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AN   ABSENT   HERO 


THE  MORN  I  NO  POST  say  a:  "Messrs.  Mills  &  Boon  seem  to  have  acquired  a 
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the  habit  of  looking  to  the  publications  of  Mills  &  Boon  for  freshness,  originality, 
and  the  novelty  of  surprise." 

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THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON  JACK  LONDON. 
THE  TEMPLE  OF  DAWN  I.  A.  R.  WYLIE. 

SARAH  EDEN  E.  S.  STEVENS. 

GAY  MORNING  J.  E.  BUCKROSE. 

COPHETUA'S  SON  JOAN  SUTHERLAND. 

MALLORY'S  TRYST 

Mrs.  PHILIP  CHAMPION  DE  CRESPIGNY. 
THE  RELATIONS  (New  Edition-] 

Mrs.  BAILLIE  REYNOLDS. 

HIS  GREAT  ADVENTURE  ROBERT  HERRICK. 
ONE  MAN  RETURNS  HAROLD  SPENDER. 

BREADANDBUTTERFLIES 

DION  CLAYTON  CALTHROP. 

THE  PLAYGROUND  Author  of  "  Mastering  Flame." 
SHOP  GIRLS  ARTHUR  APPLIN. 

THE  MUSIC  MAKERS  LOUISE  MACK. 

GRIZEL  MARRIED  Mrs.  G.  DE  HORNE  VAIZEY 
THE  LONELY  PLOUGH  CONSTANCE  HOLME. 
THE  PRIDE  OF  THE  FANCY  GEORGE  EDGAR. 
BURNT  FLAX  Mrs.  H.  H.  PENROSE. 

LADY  SYLVIA'S  IMPOSTOR  THOMAS  COBB. 
LITTLE  FAITHFUL  BEULAH  MARIE  Dix. 

THE  TRACY  TUBBSES  JESSIE  POPE. 

JOHN  WARD,  M.D.  ARTHUR  HOOLEY. 

HER  LAST  APPEARANCE 

A.  NUGENT  ROBERTSON. 

ENTERTAINING  JANE     MILLICENT  HEATHCOTE. 
THE  PROGRESS  OF  PRUDENCE  W.  F.  HEWER. 
THE   MAGIC   TALE   OF   HARVANGER   AND 
YOLANDE  G.  P.  BAKER. 

THE  PLUNDERER  ROY  NORTON. 

KICKS  AND  HA'PENCE  HENRY  STAGE. 

HAPPY  EVER  AFTER  R.  ALLATINI. 

AN  ABSENT  HERO  Mrs.  FRED  REYNOLDS. 

THE  WCB  OF  LIFE  (New  Edit.}   ROBERT  HERRICK. 


AN   ABSENT   HERO 


BY 

MRS.  FRED  REYNOLDS 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  QUAKER'S  WOOING" 
"  THE  GRANITE  CROSS,"  &C. 


MILLS   &   BOON,   LIMITED 

49   RUPERT   STREET 

LONDON   W 


Published 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGt 

I.  THE  HERO  is  CHOSEN          .  i 

II.  THE  HERO  is  DOUBTFUL      .  .  .14 

III.  THE  HERO  is  MYSTERIOUS  .  .  .22 

IV.  NEW  LIGHT  ON  THE  HERO  .  .  -32 
V.  THE  HERO'S  RELATIONS       .  .  -41 

VI.  THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  HERO  ...       48 

VII.  THE  SISTER  OF  THE  HERO  .  .  .61 

VIII.  THE  EDUCATION  OF  A  HERO  .  .       78 

IX.  THE  HERO  AND  His  FAMILY  .  .       86 

X.  THE  NURSE  OF  THE  HERO  ...       96 

XI.  ANOTHER  VIEW  OF  THE  HERO  .  .     107 

XII.  A  SIDELIGHT  ON  THE  HERO  .  .117 

XIII.  THE  HERO  ABSENTS  HIMSELF  .  .124 

XIV.  THE  HERO  AND  His  FRIENDS  .  -131 
XV.  THE  HERO  is  DISCUSSED     .  .  .143 

XVI.  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  HERO  .  .147 

XVII.  QUESTIONS  THE  HERO'S  CHOICE  .  .156 

XVIII.  THE  HERO  ASSERTS* HIMSELF  .  .165 


2137881 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTBR  PAGE 

XIX.  THE  MOTHER  OF  THE  HERO          .  175 

XX.  CONCERNING  THE  ROLE  OF  A  HERO 

XXI.  TESTING  THE  HERO     .... 

XXII.  THE  HERO  RECEIVES  His  DISMISSAL    . 

XXIII.  IN  THE  HERO'S  ABSENCE     . 

XXIV.  AN  EVERYDAY  LIGHT  ON  THE  HERO     . 
XXV.  STILL  THE  TALK  is  OF  THE  HERO 

XXVI.  THE  HERO— is  HE  A  HERO  ? 

XXVII.  THE  HERO  FINDS  A  CHAMPION     . 

XXVIII.  ALMOST  IGNORES  THE  HERO 

XXIX.  A  HEART  ACHES  FOR  THE  HERO 

XXX.  CANNOT  QUITE  LEAVE  OUT  THE  HERO  .     284 

XXXI.  A  GLIMPSE  INTO  THE  SHRINE  OF  THE 

HERO  ......     292 

XXXII.  WITH  REGRETS  FOR  THE  HERO    .         .     300 

XXXIII.  THE  HERO  WITHOUT  ANY  HALO  .         .     309 

XXXIV.  IN  WHICH  THE  HERO  ALL  BUT  ENTERS   .     320 


TO 
HIM 


BY    THE    SAME    AUTHOR 


THE  WOMAN   FLINCHES 

THE   GRANITE   CROSS 

LETTERST  O   A   PRISON 

THE  GREY  TERRACE 

THE  GIFTED   NAME 

AS  FLOWS  THE   RIVER 

THE  HORSESHOE 

THE   FORSYTHE   WAY 

LOVE'S  MAGIC 

THE   IDYLL  OF  AN   IDLER 

THE   LADY   IN   GREY 

ST.    DAVID  OF  THE   DUST 

THESE   THREE 

THE   HOUSE  OF   REST 

HAZEL  OF   HAZELDEAN 

IN   SILENCE 

THE   MAKING   OF   MICHAEL 

A  QUAKER  WOOING 

THE   BOOK   OF   ANGELUS   DRAYTON 

THE   MAN   WITH   THE  WOODEN   FACE 

IN   THE  YEARS  THAT  CAME   AFTER 

AN   IDYLL  OF  THE  DAWN 

A  TANGLED  GARDEN 

LLANARTRO 


AN   ABSENT   HERO 

CHAPTER    I 

THE  HERO   IS  CHOSEN 

THE  silver  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  chimed  the 
half-hour.  Linda  glanced  up  from  the  book  she 
was  reading ;  Cecil  had  said  she  would  be  in  by 
five,  but  half-an-hour,  one  way  or  the  other,  meant 
very  little  to  Cecil.  This  room,  with  the  silver 
clock,  silken  wall-draperies,  heavily  scented  flowers 
and  accumulated  ornaments,  was  Cecil's,  of  course. 
No  one  would  have  needed  more  than  the  proverbial 
half-eye  to  be  quite  sure  that  it  did  not  belong  to 
Linda  ;  or,  rather,  that  she  did  not  belong  to  the 
room. 

For  one  thing,  the  room  made  a  point  of  its  beauty, 
and  Linda  called  herself  plain,  as  a  protest  rather 
than  an  assertion.  She  certainly  was  not  plain, 
though  she  had  no  special  pretension  to  beauty. 
She  spoke  of  herself  as  commonplace,  unnoticeable  ; 
she  had,  perhaps,  no  characteristic  that  called  for 
immediate  notice,  yet,  once  noticed,  she  was  not 
easily  forgotten.  This  was  partly  due  to  her  eyes. 
She  herself  bestowed  on  them  the  grudging  admission 
that  she  '  supposed  they  served.' 


2  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

Cecil  told  her  once  :  "  There  are  blue  eyes  in 
plenty,  but  not  with  immense  velvety  black 
pupils." 

That  was  when  Linda  had  been  admiring  Cecil's 
eyes,  which  were  also  blue  but  of  the  all-overish 
type.  However,  they  also  '  served.' 

Cecil  was  really  beautiful  and  Linda  gave  her 
the  heart  -  whole  transparent  admiration  a  full- 
blown beauty  always  exacts  from  those  still  budding 
blossoms,  her  schoolfellows. 

