excuse; and he knew what Phyllys would think. +Too busy! He spent hours, his head on his hands, thinking only of her.</p> + +<p>Days passed thus, and a telegram arrived from Mrs. Keith, dated at +Dover, saying: "Not well, will get home this afternoon, train arriving +5.5."</p> + +<p>"In England!" Then Phyllys had gone to Midfell. Some complication must +have arisen. The plea "Not well" made small impression. He was too much +accustomed to hearing it. Mrs. Keith was not strong; but also she never +hesitated to be "not well" for a purpose. She would look ill, no doubt, +since she was a born actress.</p> + +<p>Had she and Phyllys quarrelled? Impossible. A thrill tingled through +his powerful frame. Was it possible that Phyllys might come too! He +negatived this idea; nevertheless, he told the housekeeper to have the +best spare room ready, just in case—But of course she had gone north.</p> + +<p>When the hour came he was on the platform; and as the train drew up—as +he glanced along the carriages—that tingling recurred.</p> + +<p>For Phyllys was there.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_28">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>NEW DEVELOPMENTS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>WAS this to mean fresh defeat? With victory in view, was he to be +hurled back?</p> + +<p>Phyllys to stay a fortnight at Castle Hill! He to be, day after day, +within sight, hearing, touch, yet debarred from winning her! Debarred +by his own resolve in the past; by his fresh resolve in the present! If +Colin failed, then would come his chance. But Colin would not fail. And +meanwhile, a fortnight of this agony! To make matters worse, he read in +Phyllys' face joy at their meeting. Despite Colin's absence, she was +glad to be here.</p> + +<p>Not glad only, but sweet to a degree which even he had not known in her +before. She had developed of late. He saw this, as the old Vicar had +seen it, though from a different point of view. He was conscious of +something new in her; something which had not been there. He was also +dimly aware of power; recognising as once earlier that he might do what +he would with her, Colin being out of reach.</p> + +<p>Giles was a strong man, a man of iron will, yet it might be questioned +whether his strength would be equal to this strain. There are forces +before which iron bends and snaps like tin. In her beloved presence +he was weak, and he knew it. But in that very knowledge lay safety. +Because he felt his own strength inadequate, he laid hold upon Divine +strength.</p> + +<p>These weeks of lonely battling had told upon even his powerful frame. +Phyllys noted something unusual; a weight, a haggard look, recalling +the imaginary Interlaken glimpse. Singular that he should then have +appeared to her vision as she now found him, altered and aged. Though +not indeed grey-haired, he was plainly in trouble. She had debated with +herself whether to tell him of that fancy, and the first evening she +said nothing.</p> + +<p>She was up betimes next morning, and indulged in a ramble before +breakfast. Coming back, she met him in a side-path.</p> + +<p>"This is too soon after your journey," he said. He had no choice but to +turn and walk by her side.</p> + +<p>"I'm as fresh as possible. I don't think you are well."</p> + +<p>"Quite, thanks."</p> + +<p>"I fancied something might be worrying you, like Mrs. Keith. She so +often seems worried. It's her way, is it not? But not your way!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not."</p> + +<p>"Was it not strange?—one day at Interlaken I thought I saw you. I could +have declared it to be you! And you seemed bothered then too. You've +not been in Switzerland, have you?—not even for one day!"</p> + +<p>She put the question laughingly.</p> + +<p>And he said—"No."</p> + +<p>"It was droll; for we had found a letter for Mrs. Keith, lying at a +little Thun hotel, in your handwriting. Not really, of course, but +I felt sure it was yours, and it had been posted at Interlaken. And +then—that I should seem to see you yourself there too—it was queer, as +if chance likenesses were in the air."</p> + +<p>Giles hardly followed her words. He was thinking of herself more than +of what she said. She ventured another question:—</p> + +<p>"I suppose Mrs. Keith has not some great sorrow; something that would +make her unhappy?"</p> + +<p>He showed surprise.</p> + +<p>"She gets so easily upset, and sometimes it is as if she expected +things to go awfully wrong. But you would know. I don't want to +interfere, only I have been so sorry for her."</p> + +<p>"She is excitable by nature. Nerves," explained Giles. "Nothing to +be anxious about. She could hardly have any serious trouble, unknown +to me. There is—" and he hesitated—"a tendency to exaggeration—to +exaggerated views. One must allow for that. I am sure she is not aware +of it herself."</p> + +<p>He changed the subject abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Colin was with you at Midfell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he wanted to finish the bust. It is said to be a success. He +ought to become a famous sculptor some day."</p> + +<p>"No question as to his having the gift. The doubt is, whether he has +health to use it."</p> + +<p>"Midfell suited him. He was well all the time."</p> + +<p>"Because he was happy." Giles' glance added, "Because with 'you!'"</p> + +<p>Phyllys kept silence, and in suppressed tones the other continued—</p> + +<p>"He may have a career before him. He ought to have. But much depends on +whether he marries the right wife. Sympathy in his work would mean to +him—everything."</p> + +<p>Did Giles wish her to marry Colin? Phyllys held herself in, and spoke +with indifference.</p> + +<p>"Do you think Colin likely to marry? I don't. Sculpture will always be +first with him; and a wife shouldn't come second."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you know only one side of him yet."</p> + +<p>"I've seen pretty much!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>But Giles paid no attention. He had made up his mind that something had +to be said, and he went on in the same monotonous undertone—</p> + +<p>"If he should wish to marry, there would be no difficulty as to means. +He and Mrs. Keith talk as if he were a poor man, dependent on Art. It +is not so, really. What belongs to me belongs to him. What is mine is +his. I had a feeling that I should like to say this to you."</p> + +<p>She made no remark, and he went on patiently, trying to explain—</p> + +<p>"It is not merely that we were brought up together—that we have been +brothers. It is more. Years ago I made up my mind that, whatever he +should wish, if it were in my power to give, he should have it—even +though it might cost me—might cost me—"</p> + +<p>The hesitation, the suppressed suffering, told more than he knew, let +slip what he meant to hide.</p> + +<p>She kept her face turned away, and said gently—</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see. I think it is quite beautiful of you."</p> + +<p>"Not beautiful at all. You mistake my meaning. It is a matter of simple +duty."</p> + +<p>"For you—perhaps," she murmured. "But Colin would be wrong to let you."</p> + +<p>"If you knew everything, you would not say so. I owe him all—more than +I can ever pay."</p> + +<p>They were nearing the house, and only a few seconds remained. Phyllys' +heart beat fast; for now she saw, now she knew, that Giles loved her. +But with the knowledge came a woman-like instinct to hold back, a rush +of shy reserve. She would not too quickly betray herself. She wanted +him to know that he was mistaken—that Colin never could, never would, +be anything to her. But how could she say it? He saw only a lowered +hat-brim.</p> + +<p>"It's breakfast-time," she murmured, as they reached the door.</p> + +<p>The hat-brim was slightly lifted, and he caught one tiny flash of blue +from between curling lashes.</p> + +<p>It meant—what did it mean? Giles stood motionless, white as chalk. A +rush of new hope almost unmanned him.</p> + +<p>"Phyllys—" his voice broke as on the day he had rescued her from the +bog, and when he tried to say more, he could not.</p> + +<p>She forgot herself, and looked wonderingly up, full at him.</p> + +<p>Then he too saw, he too knew—and the strong man visibly shook.</p> + +<p>The wonder in her eyes gave place to a tender concern.</p> + +<p>"You will not—misunderstand," he faltered. "I had thought—if it were +for Colin's happiness—"</p> + +<p>She unconsciously shook her head.</p> + +<p>"'He' has never given me to understand—but if it were so—A fancy of +mine, no doubt." Giles was trying to shield Colin, while yet making +sure. "It might have been right to give him the first chance—to—leave +home myself—"</p> + +<p>"Please 'don't!'" she whispered, and ran indoors.</p> + +<p>Giles did not follow. He had to meet joy as he had met pain—alone.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_29">CHAPTER XXIX</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE LOST HEIRLOOM</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IN the gallery stood Phyllys, gazing at a vacant space once occupied +by an ancestral portrait. She knew the spot, though during a former +visit her attention had not been drawn to it. Colin, under pressure +of modelling, had failed to take her round. Then had come her summons +home, with the discovery that the picture had vanished.</p> + +<p>She hardly wondered that the loss had not been more quickly found out. +The oak-panelled wall was so dark, the pictures around so resembled it +in tint, the corner itself was so much in shade,—that the disappearance +might easily go unnoticed. As she thus cogitated, a step made her turn.</p> + +<p>"Fine afternoon," remarked Mr. Dugdale. "Kathleen wants you for a +drive. She will call at half-past three."</p> + +<p>He was cool, neat, precise as always, but in his face was a glimmer of +something not often visible. He liked Phyllys as he liked few; partly +for her own sake, partly for her father's.</p> + +<p>"Swiss trip cut short in a hurry," was his next remark. "How came that +about?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith did not care to stay longer."</p> + +<p>"So I hear. Can't discover any reason."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why it was. She seemed upset—and one day she had a +fainting-fit."</p> + +<p>"Real?"—with a glance.</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite real."</p> + +<p>"She's given to nervous attacks," as if in apology.</p> + +<p>Phyllys looked towards the corner. "That picture has never been found!"</p> + +<p>"No. Extraordinary!" and he knitted his brows.</p> + +<p>"But if the thief took it—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Humbug!"</p> + +<p>"You don't think it was a thief?"</p> + +<p>He glanced round to see that they were alone, and lowered his voice. +"That's all humbug. No more a thief than I am. I'd wager a hundred +pounds it is Mrs. Keith's own doing. Don't repeat what I say. There 'd +be no end of a rumpus."</p> + +<p>Phyllys was startled, despite her own suspicions. "But why? What could +make her?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith has done many things for which reasons are hard to find. +Odd woman—always was! Never could conceive what made Giles' father give +him into her charge. Must have been demented."</p> + +<p>"'She' must?" inquiringly.</p> + +<p>He gave a short laugh. "I meant Giles' father. But she—well, you are +not far out there."</p> + +<p>"She has been a good mother to Giles."</p> + +<p>"Taken care of his health. As for the lads' moral training, it's a +marvel to me how they have turned out so well. Precept enough! But as +for example!"</p> + +<p>"What was the picture like?" asked Phyllys. She had often wished for an +opportunity to ask this.</p> + +<p>"Young fellow, in the dress of two hundred years ago. Pleasant +face—blue eyes—look of Colin. That is why she has hidden it—if she +has, which I, for one, don't doubt. Can't say this to Colin or Giles. +I'm telling you in confidence." There was in Mr. Dugdale a feminine +element, apparent at this moment.</p> + +<p>Phyllys assented. He seemed to be describing the hidden +oil-painting—the likeness of Mrs. Keith's brother.</p> + +<p>"Why should she mind its being like Colin?"</p> + +<p>"No accounting for feminine vagaries. But in this case a clue does +exist. She has always set herself against Colin's modelling—no +reason!—it's like the schoolboys and Dr. Fell. Since things are so, she +detests being told that Colin is like the young fellow in the portrait, +simply because 'he' was a sculptor—and a successful one in his day, +though not of lasting fame. Which accounts for the resemblance—not so +much feature as expression."</p> + +<p>"The spirit of sculpture in both," suggested Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"That may be! However, years ago she made up her mind that Colin should +not model; and, having made up her mind, she sticks to it like a leech. +Therefore, anything that encourages him in his love of sculpture +she hates like poison. Consequently, when she detected a growing +likeness, she banished the portrait from the drawing-room. Then, +finding attention drawn to the resemblance, she made away with it. +Bless you—no!—even she wouldn't venture to destroy it. But I haven't a +doubt—not a doubt!—she's got it somewhere under lock and key. And what +is more, I'm certain Giles suspects the same—which is why he refuses to +have the police."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he want it found?"