CHAPTER XIVA FRESH STARTWhen Olwen came into her room that evening to prepare for supper, Sunia was curled up as usual upon the rug before the fire, mending some tiny rent in one of the young lady's garments. The room was now always warm and fragrant, a well-trimmed lamp on a bracket made a soft effulgence of light, candles were lit on the toilet table, and the carving on the ancient furniture shone with polish.Olwen tried to shut her eyes to all this creature comfort. As she walked in, she left the door open behind her, and halting in the middle of the room, she pointed to the way out. "You may go, Sunia," said she coldly.Sunia looked up. Evidently she was unprepared for this, but almost immediately she had herself completely in hand. She rose to her knees."My Missee not want me this night?""No, nor any other night. Go, please."The woman's eyes dwelt as if in admiration on the determined little face. "What poor ole ayah done?" she asked."You don't need to be told that. You are a spy, and I won't have spies about me.""Who say Sunia spy?""Your own sahib. He told me all about it. You come pretending to love me, and then go and make mischief. I have done with you. Please go."The Hindu prostrated herself, laying her forehead upon the buckle of Olwen's shoe."Missee forgive her—forgive ole ayah this one time. She not do it again. Only because she frightened of pretty doctor, he look at Missee with too kind eyes, and Sunia seen pictures in the stars—pictures that say the doctor he come between Missee and my sahib. Ole ayah obliged to warn her sahib—and good thing too, very good thing she done it.""Why is it a good thing? What are you talking about?"It was very rarely that the ayah smiled, but the ghost of a smile crossed her lips as she replied, "My sahib angry, and Missee and him they have it out together, and now they friends. Good thing that, eh?""Then you were listening behind the curtain in the dining-room while we talked!""I was not. I tell you, no! How can I be leesten when I busy unpack all my Missee's things and put 'em away?"Olwen gave an exclamation of surprise. She was not aware that her heavy luggage had arrived, but now she noticed that all her small possessions had been unpacked, and arranged with some taste about the room."Why, how did you unlock my trunk? Where is it? It could not come upstairs?"The ayah laughed low. "All trunks got to stay in kitchen-house outside," said she. "Ole ayah find Missee key right enough, and carry things up in her arms. Missee tell her how she want 'em, eh?"She rose from the ground, quivering with delight at having turned the subject, and her eyes were alight with eagerness.Olwen shrugged her shoulders. "I am much obliged for all the trouble you have taken, and for putting away my things so carefully; but for all that, I cannot forget that you are not to be trusted. You make believe to love me, and then act treacherously.""No, that wrong," said the woman earnestly. "Ole ayah serve Missee and serve sahib too. Missee don't really think ole ayah tell about her to anybody else? Only to the sahib, because all Missee do is right for him to know.""How absurd!" cried Olwen; but she could catch a glimpse, she thought, of the Hindu's logic. The house of Guyse was what she served. She devoted herself to Olwen only because the girl was for a time part of the Guyse household. She suspected Balmayne of being anxious to undermine Miss Innes's opinion of her beloved sahib. To protect him, she went eavesdropping.The girl gave a long sigh as she sank into her usual chair, and felt in a moment the ayah's eager hands busy with the fastenings of her dress."Missee trust ole ayah! She can trust her always, except Missee unkind to my sahib."Olwen passed a hand across her eyes as if to clear away mist. The face of Madam, as she eagerly urged her not to place confidence in Sunia, was present to her fancy. She knew that the past hour had materially altered her opinion of Ninian. He had succeeded in diminishing, if not in dispersing her dislike. She was sorry for him. Yet something deep within her kept on uttering a warning....She was like one upon whom a spell is being cast. It was as though Sunia had prepared a deep bath and had urged her to plunge therein, assuring her that it was what she needed, that it would do her good and make her happy. As yet she had barely dipped her foot into the flood, the water was laving but her feet and ankles, but even so, she knew that it was having some mysterious effect. She foresaw that she would not emerge as she went in. Something within her was changing ... and the feel of the waters was delicious....Sunia's brush was slipping through her torrent of hair, hypnotising as it passed. It seemed to thrill as it touched the sentient scalp, engendering a feeling of perfect well-being as though all life were just sensation.She discerned danger, yet she yielded. When the ayah had completed her coiffure, she brought a hand-glass that her Missee might study the effect.The subdued tints of her complexion were fitly framed in the dusky gold of the hair. The eyes were clear, pale in their dark setting. Was she really growing prettier, or was it part of Sunia's magic, that she should think so?Rebelliously she struggled against the feeling that she was beautiful. She had always held herself to be one of those lucky beings who can go through life quite unobserved, without noticeable beauty or noticeable defect. The reflection in the little mirror hardly bore out such an idea. The charm it revealed was perhaps subtle, but it was nevertheless apparent.The thought of having supper alone with Ninian made her self-conscious until she took herself to task for a weak-minded fool.She went in to see Madam on her way down. She found her far more comfortable, and able to enjoy a cup full of Mrs. Baxter's daintily made gruel. Olwen settled her comfortably for the night before going down.Ninian was awaiting her, but he greeted her with such a change of manner as reassured her at once. No more half-sneering compliments, no more of what she now supposed to have beenballons d'essai, designed to make her show her hand. His manner was open, and almost pleasant. Was Sunia right after all? Was it a good thing that they should have arrived at an understanding?They talked about the procuring of the folding lounge for Madam, and Ninian explained that there was a station much nearer than Picton Bars, but that it was practically useless to the dwellers in the Pele because the only road which approached their eyrie came from a totally different direction. They had to drive so far round to Raefell station, upon such bad roads, that it was easier as a rule for them to go via Caryngston.Lachanrigg, his farm, whose tenant, John Kay, had married the Baxters' only daughter, was on the way, or not much off the road, to this other station. It was quite easy to fetch goods from Raefell to Lachanrigg, but from Lachanrigg to the Pele the only possible route was on foot.Ninian was quite ready to carry the packed-up lounge from Lachanrigg up through the Guyseburn woods, and suggested that he should walk down to Lachanrigg next day, drive thence to Raefell, and telephone from the station to Leeds, ordering the couch to be sent at once.She was eager in her thanks, and inquired whether he would have to go down the steep hill immediately underneath the windows.He said yes, that was the only way; and added, "I suppose you would not care to come too? It's quite a pleasant walk to Lachanrigg and back, and would not keep you out too long.""I'll go," she said, "if you are kind enough to take me, and if Madam will spare me. The doctor isn't coming to-morrow.""You won't find it so dull, walking with me, now that I am beginning to talk the language," said Nin insinuatingly.She laughed. "You have made strides in education to-day.""Nothing like a Reformatory after all. Training seems harsh at first, but good results are soon perceptible.""Sorry I was harsh. I never had a pupil before who required that kind of training.""Indeed! One would have thought you had done it all your life! Your method was masterly!""What was my method?""Knocked him down, stamped on him, rolled him out quite flat, picked him up, dusted him, put him in the corner——""And here he is, sitting up and taking nourishment quite comfortably! In fact, the process has exhausted the teacher far more than the pupil! She hopes another application will never, never be necessary.""It won't. I've sworn off, taken the pledge, and intend to wear the white flower of the Innes Brigade all my life!"There were a few Christmas roses in a vase upon the table, and in a moment of impulse Olwen took out one and handed it to him."I found these in the garden to-day, and thought we might as well have the sight of them," said she. "The white flower of the Innes Brigade, conferred by the founder herself!"Nin fastened the big white star in his coat.Sunia, waiting silently upon them, seemed to notice nothing."Didn't you say you would like to look down the well?" asked Nin, as they strolled out into the hall together."Yes, I did, but, please, if it is a bother, don't think of troubling.""Bother? Of course not. If you like this sort of stuff, there are heaps of things I can show you." He was rolling back one of the rugs as he spoke. "This is used every morning, we get our drinking water from it. The water I brought up the hill is all right for household purposes, but this is better."He disclosed a circular hole, fitted with a flat cover. They both knelt down, while he lifted the lid, and he held a lighted taper over the black abyss thus revealed."At one of the other Peles they have a tame electric light at the end of a rope," said he, "and they let it down till it hangs just above the water. You get a fine effect then; I wish we could do