CHAPTER XVIIBALMAYNE'S WARNINGIn the market-place of Caryngston Dr. Balmayne met the vicar, a sturdy, rosy-faced man with a face like a jocund choir-boy."Hallo!" was the clerical greeting. "How have you been keeping all this awful weather? Going to thaw, though, now.""Pretty well," replied Balmayne, who had stopped his car to purchase a keg of petrol at the local store. "Get in and I'll put you down at the vicarage."Nothing loth, Mr. Lomas took his seat beside him. He was a sociable person, always eager for news, and with the exception of his vicarage full of nurslings, the doctor was his only associate, at least during the winter months.One of the best and most simple-minded of men, he had nevertheless a curious taste for horrors, and found his keenest enjoyment in perusing the detailed reports of murder cases in the daily papers, or unravelling the tales of Arsène Lupin, Sherlock Holmes, and so on. A collection of true stories of celebratedcrimes passionelsrelated by a well-known author had lately delighted him, and he began to talk of it almost immediately."You know, Balmayne, it is positively unsettling to read a book like that," he said. "The thing it brings home to you is that people are hardly ever what they seem. Picture to yourself a young girl, living in her father's house, simple, dutiful, giving up an undesirable lover at a word of parental entreaty, engaging herself most suitably, universally esteemed among even the strict Presbyterian circle she moved in, and she turns out to be——""Well, what does she turn out to be?""To have been secretly the mistress of the man she professed to have given up, and, furthermore, to be his murderess.""It was never proved against her, was it?" asked the doctor."It was not; and there were many at the time in Edinburgh who believed her innocent; but she was convicted of enough, even without the murder. She was shown to have been without moral sense. Fancy a young girl who could engage herself to a good man, while all the time concealing that engagement from her paramour to whom she was continuing to send passionate letters! Isn't it inconceivable?""I should have thought to a priest, as to a doctor, there is very little that is inconceivable. This world is an odd place, and there are odd people in it.""You're right there, and talking of odd people, Mrs. Askwith has just told me quite an exciting piece of news, though I expect you have heard it. She says that the Guyses have at last engaged another girl to go as companion up at the Pele!""Yes, your news is no news to me, Vicar. I was up there two days back, and am going again to-day, as Mrs. Guyse is not quite the thing.""And you have seen the young lady?""And I have seen the young lady.""Indeed! Indeed! And how does she impress you?""Very favourably. She seems all right so far. They have told her nothing about Miss Martin.""Ah, um!" The vicar made little ruminating sounds as he turned this over in his mind. "Talk of mysteries," he remarked at length; "there, my dear Balmayne, is a thing to puzzle you! As queer as anything in this book, staggering though some of these undoubted facts are. Will that affair ever be explained, do you suppose?""I don't think there is much mystery there. What is it that strikes you as so mysterious?""My good fellow, we have discussed it a hundred times! The girl's departure, the way the thing was hushed up——""It seems fairly clear to me, as I have always told you. Young Guyse pays the girl to keep quiet.""But why? Why should he do so?""Because he didn't want her to talk, of course.""Then you really think——""Mrs. Baxter told me that all the time she was delirious she kept on repeating to herself, 'Lily Guyse, Mrs. Guyse.' There is no doubt that he had promised her marriage, there was a wedding-ring round her neck. All that story of the ayah's about her getting letters from London was concocted. They said she burnt the letters, and I never saw one, or heard of anybody except the ayah who saw one. If the thing had come into court the postman would have been called, and it would have been exposed, but, you see, it did not come into court. Of course, Sunia would swear that black was white in order to screen Guyse; an utterly untrustworthy witness. His mother knew, I am convinced of that.""His mother knew?""Undoubtedly. She never liked Ninian, but she has hated him since then. I fancy she would have taken the girl back on her own terms—even as Ninian's acknowledged wife. She liked her well enough, and her life since she was alone has been anything but amusing. Guyse has the impudence to declare that he does not know where the girl is, and has never heard of her since she left. But that is a bit too thin. No, in my opinion it was a lucky thing for that young man that poor Miss Martin didn't succeed in her attempt; an inquest would have been embarrassing. But the hush money is evidently a drain upon him. He ought not to be so frightfully hard up as he evidently is. He makes a clear profit on his farming, and they are not without means, though they lost a big amount. Well, his dismal experience may have taught him wisdom. He will be the less likely to start philandering with Miss Innes.""It seems to me an imprudent arrangement," remarked the vicar in a troubled voice. "Here is a man who can't afford to marry at all unless he marries a fortune. They import into that lonely house a girl, young and presumably attractive, but so poor that she must work for her living. What else is there for Guyse to do but flirt? Shut up with her day after day, it must be hard to help it!""But what can one do?" said Balmayne musingly. "Would it be possible to warn her? I think she is a girl of character—quite a different type from that other. If she knew what sort Guyse is, she would be safe enough.""Then I am inclined to think you ought to give her a hint. I don't like it, Balmayne.""It's so hard to say anything at all without saying too much.""It is. I see that—and you are a young man yourself. If Wilfrid were at home I could speak to him, but Ninian is the kind of chap who thinks it clever to be rude if you say anything he doesn't like.""Wilfrid was a good deal cut up by that Lily Martin episode.""No wonder! A nice thing to come back from Klondyke—where he had really been risking his life to mend the family fortunes—and to find out what had been going on in his absence. Of course, they hoped that, as the girl got well and departed, nothing would come out. But it did—it did!""Inevitably, I suppose," replied Balmayne; "but I can honestly say it didn't get about through me.""Who told the Kendalls?" said the little vicar shrewdly. "My wife is certain that Rose Kendall meant to marry Ninian. It was practically a settled thing, and Metcalfe told me she has thirty thousand pounds.""I suppose Wolf is not likely to be coming home just yet?""Can't possibly come as long as Parliament is sitting. He took a few days' leave at Christmas, you know.""Now if it were he with whom a girl was thrown every day and all day long, warnings would be fruitless," remarked Balmayne smiling. "Any girl alive would fall in love with Wolf if she got the chance.""If I were to write to him," suggested the vicar tentatively. "Of course, I don't mean ostensibly. I do write to him from time to time. Say I am sending back the book he lent me, and am interested to hear that his mother has a new companion—that her presence will do much to wipe out unpleasant rumours or memories, eh?""Do you think that he doesn't know of the new arrangement, then?""I can't say.""It was by his advice that they tried the plan before," said Balmayne thoughtfully. "He may have urged it afresh when he came home at Christmas and saw how depressed and unwell his mother was. A pity he didn't insist upon its being somebody middle-aged. But I suppose he thought that might be more depressing than nobody at all.""Well, if you get a chance," concluded the vicar, as the car stopped at his gate, "I should put in a word; but be careful. The Guyses are a very old family, and this old blood does curious things. Generally a bit mad, these high-bred, thin-blooded chaps.""You surely don't call Mrs. Guyse blue-blooded? She ought to have imported a good sane middle-class strain to replenish the old stock.""Ah, true. Will you come in and see Ada?""No, thanks, I've got a pneumonia case, and I want to get up to the Pele this afternoon. Mrs. Lomas all right, I hope?""Yes, yes, capital. When I've finished 'Celebrated Murder Mysteries' I'll lend it to you," went on Mr. Lomas in a burst of friendship, "but I haven't read it all yet. However, bear in mind that nothing is really improbable. The young lady at the Pele can't be too careful. I don't know why exactly, but I shouldn't care for a daughter of mine to be there. I've heard it said that Mrs. Guyse is a bit queer in the head since their financial crash; and the foreign woman is almost the only servant they have. Safe or not, it can't be comfortable there for a young lady, it really can't.""Miss Innes seemed all right when I saw her last. However, I will make particular inquiry to-day. When the weather breaks, you must make an effort and take Mrs. Lomas to call at the Pele. I'll motor you up. Poor old Reed (the vicar of Guysedale) won't be able to get there for months.""A broken Reed, eh?" said Mr. Lomas, and the doctor glided away leaving him chuckling at his own joke. Like most people with no sense of humour, the vicar dearly loved a joke.Upon reaching the Pele that afternoon the doctor was shown into the banqueting-hall.The master of the house sat smoking by a good fire, and the furniture of the room was in some disorder, as if in process of rearranging. The greeting Balmayne received was less hostile than usual, though it could not be described as cordial."Thanks, my mother seems much better. Convalescent, in fact; I'll let Miss Innes know that you are here." He went to the door, opened it and clapped his hands. Then he was heard telling the ayah who had answered the summons to say that the doctor had arrived.Miss Innes appeared at once and invited Balmayne to Madam's room. He was altogether satisfied with his patient, and quite willing that she should be brought downstairs if it could be managed.When they had left the sick chamber and were passing through the adjoining sitting-room, he said to the girl, "I should like a few minutes talk with you."She stopped. "It had better be here, then," said she in a low voice, "for on the stairs or in the hall we shall be overheard. The Hindu woman cannot be cured of listening behind the arras; I think she looks upon it as part of her duties. However, she can hear nothing through this door."He hesitated. What he had to say would need some adroitness, in order that it might sound not too serious, yet important enough to be heeded. He felt it impossible to begin.He smiled. "To blurt out what I want to say in cold blood is not easy, yet I think I may be sorry afterwards if I have failed to give you a hint——""Yes?" Her heart throbbed apprehensively."Have you heard anything—I think you told me that you had not—about Miss Martin?"She flushed, but her answer came swiftly. "Thanks, Dr. Balmayne, but since I last saw you I have heard what I suppose to be the whole story; and—and shall you think me wrong if I say that I feel it a subject which does not concern me, and which I ought not to discuss?""I shall certainly think you wrong in the sense of being mistaken," he answered quietly. "In my opinion the matter does concern you. What young Guyse did once he may do again. Of course, that sad affair may have taught him caution; but it does not seem to me fair that you should not be put on your guard.""You think Mr. Guyse was to blame?" she asked as indifferently as she could; but by the glance the doctor gave her she knew that he was disagreeably surprised."So you are already a partisan?" he asked with a smile, taking up his hat.Olwen coloured, surprised herself at the desire to champion Nin of which she could not but be conscious. "You jump very swiftly to conclusions," said she steadily. "My point of view is, that as I do not mean to remain here, there is no need for me to pry too closely into the Guyse family records." She added with a smile, "Mr. Guyse recommended me to hear your side of the story. He said I was to put yours and his together and see what they came to. But, please, I think I would rather not. The knowledge of what befell my