Cecil  knew  she  was  beautiful.  The  walls  of  this, 
her  own  particular  room,  confessed  or  betrayed  it. 
There  was  Rubelow's  Cecil  in  pastels,  over  the  fire- 
place, head  and  neck  and  a  wisp  of  airy  drapery. 
Opposite  the  window  was  Mrs.  Alec  Firth's  Cecil, 
in  water-colour ;  full  length  in  a  garden  of  roses. 
The  real  Cecil  owned  to  a  preference  for  artificial 
roses,  for  the  practical  reason  that  they  did  not  fall 
to  pieces  ;  but  the  painter  had  in  some  subtle  way 
conveyed  the  idea  of  an  intimate  sympathy  between 
the  girl  and  the  garden  blossoms.  It  was  a  pretty 
idea,  and  a  pretty  picture. 

There  was  a  bust  of  Cecil  on  a  grey  marble 
pedestal.  It  was  by  le  Saxe ;  and  so,  as  Cecil's 
father  said,  always  worth  while  as  an  investment. 
It  failed,  though,  as  Cecil ;  partly,  no  doubt,  because 
hers  was  not  the  white  marble  type  of  beauty. 
Perhaps  le  Saxe  knew  this,  he  had  a  reputation  for 
malicious  renderings.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
refused  as  model  any  but  the  prettiest  women.  So 
Cecil  allowed  the  bust  a  place  in  her  room.  Perhaps 
as  a  foil.  There  were  people  who  said  she  had 
invited  Linda  Ray  for  the  same  purpose.  That  was 
not  like  Cecil  at  all ;  she  never  thought  things  out, 


THE  HERO  IS  CHOSEN  8 

at  least  hardly  ever ;   far  more  often  she  acted  on 
impulse. 

The  room  not  only  displayed  painted  and  sculp- 
tured Cecils,  there  were  photographed  Cecils  in 
plenty ;  and  although  these,  like  the  work  of  le 
Saxe,  perforce  lost  her  colour,  they  seemed  to  have 
caught  something  of  her  grace  and  vividness,  a 
turn  of  the  neck,  a  curve  of  the  cheek,  the  vital 
spring  of  her  hair.  On  the  whole  Cecil  was  care- 
lessly content  with  her  photographs,  and  gave  them 
away  with  impulsive  generosity  ;  it  was  Linda  who 
considered  none  of  them  good  enough. 

The  clock  struck  the  quarter.  Linda  showed  no 
impatience.  Her  book  was  the  first  by  a  new 
writer ;  she  found  it  interesting. 

The  clock  struck  again,  six  notes  this  time. 
Linda  glanced  up  unseeingly  whilst  she  turned  the 
page  to  a  new  chapter. 

In  the  end  Cecil  came  with  characteristic  sudden- 
ness ;  she  might  almost  have  flown  to  the  door,  for 
there  was  no  warning  sound  till  she  opened  it  and 
in  the  same  breath  was  looking  down  at  Linda. 

"  You  dearest  dear,  have  I  kept  you  waiting 

Oh  !  isn't  it  hot — and  not  May  yet !  " 

She  began  unloading  herself  of  countless  un- 
necessary but  highly  ornamental  possessions :  a 
bag,  a  feather  ruffle,  a  chocolate  box  tied  with 
ribbon,  a  tasselled  purse,  a  handkerchief.  As  she 
tossed  them  from  her,  it  seemed  quite  a  matter  of 
luck  where  they  landed. 

"  You  look  so  cool,  love,"  her  voice  had  a  delicate 
shade  of  envy,  "  like  a  hyacinth.  They  are  always 
so  fresh  and  chilly,  I  can't  stand  them  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning.  You  want  the  day  aired  for 


4  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

hyacinths."  She  threw  herself  down  in  a  chair. 
"  It's  deliriously  cool  in  here.  Don't  let  us  go  to 
Fratti's,  let's  have  tea  here  instead,  and  be  comfy." 

"  But  you  wanted  so  much  to  hear  the  Madrigal 
Maids." 

"  Did  I  ?  I  don't  now  anyway,  it's  coolness  I 
want,  and  quiet,  and  my  own  darling  Linda  to 
talk  to." 

She  came  and  rubbed  a  velvety  cheek,  fragrant 
with  violets,  on  one  of  Linda's.  Linda  closed  her 
eyes,  the  bliss  of  the  caress  was  like  sunshine  to 
her.  She  did  not  care  a  straw  now  for  the  Madrigal 
Maids  nor  for  the  special  ices  which  she  had  looked 
forward  to  eating  at  Fratti's.  It  was  more  than 
enough  to  know  Cecil  needed  her. 

"  Shall  I  ring  for  tea  ?  "  Her  face  was  a-glow 
with  happiness  ;  it  never  looked  at  her  so  from  her 
glass,  but  always  seriously,  questing  for  '  plain- 
ness.' 

"  Tea  ?  "  Cecil  flung  aside  her  gloves,  missing 
with  dainty  exactness  a  slender-stemmed  vase  of 
lilies.  "  Tea  ?  I  have  had  some.  Do  you  want 
any  ?  If  not,  we  need  not  bother.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  want  you  all  to  mine  self.  I'm  simply  dying 
to  tell  you  something." 

Of  course,  Linda  did  not  want  tea — was  it  likely  ? 
She  rose  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  sofa  in 
which  Cecil  had  flung  herself  and  whence  she  now 
slipped  to  the  floor,  kneeling  in  front  of  the  hearth, 
where  a  fire  drowsed  and  flickered,  though  outside 
Spring  was  already  languorous  with  the  birth-pangs 
of  Summer. 

"  I  do  feel  so  stupid,"  Cecil  said,  touching  the 
buckle  of  Linda's  shoe  with  two  slender  white 


THE   HERO  IS   CHOSEN  5 

fingers.  It  was  a  neat  little  shoe.  The  fact  worried 
Cecil,  when  she  thought  of  it,  that  though  she  was 
little  taller,  her  feet  were  two  sizes  larger  than 
Linda's.  Wisely,  she  seldom  thought  of  it ;  certainly 
not  at  this  moment  or  she  would  not  have  fingered 
Linda's  shoe-buckle.  All  the  same  she  gave  the 
foot  a  little  push  from  her  as  she  said  again  :  "  I  do 
feel  so  stupid." 

Then  she  laughed  and  the  pink  of  her  cheeks 
deepened. 

"  The  fact  is "  her  eyes  were  on  the  rug  now, 

she  was  tracing  the  faint  pattern  on  it,  carefully — 
"  fact  is,  I've  done  a  stupid  thing,  the  stupidest 

of  all  things — I've  been  commonplace "  She 

laughed  again,  but  uneasily. 

The  light  began  to  dance  in  Linda's  eyes. 

"Is  it  so  very  commonplace  to  make  someone 
supremely  happy  ?  " 

Cecil  laughed  again,  but  with  a  sound  softer  and 
deeper. 

'  You  goose,  did  I  say  I'd  made  anybody  any- 
thing ?  " 

"  But  I  guessed." 

Cecil  lifted  her  chin,  showing,  unconsciously 
doubtless,  the  beautiful  line  of  its  contour. 

"  I'm  vexed  with  myself,  I  am,  really.  I  didn't 
mean — I  had  no  sort  of  intention — I've  always  said 
I  would  not — at  least  not  till  I'm  five-and-twenty 
— and  particularly  not  him." 

"  There  is  a  '  him/  then  ?  " 

Linda  smiled  down  at  her  friend  with  another 
expression  she  had  never  seen  in  her  looking- 
glass. 

"  Of  course  there's  a  '  him.'  "     Cecil  dropped  her 


6  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

head  sideways.  "  Did  any  woman  ever  do  anything 
stupid  without  a  man  in  it  ?  " 

The  other  bent  nearer. 

"Cecil" — there  was  awe  in  her  voice — "you 
don't  really  mean  you  have  promised  ? — that  you 
are  engaged,  actually  ?  " 

"Is  it  so  awful  ?  because  " — with  a  mocking 
inflexion — "  that's  just  about  it.  I  have  promised." 
She  paused,  looked  into  the  fire,  then  added : 
"  There  is  something  so  horribly  cut-and-dried  in  a 
promise.  And  I  am — it  does  not  seem  real — but  I 
suppose  I  am  really  engaged — though  I  can't,  or  I 

won't,  believe  it The  silly  part  is — You  are 

hurting  my  hand,  Linda ! — the  silly  part  is,  that  at 
present — I've  no  doubt  it  is  only  temporary — I  am 
almost  absurdly  happy " 

There  was  an  interlude  during  which  the  girls 
hugged  one  another  in  orthodox  fashion  ;  with  this 
difference,  Cecil  was  aware  of  the  orthodox,  whilst 
Linda  thrilled  and  glowed  to  the  knowledge — she 
was  not  yet  quite  twenty — that  the  wonderful 
thing  of  romance — the  rainbow  foot  that  all  girls 
in  their  dreams  go  in  search  of — had  been  reached, 
really  reached  by  her  friend,  a  girl  not  many  years 
older  than  she,  a  girl  she  could  gaze  at,  kiss  and 
handle.  Almost  she  heard  the  flutter  of  wings,  the 
faint  rattle  of  arrows  loose  in  a  quiver.  One  of 
these  had  sped  home,  at  any  near  moment  there 
might  be  the  flight  of  another  ! 