it."For the first time in his company Olwen forgot herself and spoke as to a friend. "Oh, wouldn't it be grand! Fancy having electric light here, all up the corkscrew and in those fascinating little passages!"He sat back upon his heels, looking at her oddly. "You like this old place, then?""Like is hardly the right word. It grips me. It is so unlike anything I ever saw——""You never could see anything just like it unique.""Are you not glad that it is yours?" she went on, carried away by the thought. "Guyses built it, Guyses dwelt in it, and still it stands, and still a Guyse holds it Don't you wish another bull would jump down the Bull-drop and the luck come back to you?"He shrugged his shoulders. "I hardly know. I don't want the humbugging title. There was no Lord Caryngston a hundred and fifty years ago; but there have been Guyses at Guysewyke since Domesday. My cousin, the present Baron, would give his eyes to own this place. He hopes that I shall be driven to sell it one day.""Oh,don't!" cried Olwen so fervently that he laughed."You wouldn't sell, in my place?""In your place, I would live on a shilling a week, but I wouldn't sell."He gave a sigh which was almost a groan. "God knows I think as you do," he answered, "but it's not so simple as that." He replaced the cover, and rose, with lips close set. "One day perhaps I may tell you about it," said he.CHAPTER XVA COLD WALKThe sky was misty grey with a hint of blue just overhead. No wind stirred the snowladen trees, and the frost was intense.Mrs. Guyse always slept after lunch, and seemed to think it an extremely good idea that her companion should have a short walk while she rested."Be sure to be back in time to pour out my tea," she stipulated. "It's rough going, down the hill; but I suppose young people like to scramble, and Nin says he has been since the snow fell, and knows it is passable."Olwen was quite ready to brave a little snow; Ezra Baxter, by his master's order, had put nails into her thick boots, and she was anxious to shake off the reproach of being a town-bred miss who could not go out in bad weather.Ninian at billiards the night before and at breakfast that morning had maintained the improvement in his demeanour. He seemed pleased to see Miss Innes when she appeared, and his attitude was now that of the courteous host, anxious that his visitor should feel at home and be entertained. Dr. Balmayne was not expected that day. Madam's condition was steadily improving. In spite of her statement that she disliked being read aloud to, Olwen had made an attempt that morning with the "Professional Aunt," and the result had been encouraging. The dull creature had been roused momentarily from her torpor, smiled several times, laughed once, and said she would like to hear more later on. This success, coupled with her expressed desire that her companion should pour out her tea, elated that young person considerably."Do you think," she asked as she joined Ninian in the hall, "that you could carry Madam down the one flight from her room to the banqueting hall?"He seemed in no doubt of his ability to perform this feat, even in the narrow limits of the newel stair."If so, we'll have her down the moment we get the couch," replied Miss Innes eagerly. "I am really quite keen upon shaking her out of her apathy and getting her to take an interest in things.""Bravo!" he said. "Who would have thought such a scrap of a girl as you—— Holy Moses! I beg your pardon."She made a little mock bow. "But what my friends may say and what strangers may say are so different!""Thanks. That's the best yet," was his reply, as he selected an iron-shod stick for her. "You ought to feel bucked," he added, as he opened the hall door. "Sunia licking your boots, Madam sitting up and taking notice already, and me wagging my tail like anything for a kind word.""Good week's work do you think?" demurely."Not to mention the doctor," he went on."Nowdon'tspoil it!""Got to be jolly careful still," he laughed, leading the way to the quadrangle wall behind the kitchen, where, in the south-west corner, was a tiny postern door.He stood a minute whistling Daff before opening it. She came bounding, golden and beautiful, from the kitchen door, which was opened by Sunia.The Hindu stood in the opening, her face grave and soft, gazing at the two as Olwen waved her a farewell. She raised her hand in a curious gesture as of benediction. The postern opened, and they passed through upon the narrow terrace which on this side edged the ravine below.Standing there, Olwen raised her eyes to the oriel in the banqueting hall. The stone mullions were wide enough apart for a slim girl to push through; and as the window projected considerably, her fall would not be broken by the very narrow platform upon which they stood.Below were the tips of the snow-encumbered trees."Mad sort of idea, wasn't it!" said Ninian, answering her unspoken thought. "Might have known she wouldn't get anything like a clean drop. Just a minute's temper probably.""I can't think how people can do such a thing. I love life far too well. Think of cutting oneself off for ever from sunset and moonrise, from waterfalls and mountains, and hot weather in sunshine, from roses and lilies, firesides and interesting books, and—and—oh, all the things that make the world so fascinating!""The world seems grim enough to me sometimes," remarked the young man, kicking the steps free from piled-up snow which had slid from the battlements."Oh, there are moments when it seems grim to anybody; but you do understand the joy of living, don't you! I mean the pleasure of just being able to feel! The sight of almond blossom against blue sky, or of the evening mist in a river valley, or shallow water slipping over brown stones, or the smell of garden mould after warm rain?""Or the outline of a girl's face, pink against the grey stone of a tower wall... Oh, you can't complain of that! It's all part of the subject ... and I do know what you mean. George Eliot has something about it somewhere. I believe I could find it when we get home.... Yes, it is what makes the difference between people who can be happy in the country and people who can't. Lily Martin was one who couldn't. This place fairly got on her nerves, as it does on my poor mother's. I'm glad it doesn't get on yours, for to bring you here in this weather was trying you pretty high up. If you can see beauty now, you could see it always."As he spoke he preceded her down the steps and guided her along an almost level bit of ground to the place where the path plunged down among the trees. It was indeed steep, but, in fact, easier with the snow upon it than when it was bare trodden earth after a summer's drought. Ninian helped her, but not officiously; and as she was really active and strong, as well as light and small, she got along well. A short way down he showed her the tree upon which Lily Martin had fallen, and she was able to appreciate the difficulty which Baxter and he had experienced in rescuing her.The precipitous part of the descent was soon over, and they went on more easily, plunging through the snow, and still thridding woodlands, until by degrees they dropped down almost to the level of the frozen river."Those woods," observed Guyse, waving a hand towards the rising ground beyond the farther bank, "are full of wild cherry. In April they are a sight to make one feel that—what you were talking about just now."Olwen could believe it. They turned to their right and walked along, some thirty feet above the bed of the stream, following a good wide path which ran under pines. Then came some flat meadows, which they crossed, the thin blue spiral from the farm chimneys encouraging them onward.The snow was very deep, but this mattered only inasmuch as it impeded progress. But once did she suffer misfortune, and this was when she left the path to look at a curious lichen upon a tree-trunk. There was a concealed ditch, and instantly she was in the drift up to her waist.There was much laughter as she was lifted out by Ninian and dusted down. He remarked that it would teach her to be careful, a saying so sensible and big-brotherly, and so unlike his former style, that she felt a very natural triumph.Many dogs flew out baying as they approached Lachanrigg. Daff's joyous greeting seemed to set their minds at rest at once, and they were frisking round Ninian. Their noise brought Mrs. Kay to the door, her baby in her arms, all excitement to know who could be approaching the homestead on such a day by the woodland path.Kay was out, but the sleigh and horse were in the stable, and Ninian soon had them harnessed, and asked Olwen whether she would rather come with him to the post office or stay and play with the baby. Anxious to show the reality of the truce, she chose the drive, and they started off, over a couple of miles of very exposed fell, down into another valley, at the foot of which the railway scored a sharp black track upon the blinding white. The telephone was working, and they rang up the Newcastle shop, gave their order, and received a promise that the folding lounge should be put upon the train that very afternoon, and would arrive at Raefell station next morning about eleven.Ninian at once volunteered to come and fetch it, so that, in the event of Dr. Balmayne giving permission, Madam might be brought downstairs in the afternoon.By the time the two walkers reached home in the January twilight, they were talking together quite easily.By special invitation, Ninian had tea in his mother's room, so that they might all be together. Madam lay among her pillows, watching them with her manner of vague, faintly curious detachment.One of the cakes upon the plate had been baked in a droll resemblance to an old man's whithered face. Olwen called the attention of