predecessor is enough warning, it seems to me——"She broke off, for a sharp tapping at the door announced that Nin was outside. With a shrug of her shoulders and a backward glance of amusement she went and admitted him."Well, what's the verdict? May I bring her down? he demanded, entering."Oh!" Balmayne pulled himself together. "Mrs. Guyse? Yes, certainly I think so.""Wait a minute, just let me give the finishing touches," cried Olwen, hastening back into the sick-room.Mrs. Guyse was sitting well wrapped up in an armchair. Her eyes rested curiously upon the girl. "Been having a talk to the doctor?" she asked expressionlessly."Yes, but Mr. Guyse is inconsiderate enough to interrupt! He is so impatient to get you downstairs that he has come up to fetch you! Now the comb for a minute! Your hair has got rumpled! There, now you are quite beautiful! If I just put on your shawl——"Mrs. Guyse's features twisted themselves curiously. She was like one overcome by an access of remorse. "Don't let yourself be taken in," she mumbled under her breath; "what do you suppose Nin cares if I am up or down, alive or dead?"Olwen paused. She was not certain of many things concerning Ninian, but she was convinced that he had a real affection for his mother, an affection daily wounded by her dislike of him."He doesn't like me to be upstairs because it takes you away from him," continued Madam with a spiteful smile. "You see, you take a different view of your duty from what Lily Martin did.""Don't talk nonsense," laughed Olwen. She was so sure that Ninian was in no danger from her own attractions that she could afford to make light of the invalid's malice. "Now, Mr. Guyse," she went on, throwing open the door, "Madam is quite ready."Ninian went in, lifted his mother carefully and brought her into the sitting-room where Dr. Balmayne was still standing. Some unamiable impulse caused the lady to give the doctor a cordial invitation to remain to tea. He accepted very readily, and Olwen saw Ninian's brows contract as he carefully edged out of the narrow doorway in such a way as not to inconvenience his burden.Madam complained a little as he moved slowly and steadily down the spiral stair. He made no reply, but went on as though she had not spoken, finally setting her down, in the glow of the firelight, upon the couch which he had brought into the house not two hours previously, and which Olwen had just covered with mattress cushions from the dining-room, supplemented with pillows, of which Sunia had an unlimited supply."Now," said Olwen quite eagerly as they laid Madam down, "you must tell us just how you like to be; the back lets down or can be raised as you wish." Between them it was adjusted to her complete satisfaction, Ninian raising her in his arms while Olwen slipped the back rail into its appropriate niche. Balmayne stood watching the domestic intimacy of the scene, and his thoughts were grave.Mrs. Guyse was evidently pleased with the new arrangement. As they had placed her, she could not see the oriel window at all. The high back of the settle screened it from her, and a little table stood conveniently beside her for her endless knitting.Sunia now brought up tea, and Olwen poured it out."Fancy," said Madam to Balmayne, "Miss Innes reads aloud so well that I quite enjoy it. I always hated to be read to, but the story she is reading is so amusing that I am quite longing to hear the rest. I have been thinking about it all day, and it cheers me up.""That's the very thing you want," said the doctor heartily. "Miss Innes will do you more good than my medicine.""Yes, but I am afraid she is not going to stay," replied Madam with a wrinkle of her brows."Rubbish!" broke in Ninian; "she only said that because I ragged her and she got a bit riled. However, I'm a reformed character now, and I run her errands like Mary's lamb. Been to Raefell station and back to-day already for my lady.""That's right, boast!" said Olwen scornfully. "Shall I put an extra lump of sugar in your tea, a reward for a good boy?""Put it in my mouth instead—a reward for a good dog," he answered, grinning till the whole of his splendid row of sharp white teeth were displayed.The demon of coquetry which sleeps in every woman prompted the girl to fall in with his mood just because of the presence of Dr. Balmayne. She laid the sugar on his sleek black head, her finger upheld. "Trust," said she absurdly. He sat immovable, his eyes long and eloquent under half-closed lids fixed steadily upon hers. "Paid for," she cried in a hurry, and he jerked his head, caught the sugar in his hands and ate it."The finger flavour," he remarked, "is excellent and very noticeable. What is that stuff which Sunia uses in her ministrations? Subtle but quite perceptible.""You're atrocious," she said with a spurt of anger, swiftly neutralised as she caught his merry eye. "That is, I suppose you are behaving as well as you can, so we must make allowances."He turned to the doctor. "Miss Innes is beginning my education," he said. "I feel sure it'll take longer than a month; don't you agree?"CHAPTER XVIIIVISITORSDuring a whole fortnight nothing particular happened, but many things took place; the first of which was the passing of the snow. By the end of January it was all gone, the trees in the ravine were black instead of white, and the roads, while the thaw lasted, almost impassable.Madam speedily recovered her usual health, and Dr. Balmayne paid only one more visit, on which occasion Miss Innes was out, so he did not see her.The state of the weather made farming impossible. Ninian went hunting once or twice, but was for a great part of the time short of occupation, and Olwen and he were much in each other's company.Reading aloud became a recognised amusement. This took place usually in the interval between tea and supper. The rearrangement of the banqueting-hall, and the comfort of the new couch, had apparently reconciled Madam to the renewed use of the one stately apartment which she possessed. She reclined beside the fire, with her knitting, while Ninian sprawled upon the settle, smoking and netting a new tennis-net for next season. Olwen, between them, had a little reading-lamp all to herself.Madam, like her son, was a creature of moods. She puzzled Olwen. At times it seemed as though she were on the eve of a burst of confidence. Sometimes, but very rarely, she permitted herself a spiteful sneer at Ninian's expense, as on the occasion of her first coming downstairs; but for far the greater part of the time, one would have said that she tried, persistently, and at times quite openly, to throw her son and her companion into each other's society.As for Ninian, his temper varied. Sometimes, for a whole day together, he would be perfectly delightful, saying and doing nothing which jarred—making fun, teasing, preserving the demeanour of a big, indulgent brother, who took increasing pleasure in the society of a small sister. After such a day, Olwen would drift upstairs to her night's rest, in a happy dream. She attempted no self analysis in these times. She was content with life as it was. Then would come a day when Mr. Guyse hardly spoke, when his brow lowered, and he either avoided her or seemed anxious to pick a quarrel. This did not often happen, and when it did it disturbed her a good deal. One morning she received a letter and a parcel, both from Ben Holroyd. His firm had just been experimenting with a new substance as an equivalent for silk, and as a result they were putting on the market some particularly charming sports coats in all shades. Ben said that he had given two of these dainty garments to Gracie, and that she had begged that Olwen might have the like. This gave him courage to venture upon sending them. "You are Gracie's friend—her almost sister," he wrote, "and you have no brother. You may find it impossible to be my wife, but don't be unkind enough to say I may not be your friend."Olwen felt it would be ungracious to refuse the gift thus offered; in truth, it was very welcome, since one needed warm clothing at the Pele while the weather continued so severe. Grace's hand was clearly discernible in the choice, since both the coats sent harmonized with skirts in Olwen's possession. One was a dark, cold blue, not in the least what is known as "navy," but something like a starlit sky in summer. With a lawn collar, and a skirt to match, this looked extremely nice, and she went down to breakfast wearing it in high good humour.It was damping to find Ninian plunged in a fit of the sulks, of which she could not trace the origin.By next morning he had more or less got over it, but Olwen did not feel prepared to go back at once to the old footing. She was a little stiff, and he went off after breakfast in something of a huff, and did not as usual return to lunch.Madam and her companion, now on most amicable terms, ate together. Then the lady was tucked up comfortably on her couch for her daily nap, and Olwen went upstairs to write letters. She was thus occupied—Ben's letter open before her, her own reply nearly complete—when Sunia came in, a little breathless and very eager."My Missee change her frock quick," said she; "people come a-calling.""Why, Sunia, how marvellous! How unheard-of! I feel all of a tremble," laughed Olwen as she rose. "No wonder you're excited! Things like this mustn't happen too often, or they will upset my nerves!"Sunia was swiftly taking from its drawer Olwen's prettiest frock, and one that she had never hitherto worn at the Pele, for want of a suitable occasion. The ayah admired it greatly—it had been purchased for a friend's wedding the preceding summer—and now she dressed her missee in it with great satisfaction, though in feverish haste."Missee go down quick; poor Madam not like having folks allylone.""Well, I would have gone down at once, if you hadn't insisted upon dressing me up, you silly old thing," laughed the girl. "Who are the visitors?""Kendall folk," said Sunia in a slighting voice. "You never seen 'em, they never see you." She gave a little chuckle as if at some thought which pleased her. "They see you this day, certinly. Miss Rose Kendall she see you quite well. There now, here, my Missee, clean hanshif—run away, I must go and bring tea."Olwen took the "hanshif," one of her best, and as she scuttled downstairs she inhaled its faint, exquisite perfume, described by Ninian as "subtle yet perceptible." She never gave a thought to the open letters on her blotter.With Madam she found three strangers—an elderly lady and gentleman and a girl of about her own age. The gentleman was fierce and military, the lady nondescript and uncertain, the girl struck her rather unpleasantly. She was of the chinless type, with a salient nose, giving to her profile the look of a bird of prey. Her brown eyes were goggling, but she apparently considered herself a beauty, for she was extravagantly arrayed in ermine and velvet, with diamonds in her ears and at her collar.Mrs. Guyse looked relieved when Olwen entered. "Ah, here is Miss Innes," she said; "let me introduce her—Miss Innes, General and Mrs. Kendall, Miss Kendall."The attitude of all these three persons, when presented to Madam's companion, was stiff to the point of rudeness, but Olwen set to work bravely to do her duty and entertain them as well as she could. Mrs. Kendall turned her back, addressing herself pointedly to Madam, and the General followed her example; so Olwen gave her attention to the young lady."I expect you came in a car," said she; "it is the only way to get about in these parts. As we have not one, we are almost confined to the house, except when the snow is deep and hard enough for sleighing. How far have you come?""About ten miles," said the heiress frigidly."Mrs. Guyse took cold sleighing," went on Miss Innes, unperturbed; "she was laid up for several days, and it was all that Dr. Balmayne could do to get to us. This place seems like the world's end, does it not?"Miss Kendall stared forbiddingly. "It is one of the sights of the country," said she. "It is mentioned in Domesday Book.""I was not criticising, but merely commenting," replied Olwen, amused. "As a matter of fact, I like the solitude, though I am surprised at myself for saying so. I came from Bramforth.""Indeed!" was all the reply vouchsafed; and the speaker looked out above her furs, so curiously like a parrot that Olwen nearly laughed."Won't you take off your stole? This