Cecil  had  shaken  herself  free  of  her  friend ;  had 
risen  to  her  feet ;  was  aimlessly  fingering  her  many 
possessions ;  flinging  her  arms  about ;  babbling 
broken  phrases  excitedly. 

Linda  was  almost  more  excited  than  Cecil,  but 


THE  HERO  IS   CHOSEN  7 

was  of  the  type  that  is  pale  and  still  with  excite- 
ment. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said  at  last,  "  but  not,  unless  you 

would  rather "  she  felt  as  one  who  turns  and 

toys  with  a  letter :  possibilities  are  ended  when  the 
seal  is  broken,  and,  by  a  wanton  freak  in  world- 
management,  there  is  a  bloom  on  '  what-may-be  ' 
never  attained  by  '  what-is.' 

"  Tell  me "  a  sudden  feeling  of  desecration 

stayed  her.  "  No,  no,"  she  ended  in  haste,  "  don't 
tell  me  anything." 

"  But  I  want  to,  you  silly.  Some  day  you'll 
understand  how  I  want  to — no — I  can't  though — 
you  must  guess."  Whereat  Romance  went  quiver- 
ing away  like  a  broken  rainbow,  and  Linda  saw  her 
feet  set  about  with  pitfalls.  Only  for  three  weeks 
had  she  basked  in  the  light  of  Cecil's  presence,  yet  in 
those  three  weeks  moths  innumerable  had  fluttered 
round  that  light.  Cecil  was  of  the  royal  kind  that, 
giving  recklessly,  takes  no  count  of  the  conse- 
quences. 

A  score  of  names  rose  to  Linda's  lips,  caution 
withheld  them.  She  answered  with  admirable 
lightness  : 

"  Only  idiots  subscribe  to  the  lottery  of  guessing 
where  there's  only  one  prize  to  be  had  in  a  hundred, 
and  that  not  worth  the  having." 

Cecil  thrust  out  her  lips.  In  anyone  else — in  her- 
self a  year  or  two  later — it  would  have  broken  the 
charm,  now  it  only  drew  Linda's  heart  nearer.  . 

"  You  think  I'm  a  flirt,"  Cecil  said  with  a  certain 
subdued  pleasure. 

"  No,  no,"  Linda  protested,  "  but  you  can't  help 
— you  must  have  been  born  attractive " 


8  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  I  expect  I  was  as  hideous  and  uninviting  as  other 
infants " 

"  But  they  aren't.  Anyhow  you  couldn't  have 
been " 

Cecil  thrust  her  hand  into  Linda's  affectionately. 

"  That  bears  out  what  I  said — I've  been  stupid. 
Why  does  anyone  want  a  man  when  girls  are  so 
very  much  nicer  ?  " 

At  this  Linda's  eyes  deepened  till  the  blue 
flickered  like  a  flame  round  its  black  centre,  as  she 
declared. 

"  I  shall  never  want  anyone  but  you." 

"  And  I'd  rather  have  you  than  anybody."  Cecil 
lifted  Linda's  hand  and  bit  it  daintily  and  with 
restraint — as  a  cat  does  to  show  its  affection. 

"  But,  tell  me,  Cecil,"  there  was  awe  in  the  voice 
of  Linda,  "  do  you  mean  to  say  you  really  have 
promised  ?  " 

Cecil  dropped  the  other's  hand. 

"  Yes,  I  have  promised,"  for  the  moment  languor 
had  swamped  her  vivacity.  "And,  already,  I  am 
wondering  why  ever  I  did  it." 

To  Linda  the  admission  seemed  horrible. 

"  But — Cecil — you  said  you  were  happy." 

"  Yes,  only — happiness  is  so  unsettling.  This 
morning  I  was  keen  on  a  hundred  things — the 
band  at  Fratti's,  and  clothes,  theatres,  those 
adorable  heliotrope  ices.  And  now  I  don't  care 
for  a  single  thing.  I  don't  want  to  eat,  or  dress,  I 
don't  want  to  read  or  look  at  anything.  Nothing 
seems  of  the  slightest  importance.  7s  this  happi- 
ness ?  " 

"  I  always  thought  that— that— it " 

"  Why  not  name  it,  sillikins  ?  " 


THE  HERO  IS  CHOSEN  9 

A  rare  blush  flooded  Linda's  face.  "  Love, 

then "  she  said  with  an  effort.  It  seemed 

unfair  to  the  rainbow-winged  child  of  her  fancy  to 
name  him.  "  I  always  thought  Love,  like  a  burst 
of  sunlight,  would  make  everything  more  worth 
having." 

"  It  doesn't  then,"  Cecil  retorted ;  "  one  more 
illusion  shattered.  Love's  more  like  an  arc  lamp, 
you  can't  see  anything  else  after  you  have  looked 
at  it." 

"  All  the  same,  you  are  not  sorry  that — you 
looked  ?  " 

Cecil  pulled  at  the  neck  of  her  frock. 

"  It's — it's  so  disturbing.  It's  so  horribly  reveal- 
ing." She  clutched  at  one  of  Linda's  knees.  "  In 
a  way  it  is  horrid  !  I  was  always  so  sure  of  myself 
till  now.  And  now — I  don't  feel  certain.  Supposing 
I'm  not  just  what  he  thinks  me  !  Of  course  I  want 
him  to  think  me  perfection.  I  wouldn't  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  him  if  he  did  not  think  me  per- 
fection. And  then — supposing  he  finds  out  that 
I'm  not " 

"  Is  he  perfection,  himself  ?  " 

For  answer  Cecil  laughed  out,  happily. 

"  Do  you  want  him  to  be  perfection  ?  "  Linda 
continued. 

"  Rather  not.  Why,  a  perfect  man  !  the  thought's 
sickening.  He'd  be  a  sort  of  monster.  At  all  events, 
inhuman  !  " 

"  And  a  perfect  woman  ?  " 

"  That's  different.  Men  are  such  babes.  They 
still  insist  on  perfection  for  their  one  woman.  So 
we  have  to  play  up  to  them,  and  if  they  find  us  out, 
they  hate  us." 


10  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

"  It  doesn't  seem  very  easy."  Depression  was 
beginning  to  follow  Linda's  first  elation. 

"  Easy  ?  what  a  child  you  are,  Linda.  Nothing's 
easy  in  life,  and  of  all,  Love's  by  far  the  most 
difficult." 

There  was  silence  for  the  moment.  Then  Linda 
asked — the  glamour  had  so  far  departed  that  there 
seemed  no  sacrilege  now  in  the  question — 

'  You  have  not  yet  told  me — have  you  ? — who 
it  is  ?  " 

"  It  ?  Him.  You  don't  know  him.  He'll  be 
only  a  name  to  you.  It's  rather  odd,  really.  You 
see — I — I — didn't  know  at  first.  I  thought  it  was 
just  like  the  rest.  He  took  it  rather  badly.  I  felt 
a  bit  down  myself,  and  I  couldn't  understand  it. 
I  seemed  to  want  somebody.  That  was  when  I 
wrote  and  got  you  to  come.  You've  been  such  a 
brick  to  me.  For  the  week  or  two  between  when  he 
went  and  you  came,  I  was  horrid.  I  wonder  people 
weren't  fed  up  with  me,  altogether.  He  went 
straight  away,  you  see ;  never  wrote  to  me,  even. 
They  do  generally.  And  I  keep  them  for  friends  ; 
so  little  makes  the  poor  things  quite  happy.  But 
he  didn't.  I  don't  know  why  I  am  telling  you.  At 
all  events,  to-day  he's  just  gloriously  happy.  The 
funny  thing  was — I  didn't  even  know  I'd  meet  him. 
At  the  Lathams'  it  was.  We  walked  back  through 
the  Park.  The  Spring  flowers  were  wonderful." 

She  ended  abruptly,  rose  to  her  feet,  and  began 
searching  among  her  possessions. 

"  I  have  his  photograph  somewhere." 