</p> + +<p>"He doesn't want his private affairs to be the talk of the county. +Mind, he says nothing. All this is conjecture. I'm telling you +because—" and a pause—"I think you ought to know; and you might have +influence with Mrs. Keith." His look said, "You know something already."</p> + +<p>Phyllys admired his astuteness, but felt herself powerless. "It seems +such an extraordinary thing," she said. "A picture belonging to +somebody else."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale tapped his forehead with a forefinger.</p> + +<p>"Is she—really?"</p> + +<p>"That is my theory again. Nothing else explains."</p> + +<p>"Explains—?"</p> + +<p>"The muddle she makes of life. The way in which she snubs her own son, +and fawns on Giles. The fact that not a word she says can be relied +on. There's a moral twist in her. She will contradict herself a dozen +times a day, if it suits her purpose. All the same, she knows what she +is about. She's the oddest mixture I ever came across of cleverness +and—really one might almost call it semi-insanity. Only there is method +in the madness."</p> + +<p>"What sort of man is her brother?"</p> + +<p>"Jock Reeves? Never saw him. Rather a scamp, I imagine, in his +youth—banished to Australia—family pleased to get him out of the way. +So Mrs. Keith says. 'Dear Jock' she calls him. Never seems to write to +'dear Jock,' or to hear from him; and not the smallest anxiety to get +him home."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen a likeness of him?" Phyllys was picturing still the +hidden portrait, declared by Mrs. Keith to represent her brother in +theatricals.</p> + +<p>"Good while ago. Big-made, substantial fellow, rather jolly-looking—not +Mrs. Keith's style."</p> + +<p>Giles approached in time for the last words, and Phyllys said, "We are +talking about Mrs. Keith's brother. Did you ever see him?"</p> + +<p>"Just before he went out. I remember a big man, as Mr. Dugdale says, +with a hearty laugh. Very jolly, and good to us little fellows."</p> + +<p>"Not at all Colin's style!" thought Phyllys.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>She pondered much that afternoon and evening on the enigmatical ways of +Mrs. Keith.</p> + +<p>That the hidden portrait was the lost heirloom it was impossible +longer to doubt,—that it was "not," as professed by Mrs. Keith, the +likeness of her only brother, but of a young sculptor, ancestor to +Giles, who had lived two centuries earlier, and whose gift, resembling +that of Colin, had apparently developed in him something of the +same type of features and expression. Mrs. Keith's extreme dislike +to the resemblance arose, doubtless, from her aversion to sculpture +as a pursuit for her son. An illogical aversion, yet very real. +Unreasonableness seemed in her to be a leading characteristic; perhaps +connected with that touch of brain-weakness which Phyllys had begun to +suspect, and of which Mr. Dugdale spoke frankly.</p> + +<p>"A kind of brain-oddity!" decided Phyllys. "But what shoals of lies she +has told!"</p> + +<p>Then a rebound. In past days Phyllys had been weary of the little +Midfell home. She had found Barbara unendurable, had craved escape from +Mrs. Wyverne's narrow judgments. Now, in fuller understanding of Mrs. +Keith, her mind leaped back to the grandmother, with a sense of repose +in that strong solid goodness, in the certainty that she need never +fear there to find aught of exaggeration, double meaning, falsity. +She recalled, with loving respect, Mrs. Wyverne's sturdy truth and +religious devotion—a devotion lived out in daily life, marred by no +such terrible inconsistencies. Mrs. Keith made a show of religion, but +did not live up to it.</p> + +<p>At this juncture, the girl could almost have exclaimed, "Let me go back +to the old life, with its limitations, and its reality!"</p> + +<p>But other elements existed. She could never again live the old life as +in the past. In many ways she had expanded beyond it. She might meet +its limitations more patiently, because able to value more truly what +it held of real worth; yet those limitations, the spirit of narrowness, +the contracted outlook, would try her more severely than of old.</p> + +<p>And—there was Giles! She could not put Giles aside.</p> + +<p>Needless that she should, she told herself, smiling. Giles had his +faults, but he was true! There was in his character a rock-like +stability, good to lean upon. She recalled the grasp of his hand, as he +drew her from the bog, and she recognised that grip to be symbolical of +the strong upholding which might, perhaps, be hers for life should she +one day give herself to him.</p> + +<p>Midfell village with all its simplicity, the kind old grandmother with +all her honesty and goodness, could not satisfy her deeper needs. Giles +only was able, she whispered to herself.</p> + +<p>And she hardly yet realised, though in a manner she had begun to know, +that the deepest needs of her nature not even Giles could satisfy.</p> + +<p>When she went to bed she considered all this over again, arriving at +the same conclusions with respect to Giles; and dismissing Mrs. Keith +as hopelessly eccentric. It was useless to try to understand her. What +a mercy Colin had not grown-up like his mother!</p> + +<p>She was dropping asleep, letting entanglements glide away. Giles' face +came up, and she smiled. Then she forgot herself, and came to, and +floated off again, when, like a flash of lightning, an extraordinary +conjecture seized her.</p> + +<p>It was a conjecture so vivid, so startling, so far-reaching, that in a +moment she was wide awake, sitting up in bed.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Nonsense!" she said aloud.</p> + +<p>But the possibility grew. It laid hold upon her imagination. Looking +back, she saw scene after scene, heard utterance after utterance, more +or less perplexing at the time—all now met, unravelled, explained, by +this scathing suggestion—all lending support to it!</p> + +<p>"No, no, 'no!'" she said. "I'll never let myself think such a thing +again! It's out of the question."</p> + +<p>The resolve was powerless. She could not stop thinking. Again and +again that dread possibility leapt up, and "would" be faced, "would" +assert itself. It cast a lurid light on past, present, future! It made +perplexities clear. It set her head whirling.</p> + +<p>It could not be. It was too madly impossible. She said these words over +and over, but they had no force. She could not divest herself of a +growing belief that things were so. And yet, to imagine that she alone +should see, that everybody else had been blind! Preposterous!</p> + +<p>She tried to laugh. "It's a nightmare! I'll go to sleep and forget!"</p> + +<p>But sleep had fled.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_30">CHAPTER XXX</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MRS. KEITH AND HER CORRESPONDENT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>TWO or three evenings later Mrs. Keith stood at her open bedroom +window. Giles, before her return, had invited to dinner the Vicar and +Dr. Wallace. She always set herself against attentions being paid to +the doctor; but once in a while Giles put his foot down. He had done so +now, and she had to give in. Mr. Dugdale also was coming.</p> + +<p>She was in one of her restless moods; frequent moods of late. She had +dressed early and dismissed her maid, planning a time alone. When +successful, she wished she had failed.</p> + +<p>Solitude was abhorrent to her; yet she did not go down. Difficulties +had to be faced. At any moment they might assume an acute form, and it +was needful to consider how she should meet the danger. She lived on +the edge of a volcano.</p> + +<p>After years of immunity from fear, of running away from conscience, of +shutting her eyes to realities, she found herself in a net of her own +weaving. Less and less, as weeks went by, could she see her way out. +Knot after knot was being tied, so it seemed to her, by a relentless +hand. More truly, she had herself fastened those knots in the past; and +the net had ever since imprisoned her, though so loosely that she could +ignore its existence. Now that unseen hand was tightening it.</p> + +<p>She could not escape. No loophole presented itself. One mode she did +know—the mode of the "Gordian knot." But from that she shrank with +loathing.</p> + +<p>"I would sooner die!" she said, setting her teeth; and she failed to +see, as in Switzerland she had seen, what such a death must mean. She +clenched her hand. "He must not come! He shall not come!"</p> + +<p>A letter had arrived that afternoon, not in the ordinary way, +but forwarded under cover from her London bankers, being marked +"Immediate." It was written by one whom she ought to have welcomed to +Castle Hill; whom, for no fault of his own, she was determined to keep +away. The writer, in a tone of grave remonstrance, argued against this +resolve, trying to make it clear that she wronged herself and him.</p> + +<p>"He shall 'not' come!" she repeated aloud, with energy.</p> + +<p>She turned from the window, through which blew a cold breeze. There +were lights on the table; and she drew from her pocket two envelopes. +With impatient fingers she took out a sheet, found it to be the one she +did not want, and drew forth the other, which she read, not for the +second or third time.</p> + +<p>"He ought to be sure that I would not act so without reason. He ought +to understand. My motives are no concern of his! I told him it had +to be; and that should be enough. After all these years, what can it +signify? At any cost, stay away he 'must!'"</p> + +<p>Standing before the mirror, in her brocaded silk, she knew what his +arrival on the scene would mean. She saw him come in; pictured the +faces around; heard the inevitable exclamations; realised to the tips +of her fingers what would be felt, thought, uttered; and with that +vision sick terror seized her. She leant against the table, on the +verge of fainting.</p> + +<p>"I could not bear it! I would rather die. The very idea is maddening. +'Right.' But right or wrong I could not! There are things too +impossible. And after all—that 'one' false step should bring me to +this! One step, which seemed at the time nothing! To have one's life +ruined! It would be cruel."</p> + +<p>She put up both hands to her throat, where a lump seemed to rise. +If she sometimes pretended to be ill, she also suffered much from +overwrought nerves. Crimson flushed her face, fading into pallor, and +noises sang in her ears.</p> + +<p>"Am I going off again?" she muttered. She had presence of mind to take +the letter, which had fallen from her shaking hand, and to thrust +it into her pocket. The second letter she put mechanically into its +envelope, then it dropped from her grasp, and she staggered to the +armchair, lying back with shut eyes.</p> + +<p>A slight tap made her reply, "Come in."</p> + +<p>And Phyllys appeared in a new frock of pale blue, a present from Mrs. +Keith. There was a touch of constraint in her manner, though she tried +to be as usual. She would not accept, but could not forget, that +strange midnight suggestion.</p> + +<p>"I want you to see how nice my dress looks," she said. "But you are +ill."</p> + +<p>"A touch of faintness. Not much. Some eau-de-cologne, please."</p> + +<p>Phyllys went to the dressing-table, beside which lay on the floor an +envelope. She picked it up and laid it on the table, with the addressed +side uppermost: "Colin Keith, Esquire." Evidently meant to go by the +evening post. Then she poured the liquid on Mrs. Keith's palm, and +dabbed it behind her ears.</p> + +<p>"You must keep quiet," she said. "It is early still. Nobody will +come for twenty minutes." But contradicting herself—"Why, there is a +carriage already."</p> + +<p>She went to the window.</p> + +<p>"Not a carriage, but a railway fly."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith sat upright, and faintness vanished. If this were the worst, +she would brace herself to meet it.</p> + +<p>"Colin has come!" exclaimed Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! He is in Scotland."</p> + +<p>"I saw him plainly, in the light from the door."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith leant back, shaking like a leaf. The momentary terror, +courageously met, had been awful; and reaction was severe. She had felt +certain that the deferred possibility of years, nay, of decades of +years, was a present reality.</p> + +<p>Another tap at the door was accompanied by a slow—"Mother here?"</p> + +<p>Phyllys' "Yes" was prompt, and he entered before Mrs. Keith could speak.</p> + +<p>"You did not expect me," he said. "Just in time for dinner." He kissed +Mrs. Keith on a cheek coldly presented, and Phyllys wondered if he felt +the lack of welcome. He said a kind word about her apparent exhaustion, +though, as Phyllys could not help noting, it aroused no anxiety. Then, +when she would have moved, he murmured, "Pray don't go. I'm off."</p> + +<p>As he passed the dressing-table, he saw the envelope addressed to +himself, and took it. "Save the postman that trouble! From Giles," he +remarked, and drew the sheet out, as it happened with the fourth page +towards himself. "No!" in surprise. "I could have declared it to be +his writing. Oddly like!" He turned to the first page, and a singular +expression came.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing there?" Mrs. Keith asked irritably.</p> + +<p>"This is yours; not mine," and he came nearer. "You must have put it by +mistake into the wrong envelope."</p> + +<p>"What?" The word cracked out like a pistol-shot. She jumped up. "What +are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>He placed the letter in her hands. "I saw the address, and took it—but +it is for yourself. I suppose you have another for me."