Mr. Guyse to it, upon which he stuck it on a hatpin, and together they proceeded to dress it up with a paper collar and coat made of the little folded damask napkin which held the cakes. Even Madam was beguiled into amusement. She said little, but after a while remarked to the girl, "You seem to find everything amusing.""Funny you should say that; it's the exact opposite of what Mr. Guyse thinks. He calls me a school-marm, and thinks I disapprove of everything.""That was because you didn't like me," he cut in."Pardon, it was because you didn't like me.""Have you changed your mind?""Have you changed yours?""I asked first.""So you should be answered last.""Ah, but it doesn't matter what I think; it is your opinion that is the important thing.""Utterly wrong. Madam is the only person whose opinion counts. She will think I am too noisy and silly if you go on like this. I shall now turn you out and read to her a little.""Why turn me out? I may have a pipe here, mayn't I, Ma?""Oh, I never heard of such a thing!" cried Miss Innes with indignation. "It's easy to see you've never been ill. Out you go! You must amuse yourself till supper-time; it was a huge treat your being allowed to have tea with Madam, and if you don't behave nicely you won't get another invitation."She held the door open and he walked out, his eyes twinkling. "What did I tell you?" he turned back to say to his mother. "School-marm!"The girl, smiling, shut him out and turned to the bed, removing the empty cup and plate and restoring the order of the room with quick touches. She called Sunia, who apparently passed most of her time either in the stone passage or in the room next to Madam's, for she always appeared with the minimum of delay to carry out trays or do other behests.Madam made no comment at all upon the little scene just enacted. She lay quite still, following the girl's movements with her eyes only. She had rather the air of one who watches a comedy, with a real though veiled anxiety as to what the dénouement is likely to be.After the reading, when her secretary rose to go and prepare for supper, she remarked, "You read aloud well, and I like that book. I do not like all books.""This is very light, but when one is ill one likes something light.""What I do not like is a book where the people have a guilty secret."Olwen laughed. "That's so untrue to life," said she."Do you think so?" The tone of the question surprised the girl. It was coldly ironic. "You've not had much experience of life, have you?""Well," said Olwen, "more than most girls of my age, perhaps. I have lost both parents. I have earned my living for three years."Madam's lips curved in a slight smile. "Have you had many affairs of the heart! Have you ever had a lover?"Olwen was near the bed measuring medicine into a glass as she put the question. The colour that flew into the girl's face answered her."You have!" The inflection was of surprise. "Well now, do you know, I should have guessed differently. Would it be an impertinence on my part to ask whether you are engaged to be married?""Oh, no, certainly not," said Olwen confusedly. "I mean it is not an impertinence, and I am not engaged.""Not? But you care for the—the gentleman?"Olwen looked amused. "Don't you think I have all the aspect of a love-lorn damsel?"The faded eyes watched her with close attention. "Your friends disapproved?""Oh dear, no! It is merely that—that the attachment was on the gentleman's side, not on mine," was the reply."I must beg your pardon for my inquisition. But perhaps it does concern me a little. I would not have selected a companion who was likely to leave me soon to get married.""Quite so. I would have told you had there been any arrangement of the kind. You would have had a right to know.""Do I understand that you definitely refused your suitor?""Perhaps," said Olwen after hesitation, "you may consider that I have said enough. An affair of this kind one should not talk of, in my opinion.""And I have done little so far to earn your confidence," replied Madam, speaking likewise after some musing. She drank her draught and lay down. "Might I ask you, before going upstairs, to find my son and tell him I should like to speak with him for a few minutes?"Olwen left the room and descended to the dining-room, where Ninian was seated before the fire, with pipe and newspaper. As she entered he pushed towards her two envelopes which lay upon the small table beside him. "Two letters for you," said he. "You seem to have letters every day. The postman feels there is something to climb the hill for now.""Does he not come when there are none for the Pele?""Yes, that's the devil of it. The poor chap has to, because, as you know, he collects our post as well as delivering it, and he never knows until he gets here whether we have anything or not.""That seems hard. Can't you arrange a signal?""Well, I have sometimes thought I would. Perhaps our united intelligence could devise something."She took her envelopes from the table, glancing at them with pleasure—one from Aunt Maud, one from Grace Holroyd."Oh, I am forgetting. I came with a message to you from Madam. She wants to speak to you.""Now?""Yes, now.""Why, what about—do you know?""Haven't any idea unless she desires to complain of me. But I assure you I haven't been ill-using her."He laughed, extending his long legs and rubbing Daff's hot back gently with one heel. "Best way to find out is to go and see, I suppose," he remarked, as he rose leisurely and with reluctance, stretched himself and left the room.CHAPTER XVIA LITTLE FRICTIONOlwen lingered, after his departure, in the glowing warmth of the hearth. She curled herself up beside Daffodil on the rug, and gave herself the treat of reading Grace's letter."Two such contradictory accounts as you have given me in the last few days I never read," wrote her friend. "What a place this Pele must be! And what deplorable people for the likes of you to have to live with! The only point that gives me any hope at all is that you seem, even in your second letter, to have made up your mind not to stay. It is absurd that you should be wasting your talent and your technical training upon a post which any silly spinster could fill with ease. Even I could measure out an old lady's physic and feed her fowls! I could even go sleighing with the cheeky young man, who sounds rather attractive to me. Trust you to roll him out quite flat! I can see you a-doing of it! Anyway, you will have had your experience, and into the bargain a month's country air, which you really needed. I am not afraid that the place will conquer you, in spite of all you prate to me about the atmosphere of the past and the ayah's magic, which seems to consist merely of joss-sticks. You are too wholly a child of your age, and 'the need of a world of men' is as strong in you as it was in the young man who once landed at a farmhouse for a brief night's love-making. You will come back all right where you belong, but in the meantime I hope you are not having too thin a time. Oh, my dearly beloved, having had your little adventure,couldn'tyou settle down to make poor old Ben happy? You know you could do just anything you like with him, strong-minded old thing that he is in most ways. Without you he will close like an oyster, never to open again—the process is beginning now; I watch it day by day. With you he would bloom like a dull-coloured bud in water, that may, when open, be a flaming cactus for all you know to the contrary. You did confess to me that he surprised you when it came to love-making. It is my impression that he could surprise you a great deal more if he got the chance. Am I a selfish little pig to talk like that? It is frankly one for Ben and two for myself. I want, want, want you for a sister; you make the world so different somehow. The taste goes out of things when you are not here. If I were a man I would make you marry me. You are a sort of 'porte-bonheur,' which I should insist upon annexing. Write again soon, your letters are absorbing, and I am discretion itself; I don't give away anything to Ben, though he looks at me like a hurt dog begging for water when he sees me sniggering over them. Good-bye, and God bless you."P.S.—I wonder if the Guyses know how lucky they are. I don't expect it. They think you are just an ordinary young female, glad of any job that prevents her eating the bread of dependence; instead of being (as you are) a pocket miracle!"Olwen let the paper fall with a long sigh. She had the impression of hearing a voice which came from a vast distance. What was real and vivid at the moment was the snowy fell, the hoary Pele, wild weather, solitude, and the Hindu woman's spells. The High Street of Bramforth, with its electric trams, was becoming misty and dream-like.Grace's metaphor struck her—was all this just a night of adventure?