She  opened  an  ornate  Georgian  casket,  drew  out 
a  leather  case  and  passed  it  to  Linda.  Linda  took 
it  with  eager  curiosity,  though  at  the  back  of  her 


THE   HERO  IS  CHOSEN  11 

mind  was  a  grudging  feeling  that  the  Unknown 
would  not  be  worthy  the  prize  he  had  won.  You 
never  could  tell  with  Cecil,  he  might  be  quite  old, 
or  weird,  or  frankly  impossible.  In  any  case,  she 
must  not  let  Cecil  suspect  anything.  She  deliber- 
ately prepared  herself  for  deception  as  she  handled 
the  case. 

She  opened  it,  and  she  sat  for  quite  a  long  time 
in  silence. 

The  photograph  showed  a  young  man  who 
differed  in  no  essential  respect  from  the  prevailing 
type  of  his  fellows.  Well-groomed,  clean-shaven,  the 
eye — his  face  was  in  profile — looked  honest  and 
purposeful.  There  seemed  no  need  for  the  long 
pause,  no  need  for  the  meditated  deception. 

"  Well ?  "  Cecil  said  at  last  with  impatience. 

"  He — he  looks  so  serious." 

"He isn't  then."  She  peered  over  Linda's  shoulder. 
"  If  no  man's  a  hero  to  his  valet,  can  any  man  be 
amiable  towards  his  photographer  ?  " 

Linda  gave  Cecil's  words  but  little  attention. 
She  still  held  the  leather  case,  looking  steadily 
down  at  it.  All  of  a  sudden  she  shut  it.  Cecil 
might  have  seen  her  face  whiten  had  she  thought 
to  notice  it. 

"  It  hasn't  quite  caught  his  expression,"  Linda 
said  steadily,  "  yet  it  is  like  him." 

"  Like  him  1  "  Cecil  seized  her  friend  by  the 
shoulders,  shaking  her  gently.  "  Like  him  !  You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  know  Rodney — 
Rodney  Barett !  " 

Linda  nodded  her  head.  If  she  was  unsuitably 
silent  and  grave,  Cecil  did  not  notice  it.  For  her 
part  she  was  wildly  excited. 


12 

'  You  dearest  of  dears  !  How  perfectly  splendid  ! 
Tell  me  what  you  think  of  him  !  Where  did  you 

meet  him  ?  A  thousand  things !  "  She 

waltzed  round  the  room. 

"  Splendid,"  she  cried.  Then  again,  "  Splendid  ! 
— And  I  had  a  horrid  idea,  a  little  peeping  mouse  of 
an  idea,  that  you  might  not  like  one  another.  Just 
because  I  so  very  much  wanted  you  to,  and  that 
would  have  spoilt  everything.  And  you  do — you 
do  !  You  can't  deny  it.  Because  otherwise  you 
wouldn't  have  said  that  about  his  expression.  It's 
only  the  people  you  like  have  expressions,  isn't 
it?  " 

She  rushed  to  Linda  and  kissed  her,  moving  all 
the  while  as  though  full  of  tiny  springs  and 
mechanism. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it — where  did  you  meet  ? 
and  what  did  you  say  ?  and  everything  ?  I  shall 
die  if  you  don't  be  quick  and  tell  me." 

She  came  to  ground  on  the  rug,  flushed  and 
exhilarated. 

"  Rodney  will  be  glad.  It  is  perfectly  lovely, 
this,"  she  ejaculated.  "  Now  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Linda's  lips  felt  stiff,  her  hands  cold  and  damp, 
tightly  clasped  together,  yet  she  managed  to  answer 
bravely  : 

"  There's  not  much  to  tell.  We  met  down  in 
Cornwall." 

"  But  wtien  ?  "  Cecil  half  lifted  herself  in  her 
excitement. 

"  About  six  weeks  ago." 

Cecil  nodded  her  head  at  the  fire.  "  It  was 
Cornwall,  then,  he  went  to,"  she  told  it. 

"  He  was  staying — with — friends  of  ours."  Linda's 


THE   HERO   IS   CHOSEN  18 

voice  was  jerky,  but  Cecil  was  too  much  engaged 
with  her  own  thoughts  to  notice  it. 

"  And  so  you  met,"  she  prompted. 

"  As  you  are  almost  bound  to  do  in  the  country." 

"  And  you  liked  one  another  ?  " 

Linda  laughed.    That  laugh  was  a  triumph. 

"  At  all  events  we  did  not  quarrel." 

"  I  can't  fancy  Rodney  quarrelling.  Nor  you 
either,"  she  added  generously.  "  And  is  that  all  ?  " 
She  still  looked  at  the  fire,  but  gave  a  questioning 
backward  jerk  of  the  shoulders. 

"  Yes — that  is  all,"  answered  Linda. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE   HERO   IS   DOUBTFUL 

LINDA  was  alone  in  her  room  at  last.  It  had  seemed 
a  long  while  before  a  decent  opportunity  of  escape 
had  offered  itself.  She  felt  desperately  weary. 
Glancing  at  the  bed  she  visualised  herself  lying  face 
downwards,  crumpling  the  pretty  blue  and  white 
coverlet,  clutching  at  the  lace-edged  pillows,  giving 
way  to  a  storm  of  tears.  But  she  did  not  feel  at  all 
like  crying,  only  very  tired  and  a  little  sickly. 

She  went  to  a  side-table  where  was  a  silk-bound 
writing-case,  a  presentation  one  she  kept  for  visits. 
Everything  in  her  room  was  delicately  neat  and 
orderly.  Somewhere  in  a  far  corner  of  Linda's 
brain,  an  imp  sat  mocking.  Why  was  she  so  neat 
and  orderly  ?  Would  it  not  pay  better — the  impish 
dart  pricked  her — might  it  not  pay  better  to  be  like 
Cecil — careless  and  unreliable  ? 

Stifling  the  thought,  she  drew  from  the  writing- 
case  a  slip-in  photographic  mount,  and  carried  it 
to  the  window.  She  had  no  intention  of  sparing 
herself.  Her  face,  as  she  looked  down  on  the 
photograph,  grew  momentarily  older,  her  eyes  were 
sombre,  though  she  slightly  smiled.  Her  teeth 
were  good  and  her  slightly  one-sided  smile  was 
pretty. 

The  face  in  the  snapshot  she  was  holding  was  the 


THE   HERO   IS   DOUBTFUL  15 

same  as  that  in  Cecil's  leather  case.  It  was,  however, 
not  serious  and  in  profile,  but  looking  straight  out 
and  the  eyes  were  laughing. 

There  was  a  rushing  sound  in  Linda's  ears,  and 
before  her  eyes  a  dimness  gathered  everywhere 
except  on  the  alert,  rather  boyish  face  in  the  photo- 
graph. Yet  she  stood  a  long  time,  not  swaying  at 
all,  and  her  hands,  holding  the  card-mount,  were 
steady. 

While  she  stared  down  at  it,  the  faint  smile  still 
on  her  lips  and  her  eyes  sombre,  she  lived  over 
again  those  few  weeks  when  a  bright  butterfly 
thing  had  hovered  about  her  heart,  and  she,  longing 
to  touch,  had  yet  hardly  dared  look  at  it. 

She  remembered  the  first  time  she  and  Rodney 
had  met.  It  was  at  the  house  of  some  friends ; 
there  was  tea ;  several  people  a  good  deal  older  than 
Linda  were  talking — the  room  was  stuffy,  and  she 
had  divided  her  attention  between  prolonging  the 
life  of  a  morsel  of  cake  indefinitely  and  endeavouring 
to  keep  her  face  on  duty  with  polite  attention. 
Then  some  young  people  had  come  in,  just  back 
from  a  cliff-scramble.  Rodney  Barett  was  among 
them ;  she  liked  his  rough  clothes,  the  brown  of  his 
face  and  his  hair  breeze-ruffled. 

They  were  introduced,  shook  hands,  might  have 
spoken,  had  someone  not  called  out  to  Rodney. 
As  he  went,  he  just  glanced  at  Linda,  his  grey  eyes 
had  a  whimsical  look — perhaps  asking  excuse, 
perhaps  with  a  sort  of  understanding.  She  liked  to 
think  if  he  had  not  been  called  away  just  then 
they  might  have  spoken  together.  Meanwhile,  she 
was  able  to  watch  him.  He  seemed  a  general 
favourite ;  even  the  elderly  ladies  round  the  tea- 


16  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

table  had  cast  off  their  air  of  responsibility,  and 
fluttered  and  giggled. 

Recalling  all  this,  a  thought  smote  Linda  suddenly. 
This  must  have  been  just  after  Cecil's  first  rejection 
of  Rodney.  He  had  gone  down  to  Cornwall,  one 
might  suppose,  in  search  of  forgetfulness.  And  had 
seemed  so  heart-whole  and  happy  ! 