</p> + +<p>She snatched and thrust it into her pocket; then turned upon Colin a +look not to be forgotten. It seemed to be the concentration of hate.</p> + +<p>"How dare you meddle with letters of mine?" she demanded furiously.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. I thought it was mine."</p> + +<p>"And of course you have read it."</p> + +<p>She could not face those quiet eyes.</p> + +<p>"You do not really think so. I saw the signature, and that it was to +you."</p> + +<p>"Nothing more?"</p> + +<p>"Is not that a needless question?"</p> + +<p>She turned away, and said passionately, "I might be left in peace this +one half-hour!"</p> + +<p>Without another word he went, followed by Phyllys, who, in the passage, +could not resist a glance of sympathy.</p> + +<p>He said in an undertone, "Please forget. She means nothing."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she can't help it."</p> + +<p>"There's a good deal of nervous excitement," he said evasively.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is—perhaps—her head?"</p> + +<p>"Giles and I have long thought so. People are apt in such cases, as you +know, to turn against those who are nearest. This is between ourselves."</p> + +<p>Phyllys, as she moved away, wished that she could have believed the +same.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_31">CHAPTER XXXI</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>GILES AND HIS HOPES</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE dinner, kept up to the mark by Mr. Dugdale, went off as small +dinners commonly do.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith was well-dressed, but she could not have been complimented +on her looks. Her face was pale with a spotted pallor, drawn, and +lined. Colin noted her appearance as unusual. His eyes travelled often +in her direction, and his gaze showed only concern; but the concern +terrified her.</p> + +<p>Giles observed no difference, for his mind was occupied elsewhere. +Since the first morning he had been much with Phyllys, yet he could +not flatter himself with having made great way. For Colin's sake, as +well as his own, now that he had gathered the other's supposed quest to +be hopeless, he would fain have brought matters to a point. Phyllys, +however, was in an "elusive" mood; entirely charming, but by no means +to be promptly won. She held him at bay and fascinated him, at one and +the same time.</p> + +<p>Colin's return was unexpected. He had meant to stay in the north +longer. The avowed cause, something to do with modelling, did not +satisfy Giles, who suspected Phyllys to be the true reason. He seemed +to be in good spirits, but looked ill, as always after travelling. +Phyllys ascribed his looks to his mother's reception, which reception +now held in her mind a new and sinister meaning. That midnight +suspicion haunted her.</p> + +<p>Small-talk had not been included in Giles' composition; and the Vicar +did not love chit-chat; while the Doctor was uncomfortably conscious of +his hostess' dislike. But Mr. Dugdale kept the ball going.</p> + +<p>Not long after Mrs. Keith and Phyllys left the table, they were joined +by Colin; and when he appeared, the elder lady walked off, leaving him +alone with the girl—an unusual move on her part, but she could not +longer face his scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"Have you come straight from Scotland?" Phyllys asked. "You look +awfully tired."</p> + +<p>"Dining-room atmosphere. No—I slept at York."</p> + +<p>He seemed indisposed to talk, and she left him mercifully alone; but +soon there was a murmured—"What brought the Swiss plan to grief?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith wanted to get home."</p> + +<p>"Any reason?"</p> + +<p>She decided that Mrs. Keith's son had a right to ask, and she related +to him, as to Giles, about the letter found at Thun, her supposed +glimpse of Giles at Interlaken, and Mrs. Keith's fainting-fit. He +listened with interest.</p> + +<p>"I see you connect fainting-fit and letter."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keith said it was not that."</p> + +<p>"She must have advice. If one could contrive it, a London specialist."</p> + +<p>"A specialist for—?"</p> + +<p>"Brain—" very low.</p> + +<p>"You think that explains all?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not up to thinking anything definitely this evening." Then came a +change of topic, and Phyllys found him to be speaking of Giles. "One +of the best fellows that ever lived," he said. "Honestly, I believe +there's nothing in the world he wouldn't give me if he could!"</p> + +<p>Phyllys' reply was impulsive. "Yes. He said so. 'At any cost!' I +wondered what he meant. He said he owed you so much."</p> + +<p>She was aware of a drawing back. "Unfortunately the debt lies the other +way."</p> + +<p>"Giles must know," she insisted. "He told me he never could repay +what he owed to you. He did not explain—and of course it is not my +business." But it might be her business one day, she thought, if things +came about as seemed not impossible.</p> + +<p>"He likes to put things strongly. Sounds effective. Don't make too much +of it." Colin's tone was evasive. "Some boyish escapade in his mind."</p> + +<p>"It didn't sound so."</p> + +<p>"Giles was talking nonsense."</p> + +<p>Was he? Phyllys knew him to be a man not addicted to careless speech. +What he had said he meant.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Colin did not wish to be questioned further, for he moved away.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Giles was still a prisoner in his own dining-room. The Vicar and Dr. +Wallace had plunged into a discussion, and, like most men not possessed +of the faculty of small-talk, when they did set forth upon the waters +of a debate, they floated far. Their host had to sit it out as best he +might.</p> + +<p>When at length freed, he found Phyllys alone with Mrs. Keith, and not +till the end of the evening did he come across Colin, lying on the +library sofa.</p> + +<p>"Here—by yourself!" he said involuntarily. "Your head?" He shut the +door and came near, looking down on the pale chiselled face. "What +brought you back so soon?"</p> + +<p>"Erratic disposition. If the moulding won't do!"</p> + +<p>"You meant to stay longer."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—yes. Why don't you try conclusions with—" and a +pause—"Phyllys?"</p> + +<p>He was smiling with his most detached air. Giles remained grave.</p> + +<p>"How long have you known?"</p> + +<p>"Lately. For a time I was not sure."</p> + +<p>"You think—there is hope for me?" He stood upright, waiting in suspense +for the reply. Few looking on would have guessed the greater force of +will and character to belong to that slight recumbent figure.</p> + +<p>Colin laughed. "As if you didn't know! Go ahead, and don't +shilly-shally! That's my advice. Speak out at once."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I will."</p> + +<p>Giles went to his little sanctum, and Colin turned his face from the +light, bearing pain quietly. Not pain of body alone. Giles had won his +way earlier to victory through defeat; but in Colin's case there was +no defeat, and no man knew of his strife. He loved; and at one time he +had hoped; but when he read what Phyllys was to Giles, he drew back. He +would not stand—if he might—in the way of Giles' happiness.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_32">CHAPTER XXXII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A POSSIBLE COMPLICATION</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>ONCE more at her open window, gazing, not at dim fell-outlines against +a starry sky, but into the darkness of a Midland garden, with ancestral +trees under a clouded heaven, knelt Phyllys.</p> + +<p>Another thought had come, another suggestion, touching her more acutely +than the first.</p> + +<p>That earlier flash of light on Mrs. Keith's past, lurid in aspect, had +been a weight upon her spirits, the supposition burdening her with +a fear lest one day it might be her duty to speak out. Still, she +was with Giles; she was sure of his love; she felt confidence in his +rectitude; she knew that, whatever might happen, he was dependable. +Nothing, she had told herself, could shake that security.</p> + +<p>And she had not dreamt of this new doubt.</p> + +<p>The other suspicion had struck at the root of much in her future; but +it had not affected her relations with Giles, had not threatened her +happiness. This, if true, would sweep away the foundations of all that +made for earthly joy.</p> + +<p>If Giles went, everything went.</p> + +<p>Hitherto no thought of blame to him had occurred. He was the +unconscious partner in another's evil deed; no less ignorant than the +rest of the world. Provisionally she had condemned one person, hoping +that her conjecture was mistaken; seeking for extenuating circumstances +should the conjecture prove true.</p> + +<p>But if Giles were implicated, if for years "he" had acquiesced, there +could be for him no extenuating circumstances.</p> + +<p>Recalling her chat with Colin, she glanced to an earlier conversation +with Giles, and words recurred spoken of Colin:—</p> + +<p>"He and Mrs. Keith talk as if Colin were a poor man, dependent on +Art. It is not so, really. What belongs to me belongs to him. What is +mine is his . . . You mistake my meaning. It is a matter of simple +duty . . . Years ago I made up my mind that, whatever he might wish, +he should have it—even though it might cost me—might cost me—You would +not think so if you knew everything! I owe to Colin all—more than I can +ever repay."</p> + +<p>He had spoken this earnestly—from his heart. And Colin could say he had +been talking nonsense.</p> + +<p>Then the new conjecture came, dagger-like—</p> + +<p>"'Did Giles know?'"</p> + +<p>Colin did not. No such suspicion had occurred to him. But was Giles in +ignorance?</p> + +<p>"What belongs to me belongs to him! What is mine is his! . . . If you +knew everything! . . . I owe to Colin more than I can ever repay!"</p> + +<p>Some boyish escapade to win words like these from a man of Giles' +stamp! The explanation would not hold water. Another lay only too +ready. Colin could make the assertion in all honesty; but Phyllys knew +that Giles had not talked nonsense, had not alluded to some boyish +folly. He had meant every word. He had not intended her to understand; +but she did understand. She saw the whole, with daylight clearness.</p> + +<p>She laid her face on the window-sill, clutching it in her distress. +"Giles, you too untrue!" she whispered, and scalding tears fell.</p> + +<p>Then the thought of her own future; the all but certainty that he would +ask her to be his wife. How could she? Marry a man whose life was a +lie, whose career had been one long fraud, who for years had connived +at that which stabbed the very soul of honour, nay, of common honesty!</p> + +<p>"If" things were so! But it might be a mistake. His words might bear +some different interpretation. Even though her first surmise should +prove correct, "he" might have had no hand in it, "he" might be +innocent. She resolved that, without ample proof, she would hold him +incapable of such conduct. She would wait for further light; but she +would not allow him to propose until she knew.</p> + +<p>She would have to go home. She could not stay here, in hourly +intercourse, loving and knowing herself beloved, unable to meet his +advances. It would be hard to go, but from every point of view it would +be safer.</p> + +<p>With her early cup of tea was brought a letter from Barbara, the +opening sentences of which read like a response to her resolution. Mrs. +Wyverne disapproved of Phyllys being at Castle Hill without leave.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "If you care to know what I think, I say you ought to come back at +once," tartly wrote Barbara. "You ought to consider grandmother's +feelings. She looks quite worried, and we shall have her ill, at this +rate."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>The sharp words glanced aside, scarcely heeded. Phyllys welcomed the +letter as helping her out of difficulty. At any cost—and the cost +would be severe—she felt that she must put off giving Giles a decisive +answer. She must allow no chance for a private talk. In view of +Barbara's former telegram, she could not feel anxious; but the words +would serve as a plea. To her dismay there was a postscript—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "After all, you can't come at present. Ben Lane is ill with scarlet +fever, and Grannie will not hear of having you. So we must wait."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>This made a complication. Phyllys went down to breakfast, pale, +"distraite," unlike herself.</p> + +<p>Afterwards she wrote an impulsive note to Mr. Hazel, asking him to +bring about her recall.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Don't tell anybody, please," she begged, "only if you could have me +telegraphed for, it would be best. They are so kind here; still, just +now I ought to get away, and I can't tell you why. Please help me."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>She ran with the note herself, to catch an early post, and wondered +whether she had asked her kind old friend to do a thing impossible.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," aroused her from a dream, and she found herself looking +at Colin. "Giles was hunting for you. He is called off for the day on +business—awful nuisance for him. Would you like to see the cast of your +head? You've not been to my studio yet."