—something to be flung aside as soon as the "need of a world of men" should once more grip her?For a few minutes she sat on, chin in hand, staring into the depths of the flames; then, with a suddenness for which she could hardly account, she sprang to her feet and flew upstairs—in the pitch dark, for she forgot to take the indispensable candle. She knew the way by now, and it was far too narrow for error to be possible. Without a pause she sped on upward, until she reached the haven of her own room, wherein Sunia and Sunia's care awaited her. It was like coming into realities out of a nasty glimpse of something ugly. She was too content to notice the significance of her frame of mind.When she went down to supper that evening, Mr. Guyse's mood had completely changed. He was gloomy and silent. He had the aspect of one who has received bad news and is plunged in depression.He quite failed to second her attempts at conversation, and once or twice, when addressed, came with an effort out of some apparently painful train of thought. His eyes rested upon Olwen with a puzzled speculation, as if either she or her actions had hurt and surprised him.She became convinced that he was a moody man—veering in his temper, altogether unreliable and uncertain.As soon as supper was over he rose, went to the mantel-piece, lit his pipe, and muttered something about wanting to speak to Baxter. Moving to the door he turned, his fingers on the handle, and said, "I shall stay over there with Baxter and smoke a pipe. Don't stay up later than you care to."With that he walked out, and she heard him bang the door.A good deal relieved by his absence, she went up to Madam with a clear conscience.She thought the invalid's eyes brightened at the sight of her, but she declined offers of reading or having her bed made, saying, "Nin will be lonely downstairs; you had better go to him.""He has deserted me," said Olwen gaily. "He has gone to the Gatehouse to smoke a pipe with Baxter, so you and I can have a cosy evening. Very considerate of him, I call it."Blank surprise seemed the predominant expression on Madam's face."Don't you mind?""Mind? Mind what? Being able to devote the evening to you? Dear lady, why did I come here but to be with you and do all I can?"A fleeting smile crossed the faded lips. "I suppose you really did. I never mentioned Nin in my letter to you, did I?""No, you didn't. If you had, perhaps I shouldn't have come," was the mischievous reply, as Olwen went to the door and clapped her hands to summon the ayah.Sunia came in, looking anything but pleased. She glanced at the girl's careful toilet and coiffure, and said sullenly that one did not make beds when dressed for the evening."Pukka mem-sahibs don't, but you see, I am quite different. I belong to the working classes, Sunia—see?" teased the girl."Ayah knows better," muttered the woman, with a glance of mingled affection and resentment. She condescended, however, to help her mistress from bed to the big chair by the fire. "Why you unkind my sahib! Why send him away?" she whispered to Olwen, as they turned the mattress together."I didn't do anything of the sort," replied the girl aloud; "I went down quite prepared to be nice to him, but he was as cross as two sticks, and hardly spoke all dinner time. He's a spoilt, disagreeable thing, Sunia, and it is you who have spoilt him."This speech appeared to give quite remarkable pleasure to Madam, who looked rather spitefully at the ayah. "Hear what she says?""Yes, I hear," very sulkily."You shouldn't go telling tales about me, Sunia. You have made mischief," went on Olwen gleefully."I told no tales—not since yesterday evening: Missis here, my Madam, perhaps she tell tales this day," was the vexed retort."I?" The colour flew hotly into Madam's face. "Sunia! You forget yourself! Remember your place! How dare you speak so?"Olwen stood a minute, glancing from one woman to the other. Her mind went seeking back over what had passed that evening. Madam had asked her whether she had a lover, and had seemed disturbed by her reply. She had told her to send up Ninian, but not for a moment had she connected this summons with herself. Yet his manner, since he saw his mother, had completely changed. It seemed too preposterous to imagine that he could be in the sulks because his mother had told him that another man wanted to marry Miss Innes. Yet Madam had all the aspect of a guilty person, and Sunia was watching her with angry eyes."It's all nonsense, I am only teasing Sunia, dear Madam," she threw in quickly. "I am afraid I ought not to speak so disrespectfully of your son. Forgive me."The ayah, after a long searching glance, said no more, and they devoted themselves to putting Madam back into bed, and bringing her supper, after which she submitted, with evident pleasure, to be read to sleep.By the time she was soundly in slumber it was still early—about nine, and Olwen thought it too soon to go to bed. Taking her candle, she went down to the banqueting hall, in which each day since her arrival there had been a fire and lights in the evening. As she opened the door, a sudden gust blew out her candle, in spite of its protecting shade. She paused in the open doorway, fascinated by the spectacle of the great hall in moonlight.The snow without made the effect singularly brilliant. Each mullion of the great south window lay in velvet blackness across the floor. One casement of the oriel was open, which was the cause of the draught which had put out her light. She closed the door noiselessly behind her, and stood enveloped in the complete silence of the vast empty place. To her right the closed door of the chapel seemed as though it might open at any moment and disclose the figure of the chaplain, turning from his prayers to seek his bed in the tiny stone chamber in the wall.Picking up a shawl from some wraps on the settle, she folded it about her, and crept up to the oriel, seating herself upon the window seat. Outside the moonlit snow was so wonderful that she forgot all else in its contemplation. The tops of the trees were like snowy peaks of some distant range, upon which she looked down from an immeasurable height. As she leaned out, she could form some idea of the madness which had seized the unhappy girl who plunged into that underworld of mystery and gloom. There was an eerie fascination in it. It did look as though one might hurl oneself clean into eternity by merely letting go....There came the notion that all life is effort—is holding on, is resisting the temptation to fall....How simple, how curiously simple to cease that effort. Words of a hymn she had sung many times in church ran mockingly in her head—Oh, could we but relinquish allOur earthly props, and simply fallIn Thine Almighty Arms!The words had always formerly seemed most inappropriate for the singing of a general congregation, among whom scarce a dozen had any such aspiration. Perhaps Lily Martin had really felt it. Was it, after all, an aspiration, or was it a temptation of the devil? Simply to fall ... simply fall....The snow without was hypnotising her—or perhaps some emanation from the soul of her who had agonised there, in that very spot, was exercising a malign spell. She was so absorbed, so utterly carried away by her fancies, that she did not hear the door open nor the low, choked cry which Ninian gave as he came in.He crossed the floor in a dozen hurried strides. "My God!"She heard that. She had been leaning out over the sill, but she drew back suddenly, and herself uttered an exclamation on realising the presence of someone in the dark behind her."Who is it?" she cried sharply, and a voice replied:"It's I—Ninian—who are you, in God's name?""Who should I be but myself," she said in common-place tones, the influence of the solitude and the entrancing night fading as she heard her own voice and his.He laughed unsteadily. "Jove, but you gave me a fright! What in the name of all that's arctic are you doing there?""Is it cold? I believe it is," she replied, rising. "I had forgotten all about it, because fairyland is outside the window.""What on earth made you come here in the cold and the dark?""I wasn't thinking. I expected to find it warm and lighted as usual. I opened the door, and then it was so weird I had to come in. Isn't it? ... but there is no word to paint it. I am going to enrich my language by a new adjective, I must find a word to express this Pele! But a word won't do it—you must have a long cumulative effect of built-up words, like the poem of 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.' ... I wonder if it was moonlight when he got there? ... Nobody knows what he found, do they? But I know what I think."She was talking at random, to give him time, because she could hear him breathing short, and knew that the sight of her leaning out there had been a shock. He had at first taken her for someone else.He answered her a trifle jerkily. "What do you think he found?""I think it was all glorious within. There was nothing to do him any harm. The danger was all in the getting there. Once arrived he had a splendid welcome.""I like that idea. But come away. Let us talk of it by the fire downstairs.""I think I won't come down. It is almost bedtime, and I am tired after my walk. Good night."As she took his hand she could feel his arm vibrate, as with some very strong emotion which he could hardly curb. "You have odd fancies," he said, half impatiently. "I say—I'm sorry I was such a bear at supper-time.""Oh, you realise it, then?""Of course. I can't think how I could behave so when only yesterday I promised to reform.""But you must sometimes be out of spirits," she reassured him, lighting her candle as she spoke. "If you and I are to be friends we must make allowances for each others' moods, must we not? You will have to make your peace with Sunia, though. I warn you she is much displeased with you. She seems determined that you and I should be friends, doesn't she?""Do you think it's possible we ever could?" he asked wistfully, almost humbly."Why not?""You're—you're so unexpected, somehow. I never know what you will do, how you will take things.""Isn't that more stimulating than if you always knew beforehand what I should do or say?""Well, of course it is.""Perhaps a little friction is what you need," she laughed, as she took up the candle and escaped.
CHAPTER XIV
A FRESH START
When Olwen came into her room that evening to prepare for supper, Sunia was curled up as usual upon the rug before the fire, mending some tiny rent in one of the young lady's garments. The room was now always warm and fragrant, a well-trimmed lamp on a bracket made a soft effulgence of light, candles were lit on the toilet table, and the carving on the ancient furniture shone with polish.