room is so warm; we are obliged to keep up the temperature for Madam.""I am not too warm," replied Miss Kendall, with an indescribable arching of her skinny throat."No, it's not a parrot that she is like—it's a vulture," thought Olwen. "I can fancy her hopping sideways after a bit of carrion! I should like to see Nin deal with her!" Aloud she made one more effort."Do you live in the Caryngston direction?""No," replied the vulture, and made no further conversational attempt.Olwen felt greatly inclined to say, "Oh, very well, sulk if you want to!" but at this painful instant the door opened and the master of the house walked in. She was so pleased to see him that she actually gave him what he would have called the "glad eye"—receiving in return a flash of green light which gave her a queer sensation of pleasure. They had had a tiff, and to both this exchange of looks seemed to say that all was right once more between them.The looker-on thought she detected some embarrassment or self-consciousness in the cordiality of the greeting the young man received from the General and his wife; but Miss Kendall became a different creature at once. With much play of eyes and tossing of furs she made way for him upon the settle at her side. Olwen had risen at once upon his entrance, and the appearance of Sunia with the tea gave her occupation at some little distance, so that she could not hear what Nin was saying, only that he was making Miss Kendall laugh. Her high titter resounded through the lofty chamber. But when Olwen rose and began to hand round cups, he instantly rose also, took possession of the cake-stand, and did his duty as host in a manner which pleased Olwen enormously."Your ayah is wonderful," said Rose, accepting her cup. "I always think she is immortal, like 'She' in Rider Haggard's story. She never seems to grow any older, and she lends such abizarretouch! The contrast of the feudal fortress and the Oriental servant!""What'sbizarre, teacher?" asked Ninian of Olwen, with a wicked look."Bizarreis the word which describes the effect of Sunia in the Pele, as Miss Kendall has just told you," replied Olwen, rather saucily, perhaps, but she had been a little nettled by Miss Kendall's ill-breeding."Sunia is so devoted in her attendance on your mother that I should hardly have thought you required anybody else," went on Rose, her eyes fixed disparagingly upon Olwen."Oh, it isn't Miss Innes's job to wait on my mother," said Ninian quietly. It was curious that Olwen knew his voice inflections well enough to be aware that he was angry. "Sunia is all very well in her way, but she has her little tempers. She was getting a bit unbearable when Miss Innes arrived, but she has somehow contrived to tame her entirely. Ayah is perfectly devoted—waits on you hand and foot, doesn't she?" He spoke standing up, with his cup in his hand, close to Olwen, determined that she should be included in the conversation. She had never liked him so well. His mother chimed in."Yes, as I hear Ninian telling your daughter, it is a most remarkable thing the way my ayah has taken to Miss Innes. It was almost instantaneous. She positively worships her. Miss Innes, tell General Kendall about the table."Olwen smiled as she related how she had wished to have a writing-table in her room, and how, owing to the impossibility of carrying furniture upstairs, Sunia made Baxter take off the legs of an unused table and transport it to the top of the house, where it was put together again.Rose Kendall made no comment, but after an insolent stare at Olwen, turned her shoulder to her and said to Mr. Guyse, "How strange that it never occurred to me to wonder how the things were got into the rooms! This fine billiard-table, for example.""My father never went without anything he really meant to have," replied Ninian. "This place had been more or less uninhabited for a century, except by a farm-hind, when he determined to use it as a shooting-box. He took out all the mullions of that great window, and the table was hauled up with ropes and pulleys.""How glorious to own such a place!" said Miss Kendall fervently. "How I should like to live in a historic tower!"Ninian's grin over her head at Olwen showed that he thought this attempt too clumsy even for Miss Kendall. "Nicer to think about than to put in practice," he replied. "Ask my mother.""Oh, the Pele is a bit trying if you have to live in it in winter, but it has its good points," said Madam. Her voice had wholly lost the edge of bitterness with which she had spoken of her home to Olwen as "this accursed spot.""Miss Innes became acclimatised very quickly," went on Ninian to the young lady.She acknowledged the remark with a smile that was almost a grimace, and changed the subject forthwith. "What news of your brother? He was looking so well when I saw him last.""Oh, he's all right, but we haven't heard very lately. This is just the busy time for him, Parliament opening and so on." He sat down beside the visitor, and spoke with his eyes full upon her and an especially demon-like smile. "By the way, I heard a bit of news this morning. Came home hot-foot to tell Madam. What do you think, Mother? Noel Guyse is going to be married to Miss Leverett, of Leverett's Wash-White Slick-Soap!""Never, Nin!" cried Madam, with a little laugh. "His lordship has never given permission!""If he didn't, he'd be a raving lunatic. She's got money enough to buy the whole county. Now they'll have another try to get me to sell the Pele! See if they don't!""But you won't!" cried Miss Kendall in terrified accents, clasping her jewelled hands and gazing at him intensely. Certainly he looked wonderfully handsome as he sat there, so completely at his ease, with the impish smile flickering over his face."Depends on how much they offer," he said, with another glance at Olwen. For some reason which she could not fathom, he was evidently enjoying this conversation. "I suppose you had already heard of the engagement?" he went on, addressing the General point-blank.The old gentleman cleared his throat, and admitted, a trifle nervously, that he had heard something of it. "Met his lordship on the bench on Monday.""Did he seem pleased?" Ninian inquired."Oh, ah, yes, certainly. Very pleased.... Charming girl, so he said. Case of love at first sight on both sides.""No doubt," said Madam, with her little nervous laugh. "Love of money on his side, love of a title on hers.""Ha! ha! Good, my dear lady, good!" laughed the General. His daughter added:"I've seen Amanda Leverett, she was at Danley Races last autumn, but I forget what she's like. Her clothes were all right. They were the thing you remembered about her.""Well, no doubt Caryngston can do with the money. None of our family are what Nin would call coiny," said Madam."Ah, but you don't need it, you have something worth far more!" cried Rose, with a glance which she meant to be very expressive. Ninian acknowledged the compliment with a merry bow.Mrs. Kendall rose. She had been looking decidedly ill at ease while the latest topic was discussed. "The days are so short," she murmured, "we must really say good-bye. Charmed to find you at home and looking so well, dear Mrs. Guyse. Now, I suppose it would be of no use to ask you to let Mr. Guyse bring you to lunch with us one day next week?" She bent over Madam's couch coaxingly."Oh, no thank you. I shall not go out until the weather turns really fine," was the quick response. "Miss Innes will have to do my social duties for me."Mrs. Kendall ignored the hint entirely. "Mr. Guyse, you will have to take pity on us and come alone," said she playfully. "Shall we say Monday? Or would Tuesday suit you better? What with our having been abroad the two last winters, and in London during the season, we have seen nothing of you lately.""Must be three years since I was at Copley, isn't it?""Oh, I can't believe that it is as long as that! How time flies! But do be—er—forgiving, and come over for an hour or two. The General is longing for a chat with you.""Can't be done, thanks all the same. We're short-handed on the farm, and next week is going to be very busy. The long snow has made us all behindhand. You must realise that I'm a mere British workman, not fit to lunch with the quality."Rose approached, laying her cheek down on her big white muff, and looking wistfully at him. He stuck to his refusal, however, in spite of entreaties. The discussion seemed to amuse Madam. She lay listening with one of her queer looks—looks which enabled one to glimpse a passing likeness between her and the son who was so unlike her.The young man accompanied his guests downstairs, and as the sound of their footsteps and voices died away, his mother turned to Olwen."Dear! How funny!" said she."What in particular was funny?" inquired the girl, coming to relieve her of her empty cup."The Kendalls! Ha! ha! I can't altogether explain how funny it is, but I can tell you part. They tried hard, three years ago, to marry Rose to Ninian. She's got a nice little fortune, it wouldn't have done badly. Then suddenly something made them think that they might get hold of Noel Guyse, Caryngston's boy, and, of course, they thought that would be much better. They haven't been near us for ages, and when they walked in this afternoon, all gush, I couldn't make out what brought them. But, you see, Ninian knew! They had got wind of Noel's engagement, and hoped we shouldn't have heard about it! Hoped they wouldn't be seen through! But Nin wasn't going to let them off! Did you see the General's face when Nin made him own that he knew? Dear me, I haven't been so amused for a long time!"Nin was soon back again, and came into the room laughing. "Well," he said, "aren't those people just about the limit? Like their cheek, turning up here and coming the long-lost brother over me, when they've boycotted me for three years!""Oh, well, I think you scored," said his mother with relish."What d'you think of 'em, eh, Teacher?" he continued, dropping into a chair by her tea-table and stretching out his long limbs."Sit down and have a proper tea," said she, instead of replying. "You were behaving so beautifully that you had not time to eat.""Yes, wasn't he?" said Madam unexpectedly. "Your manners are improving, Nin, did you know?"The expression which crept into Nin's face touched Olwen with a quick thrill of pity. His eye gathered light, his lips curved, the colour mustered in his dark face. Evidently his mother's praise was delightful to him.Of course, however, he replied flippantly. "Ought to be improving by now. Been living in a reformatory for weeks.""Oh," said the girl quickly, "has it been as bad as that?"He gave her a sidelong glance, watching the effect of his words. "It's been very painful." He sighed. "But all is forgiven if the result seems to be worth the sacrifice. You haven't answered the previous question, Teacher. What do you think of the resident gentry, as exemplified in the Kendall family?""Oh ... I expect they improve on acquaintance, like—like some other folks I know.""Now what have I done for you to be nasty?""Said you'd been living in a reformatory," she snapped."Ah, but this one is run on the new lines—cure by kindness. I like being here so much that I'm going to stay as long as they let me have the same teacher.""Doesn't he want shaking?" said Olwen to Madam,"My dear, I think youhaveshaken him—pretty thoroughly!"CHAPTER XIXA DISCOVERYOlwen was very busy. For the last fortnight she had devoted herself to the library, and it had been a far more laborious business than she had anticipated. The books seemed to have been snatched from their places, thrown in a pile on the floor, and taken thence and thrust into shelves quite haphazard.Not only was there no classification, but even the volumes of the different sets were divided, and had to be hunted for.She had, by dint of steady work, made considerable progress, though still there were rows of books lying on the ground, carefully shielded from dust by newspapers.This morning the sun was streaming blithely in through all the windows, and the sharp frost made one feel buoyant. Olwen was in vigorous health. Since she left the Palatine Bank she had improved very much in looks. The tints of her face were like a sun-warmed peach, her eyes were bright and clear, and the excellent feeding made her plump, though the exercise she took kept her from growing stout. She sang as she stood upon the library