</p> + +<p>She laughed. "Considering that you came home last night—"</p> + +<p>"I forgot. Come now, if you have nothing better to do."</p> + +<p>Phyllys complied, relieved to hear that Giles was out of reach. +Anything to gain time.</p> + +<p>The bust was on a pedestal, near that of Elsye, side by side with +that of Giles. Phyllys noted the latter fact. She stood gazing at the +successful reproduction of her own pretty outlines.</p> + +<p>"Grannie would love to see it some day."</p> + +<p>"You like it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Didn't I say so? But I'm no judge."</p> + +<p>"Some day if you will sit to me again, I'll do another for Mrs. +Wyverne."</p> + +<p>"Like this?"</p> + +<p>"Too much to ask! It might be better—or worse."</p> + +<p>"You could not make a copy, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I'm no good at copying."</p> + +<p>"And if you took me a third and fourth time—they would all be +different."</p> + +<p>"Yes. If you sat to a class of students, and a dozen heads were +modelled, no two would be the same. Taken from the same Phyllys, at the +same time, under the same conditions—several might be good likenesses, +yet all would differ."</p> + +<p>"Curious," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Each modeller sees with different eyes—according to his own capacity +for seeing, and his own mental make. What we see is always in part a +reflection of what we are in ourselves. A dozen artists copying you +would see each a different Phyllys—all to some extent the true Phyllys, +but no two the same. The Phyllys that I see is not the Phyllys that +Giles sees. The Giles whom I see is not the Giles whom you see."</p> + +<p>He was interesting her with his old power; and his words sent her in +recollection to a chat with the old Vicar of Midfell.</p> + +<p>"It's like the light on different surfaces," she murmured; and a word +from Colin drew a fuller statement.</p> + +<p>"That is just it." He grasped the thought instantly. "Different +surfaces give forth what they are able to receive—what, in common +language, they can 'see.'"</p> + +<p>"Then, what one 'sees' one seems to others."</p> + +<p>"That practically is the outcome."</p> + +<p>"And people blame one another for not seeing more."</p> + +<p>"Whence sprang the persecutions of the Middle Ages. The soil was for +ever trying to smother the water, and the water to drown the grass."</p> + +<p>"We don't persecute now."</p> + +<p>"No. Modern martyrdom with us is a sorry armchair business. But we +belabour one another with hard words—for not being able all to see +Divine Light in the same fashion."</p> + +<p>"'You' don't say hard words of others, even when you don't think like +them."</p> + +<p>He smiled, and murmured—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"Shall one like me—<br> + Judge hearts—like yours?"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>The response in her face made him turn to a table and open a small +book, pointing to the page. She read—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"Time was when I believed that wrong<br> + In other to detect<br> + Was part of genius all a gift,<br> + To cherish, not reject;<br> + Now better taught by Thee, O Lord,<br> + This truth dawns on my mind,<br> + The beet effects of Heavenly Light<br> + Is—Earth's false eyes to blind."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>She murmured, "Ah!" Colin's quotations always seemed to be just the +right thing.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_33">CHAPTER XXXIII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>COMING TO THE POINT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>GILES had resolved to follow Colin's advice, and difficulties +strengthened that determination.</p> + +<p>All one day he had to be absent. Next morning he found himself eluded. +He was aware of a change in Phyllys. She seemed constrained: no longer +flushing with joy to see him. His hopes sank low; but he would not wait.</p> + +<p>After luncheon she retreated to Mrs. Keith's boudoir, and busied +herself with fancy work. Presently she glanced up—to find Mrs. Keith +gone, and Giles in her place.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to rush away, and he wasted no time. Before she could +be sure whither his speech tended, he had offered her himself and all +that he had. She whispered. "Please don't!" but the petition was vain. +He had begun, and would finish. There was no outpouring. He never used +twenty words, where ten would do. Yet, while saying little, he conveyed +abundant meaning—pleading in short vehement phrases.</p> + +<p>"Give me hope, Phyllys!"—for her face was almost hidden. "One word!"</p> + +<p>That averted face struck a chill.</p> + +<p>"Have I spoken too soon? Phyllys, tell me! This cannot be a surprise."</p> + +<p>Still she would not or could not speak. The silence was more than he +knew how to endure.</p> + +<p>"It is life or death," he said hoarsely. "Life without you 'is' death. +I did not know, till I saw you, what it was to live. Give me hope—if +not now, for the future."</p> + +<p>She had drawn her hand away, and he took it again! "Phyllys, my +darling! My darling!—If you knew what you are to me! One word."</p> + +<p>But when she lifted her head, she was joyless and pale, the cheeks +drenched with tears.</p> + +<p>"I 'can't!'" she said with a sob.</p> + +<p>"Cannot—love me!"</p> + +<p>"I can't say anything."</p> + +<p>"You want time. Dearest, I will wait as long as you like. Only give me +hope."</p> + +<p>"No." She mastered herself. "It can't be. Not now."</p> + +<p>"But—when you have had time. When you know me better. I can wait; if I +may hope."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. O I don't know. Don't ask me, please."</p> + +<p>He sat beside her, dazed and pained.</p> + +<p>"Please—try to forget."</p> + +<p>"Forget you! Never!"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image007" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image007.jpg" alt="image007"></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>THAT AVERTED FACE STRUCK A CHILL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>He kept her hand and she did not draw it away.</p> + +<p>"My darling, what can this mean? Not that you do not care for me! That +you don't feel you might some day—"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell. Perhaps—but not for years."</p> + +<p>"But why wait? Every day is a year till you are mine. Why wait—if you +think you might learn to love me! Would it take long?"</p> + +<p>She burst into such heartbroken tears that he could not misunderstand, +and joy leaped into his face. "My Phyllys! My own! You do love!"</p> + +<p>She put him off with both hands. "No, no, no! I can say nothing! It is +impossible. You must not think of me. I shall go home, and you must +forget."</p> + +<p>"Never! I am bound to you for life—till death—beyond death! There is a +love which death cannot touch. My love for you is that sort. It will +live while I live—in this world or in a dozen other worlds."</p> + +<p>A faint wonder passed through her mind. If her surmise were true, if +indeed his was a life of fraud, could he cheerfully speak of death? +But he was a man; of course he could. He would carry out his deceit +consistently.</p> + +<p>Her heart rebelled anew. It could not be! He was "not" that sort! She +would not, did not, believe it. Through all doubts and suspicions, +how she loved! How she longed to give herself over to him! Even—with +this risk, to take him. But she could not marry one whom she might not +respect. There was nothing for it but to wait.</p> + +<p>"You must not think of me," she said, and she stood up. "I can't say +more. Some day, perhaps, if you should want it still, I might be able +then; not now. And you are free."</p> + +<p>"Free! But this is awful. Free till when?"</p> + +<p>She could only sob. He took a sterner tone.</p> + +<p>"You have not treated me fairly. You have given me reason to hope."</p> + +<p>"I know," she whispered. "And if I had seen—"</p> + +<p>"Then you thought you could. You did not see earlier—this that stands +in the way. It is something new."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Since when?"</p> + +<p>She made no reply.</p> + +<p>"I cannot conceive what obstacle exists, unless—Phyllys, do you 'not' +care for me?"</p> + +<p>He said the words masterfully, and she was again silent. To give a +decisive "Yes" or a decisive "No" seemed to be equally out of the +question. He gathered a grain of hope.</p> + +<p>"One thing at least you will allow. I may speak again. How soon?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not for a long while, please!"</p> + +<p>He caught her hand, and covered it with kisses.</p> + +<p>She burst into fresh tears, and hurried away.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_34">CHAPTER XXXIV</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A FLARE-UP AND ITS SEQUELÆ</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>LITTLE more was seen of Giles that afternoon. But distressed though he +was, he could not be called hopeless; for at least he knew with almost +certainty that his love was returned. The obstacle, whatever it was, +might be cleared away. He was unable to regard Phyllys' refusal as +decisive.</p> + +<p>Meeting her alone an hour later he said gravely—</p> + +<p>"May we go on as before—no marked change. I will not worry you. But we +are cousins still—friends, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>She gave him a grieved glance, for it was hard to have to check him, +and acquiesced.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith was in one of her highly-strung conditions, unable to keep +still. Phyllys wondered if something fresh had occurred. She was +incessantly getting up to pace the room, to gaze out of the window. +Even when the autumn day had drawn in, she still kept pulling aside the +heavy curtain, looking into the dusk.</p> + +<p>So strange was her manner that Phyllys was fain to question +anew—"'Could' she be right in her brain, or had long trouble upset the +mind's balance?"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Colin had been all day invisible. Not fleeing from the pain of seeing +Phyllys; that was not his mode. He would have met her this day as the +day before, would have talked and made himself agreeable, without a +sign of what it meant to himself.</p> + +<p>But he had in trouble a resource denied to less fortunate mortals. +For weeks he had gone without power to model. Now, suddenly, in the +thick of victorious strife, a "new idea" had come with its flash of +compelling force. In the silence of night it declared itself, taking +him captive.</p> + +<p>Phyllys or no Phyllys, the new idea would not be denied. Sadness +fled before it. In the absorption of shaping his vision through +plastic clay, all else was forgotten or was remembered as a dream. +From early morning till five in the afternoon he scarcely left his +modelling-stool. Food was brought, and he swallowed or put it aside; +messages were disregarded; friends wishing to see him were sent away. +Nothing on earth mattered but to put into form, while the power lasted, +this coinage of his imagination.</p> + +<p>Hours flew as he worked, and when he stopped it was not from mental +inability, but from physical exhaustion.</p> + +<p>Resisting the impulse to fling himself on the sofa, he went to the +drawing-room, wondering what others had been after. Their existence +looked tame compared with his own. Still, he did remember Phyllys, and +even murmured to himself, with an odd smile, that though she could +never be his, he would have "this" still.</p> + +<p>"All alone," he said as he went in.</p> + +<p>Phyllys answered composedly. "Yes; Mrs. Keith had something to do +upstairs. How tired you are!"</p> + +<p>"Where's Giles?"</p> + +<p>"He had to go out."</p> + +<p>One swift glance deciphered her.</p> + +<p>She poured out tea and brought it to him. It had been an endless +day with her, not flying on wings as with him. She was glad to have +anything to do.</p> + +<p>Colin thanked her, refused eatables, drank the tea, and leant back, +passing a hand over his face.</p> + +<p>"Are you wise to work so hard?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It's the essence of wisdom."</p> + +<p>"Not—really!"</p> + +<p>"If one doesn't capture notions when they come, they—go!" he said +tersely.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I mustn't ask what the notion is."</p> + +<p>"Something in low relief—historic. Too early a stage yet for words."</p> + +<p>"But you see it yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It's in the clay. You only have to set it free for other people."</p> + +<p>"That's my aim."</p> + +<p>"It always seems to me—ought you to talk?"</p> + +<p>"It seems to you—?"</p> + +<p>"Art with you is such a reality."</p> + +<p>"It 'is' a reality."</p> + +<p>She would have liked to carry on the subject, but it was kinder to +leave him quiet, and she went to the window in Mrs. Keith's fashion. An +exclamation all but left her lips at the sight of Giles under a great +cedar near. It was Giles; she made out the lines of his solid figure, +and pity welled in her heart. She knew how miserable he was, and it was +she who had to make him so. If she might but comfort him! Tears came, +and she stayed where she was, seeing nothing through the mist. When it +cleared, he was gone.</p> + +<p>Colin divined that she was in trouble, but he asked no questions, and +when she returned, he did not seem to notice her face.</p> + +<p>"Giles is there," she remarked. "I suppose he is coming in."