Olwen tried to shut her eyes to all this creature comfort. As she walked in, she left the door open behind her, and halting in the middle of the room, she pointed to the way out. "You may go, Sunia," said she coldly.
Sunia looked up. Evidently she was unprepared for this, but almost immediately she had herself completely in hand. She rose to her knees.
"My Missee not want me this night?"
"No, nor any other night. Go, please."
The woman's eyes dwelt as if in admiration on the determined little face. "What poor ole ayah done?" she asked.
"You don't need to be told that. You are a spy, and I won't have spies about me."
"Who say Sunia spy?"
"Your own sahib. He told me all about it. You come pretending to love me, and then go and make mischief. I have done with you. Please go."
The Hindu prostrated herself, laying her forehead upon the buckle of Olwen's shoe.
"Missee forgive her—forgive ole ayah this one time. She not do it again. Only because she frightened of pretty doctor, he look at Missee with too kind eyes, and Sunia seen pictures in the stars—pictures that say the doctor he come between Missee and my sahib. Ole ayah obliged to warn her sahib—and good thing too, very good thing she done it."
"Why is it a good thing? What are you talking about?"
It was very rarely that the ayah smiled, but the ghost of a smile crossed her lips as she replied, "My sahib angry, and Missee and him they have it out together, and now they friends. Good thing that, eh?"
"Then you were listening behind the curtain in the dining-room while we talked!"
"I was not. I tell you, no! How can I be leesten when I busy unpack all my Missee's things and put 'em away?"
Olwen gave an exclamation of surprise. She was not aware that her heavy luggage had arrived, but now she noticed that all her small possessions had been unpacked, and arranged with some taste about the room.
"Why, how did you unlock my trunk? Where is it? It could not come upstairs?"
The ayah laughed low. "All trunks got to stay in kitchen-house outside," said she. "Ole ayah find Missee key right enough, and carry things up in her arms. Missee tell her how she want 'em, eh?"
She rose from the ground, quivering with delight at having turned the subject, and her eyes were alight with eagerness.
Olwen shrugged her shoulders. "I am much obliged for all the trouble you have taken, and for putting away my things so carefully; but for all that, I cannot forget that you are not to be trusted. You make believe to love me, and then act treacherously."
"No, that wrong," said the woman earnestly. "Ole ayah serve Missee and serve sahib too. Missee don't really think ole ayah tell about her to anybody else? Only to the sahib, because all Missee do is right for him to know."
"How absurd!" cried Olwen; but she could catch a glimpse, she thought, of the Hindu's logic. The house of Guyse was what she served. She devoted herself to Olwen only because the girl was for a time part of the Guyse household. She suspected Balmayne of being anxious to undermine Miss Innes's opinion of her beloved sahib. To protect him, she went eavesdropping.
The girl gave a long sigh as she sank into her usual chair, and felt in a moment the ayah's eager hands busy with the fastenings of her dress.
"Missee trust ole ayah! She can trust her always, except Missee unkind to my sahib."
Olwen passed a hand across her eyes as if to clear away mist. The face of Madam, as she eagerly urged her not to place confidence in Sunia, was present to her fancy. She knew that the past hour had materially altered her opinion of Ninian. He had succeeded in diminishing, if not in dispersing her dislike. She was sorry for him. Yet something deep within her kept on uttering a warning....
She was like one upon whom a spell is being cast. It was as though Sunia had prepared a deep bath and had urged her to plunge therein, assuring her that it was what she needed, that it would do her good and make her happy. As yet she had barely dipped her foot into the flood, the water was laving but her feet and ankles, but even so, she knew that it was having some mysterious effect. She foresaw that she would not emerge as she went in. Something within her was changing ... and the feel of the waters was delicious....
Sunia's brush was slipping through her torrent of hair, hypnotising as it passed. It seemed to thrill as it touched the sentient scalp, engendering a feeling of perfect well-being as though all life were just sensation.
She discerned danger, yet she yielded. When the ayah had completed her coiffure, she brought a hand-glass that her Missee might study the effect.
The subdued tints of her complexion were fitly framed in the dusky gold of the hair. The eyes were clear, pale in their dark setting. Was she really growing prettier, or was it part of Sunia's magic, that she should think so?
Rebelliously she struggled against the feeling that she was beautiful. She had always held herself to be one of those lucky beings who can go through life quite unobserved, without noticeable beauty or noticeable defect. The reflection in the little mirror hardly bore out such an idea. The charm it revealed was perhaps subtle, but it was nevertheless apparent.
The thought of having supper alone with Ninian made her self-conscious until she took herself to task for a weak-minded fool.
She went in to see Madam on her way down. She found her far more comfortable, and able to enjoy a cup full of Mrs. Baxter's daintily made gruel. Olwen settled her comfortably for the night before going down.
Ninian was awaiting her, but he greeted her with such a change of manner as reassured her at once. No more half-sneering compliments, no more of what she now supposed to have beenballons d'essai, designed to make her show her hand. His manner was open, and almost pleasant. Was Sunia right after all? Was it a good thing that they should have arrived at an understanding?
They talked about the procuring of the folding lounge for Madam, and Ninian explained that there was a station much nearer than Picton Bars, but that it was practically useless to the dwellers in the Pele because the only road which approached their eyrie came from a totally different direction. They had to drive so far round to Raefell station, upon such bad roads, that it was easier as a rule for them to go via Caryngston.
Lachanrigg, his farm, whose tenant, John Kay, had married the Baxters' only daughter, was on the way, or not much off the road, to this other station. It was quite easy to fetch goods from Raefell to Lachanrigg, but from Lachanrigg to the Pele the only possible route was on foot.
Ninian was quite ready to carry the packed-up lounge from Lachanrigg up through the Guyseburn woods, and suggested that he should walk down to Lachanrigg next day, drive thence to Raefell, and telephone from the station to Leeds, ordering the couch to be sent at once.
She was eager in her thanks, and inquired whether he would have to go down the steep hill immediately underneath the windows.
He said yes, that was the only way; and added, "I suppose you would not care to come too? It's quite a pleasant walk to Lachanrigg and back, and would not keep you out too long."
"I'll go," she said, "if you are kind enough to take me, and if Madam will spare me. The doctor isn't coming to-morrow."
"You won't find it so dull, walking with me, now that I am beginning to talk the language," said Nin insinuatingly.
She laughed. "You have made strides in education to-day."
"Nothing like a Reformatory after all. Training seems harsh at first, but good results are soon perceptible."
"Sorry I was harsh. I never had a pupil before who required that kind of training."
"Indeed! One would have thought you had done it all your life! Your method was masterly!"
"What was my method?"
"Knocked him down, stamped on him, rolled him out quite flat, picked him up, dusted him, put him in the corner——"
"And here he is, sitting up and taking nourishment quite comfortably! In fact, the process has exhausted the teacher far more than the pupil! She hopes another application will never, never be necessary."
"It won't. I've sworn off, taken the pledge, and intend to wear the white flower of the Innes Brigade all my life!"
There were a few Christmas roses in a vase upon the table, and in a moment of impulse Olwen took out one and handed it to him.
"I found these in the garden to-day, and thought we might as well have the sight of them," said she. "The white flower of the Innes Brigade, conferred by the founder herself!"
Nin fastened the big white star in his coat.
Sunia, waiting silently upon them, seemed to notice nothing.
"Didn't you say you would like to look down the well?" asked Nin, as they strolled out into the hall together.
"Yes, I did, but, please, if it is a bother, don't think of troubling."
"Bother? Of course not. If you like this sort of stuff, there are heaps of things I can show you." He was rolling back one of the rugs as he spoke. "This is used every morning, we get our drinking water from it. The water I brought up the hill is all right for household purposes, but this is better."
He disclosed a circular hole, fitted with a flat cover. They both knelt down, while he lifted the lid, and he held a lighted taper over the black abyss thus revealed.
"At one of the other Peles they have a tame electric light at the end of a rope," said he, "and they let it down till it hangs just above the water. You get a fine effect then; I wish we could do it."
For the first time in his company Olwen forgot herself and spoke as to a friend. "Oh, wouldn't it be grand! Fancy having electric light here, all up the corkscrew and in those fascinating little passages!"