Linda  felt  shaken.  The  world  was  not  the  simple 
place  she  had  thought  it,  a  place  where  you  just 
lived,  and  met  people,  and  where  interesting  little 
things  happened.  It  seemed  formless,  embarrassed 
by  drifting  cobwebs  ;  not  only  might  you  be  un- 
comfortably tangled  in  these,  but  also  they  hid  you 
one  from  the  other. 

Once  again  she  harked  back  to  Cornwall.  The 
time  was  early  Spring,  the  season  had  been  Summer. 
Day  after  day  the  heat  haze  shimmered  over  the 
yellow  furze-bloom  and  the  cliffs  blue  with  '  Devil's 
flowers,'  orange  with  lichen  ;  whilst  down  below 
the  sea  danced,  sparkled,  heaved  green  white- 
crested  waves,  broke  into  creamy  foam  with  evan- 
escent mauve  shadows.  Above  it  sea-birds  glittered 
and  whirled.  There  were  boats  rocking  lightly, 
skimming  over  the  water ;  picnic  fires  in  moist 
sandy  places  ;  and  cool-breathing  caves  where  the 
water-light  flickered  on  the  wave-worn  rock  as  you 
pushed  the  boat  under  it. 

It  was  one  of  those  special  seasons  that  come 
now  and  then  in  the  country,  when  people  gather 
like  migrant  birds,  chatter  and  feed,  then  scatter  in 
all  directions. 

There  were  other  people — Linda  could  recall 
names,  even  faces — but  one  stood  out  clearly  with 


THE   HERO  IS   DOUBTFUL  17 

no  recalling,  that  of  Rodney  Barett.  For  her,  he 
had  lived  whilst  the  rest  only  existed.  Yet, 
standing  with  his  photograph  in  her  steady  hands, 
Linda  was  strictly  honest  with  herself. 

He  had  not  made  love  to  her. 

In  the  course  of  those  few  never-to-be-forgotten 
weeks,  in  some  way  for  which  Linda  did  not 
hold  herself  accountable,  the  two  had  drifted 
together.  Perhaps,  because  there  was  a  dis- 
position towards  pairs  in  the  party.  They  had 
talked  of  many  things  ;  but  of  the  One  Thing, 
never. 

Rodney — to  use  a  mild  but  expressive  Victorian 
phrase — had  been  attentive  ;  he  had  carried  her 
wraps  ;  in  an  assured  way  had  supplied  her  needs  ; 
had  looked  after  her  in  a  manner  altogether  de- 
lightful ;  yet — Linda  gravely  acknowledged  the 
fact — some  of  the  very  things  that  had  held  so 
special  a  sweetness  for  her  he  had  done  with  equal 
grace  for  others,  for  unattractive  middle-aged 
women.  It  had  increased  rather  than  decreased 
his  attraction  for  her. 

And  all  that  time  his  thoughts  must  have  been 
with  Cecil ! 

The  hands  that  still  held  the  photograph 
trembled  a  little  ;  the  misty  grey  of  Life's  cobwebs 
seemed  closing  down  about  Linda. 

Yet  during  all  that  sun-filled  Cornish  existence, 
no  one  could  have  guessed  Rodney's  heart  was  else- 
where ;  he  seemed  so  care-free,  even  merry ;  and 
though  serious  enough  in  their  intimate  talks,  he 
never  was  sombre.  He  was  full,  too,  of  his  work. 
He  was  an  architect,  just  feeling  his  feet,  brimful  of 
enthusiasm  for  his  calling. 


18  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

Anyone  would  have  thought  him  heart-whole  and 
happy  ! 

Yet  all  the  while  he  must  have  been  dreaming  of 
Cecil ! 

Just  three  weeks  Linda  had  known  him — and  then 
came  the  end.  The  last  day  was  disappointing ; 
rain  fell  in  the  middle  of  a  picnic.  Huddled  under 
towels  and  mackintoshes,  people  ate  water-logged 
cake  and  affected  enjoyment.  Rodney  was  the 
only  one  who  had  not  pretended.  He  had  been — 
well,  in  anyone  else  Linda  would  have  called  it 
'  glumpy.' 

He  and  Linda  had  gone  back  in  different  boats. 
Linda  had  forced  herself  to  believe  this  was  sheer 
accident.  Now  she  permitted  herself  to  wonder. 

For,  all  the  time,  there  was  Cecil ! 

The  evening  had  been  spent  at  the  house  of  the 
people  who  had  given  the  unfortunate  picnic.  The 
wet  debarred  the  customary  stroll  in  the  garden 
which  Linda  had  pictured,  perhaps  counted  on. 
Some  of  the  men  had  gone  off  to  play  billiards. 
Rodney  had  not  wanted  to  play,  Linda  was  quite 
sure  he  had  not  wanted  to.  But  the  rest  had 
noisily  insisted,  and  he  had  gone  with  them. 

Linda's  aunt  had  taken  a  chill  at  the  wet  picnic  ; 
she  kept  on  sneezing  till  people,  perhaps  in  self- 
interest,  suggested  a  return  home,  early  bed,  and 
sundry  remedies.  Aunt  Emma  demurred,  though 
she  kept  on  sneezing.  Linda  felt  heartless  ;  but, 
with  an  anguished  desire  not  to  leave  till  she  had 
at  least  bidden  Rodney  good-bye — he  was  leaving 
early  next  morning — had  ignored  sneezes  and 
suggestions  ;  simulating  extraordinary  interest  in 
the  photographs  someone  quite  negligible  was 


THE   HERO   IS  DOUBTFUL  19 

devotedly  showing  her.  She  held  each  one  a  long 
time  and  listened  to  her  own  voice  talking,  with,  all 
the  while,  an  ear  for  the  click  of  balls  and  rumble  of 
voices  from  the  billiard-room. 

Once  she  heard  Rodney  laughing.  It  was  then 
despair  seized  her.  He  need  not  really  have  played 
had  he  not  wanted  to  ;  he  could  have  refused,  been 
rude,  anything.  The  fact  was  he  thought  nothing 
of  her,  was  even  trying  to  avoid  her. 

She  rose  with  sudden  determination. 

"  May  I  see  the  rest  some  other  time  ?  "  she 
asked  of  the  negligible  someone.  "  My  aunt  really 
must  go  to  bed  and  be  doctored." 

Aunt  Emma,  grateful,  but  self-denying,  had 
declared  she  was  a  horrid  nuisance  in  any  case, 
adding : 

"  But,  Linda,  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  come 
with  me.  I'd  much  rather,  dear,  that  you  should 
finish  your  evening." 

"  I  must — I  had  better "    Linda  was  aware 

her  insistence  was  almost  indecent — "  you'll  want 
someone  to  look  after  you." 

"  Gregson  can  do  all  I  need."  Aunt  Emma 
flaunted  her  maid  untactfully. 

"  I'd  rather  though,"  Linda  turned  from  her 
round  of  '  good-byes  '  to  say  sweetly.  Despite  her 
depression,  she  could  admire  her  own  power  of 
acting. 

Aunt  Emma  had  been  quite  deceived.  Linda  had 
felt  a  beast  when,  safely  in  bed  and  surrounded  by 
comforts  and  remedies,  flushed  and  bright-eyed, 
Aunt  Emma  had  kissed  and  thanked  her  with 
affectionate  effusion. 

Aunt  Emma  was  an  old  dear,  but  she  hadn't  the 


20  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

slightest  perception  of  things  as  they  were.  Who 
could  though,  through  the  drifting  curtains  of 
cobweb  ?  Had  Linda  herself  ? 

Even  at  the  bitter  last  she  had  told  herself 
doggedly  that  only  she  was  to  blame,  she  had  had 
no  real  reason  to  think  that  Rodney — had — cared. 
She  was  urgent  to  put  herself  in  the  wrong  ;  at  all 
costs,  he  must  be  in  the  right.  Not  a  single  hint 
had  come  to  her  that,  all  the  while,  there  was 
someone  else,  someone  so  immeasurably  superior, 
in  every  way  more  desirable,  as  her  own  dearest 
friend,  Cecil. 

She  put  away  the  photograph,  and  began  to  dress 
for  the  evening.  The  eyes  that  looked  back  from 
the  glass  were  expressionless  and  stony.  She  thrust 
out  her  lower  jaw  a  little  and  went  on  with  her 
dressing.  People  must  be  clothed,  she  supposed, 
though  it  seemed  silly  to  bother  about  anything 
except  just  being  decent.  She  even  smiled,  wanly, 
as  she  thought  of  the  pleasure  this  particular  frock 
had  given  her  when  she  tried  it  on  before  coming  to 
London  ;  whilst  Aunt  Emma  looked  on  with  kind- 
eyed  approval ;  Gregson  adding  her  flattering 
comments  to  the  plainly  expressed  admiration  of 
Lumley,  the  housemaid,  who  had  made  some  excuse 
to  slip  into  Aunt  Emma's  room,  where  had  been 
'  called  '  the  full-dress  rehearsal. 