steps, garbed in a blue overall, with duster and feather brush. It seemed to her that all was right with the world.The upper shelves were devoted to fiction, and she had just hunted out and found the last volume completing a set of Bulwer Lytton. She carried them up to their destined shelf, and was carefully arranging them according to their numbers, when one dropped from her hand into her lap. The leaves fell apart, and a photograph slipped out from between them. Seated upon the top step, she took up the portrait and studied it.A young lady, with ebullient hair, teeth and a smile. She wore a large feathered hat and a low—generously low—evening dress, with a rose at her bosom and a diaphanous scarf over one shoulder."An actress," thought Olwen, and sighed a little pitifully; for the big bistred eyes were wistful, and the lips, so evidently carmined, had a pathetic droop. She turned over the cardboard and saw words scrawled across the back in a thick, heavy hand:"Ninian, from his Lily."Beneath this, which was written in ink, the same hand had added something else in pencil: "Mrs. Ninian Guyse."To her own surprise Olwen coloured hotly. She sat down abruptly on the top step, studying the pictured face intently."So that was the kind of girl he tried his hand upon last! No wonder I puzzled him! No wonder that he didn't exactly know where he was with me! ... This was Lily Martin! How could they engage such a person? How could they have her in the house? No wonder Sunia said she was not pukka!"Sitting there, chin on hand, she caught sight of her own reflection in the glass of the opposite cupboards. A small person in a long plain overall, almost childish, nunnishly garbed from throat to foot!Then again her eyes sought the flamboyant image upon the cardboard."From that to this!" she thought, with a curled lip.Her puzzled eyes, staring out across the room, fell, as they often did, upon the family motto, carved above the Tudor chimneypiece:"Guyse ne sçait pas se déguyser."Like many old mottoes, it seemed ambiguous. Did it mean that, once a Guyse you could not cease to be a Guyse, nor persuade anyone that you were anything else! Or did it mean that any Guyse would scorn to stoop to deception? Or did it mean (as Ninian vowed it did) that a Guyse was such a hopeless fool that any attempt to disguise or mask himself was sure to be found out?She had herself inclined to the first interpretation. "Once a Guyse always a Guyse" would have been her paraphrase.Now she looked upon it with a curl of the lip. She was recalling Ninian's telling of the story of Lily Martin. The recital had seemed to her to bear the stamp of truth. To-day her mind had received a nasty jolt.She and Ninian had come far—very far—since their first meeting. Only last night the question of her remaining at the Pele had been practically decided. Ninian had expounded the rules to her. "If you wanted to leave at the month you should have given warning at the end of a fortnight, Miss. Now you have been here six weeks you will have to give a month's warning; after this month is over we shall engage you annually, as they used to do the farm-hands at Caryngston mid-summer fair."To this she returned that it seemed better that she should at least remain long enough to finish the library catalogue; and to celebrate that decision Ninian, at supper, had bade Sunia bring a bottle of champagne, in which they all drank each other's health.Mrs. Guyse on this occasion looked more animated than Olwen had ever seen her; and Sunia, when putting her missee to bed later, had cooed over her like a triumphant mother over a new-born child.Now this photo lay on her lap, and the sight of it was affecting her strangely.For weeks past she had hardly given a thought to the warnings of Deb Askwith or Dr. Balmayne. She hadnotcontinued to keep Nin at a distance. In truth, this was a difficult feat, when Nin desired to approach; although, looking back, she realised how cautious the approach had been....... How, exactly, had they reached the stage at which now they stood—the point at which two people have a common stock of jokes, and memories, a common association of ideas—when they turn to each other with a certainty of response, an assurance of mutual understanding?She could not tell. Ninian, the impertinent boor of the Seven Spears, had become her comrade, she might even say her intimate friend. It was almost like necromancy.And now there lay before her this flimsy, out-of-date bit of pasteboard, with its costume of four seasons ago, so frail and worthless a thing, yet able to give the lie to her own opinion of Ninian. Here, if looks might be trusted, was a girl of the "cheap" variety, and yet, to judge from her expression, not a vicious girl, not a temptress. She had lived in the house with Ninian for more than a year. Some quality in her expression, in the appeal of the big round eyes, hurt the spirit of the girl who gazed.He had told her to leave, and she had wept upon his shoulder! ... How many times during her stay at the Pele might she have used his shoulder as a refuge without being repulsed? Olwen shuddered. There was an element of horror in her thoughts.Was this man using her as a plaything? Did he still think of her as he had done of this predecessor of so different a type?No wonder that his first impression, when he went to meet his mother's new companion, had been that of disappointment. She had not seemed to promise the kind of sport that he desired. Yet her very aloofness, her snappish, prudish ways, had acted as a lure. She had shown plainly that he did not please her, and he had determined that he would please her. Whether or no he found her attractive, he was resolved that she should so find him. She professed not to be interested, and he became determined to arouse her interest.How long would it be before the pleasurable novelty of the situation wore off for him? Olwen clenched her small, ineffectual fists. She had been very arrogant, had believed herself so strong that such a man as Ninian Guyse could not matter. Now, all unaware, she found that she had reached a point at which he did matter, more than she cared to think.Her wounded vanity found some comfort in the reflection that from first to last there had been no love-making. They had become friends upon her own terms. She had, as it were, made the rules. It was now up to her to see that he kept them. Surely she could do this. Yet the revulsion of feeling in her was so strong that she feared it must be apparent to him. She had believed his story of the "Lily Martin affair." In his mouth it seemed to her to bear the stamp of truth. Its disproof was in her hand....... She recalled Balmayne's curled lips as he said, "So! I see that you are a partisan already!"The doctor had attended Miss Martin; he knew much more than Olwen could possibly know of the matter. She wished that she had allowed him to tell her his version. It had not seemed to matter then. Now she would give much to have Ninian cleared.If he and she were on bad terms, she felt that she could not stay at Guysewyke. This certainty gave her to some extent the measure of her own feeling. She caught a glimpse of the long road she had travelled, and saw for an instant the strength of the cobweb bonds which knitted her silently to this uncouth place and its inhabitants.She sat on, the photo in her hand, lost in these uncomfortable speculations, humped up on the top of the steps, absorbed in gloomy thought.The distant door swung back to let in a piercing sound of whistling. Nin and Daff precipitated themselves into the room with violence, and the young man shouted gladly:"There you are, after all! Been looking everywhere for you! My word, you do seem busy!"She did not change her posture, but turned her gaze down upon him as he stood below, smiling broadly up at her, his teeth gleaming, the sun catching the pale metallic gleam of his eyes, changing from green to shot gold where the iris touched the pupil, and making him look, as she often thought, like an animal. The same sun was shining richly through her own hair, so that she looked down upon him from a halo."Seeing that I told you at breakfast that I should be cataloguing all the morning, it's not very complimentary of you to forget it so soon," said she disagreeably."Hallo! Got the hump? I should think so, perched up there all these hours! You look like a saint and talk like a shrew! D'you know it's lunch-time?""No, I didn't. I've been so busy.""You looked it as I walked in. You were sound asleep, I believe. Now come along down to me! I'll jump you!"He stood at the ladder's foot, his arms extended. But yesterday, and she would have jumped into them. To-day she felt that she would rather die."Oh, do get out of the way," said she; "you make me nervous. These steps are rickety. Stand aside, please.""Oh, come, Teacher! Don't go back to last month in that discouraging way! I ain't done nothink fresh, 'ave I? Ain't 'ad the coppers arter me these three weeks, swelp me, I ain't, miss! Tell yer strite, I don't move from this 'ere till I gets yer! Come! Moight as well jump first as lawst!""Oh, please, Mr. Guyse"—in worried accents—"don't be silly. Stand on one side and let me come down."He gave her a long, keen look, then moved aside and stood still, with heightened colour, while she replaced the photo in "The Last Days of Pompeii," rose upright, and deposited the volume in the shelf next its fellow. Then she descended slowly backwards, reached the ground, and shook the dust from her overall before unbuttoning it."Are you in earnest? Have I dropped a brick of any kind?" he asked in a totally changed voice, a voice which caused her to feel an insane desire to be friends."Oh, no, only one does get so tired of that everlasting ragging," she replied slightingly, moving towards the door.He moved more quickly than she, and laid his hand upon the iron ring which raised the latch. His colour had faded, and he looked so white that she halted, a little frightened."D'you think it's fair?" he began, and broke off. "Sorry you're put out," he then said. "Don't know what it's about. Anyway, it's beastly disappointing. I had come to tell you such jolly good news. The ice is bearing, you know.... I've been over this morning to see."Surprise stayed her retreat. "Ice? I didn't know there was any water—I mean, any water you could skate on—hereabouts.""It's some miles away—Hotwells Lough," said he, pronouncing the word as they do in Northumbria—Loff. "Quite near the Roman Wall, you know. The ice is like glass."Olwen drew a long breath. If she loved one thing it was to skate. From the time when her uncles taught her upon the ornamental water in Bramforth Park to the Christmas holidays when Ben Holroyd had taken her and Gracie some stations up the line to the Great Stang, it had been her greatest winter joy. Need she deprive herself of that joy simply because she had determined, after all, to "keep Muster Nin at a distance"? ... There was not much skating in the neighbourhood, and there would be others there—perhaps Dr. Balmayne."Are you thinking of going over?" she asked."Not to-day; it's too far. If we go we ought to start to-morrow morning after an early breakfast, and take our lunch with us.""Near the Roman Wall?" said she, waveringly."Quite near, really. Near the best bit of all.""Well," said Olwen, half relenting, "we'll hear what Madam says. I must just run and wash my hands."With these words she disappeared and hastened up the newel stair. Nin stood motionless for some seconds after her departure; then, softly closing the door, he ran up the ladder steps, passed his hand along the shelf, and took down "The Last Days of Pompeii.'"The book fell open in his hand and he saw the photo. He stared at it as in a passion of disgust. Then he took it up hesitatingly and turned it over. His brows contracted into a portentous frown as he saw the inscription. His mouth puckered itself into a whistle, as if of sharp surprise."The devil!" he said. "Oh, the devil!"
CHAPTER XVII
BALMAYNE'S WARNING
In the market-place of Caryngston Dr. Balmayne met the vicar, a sturdy, rosy-faced man with a face like a jocund choir-boy.
"Hallo!" was the clerical greeting. "How have you been keeping all this awful weather? Going to thaw, though, now."
"Pretty well," replied Balmayne, who had stopped his car to purchase a keg of petrol at the local store. "Get in and I'll put you down at the vicarage."