He sat back upon his heels, looking at her oddly. "You like this old place, then?"
"Like is hardly the right word. It grips me. It is so unlike anything I ever saw——"
"You never could see anything just like it unique."
"Are you not glad that it is yours?" she went on, carried away by the thought. "Guyses built it, Guyses dwelt in it, and still it stands, and still a Guyse holds it Don't you wish another bull would jump down the Bull-drop and the luck come back to you?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I hardly know. I don't want the humbugging title. There was no Lord Caryngston a hundred and fifty years ago; but there have been Guyses at Guysewyke since Domesday. My cousin, the present Baron, would give his eyes to own this place. He hopes that I shall be driven to sell it one day."
"Oh,don't!" cried Olwen so fervently that he laughed.
"You wouldn't sell, in my place?"
"In your place, I would live on a shilling a week, but I wouldn't sell."
He gave a sigh which was almost a groan. "God knows I think as you do," he answered, "but it's not so simple as that." He replaced the cover, and rose, with lips close set. "One day perhaps I may tell you about it," said he.
CHAPTER XV
A COLD WALK
The sky was misty grey with a hint of blue just overhead. No wind stirred the snowladen trees, and the frost was intense.
Mrs. Guyse always slept after lunch, and seemed to think it an extremely good idea that her companion should have a short walk while she rested.
"Be sure to be back in time to pour out my tea," she stipulated. "It's rough going, down the hill; but I suppose young people like to scramble, and Nin says he has been since the snow fell, and knows it is passable."
Olwen was quite ready to brave a little snow; Ezra Baxter, by his master's order, had put nails into her thick boots, and she was anxious to shake off the reproach of being a town-bred miss who could not go out in bad weather.
Ninian at billiards the night before and at breakfast that morning had maintained the improvement in his demeanour. He seemed pleased to see Miss Innes when she appeared, and his attitude was now that of the courteous host, anxious that his visitor should feel at home and be entertained. Dr. Balmayne was not expected that day. Madam's condition was steadily improving. In spite of her statement that she disliked being read aloud to, Olwen had made an attempt that morning with the "Professional Aunt," and the result had been encouraging. The dull creature had been roused momentarily from her torpor, smiled several times, laughed once, and said she would like to hear more later on. This success, coupled with her expressed desire that her companion should pour out her tea, elated that young person considerably.
"Do you think," she asked as she joined Ninian in the hall, "that you could carry Madam down the one flight from her room to the banqueting hall?"
He seemed in no doubt of his ability to perform this feat, even in the narrow limits of the newel stair.
"If so, we'll have her down the moment we get the couch," replied Miss Innes eagerly. "I am really quite keen upon shaking her out of her apathy and getting her to take an interest in things."
"Bravo!" he said. "Who would have thought such a scrap of a girl as you—— Holy Moses! I beg your pardon."
She made a little mock bow. "But what my friends may say and what strangers may say are so different!"
"Thanks. That's the best yet," was his reply, as he selected an iron-shod stick for her. "You ought to feel bucked," he added, as he opened the hall door. "Sunia licking your boots, Madam sitting up and taking notice already, and me wagging my tail like anything for a kind word."
"Good week's work do you think?" demurely.
"Not to mention the doctor," he went on.
"Nowdon'tspoil it!"
"Got to be jolly careful still," he laughed, leading the way to the quadrangle wall behind the kitchen, where, in the south-west corner, was a tiny postern door.
He stood a minute whistling Daff before opening it. She came bounding, golden and beautiful, from the kitchen door, which was opened by Sunia.
The Hindu stood in the opening, her face grave and soft, gazing at the two as Olwen waved her a farewell. She raised her hand in a curious gesture as of benediction. The postern opened, and they passed through upon the narrow terrace which on this side edged the ravine below.
Standing there, Olwen raised her eyes to the oriel in the banqueting hall. The stone mullions were wide enough apart for a slim girl to push through; and as the window projected considerably, her fall would not be broken by the very narrow platform upon which they stood.
Below were the tips of the snow-encumbered trees.
"Mad sort of idea, wasn't it!" said Ninian, answering her unspoken thought. "Might have known she wouldn't get anything like a clean drop. Just a minute's temper probably."
"I can't think how people can do such a thing. I love life far too well. Think of cutting oneself off for ever from sunset and moonrise, from waterfalls and mountains, and hot weather in sunshine, from roses and lilies, firesides and interesting books, and—and—oh, all the things that make the world so fascinating!"
"The world seems grim enough to me sometimes," remarked the young man, kicking the steps free from piled-up snow which had slid from the battlements.
"Oh, there are moments when it seems grim to anybody; but you do understand the joy of living, don't you! I mean the pleasure of just being able to feel! The sight of almond blossom against blue sky, or of the evening mist in a river valley, or shallow water slipping over brown stones, or the smell of garden mould after warm rain?"
"Or the outline of a girl's face, pink against the grey stone of a tower wall... Oh, you can't complain of that! It's all part of the subject ... and I do know what you mean. George Eliot has something about it somewhere. I believe I could find it when we get home.... Yes, it is what makes the difference between people who can be happy in the country and people who can't. Lily Martin was one who couldn't. This place fairly got on her nerves, as it does on my poor mother's. I'm glad it doesn't get on yours, for to bring you here in this weather was trying you pretty high up. If you can see beauty now, you could see it always."
As he spoke he preceded her down the steps and guided her along an almost level bit of ground to the place where the path plunged down among the trees. It was indeed steep, but, in fact, easier with the snow upon it than when it was bare trodden earth after a summer's drought. Ninian helped her, but not officiously; and as she was really active and strong, as well as light and small, she got along well. A short way down he showed her the tree upon which Lily Martin had fallen, and she was able to appreciate the difficulty which Baxter and he had experienced in rescuing her.
The precipitous part of the descent was soon over, and they went on more easily, plunging through the snow, and still thridding woodlands, until by degrees they dropped down almost to the level of the frozen river.
"Those woods," observed Guyse, waving a hand towards the rising ground beyond the farther bank, "are full of wild cherry. In April they are a sight to make one feel that—what you were talking about just now."
Olwen could believe it. They turned to their right and walked along, some thirty feet above the bed of the stream, following a good wide path which ran under pines. Then came some flat meadows, which they crossed, the thin blue spiral from the farm chimneys encouraging them onward.
The snow was very deep, but this mattered only inasmuch as it impeded progress. But once did she suffer misfortune, and this was when she left the path to look at a curious lichen upon a tree-trunk. There was a concealed ditch, and instantly she was in the drift up to her waist.
There was much laughter as she was lifted out by Ninian and dusted down. He remarked that it would teach her to be careful, a saying so sensible and big-brotherly, and so unlike his former style, that she felt a very natural triumph.
Many dogs flew out baying as they approached Lachanrigg. Daff's joyous greeting seemed to set their minds at rest at once, and they were frisking round Ninian. Their noise brought Mrs. Kay to the door, her baby in her arms, all excitement to know who could be approaching the homestead on such a day by the woodland path.
Kay was out, but the sleigh and horse were in the stable, and Ninian soon had them harnessed, and asked Olwen whether she would rather come with him to the post office or stay and play with the baby. Anxious to show the reality of the truce, she chose the drive, and they started off, over a couple of miles of very exposed fell, down into another valley, at the foot of which the railway scored a sharp black track upon the blinding white. The telephone was working, and they rang up the Newcastle shop, gave their order, and received a promise that the folding lounge should be put upon the train that very afternoon, and would arrive at Raefell station next morning about eleven.
Ninian at once volunteered to come and fetch it, so that, in the event of Dr. Balmayne giving permission, Madam might be brought downstairs in the afternoon.
By the time the two walkers reached home in the January twilight, they were talking together quite easily.
By special invitation, Ninian had tea in his mother's room, so that they might all be together. Madam lay among her pillows, watching them with her manner of vague, faintly curious detachment.
One of the cakes upon the plate had been baked in a droll resemblance to an old man's whithered face. Olwen called the attention of Mr. Guyse to it, upon which he stuck it on a hatpin, and together they proceeded to dress it up with a paper collar and coat made of the little folded damask napkin which held the cakes. Even Madam was beguiled into amusement. She said little, but after a while remarked to the girl, "You seem to find everything amusing."