'  Fine  feathers  make  fine  birds,'  Linda  had  tried 
to  say  cynically.  And  all  the  while — she  was  sick 
now  to  recall  it — the  thought  had  played  backwards 
and  forwards — '  I  may  meet  Rodney  Barett  in 
London  !  '  And  it  had  come  to  this,  the  thing 
she  cried  out,  prayed  against,  was  just  that 
meeting,  though  she  knew  for  a  dread  absolute 


THE   HERO   IS   DOUBTFUL  21 

certainty  that,  sooner  or  later,  the  thing  was 
inevitable. 

For  a  moment  she  weakened  to  a  sense  of  self- 
pity.  She  was  so  young — not  yet  quite  twenty — to 
have  finished  already  with  happiness. 

She  had  ended  her  toilet  by  now,  and  once  again 
she  gazed  in  the  mirror,  drawing  attenuated 
comfort  from  the  thought  that  Rodney  Barett 
would  hardly  know  she  was  there  in  the  presence  of 
Cecil.  She  looked  long  and  steadily.  The  dress 
was  still  pretty  that  had  once  set  her  heart  a-flutter. 
She  fastened  a  bracelet — she  knew  her  arms  were 
presentable.  If  only  there  had  not  been  Cecil. 
He  and  she  might  have  met  again,  sometime — 
much  plainer  people  had  been  known  to  be  happy 
—he  might  have — cared  some  time. 

Having  turned  off  the  light  conscientiously,  she 
went  downstairs  to  smile  at  the  Wolneys'  guests, 
to  chatter  a  little  and  simulate  interest.  She  had 
once  overheard  herself  called  a  good  listener. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE   HERO   IS  MYSTERIOUS 

AUNT  EMMA  missed  her  dear  niece,  so  she  said  in 
her  letter.  Linda  wondered  whether  it  might  not 
be  her  duty  to  go  back  to  Cornwall.  Of  course  it 
would  be  hard  to  give  up  her  delightful  stay  with 
Cecil ;  this  had  not  been  called  a  visit,  but  was  of 
indefinite  termination.  But  then,  if  Aunt  Emma 

really  missed  her Aunt  Emma  had  always 

been  so  kind — Linda  had  never  realised  how  kind 
till  this  moment.  It  seemed  rather  unkind  to 
desert  the  old  dear  just  now,  when  she  ought  to  be 
useful.  London,  of  course,  was  alluring;  and  the 
country  would  be  doubly  dull  after  it.  But  if 
Aunt  Emma  really  did  need  her 

The  prospect  tempted. 

For,  all  the  while,  like  the  stab  of  a  mechanical 
needle,  through  Linda's  brain  shot  an  endless  re- 
iteration, urging  her — '  Get  away ;  you  must  get 
away,  before  you  have  met  him  ! ' 

You  see,  it  was  all  over.  Everything  was  over 
and  done  with.  Cecil  did  not  need  her  now,  really. 
And  if  she  could  make  Aunt  Emma  happy,  that 
would  be  something — when  you  are  not  twenty  yet 
and  very  unhappy,  you  must  have  something  to 
cling  to.  You  cannot  all  at  once  accept  the  fact  that 
you  are  not  of  the  slightest  importance,  and  that 

23 


THE  HERO   IS  MYSTERIOUS          23 

the  world — your  world — anyone's  world — has  no 
use  at  all  for  you. 

To  bolster  up  some  sort  of  credit  in  her  proposed 
escape,  Linda  tried  hard  to  make  herself  believe 
that  she  really  did  want  to  stay  on  in  London.  For 
might  there  not  be  a  sort  of  perilous  pleasure  in 

meeting  Rodney ?  Was  it  caution  then,  or 

cowardice,  that  stabbed  on  in  her  brain,  with  its — 
'  Get  away,  get  away  quickly '  ? 

"  I'll  do  it,"  she  said  aloud  to  her  reflection. 
She  had  not  finished  her  hair,  she  was  swathing  it 
round  her  head  for  the  morning.  It  was  dark 
brown,  thick  and  fine — not  fair  and  fluffy  like 
Cecil's.  More  than  anything,  she  had  always  envied 
Cecil  her  hair,  which  had  never  looked  dowdy 
like  that  of  the  other  girls  ;  though  more  than 
once  Cecil  had  been  in  '  hot  water  '  for  its  untidi- 
ness. But  Cecil  lived  in  '  hot  water '  in  those  days, 
and  seemed  to  thrive  on  it. 

Linda,  for  her  part,  by  dint  of  strenuous  exertion 
and  much  self -repression,  had  always  carried  off 
'  good  conduct '  reports.  Often  since,  she  had  been 
tempted  to  wonder — was  there  sufficient  game  for 
the  candle  ? 

When  she  had  finished  her  hair  with  its  usual 
neatness,  she  had  decided  : 

"  I  will  go ;  Aunt  Emma  needs  me." 

Her  face  looked  white  in  the  glass.  She  never  had 
a  brilliant  colour  like  Cecil's  but,  as  a  rule,  a  healthy 
pinkness.  She  was  pleased  by  her  pallor ;  being 
young  enough  to  expect,  to  approve  of  signs  of 
suffering.  It  was  right  that  she  should  look 
pale,  but  her  eyes  were  so  dark  that  she  turned 
away  disconcerted.  They  seemed  looking  right 


24  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

into  the  soul  of  her ;  and  before  them  her  soul 
shivered. 

.  It  was  just  then  that  Cecil  burst  into  the  room  ; 
she  had  a  way  of  entering  suddenly  yet  without 
any  crudeness,  in  the  same  way  as  an  evening 
primrose  bursts  its  bud  sheath  in  silent  suddenness. 
She  plumped  herself  down  on  the  bed  ;  radiant 
she  was  and  smiling;  her  heel-less  shoes  hung  by 
the  toes  showing  the  heliotrope  soles  of  her  black 
stockings. 

"  Up  before  you  this  morning,"  she  cried  in 
triumph,  "  and  you  were  in  bed  long  hours  before 
I  was." 

"  Did  you  enjoy  the  dance  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  frost.  It  was  just  as  well  in  the  end 
that  we  applied  too  late  to  get  you  a  ticket." 

"  But  why  a  frost  ?  " 

"  Don't  know.  Why  are  some  things  ripping 
and  others  deadly  ?  Must  be  the  people." 

"  Weren't  the  right  people  there  ?    Was  not " 

Linda  turned — with  a  pretence  of  tidying  her  toilet 
table — carefully,  for  Cecil  must  not  see  the  reflection 
of  her  face  in  the  glass  as  she  schooled  her  lips  to 
ask  the  question : 

"  Was  not  Mr.  Barett  there  ?  " 

Glancing  at  the  curve  of  her  friend's  back,  Cecil 
laughed  softly,  yet  was  aware  of  a  slight  feeling  of 
discomfort  as  she  answered  : 

"  He  was  there — came  late — said  he'd  been  busy, 
or  something."  With  a  pointed  finger-tip  she  was 
tracing  the  outline  of  an  over-blown  blue  rose  on 
the  coverlet. 

With  a  supreme  effort  Linda  slammed  a  door  on 
Self ;  for  the  moment  life  shone  fair  and  beckoned 


THE   HERO   IS   MYSTERIOUS          25 

her,  a  life  lived  entirely  for  others.  She  turned  a 
bright  face  to  Cecil. 

"  The  dance  was  all  right  afterwards  ?  "  she 
suggested. 

"  Yes.  We  didn't  dance  much  though.  He'd 
hurt  his  knee,  or  something " 

"  His  knee  ? — Cecil ! — Not  anything  serious  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  or  he  couldn't  have  danced  at 
all,  could  he  ?  "  Cecil  was  at  times  strictly  prac- 
tical. "  I  don't  think,"  she  continued,  "  it  was  his 
knee,  it  might  have  been  his  ankle.  There  was  a 
rosery  sort  of  a  place,  and  we  sat  there  a  bit.  It 
was  draughty,  though,  and  there  seemed  to  be 
nowhere " 

"  The  arrangements  evidently  were  not  of  the 

best "  It  was  quite  easy,  Linda  thought  with 

elation,  to  forget  yourself  in  the  interests  of  others. 
She  really  was  interested.  "  Were  there  no  little 
cosy  corners  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Heaps — simply  heaps  !  But  every  single  one 
occupied.  People  are  abominably  selfish  in  those 
ways." 