Nothing loth, Mr. Lomas took his seat beside him. He was a sociable person, always eager for news, and with the exception of his vicarage full of nurslings, the doctor was his only associate, at least during the winter months.
One of the best and most simple-minded of men, he had nevertheless a curious taste for horrors, and found his keenest enjoyment in perusing the detailed reports of murder cases in the daily papers, or unravelling the tales of Arsène Lupin, Sherlock Holmes, and so on. A collection of true stories of celebratedcrimes passionelsrelated by a well-known author had lately delighted him, and he began to talk of it almost immediately.
"You know, Balmayne, it is positively unsettling to read a book like that," he said. "The thing it brings home to you is that people are hardly ever what they seem. Picture to yourself a young girl, living in her father's house, simple, dutiful, giving up an undesirable lover at a word of parental entreaty, engaging herself most suitably, universally esteemed among even the strict Presbyterian circle she moved in, and she turns out to be——"
"Well, what does she turn out to be?"
"To have been secretly the mistress of the man she professed to have given up, and, furthermore, to be his murderess."
"It was never proved against her, was it?" asked the doctor.
"It was not; and there were many at the time in Edinburgh who believed her innocent; but she was convicted of enough, even without the murder. She was shown to have been without moral sense. Fancy a young girl who could engage herself to a good man, while all the time concealing that engagement from her paramour to whom she was continuing to send passionate letters! Isn't it inconceivable?"
"I should have thought to a priest, as to a doctor, there is very little that is inconceivable. This world is an odd place, and there are odd people in it."
"You're right there, and talking of odd people, Mrs. Askwith has just told me quite an exciting piece of news, though I expect you have heard it. She says that the Guyses have at last engaged another girl to go as companion up at the Pele!"
"Yes, your news is no news to me, Vicar. I was up there two days back, and am going again to-day, as Mrs. Guyse is not quite the thing."
"And you have seen the young lady?"
"And I have seen the young lady."
"Indeed! Indeed! And how does she impress you?"
"Very favourably. She seems all right so far. They have told her nothing about Miss Martin."
"Ah, um!" The vicar made little ruminating sounds as he turned this over in his mind. "Talk of mysteries," he remarked at length; "there, my dear Balmayne, is a thing to puzzle you! As queer as anything in this book, staggering though some of these undoubted facts are. Will that affair ever be explained, do you suppose?"
"I don't think there is much mystery there. What is it that strikes you as so mysterious?"
"My good fellow, we have discussed it a hundred times! The girl's departure, the way the thing was hushed up——"
"It seems fairly clear to me, as I have always told you. Young Guyse pays the girl to keep quiet."
"But why? Why should he do so?"
"Because he didn't want her to talk, of course."
"Then you really think——"
"Mrs. Baxter told me that all the time she was delirious she kept on repeating to herself, 'Lily Guyse, Mrs. Guyse.' There is no doubt that he had promised her marriage, there was a wedding-ring round her neck. All that story of the ayah's about her getting letters from London was concocted. They said she burnt the letters, and I never saw one, or heard of anybody except the ayah who saw one. If the thing had come into court the postman would have been called, and it would have been exposed, but, you see, it did not come into court. Of course, Sunia would swear that black was white in order to screen Guyse; an utterly untrustworthy witness. His mother knew, I am convinced of that."
"His mother knew?"
"Undoubtedly. She never liked Ninian, but she has hated him since then. I fancy she would have taken the girl back on her own terms—even as Ninian's acknowledged wife. She liked her well enough, and her life since she was alone has been anything but amusing. Guyse has the impudence to declare that he does not know where the girl is, and has never heard of her since she left. But that is a bit too thin. No, in my opinion it was a lucky thing for that young man that poor Miss Martin didn't succeed in her attempt; an inquest would have been embarrassing. But the hush money is evidently a drain upon him. He ought not to be so frightfully hard up as he evidently is. He makes a clear profit on his farming, and they are not without means, though they lost a big amount. Well, his dismal experience may have taught him wisdom. He will be the less likely to start philandering with Miss Innes."
"It seems to me an imprudent arrangement," remarked the vicar in a troubled voice. "Here is a man who can't afford to marry at all unless he marries a fortune. They import into that lonely house a girl, young and presumably attractive, but so poor that she must work for her living. What else is there for Guyse to do but flirt? Shut up with her day after day, it must be hard to help it!"
"But what can one do?" said Balmayne musingly. "Would it be possible to warn her? I think she is a girl of character—quite a different type from that other. If she knew what sort Guyse is, she would be safe enough."
"Then I am inclined to think you ought to give her a hint. I don't like it, Balmayne."
"It's so hard to say anything at all without saying too much."
"It is. I see that—and you are a young man yourself. If Wilfrid were at home I could speak to him, but Ninian is the kind of chap who thinks it clever to be rude if you say anything he doesn't like."
"Wilfrid was a good deal cut up by that Lily Martin episode."
"No wonder! A nice thing to come back from Klondyke—where he had really been risking his life to mend the family fortunes—and to find out what had been going on in his absence. Of course, they hoped that, as the girl got well and departed, nothing would come out. But it did—it did!"
"Inevitably, I suppose," replied Balmayne; "but I can honestly say it didn't get about through me."
"Who told the Kendalls?" said the little vicar shrewdly. "My wife is certain that Rose Kendall meant to marry Ninian. It was practically a settled thing, and Metcalfe told me she has thirty thousand pounds."
"I suppose Wolf is not likely to be coming home just yet?"
"Can't possibly come as long as Parliament is sitting. He took a few days' leave at Christmas, you know."
"Now if it were he with whom a girl was thrown every day and all day long, warnings would be fruitless," remarked Balmayne smiling. "Any girl alive would fall in love with Wolf if she got the chance."
"If I were to write to him," suggested the vicar tentatively. "Of course, I don't mean ostensibly. I do write to him from time to time. Say I am sending back the book he lent me, and am interested to hear that his mother has a new companion—that her presence will do much to wipe out unpleasant rumours or memories, eh?"
"Do you think that he doesn't know of the new arrangement, then?"
"I can't say."
"It was by his advice that they tried the plan before," said Balmayne thoughtfully. "He may have urged it afresh when he came home at Christmas and saw how depressed and unwell his mother was. A pity he didn't insist upon its being somebody middle-aged. But I suppose he thought that might be more depressing than nobody at all."
"Well, if you get a chance," concluded the vicar, as the car stopped at his gate, "I should put in a word; but be careful. The Guyses are a very old family, and this old blood does curious things. Generally a bit mad, these high-bred, thin-blooded chaps."
"You surely don't call Mrs. Guyse blue-blooded? She ought to have imported a good sane middle-class strain to replenish the old stock."
"Ah, true. Will you come in and see Ada?"
"No, thanks, I've got a pneumonia case, and I want to get up to the Pele this afternoon. Mrs. Lomas all right, I hope?"
"Yes, yes, capital. When I've finished 'Celebrated Murder Mysteries' I'll lend it to you," went on Mr. Lomas in a burst of friendship, "but I haven't read it all yet. However, bear in mind that nothing is really improbable. The young lady at the Pele can't be too careful. I don't know why exactly, but I shouldn't care for a daughter of mine to be there. I've heard it said that Mrs. Guyse is a bit queer in the head since their financial crash; and the foreign woman is almost the only servant they have. Safe or not, it can't be comfortable there for a young lady, it really can't."
"Miss Innes seemed all right when I saw her last. However, I will make particular inquiry to-day. When the weather breaks, you must make an effort and take Mrs. Lomas to call at the Pele. I'll motor you up. Poor old Reed (the vicar of Guysedale) won't be able to get there for months."
"A broken Reed, eh?" said Mr. Lomas, and the doctor glided away leaving him chuckling at his own joke. Like most people with no sense of humour, the vicar dearly loved a joke.
Upon reaching the Pele that afternoon the doctor was shown into the banqueting-hall.
The master of the house sat smoking by a good fire, and the furniture of the room was in some disorder, as if in process of rearranging. The greeting Balmayne received was less hostile than usual, though it could not be described as cordial.
"Thanks, my mother seems much better. Convalescent, in fact; I'll let Miss Innes know that you are here." He went to the door, opened it and clapped his hands. Then he was heard telling the ayah who had answered the summons to say that the doctor had arrived.
Miss Innes appeared at once and invited Balmayne to Madam's room. He was altogether satisfied with his patient, and quite willing that she should be brought downstairs if it could be managed.
When they had left the sick chamber and were passing through the adjoining sitting-room, he said to the girl, "I should like a few minutes talk with you."
She stopped. "It had better be here, then," said she in a low voice, "for on the stairs or in the hall we shall be overheard. The Hindu woman cannot be cured of listening behind the arras; I think she looks upon it as part of her duties. However, she can hear nothing through this door."
He hesitated. What he had to say would need some adroitness, in order that it might sound not too serious, yet important enough to be heeded. He felt it impossible to begin.
He smiled. "To blurt out what I want to say in cold blood is not easy, yet I think I may be sorry afterwards if I have failed to give you a hint——"
"Yes?" Her heart throbbed apprehensively.
"Have you heard anything—I think you told me that you had not—about Miss Martin?"
She flushed, but her answer came swiftly. "Thanks, Dr. Balmayne, but since I last saw you I have heard what I suppose to be the whole story; and—and shall you think me wrong if I say that I feel it a subject which does not concern me, and which I ought not to discuss?"
"I shall certainly think you wrong in the sense of being mistaken," he answered quietly. "In my opinion the matter does concern you. What young Guyse did once he may do again. Of course, that sad affair may have taught him caution; but it does not seem to me fair that you should not be put on your guard."
"You think Mr. Guyse was to blame?" she asked as indifferently as she could; but by the glance the doctor gave her she knew that he was disagreeably surprised.
"So you are already a partisan?" he asked with a smile, taking up his hat.
Olwen coloured, surprised herself at the desire to champion Nin of which she could not but be conscious. "You jump very swiftly to conclusions," said she steadily. "My point of view is, that as I do not mean to remain here, there is no need for me to pry too closely into the Guyse family records." She added with a smile, "Mr. Guyse recommended me to hear your side of the story. He said I was to put yours and his together and see what they came to. But, please, I think I would rather not. The knowledge of what befell my predecessor is enough warning, it seems to me——"
She broke off, for a sharp tapping at the door announced that Nin was outside. With a shrug of her shoulders and a backward glance of amusement she went and admitted him.
"Well, what's the verdict? May I bring her down? he demanded, entering.