"Funny you should say that; it's the exact opposite of what Mr. Guyse thinks. He calls me a school-marm, and thinks I disapprove of everything."
"That was because you didn't like me," he cut in.
"Pardon, it was because you didn't like me."
"Have you changed your mind?"
"Have you changed yours?"
"I asked first."
"So you should be answered last."
"Ah, but it doesn't matter what I think; it is your opinion that is the important thing."
"Utterly wrong. Madam is the only person whose opinion counts. She will think I am too noisy and silly if you go on like this. I shall now turn you out and read to her a little."
"Why turn me out? I may have a pipe here, mayn't I, Ma?"
"Oh, I never heard of such a thing!" cried Miss Innes with indignation. "It's easy to see you've never been ill. Out you go! You must amuse yourself till supper-time; it was a huge treat your being allowed to have tea with Madam, and if you don't behave nicely you won't get another invitation."
She held the door open and he walked out, his eyes twinkling. "What did I tell you?" he turned back to say to his mother. "School-marm!"
The girl, smiling, shut him out and turned to the bed, removing the empty cup and plate and restoring the order of the room with quick touches. She called Sunia, who apparently passed most of her time either in the stone passage or in the room next to Madam's, for she always appeared with the minimum of delay to carry out trays or do other behests.
Madam made no comment at all upon the little scene just enacted. She lay quite still, following the girl's movements with her eyes only. She had rather the air of one who watches a comedy, with a real though veiled anxiety as to what the dénouement is likely to be.
After the reading, when her secretary rose to go and prepare for supper, she remarked, "You read aloud well, and I like that book. I do not like all books."
"This is very light, but when one is ill one likes something light."
"What I do not like is a book where the people have a guilty secret."
Olwen laughed. "That's so untrue to life," said she.
"Do you think so?" The tone of the question surprised the girl. It was coldly ironic. "You've not had much experience of life, have you?"
"Well," said Olwen, "more than most girls of my age, perhaps. I have lost both parents. I have earned my living for three years."
Madam's lips curved in a slight smile. "Have you had many affairs of the heart! Have you ever had a lover?"
Olwen was near the bed measuring medicine into a glass as she put the question. The colour that flew into the girl's face answered her.
"You have!" The inflection was of surprise. "Well now, do you know, I should have guessed differently. Would it be an impertinence on my part to ask whether you are engaged to be married?"
"Oh, no, certainly not," said Olwen confusedly. "I mean it is not an impertinence, and I am not engaged."
"Not? But you care for the—the gentleman?"
Olwen looked amused. "Don't you think I have all the aspect of a love-lorn damsel?"
The faded eyes watched her with close attention. "Your friends disapproved?"
"Oh dear, no! It is merely that—that the attachment was on the gentleman's side, not on mine," was the reply.
"I must beg your pardon for my inquisition. But perhaps it does concern me a little. I would not have selected a companion who was likely to leave me soon to get married."
"Quite so. I would have told you had there been any arrangement of the kind. You would have had a right to know."
"Do I understand that you definitely refused your suitor?"
"Perhaps," said Olwen after hesitation, "you may consider that I have said enough. An affair of this kind one should not talk of, in my opinion."
"And I have done little so far to earn your confidence," replied Madam, speaking likewise after some musing. She drank her draught and lay down. "Might I ask you, before going upstairs, to find my son and tell him I should like to speak with him for a few minutes?"
Olwen left the room and descended to the dining-room, where Ninian was seated before the fire, with pipe and newspaper. As she entered he pushed towards her two envelopes which lay upon the small table beside him. "Two letters for you," said he. "You seem to have letters every day. The postman feels there is something to climb the hill for now."
"Does he not come when there are none for the Pele?"
"Yes, that's the devil of it. The poor chap has to, because, as you know, he collects our post as well as delivering it, and he never knows until he gets here whether we have anything or not."
"That seems hard. Can't you arrange a signal?"
"Well, I have sometimes thought I would. Perhaps our united intelligence could devise something."
She took her envelopes from the table, glancing at them with pleasure—one from Aunt Maud, one from Grace Holroyd.
"Oh, I am forgetting. I came with a message to you from Madam. She wants to speak to you."
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Why, what about—do you know?"
"Haven't any idea unless she desires to complain of me. But I assure you I haven't been ill-using her."
He laughed, extending his long legs and rubbing Daff's hot back gently with one heel. "Best way to find out is to go and see, I suppose," he remarked, as he rose leisurely and with reluctance, stretched himself and left the room.
CHAPTER XVI
A LITTLE FRICTION
Olwen lingered, after his departure, in the glowing warmth of the hearth. She curled herself up beside Daffodil on the rug, and gave herself the treat of reading Grace's letter.
"Two such contradictory accounts as you have given me in the last few days I never read," wrote her friend. "What a place this Pele must be! And what deplorable people for the likes of you to have to live with! The only point that gives me any hope at all is that you seem, even in your second letter, to have made up your mind not to stay. It is absurd that you should be wasting your talent and your technical training upon a post which any silly spinster could fill with ease. Even I could measure out an old lady's physic and feed her fowls! I could even go sleighing with the cheeky young man, who sounds rather attractive to me. Trust you to roll him out quite flat! I can see you a-doing of it! Anyway, you will have had your experience, and into the bargain a month's country air, which you really needed. I am not afraid that the place will conquer you, in spite of all you prate to me about the atmosphere of the past and the ayah's magic, which seems to consist merely of joss-sticks. You are too wholly a child of your age, and 'the need of a world of men' is as strong in you as it was in the young man who once landed at a farmhouse for a brief night's love-making. You will come back all right where you belong, but in the meantime I hope you are not having too thin a time. Oh, my dearly beloved, having had your little adventure,couldn'tyou settle down to make poor old Ben happy? You know you could do just anything you like with him, strong-minded old thing that he is in most ways. Without you he will close like an oyster, never to open again—the process is beginning now; I watch it day by day. With you he would bloom like a dull-coloured bud in water, that may, when open, be a flaming cactus for all you know to the contrary. You did confess to me that he surprised you when it came to love-making. It is my impression that he could surprise you a great deal more if he got the chance. Am I a selfish little pig to talk like that? It is frankly one for Ben and two for myself. I want, want, want you for a sister; you make the world so different somehow. The taste goes out of things when you are not here. If I were a man I would make you marry me. You are a sort of 'porte-bonheur,' which I should insist upon annexing. Write again soon, your letters are absorbing, and I am discretion itself; I don't give away anything to Ben, though he looks at me like a hurt dog begging for water when he sees me sniggering over them. Good-bye, and God bless you.
"P.S.—I wonder if the Guyses know how lucky they are. I don't expect it. They think you are just an ordinary young female, glad of any job that prevents her eating the bread of dependence; instead of being (as you are) a pocket miracle!"
Olwen let the paper fall with a long sigh. She had the impression of hearing a voice which came from a vast distance. What was real and vivid at the moment was the snowy fell, the hoary Pele, wild weather, solitude, and the Hindu woman's spells. The High Street of Bramforth, with its electric trams, was becoming misty and dream-like.
Grace's metaphor struck her—was all this just a night of adventure?—something to be flung aside as soon as the "need of a world of men" should once more grip her?
For a few minutes she sat on, chin in hand, staring into the depths of the flames; then, with a suddenness for which she could hardly account, she sprang to her feet and flew upstairs—in the pitch dark, for she forgot to take the indispensable candle. She knew the way by now, and it was far too narrow for error to be possible. Without a pause she sped on upward, until she reached the haven of her own room, wherein Sunia and Sunia's care awaited her. It was like coming into realities out of a nasty glimpse of something ugly. She was too content to notice the significance of her frame of mind.
When she went down to supper that evening, Mr. Guyse's mood had completely changed. He was gloomy and silent. He had the aspect of one who has received bad news and is plunged in depression.
He quite failed to second her attempts at conversation, and once or twice, when addressed, came with an effort out of some apparently painful train of thought. His eyes rested upon Olwen with a puzzled speculation, as if either she or her actions had hurt and surprised him.