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith's voice sounded faintly in a long scream, shrill and drawn +out like that of some wild animal in a trap. Colin was on his feet and +in the hall before a word could be spoken, Phyllys flying after him. +From the floor above came cries of fire and a smell of burning. Thither +rushed the two, followed by butler and footman. Through the shut door +of Mrs. Keith's bedroom issued low moaning.</p> + +<p>The door was locked—a strong door, not easy to burst open. Colin flung +himself against it, without success. He beckoned to the men; but before +they could act in concert, the key was turned from within, and a big +man emerged. Wreaths of smoke poured out, and darting flames were +visible. He carried the helpless form of Mrs. Keith, having flung a wet +towel round her face.</p> + +<p>"Giles!" whispered Phyllys.</p> + +<p>He must have gone to the front of the house, and have climbed in at +the bedroom window over the porch. As this explanation flashed up, she +recalled having seen there a light ladder.</p> + +<p>"Take her—sharp!" He thrust the limp lady into her son's arms. "Not +burnt—frightened. Water, quick—plenty of it!" in peremptory accents. +"Keep this door shut, or you'll have the house in a blaze. Hurry, men; +not a moment to lose!"</p> + +<p>He banged the door to, and could be heard tearing down curtains within, +while butler and footman rushed for cans of water, and Colin half +dragged his mother to another room. Phyllys followed, disturbed by +fears for Giles. Colin delayed a few seconds to assure himself that +Mrs. Keith was not burnt, then asked, "Will you look after her? I must +go. Send for Dr. Wallace if needful."</p> + +<p>"Yes; don't wait. Giles may want you."</p> + +<p>She found plenty to do, even with the efficient help of Mrs. Keith's +maid. For some time the rescued lady was only half conscious, and when +she revived, nervous terror overpowered her, causing renewed faintness.</p> + +<p>Then Colin again made his appearance, used up and white.</p> + +<p>"Do sit down," urged Phyllys. "Is the fire out?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." He leant against the chimney-piece. "Much wrong?" with a glance +towards the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Only upset. Is anything burnt? Anybody hurt?"</p> + +<p>"No one, luckily. Good many things burnt. We have been within an ace of +something much worse."</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"There was an open box between bed and window, and a pile of clothes on +the floor, which had caught first. They made a bonfire, and the breeze +from the window must have carried the curtains within reach. Bedding +pretty well destroyed—and all drapery in ashes. Two minutes more and +the woodwork would have been in flames. I don't understand why she +didn't give the alarm earlier."</p> + +<p>"Is Giles there still?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say. I've been filling cans at the cistern—sending the men to +and fro. The room is swamped; more damage from water than even from +fire, I suspect."</p> + +<p>He made his way to the sofa, and asked—</p> + +<p>"Better now?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith caught his hand.</p> + +<p>"Colin, will you please attend to me? I can't get anybody to listen," +she said fretfully. "Where is Giles? I want to see him. They tell me I +must not go to my room, and I must go."</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Keep quiet for a time."</p> + +<p>He took a chair by her side, and inquired, "How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know. How can I tell? It was all horrible confusion. +I had put a candle on the floor, just for a moment—and the things must +have caught. I was arranging—something—in the box. I didn't notice +anything wrong, till there was a roar, and the whole pile had blazed +up. I just rushed to the door, and it wouldn't open—and I forgot I +had turned the key, and thought I was locked in and should be burnt +to death. I must have lost my senses, and when I came to, I was on +the floor, and the room seemed full of smoke and flames. I don't +know whether I screamed. It was all horrible. I seemed to be going +off again, and then somebody lifted me, and I heard Giles speak. But +I don't feel sure of anything except those flames everywhere." She +shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Was it that box in your cupboard, ma'am?" asked the maid, evidently +curious.</p> + +<p>She bit her lip. "Yes, I—it was something I wanted to find. You asked +me if you could get a ruffle out."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, and you said the key was lost."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but last night I found it again—and I had a fancy—" She broke +off. "Colin, I don't want people to meddle with that box. I won't have +it. There are things of my own in it—things I don't choose to have +pulled about. I must go and see."</p> + +<p>She was starting up, but the light touch of his hand restrained her. +"Not now. You must keep quiet, and the room is not in a state for you +at present. I'll see to anything."</p> + +<p>"The box is to be put back into the cupboard 'immediately'—just as it +is—nothing in it moved or taken out. I won't have it meddled with."</p> + +<p>"That is easily done." He would not suggest that the contents probably +existed no longer.</p> + +<p>Phyllys made her escape, and they went together to the once pretty +bedroom, now a scene of desolation. The smell of fire was strong; +curtains and cretonne coverings had vanished; blackened remains of +burnt material lay about; and water had been flung in streams over +walls, floor, and furniture. In the centre stood Mr. Dugdale, surveying +the wreck.</p> + +<p>"'You' look considerably the worse!" he remarked to Colin.</p> + +<p>Colin paid no heed. He was shoving an open and fire-blackened box into +the cupboard. But it was empty.</p> + +<p>"Everything burnt, I suppose," he said to Phyllys. "No need to say so +yet—only excite her."</p> + +<p>"What has become of the fellow who rescued your mother?" demanded Mr. +Dugdale.</p> + +<p>"What fellow? Giles carried her out of the room."</p> + +<p>"Giles was not here till later. Says so himself. I'm told it was +a stranger—on his way to call. By the time anybody had leisure to +notice him, he was like a sweep, and he went off to make himself +presentable—told John he would come later. One or two seem to have +mistaken him for Giles."</p> + +<p>"Oddly enough I did—but it was a mere glimpse."</p> + +<p>"His voice was like," murmured Phyllys.</p> + +<p>Colin left the room, and Mr. Dugdale, moving to examine the carved +bedstead, a valuable piece of furniture, badly charred, uttered an +exclamation.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" Then—"Didn't I say so?"</p> + +<p>He stooped to lift a framed picture, which seemed to have been put +aside, leaning against the wall. He held it up, gazing hard, and +Phyllys waited.</p> + +<p>"It's—IT!" He turned towards her a black-framed antique portrait in +oils. She saw a fine delicate face, with familiar blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"'Well!'" uttered Mr. Dugdale, as if words failed him.</p> + +<p>Phyllys put a grave question. "Is that the lost picture?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>It was also the concealed painting, declared by Mrs. Keith to represent +her only brother, Jock Reeves.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_35">CHAPTER XXXV</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE OTHER MAN</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>NOTHING could keep Mrs. Keith quiet. She was unable to rest. Twenty +minutes after Colin had left, she dismissed her maid, declaring herself +well, and went to the scene of the conflagration, only to find the door +locked. Extreme anxiety to know whether the hidden picture had escaped +observation oppressed her; but she dared not make direct inquiries. She +knew that the dresses on the floor had been consumed; but she also knew +that, when the things caught fire, a thick woollen shawl still covered +the picture, and her hope was that it might have been left undisturbed. +She bitterly regretted now the fancy that had seized her to take one +more look at the portrait.</p> + +<p>If indeed it had been found, her role would be to profess ignorance of +its presence in the box. Somebody else, not she, should bear the blame. +She would not risk asking for the key of the door, but made her way to +the library, where others were gathered, discussing the event of the +day. Colin remonstrated with her for being about, putting her gently +into an armchair, and Giles tried to turn the subject, seconded by +Phyllys. Mr. Dugdale surveyed her with critical glances.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful woman!" he said to himself. "Brass enough for anything!"</p> + +<p>Yet she, like they, found it difficult to speak on any other topic but +the fire. The dread which weighed upon her nailed her to it.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it is a marvel I was not burnt to death," she said. "Giles +was so quick—if he had not been there, I must have been killed—perhaps +the whole house burnt down."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately I can't take credit," remarked Giles. "I should like to +discover who my 'doppel' can be."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith was talking still, but she stopped. "'Not' you! How odd! I +certainly thought—but I was too terrified to see, and the smoke was +stifling."</p> + +<p>"Sensible fellow, whoever he was, to throw a soaking towel round +your face! First step everybody should take at a fire," observed Mr. +Dugdale. "I'm told he had a pretty determined voice."</p> + +<p>"Giles' voice," murmured Phyllys.</p> + +<p>"If he was my build, probably a coal-heaver!"</p> + +<p>"O no—a gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"I wish he had stayed to be thanked."</p> + +<p>"John tried to make him, but he was in such a state, he said he would +look in later. Not hurt—only blackened," added Mr. Dugdale. "We owe him +something for his energy. Three minutes' delay might have made all the +difference."</p> + +<p>Enter the stout butler, composed as always, but with curved eyebrows of +intense amaze.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman is here, sir, that got in at the window. He asks to see +Mrs. Keith."</p> + +<p>"Bring him in. We wish to thank him," spoke Giles.</p> + +<p>Fear seized Mrs. Keith. The thought might have occurred earlier, but +for the bewildering effects of her fright. She rose, and put out +protesting hands; but all eyes were turned to the door, and she sank +back, knowing that it was too late. With more than usual emphasis the +butler gave forth—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jock Reeves!"</p> + +<p>Solid of figure and heavy of step, in walked an elderly, but most exact +reproduction of Giles. It was Giles in form, Giles in bearing, Giles +when he spoke in voice—but Giles as he would become years later, more +stout, with streaks of grey. Phyllys knew him instantly as the "Giles" +of Interlaken.</p> + +<p>He stopped, looked round, and smiled, as if in expectation of a welcome.</p> + +<p>Nobody spoke. The circle seemed stricken dumb. Giles, Colin, Mr. +Dugdale, Phyllys, were as if petrified. The three men knew not what to +think. Phyllys read confirmation of her midnight suggestion. Mrs. Keith +hardly breathed. This was the moment that had hung before her as an +awful possibility through years.</p> + +<p>Feature for feature he was Giles Randolph. And—his name was Jock +Reeves. Brother to Mrs. Keith; uncle to Colin; no relative, not the +most distant, of Giles.</p> + +<p>He did not seem embarrassed by his reception, perhaps ascribing it to +insular shyness. He cheerfully accosted Giles:—</p> + +<p>"How d' you do, Colin? I've taken you all by surprise," with a jolly +laugh. "You and I might be son and father! Glad to find my nephew so +perfect a chip of the old block. Well, Cecil, my dear, I made up my +mind to take the bull by the horns. Lucky I did and was at hand! You'll +have guessed from my letter what I meant—eh?"</p> + +<p>He addressed himself anew to Giles.</p> + +<p>"I've put up for a good while with your mother's fantasies, Colin; but +really, you know, it was getting beyond a joke! After a quarter of a +century at the antipodes to be kept at arm's length from one's kith +and kin—no reason but a fad! Couldn't stand it any longer, and that's +a fact! So I thought I would see for myself what it all meant. I was +in the garden, debating whom to ask for, when I saw a glare and heard +Cecil shriek—and the quickest way was over the porch. I'm pretty active +still—luckily. The fire was blazing—not three seconds to spare. Then +of course I stayed to help, and when we had put it out, I was as black +as a crow, and went to the inn, where I'd left my bag. Now I've come +back—to see my sister and you young fellows. Not done wrongly, I hope?"</p> + +<p>Giles murmured a negative, though the last words had been spoken to +Colin.</p> + +<p>"You, of course, are Randolph?" He placed a broad hand on Colin's +shoulder. "About three feet high when I saw you last. No mistaking you +for anything but a Randolph! Not the athletic type. You're the exact +image of your uncle Jem—died early, you know. Well, Cecil, I hope you +forgive me for not carrying out your eccentric instructions!"</p> + +<p>So far he had talked carelessly, in Giles' voice, though with a +"jollier" intonation. But the silence made itself felt. He paused.