"Oh!" Balmayne pulled himself together. "Mrs. Guyse? Yes, certainly I think so."
"Wait a minute, just let me give the finishing touches," cried Olwen, hastening back into the sick-room.
Mrs. Guyse was sitting well wrapped up in an armchair. Her eyes rested curiously upon the girl. "Been having a talk to the doctor?" she asked expressionlessly.
"Yes, but Mr. Guyse is inconsiderate enough to interrupt! He is so impatient to get you downstairs that he has come up to fetch you! Now the comb for a minute! Your hair has got rumpled! There, now you are quite beautiful! If I just put on your shawl——"
Mrs. Guyse's features twisted themselves curiously. She was like one overcome by an access of remorse. "Don't let yourself be taken in," she mumbled under her breath; "what do you suppose Nin cares if I am up or down, alive or dead?"
Olwen paused. She was not certain of many things concerning Ninian, but she was convinced that he had a real affection for his mother, an affection daily wounded by her dislike of him.
"He doesn't like me to be upstairs because it takes you away from him," continued Madam with a spiteful smile. "You see, you take a different view of your duty from what Lily Martin did."
"Don't talk nonsense," laughed Olwen. She was so sure that Ninian was in no danger from her own attractions that she could afford to make light of the invalid's malice. "Now, Mr. Guyse," she went on, throwing open the door, "Madam is quite ready."
Ninian went in, lifted his mother carefully and brought her into the sitting-room where Dr. Balmayne was still standing. Some unamiable impulse caused the lady to give the doctor a cordial invitation to remain to tea. He accepted very readily, and Olwen saw Ninian's brows contract as he carefully edged out of the narrow doorway in such a way as not to inconvenience his burden.
Madam complained a little as he moved slowly and steadily down the spiral stair. He made no reply, but went on as though she had not spoken, finally setting her down, in the glow of the firelight, upon the couch which he had brought into the house not two hours previously, and which Olwen had just covered with mattress cushions from the dining-room, supplemented with pillows, of which Sunia had an unlimited supply.
"Now," said Olwen quite eagerly as they laid Madam down, "you must tell us just how you like to be; the back lets down or can be raised as you wish." Between them it was adjusted to her complete satisfaction, Ninian raising her in his arms while Olwen slipped the back rail into its appropriate niche. Balmayne stood watching the domestic intimacy of the scene, and his thoughts were grave.
Mrs. Guyse was evidently pleased with the new arrangement. As they had placed her, she could not see the oriel window at all. The high back of the settle screened it from her, and a little table stood conveniently beside her for her endless knitting.
Sunia now brought up tea, and Olwen poured it out.
"Fancy," said Madam to Balmayne, "Miss Innes reads aloud so well that I quite enjoy it. I always hated to be read to, but the story she is reading is so amusing that I am quite longing to hear the rest. I have been thinking about it all day, and it cheers me up."
"That's the very thing you want," said the doctor heartily. "Miss Innes will do you more good than my medicine."
"Yes, but I am afraid she is not going to stay," replied Madam with a wrinkle of her brows.
"Rubbish!" broke in Ninian; "she only said that because I ragged her and she got a bit riled. However, I'm a reformed character now, and I run her errands like Mary's lamb. Been to Raefell station and back to-day already for my lady."
"That's right, boast!" said Olwen scornfully. "Shall I put an extra lump of sugar in your tea, a reward for a good boy?"
"Put it in my mouth instead—a reward for a good dog," he answered, grinning till the whole of his splendid row of sharp white teeth were displayed.
The demon of coquetry which sleeps in every woman prompted the girl to fall in with his mood just because of the presence of Dr. Balmayne. She laid the sugar on his sleek black head, her finger upheld. "Trust," said she absurdly. He sat immovable, his eyes long and eloquent under half-closed lids fixed steadily upon hers. "Paid for," she cried in a hurry, and he jerked his head, caught the sugar in his hands and ate it.
"The finger flavour," he remarked, "is excellent and very noticeable. What is that stuff which Sunia uses in her ministrations? Subtle but quite perceptible."
"You're atrocious," she said with a spurt of anger, swiftly neutralised as she caught his merry eye. "That is, I suppose you are behaving as well as you can, so we must make allowances."
He turned to the doctor. "Miss Innes is beginning my education," he said. "I feel sure it'll take longer than a month; don't you agree?"
CHAPTER XVIII
VISITORS
During a whole fortnight nothing particular happened, but many things took place; the first of which was the passing of the snow. By the end of January it was all gone, the trees in the ravine were black instead of white, and the roads, while the thaw lasted, almost impassable.
Madam speedily recovered her usual health, and Dr. Balmayne paid only one more visit, on which occasion Miss Innes was out, so he did not see her.
The state of the weather made farming impossible. Ninian went hunting once or twice, but was for a great part of the time short of occupation, and Olwen and he were much in each other's company.
Reading aloud became a recognised amusement. This took place usually in the interval between tea and supper. The rearrangement of the banqueting-hall, and the comfort of the new couch, had apparently reconciled Madam to the renewed use of the one stately apartment which she possessed. She reclined beside the fire, with her knitting, while Ninian sprawled upon the settle, smoking and netting a new tennis-net for next season. Olwen, between them, had a little reading-lamp all to herself.
Madam, like her son, was a creature of moods. She puzzled Olwen. At times it seemed as though she were on the eve of a burst of confidence. Sometimes, but very rarely, she permitted herself a spiteful sneer at Ninian's expense, as on the occasion of her first coming downstairs; but for far the greater part of the time, one would have said that she tried, persistently, and at times quite openly, to throw her son and her companion into each other's society.
As for Ninian, his temper varied. Sometimes, for a whole day together, he would be perfectly delightful, saying and doing nothing which jarred—making fun, teasing, preserving the demeanour of a big, indulgent brother, who took increasing pleasure in the society of a small sister. After such a day, Olwen would drift upstairs to her night's rest, in a happy dream. She attempted no self analysis in these times. She was content with life as it was. Then would come a day when Mr. Guyse hardly spoke, when his brow lowered, and he either avoided her or seemed anxious to pick a quarrel. This did not often happen, and when it did it disturbed her a good deal. One morning she received a letter and a parcel, both from Ben Holroyd. His firm had just been experimenting with a new substance as an equivalent for silk, and as a result they were putting on the market some particularly charming sports coats in all shades. Ben said that he had given two of these dainty garments to Gracie, and that she had begged that Olwen might have the like. This gave him courage to venture upon sending them. "You are Gracie's friend—her almost sister," he wrote, "and you have no brother. You may find it impossible to be my wife, but don't be unkind enough to say I may not be your friend."
Olwen felt it would be ungracious to refuse the gift thus offered; in truth, it was very welcome, since one needed warm clothing at the Pele while the weather continued so severe. Grace's hand was clearly discernible in the choice, since both the coats sent harmonized with skirts in Olwen's possession. One was a dark, cold blue, not in the least what is known as "navy," but something like a starlit sky in summer. With a lawn collar, and a skirt to match, this looked extremely nice, and she went down to breakfast wearing it in high good humour.
It was damping to find Ninian plunged in a fit of the sulks, of which she could not trace the origin.
By next morning he had more or less got over it, but Olwen did not feel prepared to go back at once to the old footing. She was a little stiff, and he went off after breakfast in something of a huff, and did not as usual return to lunch.
Madam and her companion, now on most amicable terms, ate together. Then the lady was tucked up comfortably on her couch for her daily nap, and Olwen went upstairs to write letters. She was thus occupied—Ben's letter open before her, her own reply nearly complete—when Sunia came in, a little breathless and very eager.
"My Missee change her frock quick," said she; "people come a-calling."
"Why, Sunia, how marvellous! How unheard-of! I feel all of a tremble," laughed Olwen as she rose. "No wonder you're excited! Things like this mustn't happen too often, or they will upset my nerves!"
Sunia was swiftly taking from its drawer Olwen's prettiest frock, and one that she had never hitherto worn at the Pele, for want of a suitable occasion. The ayah admired it greatly—it had been purchased for a friend's wedding the preceding summer—and now she dressed her missee in it with great satisfaction, though in feverish haste.
"Missee go down quick; poor Madam not like having folks allylone."
"Well, I would have gone down at once, if you hadn't insisted upon dressing me up, you silly old thing," laughed the girl. "Who are the visitors?"
"Kendall folk," said Sunia in a slighting voice. "You never seen 'em, they never see you." She gave a little chuckle as if at some thought which pleased her. "They see you this day, certinly. Miss Rose Kendall she see you quite well. There now, here, my Missee, clean hanshif—run away, I must go and bring tea."
Olwen took the "hanshif," one of her best, and as she scuttled downstairs she inhaled its faint, exquisite perfume, described by Ninian as "subtle yet perceptible." She never gave a thought to the open letters on her blotter.
With Madam she found three strangers—an elderly lady and gentleman and a girl of about her own age. The gentleman was fierce and military, the lady nondescript and uncertain, the girl struck her rather unpleasantly. She was of the chinless type, with a salient nose, giving to her profile the look of a bird of prey. Her brown eyes were goggling, but she apparently considered herself a beauty, for she was extravagantly arrayed in ermine and velvet, with diamonds in her ears and at her collar.
Mrs. Guyse looked relieved when Olwen entered. "Ah, here is Miss Innes," she said; "let me introduce her—Miss Innes, General and Mrs. Kendall, Miss Kendall."
The attitude of all these three persons, when presented to Madam's companion, was stiff to the point of rudeness, but Olwen set to work bravely to do her duty and entertain them as well as she could. Mrs. Kendall turned her back, addressing herself pointedly to Madam, and the General followed her example; so Olwen gave her attention to the young lady.
"I expect you came in a car," said she; "it is the only way to get about in these parts. As we have not one, we are almost confined to the house, except when the snow is deep and hard enough for sleighing. How far have you come?"
"About ten miles," said the heiress frigidly.
"Mrs. Guyse took cold sleighing," went on Miss Innes, unperturbed; "she was laid up for several days, and it was all that Dr. Balmayne could do to get to us. This place seems like the world's end, does it not?"
Miss Kendall stared forbiddingly. "It is one of the sights of the country," said she. "It is mentioned in Domesday Book."
"I was not criticising, but merely commenting," replied Olwen, amused. "As a matter of fact, I like the solitude, though I am surprised at myself for saying so. I came from Bramforth."
"Indeed!" was all the reply vouchsafed; and the speaker looked out above her furs, so curiously like a parrot that Olwen nearly laughed.