There  was  nothing  forced  about  the  laugh  with 
which  Linda  prefaced  : 

"  Supposing  you  had  been  in  occupation  ?  " 

"  We  weren't,  though ;  and  anyway,  we  are 
engaged,  and  that  makes  it  quite  different." 

"  Of  course."  Again  Linda  turned  away.  It 
was  not  going  to  be  altogether  easy.  '  We  are 
engaged  ! '  The  glorious  confidence  of  the  words  ! 
And — supposing  there  had  not  been  Cecil ! 

"  We  found  a  place  at  last,"  Cecil  went  on, 
"  that  wasn't  half  bad,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
noise  and  smell  of  refreshments,  and  the  coming 


26  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

and  going  of  waiters.  Though  you  don't  mind 
waiters — I  mean  not  like  you  do  people." 

"  Aren't  waiters  people  ?  "  Linda  managed  a 
laugh. 

"  I  knew  you'd  say  that.  You  know  what  I 
mean,  though.  It  is  only  quite  a  few  people  that 
are  people  really." 

"  The  rest  are  shadows." 

"  What  odd  things  you  say,  Linda." 

"  I  dare  say  it's  the  same  with  them.  To  them 
we  are  shadows." 

Cecil  laughed. 

"  I  don't  care  what  I  am  to  them  so  long  as  they 
don't  bother  me." 

Linda  stood  up  very  straight,  staring  down  at 
her  hands  clasped  in  front  of  her. 

"  It's  rather  dreadful,"  she  said,  "  all  the  people 
— with  all  their  thoughts  going  on  continually.  A 
never-ending  humming  of  thought." 

"  Luckily  the  thoughts  don't  really  hum." 

"  Mine  do,"  said  Linda  "  Sometimes  I  can  hardly 
hear  anything  else  for  them — nor  see  anything  but 
their  flutter " 

"  You  odd  little  '  lunie ' ;  Rodney's  more  than 
half  right  about  you." 

"  Rodney  ?  Mr.  Barett  ?— about  me  ?  "  Linda's 
heart  was  beating  to  suffocation. 

"  Of  course.  You  were  one  of  the  things  we  talked 
about.  Didn't  your  ears  burn  whilst  you  were 
sleeping  ?  " 

"  What— what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  I  was  saying  how  jolly  it  was  that  you,  my 
particular  friend,  had  met  him,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing  ;  and  I  pretended  to  tease  him  about  his  goings 


THE   HERO   IS  MYSTERIOUS  27 

on  down  in  Cornwall,  saying  he'd  soon  consoled 
himself  and  so  on.  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  he  liked 
it. — Say,  Linda,  you  might  tell  me — did  you  two 
have  a  weenie-teenie  flirtation  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not."  Linda's  eyes  flashed,  her  cheeks 
were  burning. 

"  There's  no  '  of  course  '  in  the  matter.  Rodney's 
just  the  serious-seeming  sort  that  is  easily  captured. 
And  you  know,  Linda,  or,  if  you  don't,  you'll  not 
be  long  in  finding  it  out,  you  are  oddly  fascinating. 
That,  by  the  way,  is  not  mine,  it's  Rodney's." 

"  He  said  I  was — that "  Turning  away,  Linda 

pulled  open  a  drawer;  her  fingers  fluttered  un- 
decidedly over  the  contents. 

"  We  had  been  talking  about  you ;  I  was  telling 
him  what  friends  we  are  and  I  think  we  said  some- 
thing about  opposites  attracting  one  another.  I 
don't  know  quite  how  he  took  it.  Men  have  such 
odd  ideas  ;  they  firmly  believe  we  are  all  jealous  of 
one  another.  Such  rot !  I  know  I  like  girls  a  lot 
better  than  men.  Except,  of  course,  Rodney — and 
he's  different.  It  was  so  like  him — his  straight  sort 
of  way — you  feel  like  coming  up  against  a  rock. 
He  looked  straight  ahead — you  know  what  glorious 
eyes  he  has — his  words  struck  me,  that  is  why  I 
remember  them — he  said  : 

"  '  She  is  oddly  fascinating.' ' 

'  Oddly  fascinating  ! '  Linda  was  not  at  all  sure 
that  she  liked  it ;  though  of  course  it  did  not  matter 
in  the  least  what  Rodney  Barett  thought  of  her. 
'  Fascinating/  though  !  It  did  not  seem  likely,  yet 
her  heart  fluttered.  But  '  oddly ' — why  '  oddly '  ? 
She  felt  hurt  at  the  '  oddly.'  Not  that  it  mattered  ; 
and  anyhow  there  would  be  time  later,  plenty  of 


28  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

time,  to  think  it  all  over.  For  the  present  she  must 
carry  things  on,  make  an  immediate  answer.  Yet 
there  was  an  appreciable  pause  before  Linda 
managed  a  laugh,  prefacing  : 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  nattered.  Did  he  really  mean 
me,  though  ?  " 

"  Of  course  he  did.  In  fact,  if  you  want  it,  what 
he  really  said  was  '  Linda  Ray  is  oddly  fascinating.'  ' 

"  Everybody  called  each  other  by  their  Christian 
names,"  Linda  put  in  hurriedly,  adding  an  ex- 
planatory, "  You  do  in  the  country." 

It  was  a  funny  thing,  but  she  felt  her  eyes  sparkle 
just  because  he  had  spoken  her  name. 

Cecil  went  on  without  giving  a  thought  to  Linda's 
explanation. 

"  He  might  have  meant  only  the  name,  though. 
Linda  Ray  is  undoubtedly  pretty — sounds,  of  course, 
a  bit  actressy,  but  Linda  is  a  lot  prettier  than  Cecil, 
as  I  told  him." 

"  He  would  not  allow  it  ?  " 

It  was  only  the  name  then  !  Anyone  might  say 
a  name  was  '  oddly  fascinating.'  She  could  picture 
Rodney  as  he  would  say  it  with  his  eyes  glinting 
under  their  dark  lashes  and  a  half-smile  at  his 
mouth  corner.  Rodney  was  always  so  merry,  not 
noisily,  fatiguingly  merry,  but  it  was  always  there, 
bubbling  out  of  sheer  kindly  happiness.  All  the 
Cornish  time  he  must  have  been  really  sure  of 
Cecil  or  he  never  could  have  been  so  happy.  Whilst 
his  attention  to  Linda — to  everyone — must  have 
been  the  outcome  of  his  love  for  Cecil ;  for  her  sake 
all  women  were  precious.  It  was  like  a  bit  out  of  a 
book — really,  it  was  wonderful ! 

"  He  didn't  allow  it,  of  course."    Cecil  slipped  off 


THE   HERO   IS   MYSTERIOUS  29 

the  bed  and  came  and  stood  by  the  dressing-table, 
raised  a  hand  to  her  hair,  said  '  May  I  ?  '  picked  up 
an  invisible  pin  and  fastened  an  outstanding  hair 
spiral  more  becomingly,  before  she  said  :  "  Let's 
see — what  was  I  saying  ?  " 

"  Speaking  heresy — stating  Linda  is  prettier  than 
Cecil." 

"  Only  the  name." 

"  I  wasn't  fishing." 

"  Of  course  not ;  and  comparisons  are  odious, 
anyway." 

Cecil  kissed  her.  "  I'd  give  a  good  deal  for  your 
eyebrows,  at  all  events." 

"  Are  they  nice  ?  What  bids  ?  A  pair  of  eye- 
brows said  to  be  enviable,  but  of  little  use  to  the 
owner." 

Cecil  stared  in  the  glass  at  her  own  reflection, 
with  that  of  Linda  a  little  behind  it.  Her  own 
features  and  colour  could  stand  close  observation  and 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  comparison. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  "  was  it  your  eyebrows  ? 
Your  eyes  are  not  so  blue  as  mine,  are  they  ?  I 
am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  like  it." 

"  Like  what  ?  "  Linda  was  looking  at  her  own 
reflection,  and,  as-  usual,  without  any  comfort. 
There  was  nothing  to  take  violent  exception  to, 
certainly,  in  the  thin  dark  line  of  brow,  but  the 
eyes  underneath  were  more  black  than  blue  ;  as 
for  the  rest  of  the  face,  it  was  insignificant  both  in 
line  and  colour. 

"  What  don't  you  like,  Cecil  ?  " 

"  Him  to  call  you  '  fascinating.' '  Cecil  was  turn- 
ing her  head  a  little  this  way  and  that ;  in  common 
parlance  '  making  eyes  '  at  her  own  reflection. 


30  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

'  Oddly  fascinating ! '  Linda  repeated  the  phrase 
mentally.  She  could  not  get  over  the  '  oddly.' 
It  seemed  to  imply  that  she  had  no  right  to  be 
'  fascinating.' 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  Cecil  went  on  meditatively, 
"  whether  I  would  not  rather  like  to  be  thought 
'  oddly  fascinating.'  There  is  something  in  it  that 
piques.  And  a  man  ought  to  find  a  woman  puzzling." 