</p> + +<p>After these years of unquestioning acceptance, in one moment light had +flashed upon all three men, vividly, as with Phyllys before, casting +a lurid glare upon past, present, future. No doubt the way for such +illumination had been prepared. Many a perplexity, put down to Mrs. +Keith's "oddity," now rose with convincing power. Mr. Dugdale's eyes +expanded, and for once words failed him. Colin's face grew a shade more +ivory-like. Giles flushed darkly crimson, whether with guilt Phyllys +could not determine; and by comparison she cared for nothing beside. +If "he" were true, if "he" had been in ignorance—all else signified +little. The silence was brief, measured by seconds, yet it seemed long. +To Mrs. Keith it meant an age of anguish!</p> + +<p>For the worst had come. The blow which for twenty-seven years she had +used every effort to avert, was fallen. At another time she might +have carried matters with a high hand, might have tried to prove the +likeness accidental. But the fire and the shock of her brother's +appearance had shaken her nerve, and she could neither speak nor move. +In previous imaginings of this scene, the one thing that she had not +thought of was—silence. Astonishment, reproaches, exclamations, she had +expected. The silence was more awful. Would it never end?</p> + +<p>Colin broke it. In soft slow tones, dragging more than usual, he +informed the newcomer—</p> + +<p>"You are making a mistake; pardon me. I am Colin Keith. That is Giles +Randolph."</p> + +<p>The other spoke his incredulity by a laugh.</p> + +<p>"It is true," chimed in a deeper voice. "'I' have always been Giles. +'He' has always been Colin." The form of expression betrayed his +thought.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear fellow! You don't bamboozle your uncle in that style! Not +quite!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale indulged in a whistle; an act so exceptional that it +showed his state of mind. A cry from Mrs. Keith was smothered in her +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>More deliberately still Colin repeated, "'I' am Colin Keith, your +nephew. This is Giles Randolph."</p> + +<p>Reeves turned upon his heel with a gesture of disdain.</p> + +<p>"I don't fathom your object in trying to take me in. But, I promise, +you won't succeed. Look here!" He placed himself beside Giles, opposite +the long mirror—both tall, substantial in make, upright, with red-brown +complexion, straight features, and blue eyes dragged downward at the +outer corners. Giles' sombreness was his own; otherwise the two were +moulded after one model.</p> + +<p>"Coincidence! Humbug! Look at us, and tell me so again! I believe," +and he glanced round once more—"I believe you mean it. You are not +humbugging me! But how you can have been taken in passes comprehension. +Look there!" He pointed to the mirror. "Does it need telling? This is +my nephew! You—" grasping Giles' arm—"'you' are Colin Keith. That other +is Randolph! It is written in your faces—branded there! Mistake! No +mistake is possible. Is 'that' what you have been up to, Cecil?"</p> + +<p>She shivered under the accusing voice.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Is that it?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dugdale made a move. He went to a corner of the room, brought +thence an oil-painting, and held it beside Colin. Hardly more +remarkable was the resemblance between Giles and Mr. Reeves, than the +resemblance between Colin and this Randolph ancestor.</p> + +<p>"See?" demanded Mr. Dugdale. "Now we know why it has been hidden!"</p> + +<p>"Now I know why I've been treated like a pariah!" muttered Reeves.</p> + +<p>Giles strode across to Mrs. Keith, and she cowered before him.</p> + +<p>Phyllys' heart bounded with joy; and then came self-reproach that she +could be so happy when another was so miserable.</p> + +<p>"Will you please to tell me the truth, Mrs. Keith? Am I—or is +Colin—your son? Is my name Randolph or Keith?"</p> + +<p>She shrank lower, till her bowed head rested on her knees; and in that +shame-stricken form they read the answer. But he repeated—</p> + +<p>"My name, if you please! Randolph—or Keith!"</p> + +<p>And as if the word were dragged from her, against her will, she moaned, +"Keith!"</p> + +<p>Then she straightened herself, and made a feeble effort.</p> + +<p>"I—I—couldn't help it," she stammered, and she laughed hysterically. +"They—they—got mixed and I—I—when I found it out—"</p> + +<p>"Mixed!" uttered Reeves scornfully.</p> + +<p>One low murmur, "Mother!" had been heard from Colin.</p> + +<p>But the crushing shame, the overwhelming distress, of Giles' look, drew +all eyes, silenced all lips. He stood like a statue, with folded arms +and bent head.</p> + +<p>"I meant—I meant to tell," gasped Mrs. Keith. "I-I never meant it to go +on!"</p> + +<p>"And it has gone on! You have let it go on, all their lives! Colin +for Giles! Giles for Colin! Though you are my sister, I say it is +'scandalous!'"</p> + +<p>Reeves stopped.</p> + +<p>Phyllys' hand was on his arm, and a soft voice whispered, "Please +don't! Is she—quite like other people?"</p> + +<p>"You don't understand—you can't!" Mrs. Keith spasmodically wailed. "It +was—a mistake—a mistake—a mis—"</p> + +<p>The strain became too great. She burst into a storm of hysterics and +had to be carried from the room.</p> + +<p>"I believe that girl is in the right," muttered Reeves. "Most +charitable view to take, anyway—poor thing!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_36">CHAPTER XXXVI</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE COIL IN ITS BEGINNING</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>SOME twenty-eight years before the date of this tale James Randolph, +the then owner of Castle Hill, with his wife, spent a winter in the +south of France, being ordered there for health. At the same place, +staying also, was his brother-in-law, Geoffry Keith. Keith's first +wife, the sister of James, had died years earlier; and his second wife, +"née" Cecil Reeves, was an attractive young woman.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Randolph and Mrs. Keith became warm friends. Then, unexpectedly, +Geoffry Keith died, leaving his widow totally unprovided for. Her +child, Colin, was born before arrangements for her future could be +discussed, and the Randolphs saw that she had everything she needed.</p> + +<p>Six weeks after the birth of Colin Keith, Giles Randolph was born; and +less than a month later Mrs. Randolph died. Her husband, distracted by +the blow, decided to travel in the east. He implored the handsome young +widow to take pity on his forlorn little child, and she responded with +open arms.</p> + +<p>"I shall be gone at least three years," he said, after explaining that, +so long as she had charge of the boy, she should have annually the sum +of eight hundred pounds. "By-and-by we must arrange something for your +future, but I have no heart now for business. If you need more, write +to Mr. Penrhyn. My boy must have the best of everything."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith remained where she was till spring, then took the babes to +Switzerland. She loved the Continent, and Randolph had left her free to +follow her own devices. Mr. Penrhyn ran out to inspect the child, and +wrote a good report to the father. "A pretty intelligent little chap, +slight and pale, but healthy," he said.</p> + +<p>Randolph never had this letter. An attack of fever carried him off, and +Giles was an orphan.</p> + +<p>Mr. Penrhyn already held the reins of government at Castle Hill. He was +Giles' guardian, but no question existed about leaving the little boy +where his father had placed him.</p> + +<p>A second winter was passed in the south of France, the baby-boys +flourishing. When spring arrived, they were about sixteen months old, +bonny blue-eyed children—Giles slim and active, Colin sturdy and robust.</p> + +<p>On account of gaieties which she did not like to miss, Mrs. Keith +remained imprudently long in the south, and then she was met by the +great temptation of her life; the fiery testing of will and principle +which comes sooner or later to most, though with some it is spread, +diluted, through many years, with others is concentrated into one +tremendous pull. It came, as such trials often do, just so shaped as to +make a fall easy.</p> + +<p>Cecil Keith had not trained herself to be habitually true in word and +deed, neither was she a woman of high integrity. James Randolph had not +discovered this.</p> + +<p>Giles, always sensitive to heat, failed in health, and was ordered to a +cooler climate. Mrs. Keith started, travelling by easy stages for the +sake of the little invalid; and when a day or two later the nurse fell +ill, she was left behind. Mrs. Keith, feverishly anxious, would wait +for nothing, but hurried on—perhaps too fast, for Giles grew worse. +When two more stages had been accomplished, he sank so rapidly that +she summoned a local German doctor, who told her all hope was at an +end—Giles was dying.</p> + +<p>He promised to call again in an hour or two; and she sat beside the +bed, watching the small changed face, realising what this meant to +herself. Giles dying, and the responsibility hers! For her own pleasure +she had stayed in the south, when she ought to have gone north; and +though it might be called only an error in judgment, she would be +blamed.</p> + +<p>Worse still—if Giles died, her income ceased. While he lived, she was +comfortably off, and if he should grow to manhood, she might expect +not to be left in the lurch. But his death meant the stoppage of her +income. The estate would pass to a distant relative, and Mr. Penrhyn +would be powerless.</p> + +<p>She shrank with bitter dread from the thought of grinding poverty, and +then came the temptation. At first a mere suggestion, almost formless, +but it grew into shape. Why not transpose the boys' names? Why not put +Colin for Giles, and Giles for Colin? If the little one recovered, +the names could be reversed. If die he must, why should not her boy, +as Giles, enjoy the wealth which otherwise must pass to strangers? It +would mean ease for herself and him. And it need not be for always. +Some day she would put things right—would slip out of it. She did not +pause to consider how this might be possible.</p> + +<p>The change looked simple. No one here knew her or the boys. Their nurse +she could get rid of, sending a month's wages by post and dismissing +her. Except Mr. Penrhyn and Mr. Dugdale, nobody from home had seen the +children, and they not for months. Little ones alter so much in the +first year or two that the exchange would never be detected. And if +Giles got well, it would not last. It was a precautionary step only, in +view of what might happen.</p> + +<p>To the German doctor she had not mentioned that Giles was not her +child; indeed, she recalled speaking of him as "my little boy." As to +names, no difficulty existed. She had grown into the way of calling +them "Mop" and "Top," seldom by their true names, and she could soon +teach Colin to know himself as "Giles." It was all too fatally facile.</p> + +<p>She did not look ahead, did not realise what the burden on her own +conscience would be, but simply faced the present emergency, simply saw +"wealth" and "poverty" thrown into the balance.</p> + +<p>For an hour she wavered, and on the doctor's return she had not +consciously made up her mind. But she had been playing with evil +possibilities, and when he asked in German whether the two were twins, +she found herself claiming the sick boy as her own, talking of the +other as "her charge."</p> + +<p>Terror then seized her. She had committed herself to a course of +deceit, and no man could foretell whither it might lead.</p> + +<p>Yet, when the doctor called a third time, she made no sign, took no +step to undo what she had done.</p> + +<p>All night the child seemed to be dying, but with morning there were +tokens of a rally, and as hours passed this strengthened. The doctor +would not believe himself mistaken, and still foretold a collapse, but +he proved to be wrong. A young English doctor, Wallace by name, passing +through the place, was called in to give a second opinion, and his was +hopeful. He insisted upon a trained nurse, and telegraphed for one +known to him. Mrs. Keith would have given much to avoid both doctor and +nurse; but two or three English residents, hearing of a countrywoman in +trouble, had called, and they arranged the whole, giving her no choice.</p> + +<p>Of course doctor, nurse, and new acquaintances all believed Giles to +be Colin, Colin to be Giles. The lie once told had to be repeated, and +would have to be repeated, times without number.</p> + +<p>At length the boy was pronounced out of danger, and Mrs. Keith found +herself in a terrible position. It might be weeks before the little +fellow could be moved. Moreover, soon after first arrival, she had +written to Mr. Penrhyn, mentioning the severe illness of—not Giles but +"Colin." She had woven a web around her own feet, and one way only of +escape lay open, the way of confession.</p> + +<p>To a proud nature, like hers, confession of such a deed seemed to lie +beyond possibility.</p> + +<p>She decided to wait, to see later what could be done. If the child grew +well and strong, he must have his rights. In a few weeks she would get +away from everybody, and would reverse her own work. Meanwhile, all she +could do was to let things drift—a fatal policy!