"Won't you take off your stole? This room is so warm; we are obliged to keep up the temperature for Madam."
"I am not too warm," replied Miss Kendall, with an indescribable arching of her skinny throat.
"No, it's not a parrot that she is like—it's a vulture," thought Olwen. "I can fancy her hopping sideways after a bit of carrion! I should like to see Nin deal with her!" Aloud she made one more effort.
"Do you live in the Caryngston direction?"
"No," replied the vulture, and made no further conversational attempt.
Olwen felt greatly inclined to say, "Oh, very well, sulk if you want to!" but at this painful instant the door opened and the master of the house walked in. She was so pleased to see him that she actually gave him what he would have called the "glad eye"—receiving in return a flash of green light which gave her a queer sensation of pleasure. They had had a tiff, and to both this exchange of looks seemed to say that all was right once more between them.
The looker-on thought she detected some embarrassment or self-consciousness in the cordiality of the greeting the young man received from the General and his wife; but Miss Kendall became a different creature at once. With much play of eyes and tossing of furs she made way for him upon the settle at her side. Olwen had risen at once upon his entrance, and the appearance of Sunia with the tea gave her occupation at some little distance, so that she could not hear what Nin was saying, only that he was making Miss Kendall laugh. Her high titter resounded through the lofty chamber. But when Olwen rose and began to hand round cups, he instantly rose also, took possession of the cake-stand, and did his duty as host in a manner which pleased Olwen enormously.
"Your ayah is wonderful," said Rose, accepting her cup. "I always think she is immortal, like 'She' in Rider Haggard's story. She never seems to grow any older, and she lends such abizarretouch! The contrast of the feudal fortress and the Oriental servant!"
"What'sbizarre, teacher?" asked Ninian of Olwen, with a wicked look.
"Bizarreis the word which describes the effect of Sunia in the Pele, as Miss Kendall has just told you," replied Olwen, rather saucily, perhaps, but she had been a little nettled by Miss Kendall's ill-breeding.
"Sunia is so devoted in her attendance on your mother that I should hardly have thought you required anybody else," went on Rose, her eyes fixed disparagingly upon Olwen.
"Oh, it isn't Miss Innes's job to wait on my mother," said Ninian quietly. It was curious that Olwen knew his voice inflections well enough to be aware that he was angry. "Sunia is all very well in her way, but she has her little tempers. She was getting a bit unbearable when Miss Innes arrived, but she has somehow contrived to tame her entirely. Ayah is perfectly devoted—waits on you hand and foot, doesn't she?" He spoke standing up, with his cup in his hand, close to Olwen, determined that she should be included in the conversation. She had never liked him so well. His mother chimed in.
"Yes, as I hear Ninian telling your daughter, it is a most remarkable thing the way my ayah has taken to Miss Innes. It was almost instantaneous. She positively worships her. Miss Innes, tell General Kendall about the table."
Olwen smiled as she related how she had wished to have a writing-table in her room, and how, owing to the impossibility of carrying furniture upstairs, Sunia made Baxter take off the legs of an unused table and transport it to the top of the house, where it was put together again.
Rose Kendall made no comment, but after an insolent stare at Olwen, turned her shoulder to her and said to Mr. Guyse, "How strange that it never occurred to me to wonder how the things were got into the rooms! This fine billiard-table, for example."
"My father never went without anything he really meant to have," replied Ninian. "This place had been more or less uninhabited for a century, except by a farm-hind, when he determined to use it as a shooting-box. He took out all the mullions of that great window, and the table was hauled up with ropes and pulleys."
"How glorious to own such a place!" said Miss Kendall fervently. "How I should like to live in a historic tower!"
Ninian's grin over her head at Olwen showed that he thought this attempt too clumsy even for Miss Kendall. "Nicer to think about than to put in practice," he replied. "Ask my mother."
"Oh, the Pele is a bit trying if you have to live in it in winter, but it has its good points," said Madam. Her voice had wholly lost the edge of bitterness with which she had spoken of her home to Olwen as "this accursed spot."
"Miss Innes became acclimatised very quickly," went on Ninian to the young lady.
She acknowledged the remark with a smile that was almost a grimace, and changed the subject forthwith. "What news of your brother? He was looking so well when I saw him last."
"Oh, he's all right, but we haven't heard very lately. This is just the busy time for him, Parliament opening and so on." He sat down beside the visitor, and spoke with his eyes full upon her and an especially demon-like smile. "By the way, I heard a bit of news this morning. Came home hot-foot to tell Madam. What do you think, Mother? Noel Guyse is going to be married to Miss Leverett, of Leverett's Wash-White Slick-Soap!"
"Never, Nin!" cried Madam, with a little laugh. "His lordship has never given permission!"
"If he didn't, he'd be a raving lunatic. She's got money enough to buy the whole county. Now they'll have another try to get me to sell the Pele! See if they don't!"
"But you won't!" cried Miss Kendall in terrified accents, clasping her jewelled hands and gazing at him intensely. Certainly he looked wonderfully handsome as he sat there, so completely at his ease, with the impish smile flickering over his face.
"Depends on how much they offer," he said, with another glance at Olwen. For some reason which she could not fathom, he was evidently enjoying this conversation. "I suppose you had already heard of the engagement?" he went on, addressing the General point-blank.
The old gentleman cleared his throat, and admitted, a trifle nervously, that he had heard something of it. "Met his lordship on the bench on Monday."
"Did he seem pleased?" Ninian inquired.
"Oh, ah, yes, certainly. Very pleased.... Charming girl, so he said. Case of love at first sight on both sides."
"No doubt," said Madam, with her little nervous laugh. "Love of money on his side, love of a title on hers."
"Ha! ha! Good, my dear lady, good!" laughed the General. His daughter added:
"I've seen Amanda Leverett, she was at Danley Races last autumn, but I forget what she's like. Her clothes were all right. They were the thing you remembered about her."
"Well, no doubt Caryngston can do with the money. None of our family are what Nin would call coiny," said Madam.
"Ah, but you don't need it, you have something worth far more!" cried Rose, with a glance which she meant to be very expressive. Ninian acknowledged the compliment with a merry bow.
Mrs. Kendall rose. She had been looking decidedly ill at ease while the latest topic was discussed. "The days are so short," she murmured, "we must really say good-bye. Charmed to find you at home and looking so well, dear Mrs. Guyse. Now, I suppose it would be of no use to ask you to let Mr. Guyse bring you to lunch with us one day next week?" She bent over Madam's couch coaxingly.
"Oh, no thank you. I shall not go out until the weather turns really fine," was the quick response. "Miss Innes will have to do my social duties for me."
Mrs. Kendall ignored the hint entirely. "Mr. Guyse, you will have to take pity on us and come alone," said she playfully. "Shall we say Monday? Or would Tuesday suit you better? What with our having been abroad the two last winters, and in London during the season, we have seen nothing of you lately."
"Must be three years since I was at Copley, isn't it?"
"Oh, I can't believe that it is as long as that! How time flies! But do be—er—forgiving, and come over for an hour or two. The General is longing for a chat with you."
"Can't be done, thanks all the same. We're short-handed on the farm, and next week is going to be very busy. The long snow has made us all behindhand. You must realise that I'm a mere British workman, not fit to lunch with the quality."
Rose approached, laying her cheek down on her big white muff, and looking wistfully at him. He stuck to his refusal, however, in spite of entreaties. The discussion seemed to amuse Madam. She lay listening with one of her queer looks—looks which enabled one to glimpse a passing likeness between her and the son who was so unlike her.
The young man accompanied his guests downstairs, and as the sound of their footsteps and voices died away, his mother turned to Olwen.
"Dear! How funny!" said she.
"What in particular was funny?" inquired the girl, coming to relieve her of her empty cup.
"The Kendalls! Ha! ha! I can't altogether explain how funny it is, but I can tell you part. They tried hard, three years ago, to marry Rose to Ninian. She's got a nice little fortune, it wouldn't have done badly. Then suddenly something made them think that they might get hold of Noel Guyse, Caryngston's boy, and, of course, they thought that would be much better. They haven't been near us for ages, and when they walked in this afternoon, all gush, I couldn't make out what brought them. But, you see, Ninian knew! They had got wind of Noel's engagement, and hoped we shouldn't have heard about it! Hoped they wouldn't be seen through! But Nin wasn't going to let them off! Did you see the General's face when Nin made him own that he knew? Dear me, I haven't been so amused for a long time!"
Nin was soon back again, and came into the room laughing. "Well," he said, "aren't those people just about the limit? Like their cheek, turning up here and coming the long-lost brother over me, when they've boycotted me for three years!"
"Oh, well, I think you scored," said his mother with relish.
"What d'you think of 'em, eh, Teacher?" he continued, dropping into a chair by her tea-table and stretching out his long limbs.
"Sit down and have a proper tea," said she, instead of replying. "You were behaving so beautifully that you had not time to eat."
"Yes, wasn't he?" said Madam unexpectedly. "Your manners are improving, Nin, did you know?"
The expression which crept into Nin's face touched Olwen with a quick thrill of pity. His eye gathered light, his lips curved, the colour mustered in his dark face. Evidently his mother's praise was delightful to him.
Of course, however, he replied flippantly. "Ought to be improving by now. Been living in a reformatory for weeks."
"Oh," said the girl quickly, "has it been as bad as that?"
He gave her a sidelong glance, watching the effect of his words. "It's been very painful." He sighed. "But all is forgiven if the result seems to be worth the sacrifice. You haven't answered the previous question, Teacher. What do you think of the resident gentry, as exemplified in the Kendall family?"
"Oh ... I expect they improve on acquaintance, like—like some other folks I know."
"Now what have I done for you to be nasty?"
"Said you'd been living in a reformatory," she snapped.
"Ah, but this one is run on the new lines—cure by kindness. I like being here so much that I'm going to stay as long as they let me have the same teacher."
"Doesn't he want shaking?" said Olwen to Madam,
"My dear, I think youhaveshaken him—pretty thoroughly!"
CHAPTER XIX
A DISCOVERY
Olwen was very busy. For the last fortnight she had devoted herself to the library, and it had been a far more laborious business than she had anticipated. The books seemed to have been snatched from their places, thrown in a pile on the floor, and taken thence and thrust into shelves quite haphazard.
Not only was there no classification, but even the volumes of the different sets were divided, and had to be hunted for.
She had, by dint of steady work, made considerable progress, though still there were rows of books lying on the ground, carefully shielded from dust by newspapers.