She became convinced that he was a moody man—veering in his temper, altogether unreliable and uncertain.
As soon as supper was over he rose, went to the mantel-piece, lit his pipe, and muttered something about wanting to speak to Baxter. Moving to the door he turned, his fingers on the handle, and said, "I shall stay over there with Baxter and smoke a pipe. Don't stay up later than you care to."
With that he walked out, and she heard him bang the door.
A good deal relieved by his absence, she went up to Madam with a clear conscience.
She thought the invalid's eyes brightened at the sight of her, but she declined offers of reading or having her bed made, saying, "Nin will be lonely downstairs; you had better go to him."
"He has deserted me," said Olwen gaily. "He has gone to the Gatehouse to smoke a pipe with Baxter, so you and I can have a cosy evening. Very considerate of him, I call it."
Blank surprise seemed the predominant expression on Madam's face.
"Don't you mind?"
"Mind? Mind what? Being able to devote the evening to you? Dear lady, why did I come here but to be with you and do all I can?"
A fleeting smile crossed the faded lips. "I suppose you really did. I never mentioned Nin in my letter to you, did I?"
"No, you didn't. If you had, perhaps I shouldn't have come," was the mischievous reply, as Olwen went to the door and clapped her hands to summon the ayah.
Sunia came in, looking anything but pleased. She glanced at the girl's careful toilet and coiffure, and said sullenly that one did not make beds when dressed for the evening.
"Pukka mem-sahibs don't, but you see, I am quite different. I belong to the working classes, Sunia—see?" teased the girl.
"Ayah knows better," muttered the woman, with a glance of mingled affection and resentment. She condescended, however, to help her mistress from bed to the big chair by the fire. "Why you unkind my sahib! Why send him away?" she whispered to Olwen, as they turned the mattress together.
"I didn't do anything of the sort," replied the girl aloud; "I went down quite prepared to be nice to him, but he was as cross as two sticks, and hardly spoke all dinner time. He's a spoilt, disagreeable thing, Sunia, and it is you who have spoilt him."
This speech appeared to give quite remarkable pleasure to Madam, who looked rather spitefully at the ayah. "Hear what she says?"
"Yes, I hear," very sulkily.
"You shouldn't go telling tales about me, Sunia. You have made mischief," went on Olwen gleefully.
"I told no tales—not since yesterday evening: Missis here, my Madam, perhaps she tell tales this day," was the vexed retort.
"I?" The colour flew hotly into Madam's face. "Sunia! You forget yourself! Remember your place! How dare you speak so?"
Olwen stood a minute, glancing from one woman to the other. Her mind went seeking back over what had passed that evening. Madam had asked her whether she had a lover, and had seemed disturbed by her reply. She had told her to send up Ninian, but not for a moment had she connected this summons with herself. Yet his manner, since he saw his mother, had completely changed. It seemed too preposterous to imagine that he could be in the sulks because his mother had told him that another man wanted to marry Miss Innes. Yet Madam had all the aspect of a guilty person, and Sunia was watching her with angry eyes.
"It's all nonsense, I am only teasing Sunia, dear Madam," she threw in quickly. "I am afraid I ought not to speak so disrespectfully of your son. Forgive me."
The ayah, after a long searching glance, said no more, and they devoted themselves to putting Madam back into bed, and bringing her supper, after which she submitted, with evident pleasure, to be read to sleep.
By the time she was soundly in slumber it was still early—about nine, and Olwen thought it too soon to go to bed. Taking her candle, she went down to the banqueting hall, in which each day since her arrival there had been a fire and lights in the evening. As she opened the door, a sudden gust blew out her candle, in spite of its protecting shade. She paused in the open doorway, fascinated by the spectacle of the great hall in moonlight.
The snow without made the effect singularly brilliant. Each mullion of the great south window lay in velvet blackness across the floor. One casement of the oriel was open, which was the cause of the draught which had put out her light. She closed the door noiselessly behind her, and stood enveloped in the complete silence of the vast empty place. To her right the closed door of the chapel seemed as though it might open at any moment and disclose the figure of the chaplain, turning from his prayers to seek his bed in the tiny stone chamber in the wall.
Picking up a shawl from some wraps on the settle, she folded it about her, and crept up to the oriel, seating herself upon the window seat. Outside the moonlit snow was so wonderful that she forgot all else in its contemplation. The tops of the trees were like snowy peaks of some distant range, upon which she looked down from an immeasurable height. As she leaned out, she could form some idea of the madness which had seized the unhappy girl who plunged into that underworld of mystery and gloom. There was an eerie fascination in it. It did look as though one might hurl oneself clean into eternity by merely letting go....
There came the notion that all life is effort—is holding on, is resisting the temptation to fall....
How simple, how curiously simple to cease that effort. Words of a hymn she had sung many times in church ran mockingly in her head—
Oh, could we but relinquish allOur earthly props, and simply fallIn Thine Almighty Arms!
Oh, could we but relinquish allOur earthly props, and simply fallIn Thine Almighty Arms!
Oh, could we but relinquish all
Our earthly props, and simply fall
In Thine Almighty Arms!
The words had always formerly seemed most inappropriate for the singing of a general congregation, among whom scarce a dozen had any such aspiration. Perhaps Lily Martin had really felt it. Was it, after all, an aspiration, or was it a temptation of the devil? Simply to fall ... simply fall....
The snow without was hypnotising her—or perhaps some emanation from the soul of her who had agonised there, in that very spot, was exercising a malign spell. She was so absorbed, so utterly carried away by her fancies, that she did not hear the door open nor the low, choked cry which Ninian gave as he came in.
He crossed the floor in a dozen hurried strides. "My God!"
She heard that. She had been leaning out over the sill, but she drew back suddenly, and herself uttered an exclamation on realising the presence of someone in the dark behind her.
"Who is it?" she cried sharply, and a voice replied:
"It's I—Ninian—who are you, in God's name?"
"Who should I be but myself," she said in common-place tones, the influence of the solitude and the entrancing night fading as she heard her own voice and his.
He laughed unsteadily. "Jove, but you gave me a fright! What in the name of all that's arctic are you doing there?"
"Is it cold? I believe it is," she replied, rising. "I had forgotten all about it, because fairyland is outside the window."
"What on earth made you come here in the cold and the dark?"
"I wasn't thinking. I expected to find it warm and lighted as usual. I opened the door, and then it was so weird I had to come in. Isn't it? ... but there is no word to paint it. I am going to enrich my language by a new adjective, I must find a word to express this Pele! But a word won't do it—you must have a long cumulative effect of built-up words, like the poem of 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.' ... I wonder if it was moonlight when he got there? ... Nobody knows what he found, do they? But I know what I think."
She was talking at random, to give him time, because she could hear him breathing short, and knew that the sight of her leaning out there had been a shock. He had at first taken her for someone else.
He answered her a trifle jerkily. "What do you think he found?"
"I think it was all glorious within. There was nothing to do him any harm. The danger was all in the getting there. Once arrived he had a splendid welcome."
"I like that idea. But come away. Let us talk of it by the fire downstairs."
"I think I won't come down. It is almost bedtime, and I am tired after my walk. Good night."
As she took his hand she could feel his arm vibrate, as with some very strong emotion which he could hardly curb. "You have odd fancies," he said, half impatiently. "I say—I'm sorry I was such a bear at supper-time."
"Oh, you realise it, then?"
"Of course. I can't think how I could behave so when only yesterday I promised to reform."
"But you must sometimes be out of spirits," she reassured him, lighting her candle as she spoke. "If you and I are to be friends we must make allowances for each others' moods, must we not? You will have to make your peace with Sunia, though. I warn you she is much displeased with you. She seems determined that you and I should be friends, doesn't she?"
"Do you think it's possible we ever could?" he asked wistfully, almost humbly.
"Why not?"
"You're—you're so unexpected, somehow. I never know what you will do, how you will take things."
"Isn't that more stimulating than if you always knew beforehand what I should do or say?"
"Well, of course it is."
"Perhaps a little friction is what you need," she laughed, as she took up the candle and escaped.