</p> + +<p>The boy's recovery was tedious, and he clung to his new nurse, +turning fractiously from Mrs. Keith. Mr. Wallace stayed longer than +he had intended in the neighbourhood, and both he and the German +doctor insisted on the child remaining where he was. Then Mr. Penrhyn +appeared, and saw the children under their new names. He was not an +astute man, and though he remarked how differently they had developed +from what he would have expected, no suspicion entered his mind.</p> + +<p>After this, reversion to the old order became a hundredfold more +difficult, especially when Mr. Penrhyn, with new determination, +insisted on the boy being brought to England and having a home near +Castle Hill. Since he was guardian, Mrs. Keith dared not resist. It was +evident that he no longer trusted her wisdom, after the mistake she had +made in remaining so long in the south.</p> + +<p>And still she said to herself that it was only for a while—that in time +all must be put straight. Some way would open. Some opportunity would +turn up. Speak now she "could" not! Shame herself in the eyes of her +little world she "would" not! She did not see how perplexities would +thicken, how her little world would widen, how explanation would become +more impossible.</p> + +<p>Thus soothing her conscience with the thought of "by-and-by," she +became in a manner used to the state of affairs, though by fits and +starts she underwent much misery. At seasons the deceit—the wrong to +one child, the false position of the other—seemed awful beyond words. +Then again for weeks she would acquiesce with a dull content, trying to +persuade herself that things were just as well so, since Colin—the real +Giles—was far from robust, and Giles—the real Colin—was vigorous in +body and mind.</p> + +<p>The little one's severe illness had altered him. In their infancy, +though of different make, people had often said that the two might be +taken for brothers. Nobody now spoke of them as alike, and this added +to the extreme difficulty of reversion. No one who had seen them since +that illness could be a second time deceived.</p> + +<p>To make matters worse, the young doctor, Mr. Wallace, who had been +called in to see the boy, took the practice at Castlemere, and +thenceforward was always at hand. Perhaps it was hardly surprising, +though he was not responsible, that Mrs. Keith detested him.</p> + +<p>Thus coil within coil she was bound, and she drifted on till all idea +of restitution was put off to a dim distance. Things were thus; and +thus, she told herself, they had to remain.</p> + +<p>In early days she had not been worried by fear of family likenesses. +That came later, when she saw "Colin" fast expanding into a +reproduction of the Randolph ancestor, inheriting the gift which she +loathed, because she knew it to be a Randolph characteristic; when, +too, she saw, year by year, her own son, known as Giles Randolph, +growing into an exact copy of her brother, Jock Reeves, like in figure, +in feature, in manner, in voice, even in handwriting. So marked was the +latter resemblance that for years she had insisted on letters from her +brother being addressed to her bankers', and forwarded to her under +cover. Jock Reeves seldom wrote more than once a year, being a bad +correspondent; and he had given in to the "whim," not troubling himself +to oppose it.</p> + +<p>But when he came home, and discovered that for no imaginable reason +he was forbidden to present himself to her son or to Giles Randolph, +matters became serious. She and her son were his only living relatives, +and he had looked forward to being much with them. He was well off. He +had planned spending the remainder of his years with her.</p> + +<p>He had not written to announce his return to the old country. On first +arrival in London, he learnt from her bankers that she was abroad, and +that any letter coming from him was to be forwarded to a Thun address, +there to wait till called for—a precaution doubtless taken because +he usually wrote at about this date, for her birthday. Forthwith he +travelled thither, took up his abode at Interlaken, sent a few lines +to the address specified, and awaited a reply. That he had not long to +wait was due to Mr. Forsyth's accidental discovery of his letter. It +conveyed to Mrs. Keith her first intimation that the brother, whose +advent she dreaded, was close at hand; a very "real" fainting-fit being +the result.</p> + +<p>A telegram from her next morning appointed an immediate meeting at +Interlaken; and the outcome of this interview was that he found himself +a tabooed individual, hysterically ordered never to show his face at +Castle Hill, or to make the acquaintance of his nephew and his nephew's +friend.</p> + +<p>He demanded reasons in vain. For a time, he submitted, then came to the +same conclusion as others—that she was "queer in the top-story;" and he +decided to go to Castle Hill. If he should find the nephew and Randolph +to be of her mind, he could but "sheer off."</p> + +<p>With his appearance was levelled to the ground in one crash a structure +of deceit, built up through twenty-seven years.</p> + +<p>They had not been, could not be, happy years. They were shadowed by a +perpetual dread. Hundreds of times she had bitterly regretted her own +mad folly. But no way out of the tangled web had presented itself, save +the one which she refused to face.</p> + +<p>She did, indeed, keep in her mind a thought of final confession. +Just at the last, when she had lived the life she preferred, when +everybody would pity her, when she would not have to face earthly +consequences—"then" she would speak out. It did not occur to her that +she might not then be able to speak out, except in moments of fright, +such as during the storm on the lake; and the impression made was wont +to pass quickly.</p> + +<p>More often she tried to think that it did not really matter; that +Giles was quite as happy under the name of Colin; that his delicacy +of health made him unfit for the position so ably filled by her son; +that practically he had all he needed, since if he named a want it was +supplied; that, after bringing up her own boy to ease and wealth, she +would wrong him by speaking out. The latter was inconsistent with her +proposed dying confession; but Mrs. Keith was not consistent. This way +or that way she always reached the same conclusion, that the fiction +must be continued.</p> + +<p>One aim she had long had—to bring about a union between "Giles" and +Phyllys. "Colin's" health was fragile. He might not be long-lived; and +Phyllys stood next in succession. Should "Colin" die unmarried, the +estate would by right pass to her; and if she were "Giles'" wife, she +would then possess her own. It would matter little that she seemed in +the eyes of the world to do so through her husband.</p> + +<p>The incessant strain had told upon Mrs. Keith's health; and as time +went by, hysterical tendencies amounted to something beyond hysteria. +There was, no doubt, as more than one believed, a touch of "brain" in +her excitement, in her powers of tortuous self-deception.</p> + +<p>All these years, when recoiling with horror from the thought of +exposure, the deepest dread in her mind had been lest Giles—her own +boy, her Colin—should despise his mother. Anything rather than that! +"His" contempt she could not endure.</p> + +<p>But the look that broke her down, the look in those sombre blue eyes, +with their drooping corners, which she loved, was not disdain. It was +the overpowering shame, the bitter sorrow, that touched her heart; for +she, his mother, had brought all this upon him, and she knew how her +tale must look in the sight of the one being for whose sake she could +almost have died. Not quite; a woman of her calibre dies—quite—for +nobody. Self always ranks first. Still, she did love him passionately; +and when she thought of her little child's clinging arms, and realised +that she might have kept his loving trust in ever-growing measure to +life's end, she could have cried with one of old, "My punishment is +greater than I can bear."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_37">CHAPTER XXXVII</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>READJUSTMENTS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MRS. KEITH hardly even attempted to regain self-control, but sobbed +herself into a stupor, followed by sleep. Not till the morning did +she again see her son; and no human being learnt the details of that +interview. She came out of it subdued, humbled, softened; for the first +time with a dawning of real contrition. Giles' deep distress, his +patient acceptance of his new position, his forbearance towards her, +made a profound impression upon one whose thought had always been for +self. Now, viewing half a lifetime of deceit with her son's eyes, she +was shamed to the heart.</p> + +<p>A more difficult interview had to follow. She had promised to send for +the other Colin—the true Giles—not denying that she had to ask his +pardon. But this was infinitely harder. She did not love Colin as she +loved Giles—for the avoidance of confusion it is better to use still +the wrong names. From his childhood her knowledge of the great wrong +done to him had caused a hardness and bitterness of feeling, against +which she honestly fought, but which had too often mastered her.</p> + +<p>To humble herself before her own son was one thing; to humble herself +before Colin was another. Subdued and softened though she was, when he +came in, another spirit rose up.</p> + +<p>He murmured a slight greeting, took a seat, and waited.</p> + +<p>"Giles wished," she began, and the words stuck in her throat. "I—I—know +what you must feel, of course," she muttered hurriedly. "But I meant it +for the best."</p> + +<p>He made a gesture of acquiescence, gravely polite. Thus far he +had said little, but had gone about with his look of "apartness" +intensified, as if he were studying events from some outside region, +with greater interest in their psychological aspect than in their +bearing on himself. The change of relations was not less bewildering +to him than to Giles, though met with outward calm. He did not pretend +indifference; he had no thought of shirking his new responsibilities; +and acutely as he felt for the real Colin, he had thus far rather +implied than expressed sympathy. The fever of modelling possessed him +still, and his one longing was to get away from everybody, though no +one would have guessed the craving from his manner.</p> + +<p>Silence lasted, and those clear compelling eyes almost forced Mrs. +Keith to lift hers. She knew his power, and resisted it.</p> + +<p>"I've tried—tried to be—fair to you," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you have, Mrs. Keith—as fair as possible, under the +circumstances."</p> + +<p>The use of her surname sounded strangely.</p> + +<p>"Of course I know how you must feel," she went on, swallowing something +down—was it distress at the thought that "he" would be her "son" no +longer? Pain in that direction was unexpected; yet, after twenty-seven +years, hardly to be wondered at.</p> + +<p>"I shall leave Castle Hill at once, as soon as I can arrange where to +go. Giles says the same. It doesn't matter—where?" She found herself in +danger of a breakdown.</p> + +<p>"I think it matters very much."</p> + +<p>"No. Giles agrees. He was—very good to me!" and her eyes filled. +"He says neither he nor I will be a burden on you—and we have been +talking of plans. I shall not trouble you many days. Of course I +know—exactly—all you feel!"</p> + +<p>"You are sure!" he said gently.</p> + +<p>She had to face his eyes. Resistance collapsed. She was obliged to +look, and the pain and pity which she found there took her by surprise. +She flushed, paled, trembled.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is nothing to lose a mother?" he asked. "You have been +a good mother to me, as well as to Giles."</p> + +<p>She burst into a passion of tears, touched to the quick. The words +which Giles had urged her to speak were now poured forth. "I am +sorry—indeed I am. It has been misery! Always knowing—always dreading +to be found out! Any moment I would thankfully have told—only I never +could—never had courage."</p> + +<p>"It would have been happier for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Will you ever forgive me?" she entreated brokenly.</p> + +<p>He took her hand, not kissing her as he had been in the habit of +doing, but with chivalrous compassion. Giles' distress had stirred her +intensely, but this went farther.</p> + +<p>"So wronged—so wronged!" was all she could sob.</p> + +<p>"You have wronged Giles more than me. All these years you have deprived +him of his mother."</p> + +<p>She clung to his hand sobbing, and even bent her face to kiss it. "How +you can be so good to me! I don't deserve it! I thought—I thought—you +would hate and despise—"</p> + +<p>"You will never think so again."</p> + +<p>"If only I had known—if I could have guessed—I would have spoken out +long ago." Her lips were again on his hand, when he tried to draw it +away. "Colin, you 'have' been a dear son to me—all the while—and I—and +I—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think we have said enough?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes—perhaps—no use saying more. Only—I do believe now that some day +God will forgive me, too—now you and Giles have been so good. Do you +think—perhaps He will?"</p> + +<p>Colin bent and kissed her brow, as if he had been her son still. "Is +Christ less merciful than man?" he murmured.