This morning the sun was streaming blithely in through all the windows, and the sharp frost made one feel buoyant. Olwen was in vigorous health. Since she left the Palatine Bank she had improved very much in looks. The tints of her face were like a sun-warmed peach, her eyes were bright and clear, and the excellent feeding made her plump, though the exercise she took kept her from growing stout. She sang as she stood upon the library steps, garbed in a blue overall, with duster and feather brush. It seemed to her that all was right with the world.
The upper shelves were devoted to fiction, and she had just hunted out and found the last volume completing a set of Bulwer Lytton. She carried them up to their destined shelf, and was carefully arranging them according to their numbers, when one dropped from her hand into her lap. The leaves fell apart, and a photograph slipped out from between them. Seated upon the top step, she took up the portrait and studied it.
A young lady, with ebullient hair, teeth and a smile. She wore a large feathered hat and a low—generously low—evening dress, with a rose at her bosom and a diaphanous scarf over one shoulder.
"An actress," thought Olwen, and sighed a little pitifully; for the big bistred eyes were wistful, and the lips, so evidently carmined, had a pathetic droop. She turned over the cardboard and saw words scrawled across the back in a thick, heavy hand:
"Ninian, from his Lily."
Beneath this, which was written in ink, the same hand had added something else in pencil: "Mrs. Ninian Guyse."
To her own surprise Olwen coloured hotly. She sat down abruptly on the top step, studying the pictured face intently.
"So that was the kind of girl he tried his hand upon last! No wonder I puzzled him! No wonder that he didn't exactly know where he was with me! ... This was Lily Martin! How could they engage such a person? How could they have her in the house? No wonder Sunia said she was not pukka!"
Sitting there, chin on hand, she caught sight of her own reflection in the glass of the opposite cupboards. A small person in a long plain overall, almost childish, nunnishly garbed from throat to foot!
Then again her eyes sought the flamboyant image upon the cardboard.
"From that to this!" she thought, with a curled lip.
Her puzzled eyes, staring out across the room, fell, as they often did, upon the family motto, carved above the Tudor chimneypiece:
"Guyse ne sçait pas se déguyser."
Like many old mottoes, it seemed ambiguous. Did it mean that, once a Guyse you could not cease to be a Guyse, nor persuade anyone that you were anything else! Or did it mean that any Guyse would scorn to stoop to deception? Or did it mean (as Ninian vowed it did) that a Guyse was such a hopeless fool that any attempt to disguise or mask himself was sure to be found out?
She had herself inclined to the first interpretation. "Once a Guyse always a Guyse" would have been her paraphrase.
Now she looked upon it with a curl of the lip. She was recalling Ninian's telling of the story of Lily Martin. The recital had seemed to her to bear the stamp of truth. To-day her mind had received a nasty jolt.
She and Ninian had come far—very far—since their first meeting. Only last night the question of her remaining at the Pele had been practically decided. Ninian had expounded the rules to her. "If you wanted to leave at the month you should have given warning at the end of a fortnight, Miss. Now you have been here six weeks you will have to give a month's warning; after this month is over we shall engage you annually, as they used to do the farm-hands at Caryngston mid-summer fair."
To this she returned that it seemed better that she should at least remain long enough to finish the library catalogue; and to celebrate that decision Ninian, at supper, had bade Sunia bring a bottle of champagne, in which they all drank each other's health.
Mrs. Guyse on this occasion looked more animated than Olwen had ever seen her; and Sunia, when putting her missee to bed later, had cooed over her like a triumphant mother over a new-born child.
Now this photo lay on her lap, and the sight of it was affecting her strangely.
For weeks past she had hardly given a thought to the warnings of Deb Askwith or Dr. Balmayne. She hadnotcontinued to keep Nin at a distance. In truth, this was a difficult feat, when Nin desired to approach; although, looking back, she realised how cautious the approach had been....
... How, exactly, had they reached the stage at which now they stood—the point at which two people have a common stock of jokes, and memories, a common association of ideas—when they turn to each other with a certainty of response, an assurance of mutual understanding?
She could not tell. Ninian, the impertinent boor of the Seven Spears, had become her comrade, she might even say her intimate friend. It was almost like necromancy.
And now there lay before her this flimsy, out-of-date bit of pasteboard, with its costume of four seasons ago, so frail and worthless a thing, yet able to give the lie to her own opinion of Ninian. Here, if looks might be trusted, was a girl of the "cheap" variety, and yet, to judge from her expression, not a vicious girl, not a temptress. She had lived in the house with Ninian for more than a year. Some quality in her expression, in the appeal of the big round eyes, hurt the spirit of the girl who gazed.
He had told her to leave, and she had wept upon his shoulder! ... How many times during her stay at the Pele might she have used his shoulder as a refuge without being repulsed? Olwen shuddered. There was an element of horror in her thoughts.
Was this man using her as a plaything? Did he still think of her as he had done of this predecessor of so different a type?
No wonder that his first impression, when he went to meet his mother's new companion, had been that of disappointment. She had not seemed to promise the kind of sport that he desired. Yet her very aloofness, her snappish, prudish ways, had acted as a lure. She had shown plainly that he did not please her, and he had determined that he would please her. Whether or no he found her attractive, he was resolved that she should so find him. She professed not to be interested, and he became determined to arouse her interest.
How long would it be before the pleasurable novelty of the situation wore off for him? Olwen clenched her small, ineffectual fists. She had been very arrogant, had believed herself so strong that such a man as Ninian Guyse could not matter. Now, all unaware, she found that she had reached a point at which he did matter, more than she cared to think.
Her wounded vanity found some comfort in the reflection that from first to last there had been no love-making. They had become friends upon her own terms. She had, as it were, made the rules. It was now up to her to see that he kept them. Surely she could do this. Yet the revulsion of feeling in her was so strong that she feared it must be apparent to him. She had believed his story of the "Lily Martin affair." In his mouth it seemed to her to bear the stamp of truth. Its disproof was in her hand....
... She recalled Balmayne's curled lips as he said, "So! I see that you are a partisan already!"
The doctor had attended Miss Martin; he knew much more than Olwen could possibly know of the matter. She wished that she had allowed him to tell her his version. It had not seemed to matter then. Now she would give much to have Ninian cleared.
If he and she were on bad terms, she felt that she could not stay at Guysewyke. This certainty gave her to some extent the measure of her own feeling. She caught a glimpse of the long road she had travelled, and saw for an instant the strength of the cobweb bonds which knitted her silently to this uncouth place and its inhabitants.
She sat on, the photo in her hand, lost in these uncomfortable speculations, humped up on the top of the steps, absorbed in gloomy thought.
The distant door swung back to let in a piercing sound of whistling. Nin and Daff precipitated themselves into the room with violence, and the young man shouted gladly:
"There you are, after all! Been looking everywhere for you! My word, you do seem busy!"
She did not change her posture, but turned her gaze down upon him as he stood below, smiling broadly up at her, his teeth gleaming, the sun catching the pale metallic gleam of his eyes, changing from green to shot gold where the iris touched the pupil, and making him look, as she often thought, like an animal. The same sun was shining richly through her own hair, so that she looked down upon him from a halo.
"Seeing that I told you at breakfast that I should be cataloguing all the morning, it's not very complimentary of you to forget it so soon," said she disagreeably.
"Hallo! Got the hump? I should think so, perched up there all these hours! You look like a saint and talk like a shrew! D'you know it's lunch-time?"
"No, I didn't. I've been so busy."
"You looked it as I walked in. You were sound asleep, I believe. Now come along down to me! I'll jump you!"
He stood at the ladder's foot, his arms extended. But yesterday, and she would have jumped into them. To-day she felt that she would rather die.
"Oh, do get out of the way," said she; "you make me nervous. These steps are rickety. Stand aside, please."
"Oh, come, Teacher! Don't go back to last month in that discouraging way! I ain't done nothink fresh, 'ave I? Ain't 'ad the coppers arter me these three weeks, swelp me, I ain't, miss! Tell yer strite, I don't move from this 'ere till I gets yer! Come! Moight as well jump first as lawst!"
"Oh, please, Mr. Guyse"—in worried accents—"don't be silly. Stand on one side and let me come down."
He gave her a long, keen look, then moved aside and stood still, with heightened colour, while she replaced the photo in "The Last Days of Pompeii," rose upright, and deposited the volume in the shelf next its fellow. Then she descended slowly backwards, reached the ground, and shook the dust from her overall before unbuttoning it.
"Are you in earnest? Have I dropped a brick of any kind?" he asked in a totally changed voice, a voice which caused her to feel an insane desire to be friends.
"Oh, no, only one does get so tired of that everlasting ragging," she replied slightingly, moving towards the door.
He moved more quickly than she, and laid his hand upon the iron ring which raised the latch. His colour had faded, and he looked so white that she halted, a little frightened.
"D'you think it's fair?" he began, and broke off. "Sorry you're put out," he then said. "Don't know what it's about. Anyway, it's beastly disappointing. I had come to tell you such jolly good news. The ice is bearing, you know.... I've been over this morning to see."
Surprise stayed her retreat. "Ice? I didn't know there was any water—I mean, any water you could skate on—hereabouts."
"It's some miles away—Hotwells Lough," said he, pronouncing the word as they do in Northumbria—Loff. "Quite near the Roman Wall, you know. The ice is like glass."
Olwen drew a long breath. If she loved one thing it was to skate. From the time when her uncles taught her upon the ornamental water in Bramforth Park to the Christmas holidays when Ben Holroyd had taken her and Gracie some stations up the line to the Great Stang, it had been her greatest winter joy. Need she deprive herself of that joy simply because she had determined, after all, to "keep Muster Nin at a distance"? ... There was not much skating in the neighbourhood, and there would be others there—perhaps Dr. Balmayne.
"Are you thinking of going over?" she asked.
"Not to-day; it's too far. If we go we ought to start to-morrow morning after an early breakfast, and take our lunch with us."
"Near the Roman Wall?" said she, waveringly.
"Quite near, really. Near the best bit of all."
"Well," said Olwen, half relenting, "we'll hear what Madam says. I must just run and wash my hands."
With these words she disappeared and hastened up the newel stair. Nin stood motionless for some seconds after her departure; then, softly closing the door, he ran up the ladder steps, passed his hand along the shelf, and took down "The Last Days of Pompeii.'"
The book fell open in his hand and he saw the photo. He stared at it as in a passion of disgust. Then he took it up hesitatingly and turned it over. His brows contracted into a portentous frown as he saw the inscription. His mouth puckered itself into a whistle, as if of sharp surprise.
"The devil!" he said. "Oh, the devil!"