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>An hour later Giles was on his way to the library, to write necessary +letters. He was oppressed by a dazed sense that in no corner of the +house had he a right to stay. He was homeless, a waif astray on the +waters of life. The shock to him had been tremendous, the upheaval +of feeling immense. As yet he had been hardly able to think of aught +else—even of Phyllys—though in the background of his mind existed +a heavy consciousness that he could no longer hope to win her. All +his life he had used another's wealth. He had now to make his way, +to support his mother, with no profession, no adequate means of +subsistence.</p> + +<p>A few significant words had been spoken by Colin: "You have often said +that what was yours was mine. This only means the same, reversed—that +what is mine is yours."</p> + +<p>But Giles could not allow such generosity on the part of one whom he +had—unwittingly—long and deeply injured.</p> + +<p>It was no light matter for one of his proud nature—he had inherited his +mother's pride together with the Reeves' temper—to step in one moment +from the position of benefactor to benefactee; to pass from the landed +country gentleman to the impecunious adopted brother. It tried him +beyond words. There was indeed one phase of the question which might +have brought gratification; the fact that he would give up everything +to Colin. But this was more than balanced by all that Colin had lost +through him in years gone by.</p> + +<p>He stood in the hall, thinking, on his way to the library. Mrs. Keith +had to leave. That was beyond debate. Not that Colin would not forgive, +but that she had forfeited all right to stay. And the sooner the better!</p> + +<p>He too must depart, must bid farewell to the broad acres which he had +held to be his own, must wander forth, "not knowing whither he went." +That at least was clear. He had harmed Colin enough. "Time he should be +quit of me and mine!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>Opening the library-door, he was met by a silencing gesture. Colin lay +asleep on the sofa, and Phyllys had been bathing his forehead. She +retreated with Giles to the small ante-room.</p> + +<p>"His head was so bad," she whispered. "I found him here, after he had +been with Mrs. Keith, hardly able to speak. But he won't hear if we +talk softly." She had something to say, and she went straight to the +point. "I'm so sorry, Giles. If you could know how sorry! So ashamed of +myself!"</p> + +<p>He supposed her "sorrow" to mean sympathy for him in his changed +position. The "ashamed" brought perplexity, though he only said, with a +melancholy smile—</p> + +<p>"You have to learn that my name is not Giles—that I am Colin Keith."</p> + +<p>"So difficult to believe!"</p> + +<p>"More than difficult. I find it all but impossible to believe that any +one—" he stopped. "And she—my mother!"</p> + +<p>"What a life hers must have been! And how extraordinary that it was +never found out!"</p> + +<p>"Too wildly improbable!"</p> + +<p>"I have suspected—lately."</p> + +<p>"You!" A deep flush overspread his face. Was this why she had refused +him—because she foresaw that he might be a poor man? The conjecture +no sooner arose than he crushed it down. He could not think unworthy +things of Phyllys. That she could think unworthy things of him would, +to his mind, have seemed equally impossible.</p> + +<p>"I had the fancy. It explained so much that one couldn't understand. +But that isn't all. That wasn't what I wanted to tell you," she went +on, penitent and abashed. "Something much worse. Giles, I—I was +afraid—that perhaps 'you' knew!"</p> + +<p>"Knew what?"</p> + +<p>"What she had done," very low. "That you were—not really Giles +Randolph."</p> + +<p>"You believed 'I' knew! 'I'—a party to the fraud! Good heavens!" and he +looked at her in consternation. "You don't mean it!"</p> + +<p>"It was horrid—horrid of me! But I—couldn't understand. Please forgive!"</p> + +<p>"You could think me capable!"</p> + +<p>She broke into a sob, tears dropping.</p> + +<p>"What can have put such a notion into your head? Good heavens!" he +repeated, dazed and scandalised. "You knew me so little!" He seemed +more grieved than angry.</p> + +<p>"I didn't—oh! I didn't really," she sobbed. "It was only what you +had said yourself. I never could have dreamt such a thing, but for +that—never! But I couldn't forget—'couldn't' understand."</p> + +<p>"What did I say?" He spoke gravely, even with sternness.</p> + +<p>She faltered some of the utterances which had so weighed upon her mind. +"I ought to have known better. I ought to have been sure of you," she +said sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"Then—this was why—!" he murmured.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she whispered. "Will you forgive me—for ever thinking it 'could' +be?"</p> + +<p>The response she expected did not come. No touch of his hand, no +renewal of his offer. He said dejectedly—</p> + +<p>"There is no question of forgiveness. I laid myself open to +misconstruction." After a moment's hesitation, he gave the clue which +Phyllys had lacked. "What I meant was that Colin's ill-health lay at my +door. That it was my doing. That I could never, through life, repay him +for all he has lost through me."</p> + +<p>"But—how?"</p> + +<p>Giles alluded to the tale she had earlier heard of the cliff accident, +in which Elsye Wallace was killed; and he seemed relieved not to have +to relate the whole. "It was my doing. I was mad with temper and +jealousy, thinking she cared more for him than for me. Some jest of his +finished me off—not Colin's fault! I did not see how close they were +to the edge, on slippery grass—and one push did it. I flung off as I +gave the push, and there was a cry, and when I turned back they were +gone—both! Never quite clear whether he overbalanced, and she went too, +trying to save him; or whether she started back, and he went, trying to +save her. But it was my doing. I killed 'her'—and ruined his health for +life."</p> + +<p>Phyllys' eyes were full again. "How dreadful!" she murmured. "How +awful! It was enough to kill you too. Yet you never meant—"</p> + +<p>"What of that? I 'did' it! And not a word of reproach from him. Only +one wish—that nobody should be told."</p> + +<p>"Was—nobody?"</p> + +<p>"Her father, of course. He was—good!" with difficulty.</p> + +<p>Giles looked in wonder on Phyllys' little hand laid on his knee. He had +not expected to see it there.</p> + +<p>"You are sorry for me? But—" he could not refrain from laying his hand +on hers, and the touch of those soft fingers thrilled him. "Phyllys, +I have no home now to offer. I am a penniless man. Even if you could +accept me, you would have to wait years!"</p> + +<p>"And if I don't mind waiting?"—with her sweetest smile.</p> + +<p>"I should be wrong to let you. It is all too indefinite. I am leaving +Castle Hill. He has endured too much through my mother. It must end."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," a voice said, and Colin came from the inner room. +"Sorry to interrupt you, but I found myself hearing something not meant +for me."</p> + +<p>He dropped wearily into an armchair, and Phyllys held out a slip of +paper. "Mr. Hazel has telegraphed for me to go home," she said. Her +letter had followed the old Vicar to London and back to Midfell, whence +the delay.</p> + +<p>Colin read and returned it. "No hurry," he remarked. "About Giles' +plans—no, don't go, Phyllys."</p> + +<p>"You heard what I was saying. I will not be a burden on you. You have +to take your position: so have I." Giles spoke in resolute tones. "Our +paths will lie in different directions." A pause. "My mother and I will +leave Castle Hill." Another pause. "I shall look-out for an Agency of +some sort."</p> + +<p>He had to raise his eyes, had to meet a quiet gaze, before which his +determination threatened to become like wax in sunshine. "What do 'you' +wish?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Colin was pressing a hand over his rumpled hair. "Not that!" he said. +"I must have your help."</p> + +<p>"Of course, if you need me—"</p> + +<p>"There must be a break. We will go different ways for a couple of +months—then come together our true selves. Go to Midfell with Phyllys, +and make the most of your time there."</p> + +<p>"Say 'Yes,'" she whispered.</p> + +<p>But he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I can't do without you, Giles—that is simple fact. You are good at +business, and I am not. I must and will have leisure for modelling. As +for accounts—twenty minutes of them make my head frantic. You shall +be my coadjutor—referee—adviser—anything you like. One moment—" as +the other was breaking into speech. "You called yourself penniless. I +am writing to my lawyers to settle upon you and your heirs the sum of +one thousand pounds a year. The letter would be off, if I could have +written another page. All I ask is—stay and help me. I will make the +position as little trying as maybe."</p> + +<p>Giles' strong features worked.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "It is like you; but that won't do. I will stay as long +as you need me—as your agent. You shall pay me a fair sum for the work +I do; not a penny more. The letter must go into the fire. My mind is +made up."</p> + +<p>"So is mine!" murmured Colin. He smiled, perhaps recognising that he, +in Giles' place, would have followed a like course.</p> + +<p>"Well—for the present. Come in—" and Reeves appeared.</p> + +<p>"Not interrupting, I hope," he said in Giles' voice.</p> + +<p>"No—" and Colin went on with what he was saying. "For the present I +give in. It will make no difference in the end. All that I have is +yours—and, as you have more than once remarked, 'pride between you and +me is a thing impossible.'" The tired eyes laughed. "Your mother will +continue to receive her allowance."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. She will depend upon me."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," interposed Reeves. "My sister will keep house for +'me.' That was my object in coming home, and she agrees. You may put +her out of your calculations."</p> + +<p>"Not a bad plan!" mused Colin. "Then the 'allowance' shall accumulate +at compound interest for her son and his heirs." He looked at Giles. +"And when you can persuade Phyllys to come and be the perpetual +sunshine of Castle Hill—"</p> + +<p>She flushed up.</p> + +<p>"But there was a barrier," confusedly muttered Giles.</p> + +<p>"There is no barrier," asserted Colin.</p> + +<p>"None!" echoed Phyllys.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>They were wrong. A barrier did exist, though not in the mind of +Phyllys. It resided in Mrs. Wyverne's fears for the future weal of her +beloved grand-daughter. She found it hard to credit that a modern man, +who lived a life outside her limitations, who did not employ those +forms of religious phraseology in which she delighted, who would not +find pleasure in Miss Robins' addresses or profit from Mr. Timkins' +exhortations, could be a safe husband for "the child."</p> + +<p>But the old Vicar, with his deeper insight and wider grasp, pleaded +strenuously; and Phyllys' face spoke for her; and Giles spent two +months at Midfell, laying siege to the old lady's heart. Although he +was not "one of the family," and although the tale of his mother's +duplicity had given her a shock, she did in time learn to differentiate +between the characters of mother and son, and did arrive at the +knowledge that a man might be a good man, in the best sense of the +word, without seeing on every point eye to eye with herself.</p> + +<p>Little though she knew it, this shake to her "personal infallibility" +theory was one of the most wholesome lessons she had ever received. Her +outlook was broadened, to the great gain of herself and those around. +But Barbara failed to appreciate the gain; and Miss Robins counted +permission given to Phyllys' engagement "a sad falling away."</p> + +<p>When a certain happy day arrived, the bridegroom's "best man" might +have said to the bridegroom, "You, after all, are the gainer! If broad +acres are mine, Phyllys is yours!"</p> + +<p>But that would have cast a shadow on the bridegroom's happiness. The +words were not spoken; and they never would be spoken. Giles Randolph, +owner of Castle Hill, was not a man to consult his own feelings before +another's peace of mind. To Phyllys he was always the kindest of +brothers; to Colin far more than a brother.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +——————————————————————<br> +THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, THORNTON STREET, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75867 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75867-h/images/image001.jpg b/75867-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..913eea7 --- /dev/null +++ b/75867-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/75867-h/images/image002.jpg b/75867-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8ace6a --- /dev/null +++ b/75867-h/images/image002.jpg diff --git a/75867-h/images/image003.jpg b/75867-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2bdecfa --- /dev/null +++ b/75867-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/75867-h/images/image004.jpg b/75867-h/images/image004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b284d74 --- /dev/null +++ b/75867-h/images/image004.jpg diff --git a/75867-h/images/image005.jpg b/75867-h/images/image005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c48528b --- /dev/null +++ b/75867-h/images/image005.jpg diff --git a/75867-h/images/image006.jpg b/75867-h/images/image006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fcafc84 --- /dev/null +++ b/75867-h/images/image006.jpg diff --git a/75867-h/images/image007.jpg b/75867-h/images/image007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ab5e20 --- /dev/null +++ b/75867-h/images/image007.jpg |