"  Does  it  matter — does  anything  matter,  so  long 
as  he  loves  her  ?  " 

"  You  baby,"  Cecil  retorted ;  "  as  though  love 
were  an  end.  It  is  only  a  beginning." 

Linda  turned  away  and  went  and  looked  out  of 
the  window.  She  did  not  see,  however,  the  towering 
white-bricked  wall  of  the  neighbouring  flats  ;  but, 
instead,  a  wide  splash  of  blue,  half  sea  and 
half  sky,  and  a  man's  face  sunburnt  and  vivid 
against  it. 

"  Cecil,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  do  you  suppose, 
having  won  you,  a  man  would  have  eyes  for  any 
other  woman  ?  Rodney  Barett  is  not  that  sort  of 
man  at  any  rate." 

Cecil  came  up  behind  and  kissed  the  back  of  her 
neck  affectionately. 

"  You  are  a  dear  little  thing,"  she  said  warmly, 
adding,  "  I  suppose  one  of  the  things  Love  does  is 
to  make  you  think  less  of  yourself."  She  began  to 
play  with  the  window-curtain,  pleating  the  edge, 
shaking  it  gently,  then  she  went  on  : 

"  There's  nothing  wonderful  about  Rodney,  really. 
Yet,  somehow,  I  feel  he  ought  to  have  the  best  of 
everything ;  something  about  him  seems  to  lay 
claim  to  it.  Have  you  ever  felt  like  that  with  any- 
one, Linda  ?  " 


THE   HERO   IS  MYSTERIOUS  81 

"  No— I— I  don't  think  I  have,"  she  faltered. 

"  I  suppose  not — but  there's  plenty  of  time," 
Cecil  said  absently.  Then  tossing  the  curtain  from 
her,  she  kissed  Linda  again. 

"  He  is  coming  here,  this  evening,"  she  told  her. 


CHAPTER    IV 

NEW   LIGHT  ON   THE   HERO 

THE  hour  was  past  midnight,  yet  Linda  was  still 
wide-eyed  on  her  bed.  She  had  not  turned  out  the 
light,  she  could  not  face  darkness.  To  some  griefs 
darkness  comes  kindly,  spreading  wide  wings  of 
shelter,  removing  the  need  of  the  mask  of  pretence, 
in  itself  guarding  against  discovery.  But  there  are 
sorrows  to  which  it  is  horrible — stripping  the  soul, 
the  cowering  soul  that  would  fain  cling  to  its 
pretences. 

For  her  part,  Linda  left  the  light  burning  whilst 
she  tried  to  face  her  trouble.  For  a  long  while  she 
was  still  and  rigid,  hands  clutched,  eyes  sombrely 
staring.  Then  she  gave  a  little  low  laugh  that 
startled  her  so  that  she  looked  round  her  fearfully. 
Someone  might  have  heard  her  laughing  ! 

Outside  was  heavy  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
tingling  bell  and  clop,  clop  of  a  belated  hansom. 

It  was  the  thought  of  that  last  night  at  Pendrael 
that  had  set  Linda  laughing.  Then  she  had  thought 
herself  unhappy  because  things  had  been  disappoint- 
ing, because  Rodney  had  seemed  to  avoid  her,  most 
of  all  because  he  was  going  away.  She  had  cried 
then.  She  recalled  a  bitter  pleasure  as  she  had 
turned  over  her  wet  pillow.  That  had  not  been 
real  sorrow  ! 

32 


NEW  LIGHT   ON  THE   HERO  33 

With  a  sudden  odd  stab  at  the  heart,  she  won- 
dered :  Did  she  know  it  now  ?  Or  might  there  be 
other  depths,  still  blacker  than  the  present,  waiting 
for  her  in  the  future  ?  She  turned  wild,  haunted 
eyes  round  the  luxurious  bedroom.  Then  a  measure 
of  healing  came  to  her ;  surely  now  she  had 
reached  the  bottom ;  surely  now  she  knew  the 
limit  of  agony.  She  would  carry  a  numb  heart 
through  life,  always ;  but  numbness  was  better  than 
torture. 

Somewhere,  with  a  hushed  voice,  a  clock  struck 
three  chimes  melodiously. 

Three  o'clock !  Never,  not  even  that  night  at 
Pendrael,  had  she  been  so  wakeful.  And  sleep 
seemed  as  far  off  as  ever !  If  only  she  could 
have  had  someone  to  confide  in  !  She  pictured 
enfolding  arms,  a  warm  encompassing  presence. 
Her  mother  had  died  so  long  ago  that  she  was 
beyond  reach  of  memory,  she  was  not  even  a  face 
or  a  voice  ;  yet  Linda  cried  out — twisting  her 
hands,  burying  her  face  in  the  pillow — "  Mother  ! 
oh,  Mother  !  " 

She  waited  some  moments  whilst  the  heavy 
silence  pressed  her  despairing  cry  back  on  her. 
Then  came  an  inspiration — almost,  as  it  seemed,  an 
answer.  She  rose  up  in  bed,  flushed  and  disordered  ; 
yet  stopping  automatically  for  dressing-gown  and 
slippers  before  she  went  across  to  the  writing-table. 
From  the  wide-open  window  the  night  air  struck 
chilly.  She  shivered,  and  took  a  queer  pleasure  in 
the  fact  that  she  shivered.  Hurriedly  she  found 
pen,  ink  and  paper.  She  knew  her  mother  was  by 
many  long  silent  years  beyond  reach  of  a  letter,  yet 
she  was  going  to  write  to  her  mother. 

D 


34  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

She  began  abruptly  : — 

He  came  here  this  evening.  I  tried  to  forget 
that  he  had  called  me  '  oddly  fascinating  '  and 
yet,  all  the  while,  I  remembered  it.  Now,  I  know 
what  he  meant  by  '  fascinating,'  still  more  by 
'  oddly  ' ;  but  I  did  not  then.  That  is  to  come 
later. 

I  think  I  wanted  to  see  him.  In  spite  of  all 
that  had  happened  I  still  wanted  to  see  him.  I 
think  you  will  understand  how,  in  spite  of  all, 
I  wanted  it. 

I  dressed  carefully.  I  had  thought  I  should 
never  take  any  more  interest  in  dressing.  I  shan't 
now ;  I  still  did,  then.  I  chose  my  prettiest 
dress,  and  I  did  my  hair  the  way  he  told  me  he 
liked  when  we  strolled  in  the  Raynors'  garden  by 
moonlight.  I  suppose  it  was  silly,  wrong  even  ; 
I  have  no  one,  you  see,  to  advise  me ;  there  is 
Cecil,  of  course  ;  but  she  would  not  understand 
very  well ;  besides,  there  are  reasons  why  she  would 
be  the  last  person 

I  was  in  the  drawing-room  with  Cecil's  father 
and  mother.  She  is  like  Cecil,  but  faded,  only  I 
don't  think  she  knows  it,  and  it's  rather  pathetic  ; 
like  a  pressed  flower  and  a  live  one  together. 
Cecil's  father  was  very  young,  as  he  always  is,  in 
spite  of  his  waist  line,  and  was  joking  as  usual. 
He  pinched  my  cheek  and  said  : 

"  Now  if  all  this  charming  get-up  isn't  for  me — 
and  I  hardly  dare  hope  it — who  is  it  for  ?  I  shall 
look  out  when  they  arrive,  and  your  cheeks  will 
give  me  my  answer." 

They  did  not.     At  least,  he  would  not  notice 


NEW   LIGHT   ON  THE   HERO          35 

that  I  went  a  bit  whiter  when  Rodney  and  Cecil 
came  in  together.  He  did  not  see  me  at  first,  at 
least  he  did  not  seem  to — but  he  coloured.  That 
hurt  me.  He  had  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  It 
was  not  his  fault  that  I 

Mother,  mother,  why  did  you  not  stay  with 
me  ? 

Cecil  brought  him  up  to  me ;  she  was  hanging 
on  his  arm,  as  I  have  seen  her  often  with  other 
men,  in  her  own  gay  fashion  that  means  nothing. 
He  was  graver,  quieter  than  I  remembered  him. 
I  suppose  great  happiness  does  subdue  some 
people.  He  only  gave  a  forced  sort  of  smile  when 
Cecil  said  : 

"  Here,  you  two  people,  I  know  you  are  dying 
to  exchange  Cornish  Don't-you-remembers,  so 
I'll  make  myself  scarce.  Now,  Linda,  I  can  trust 
you  not  to  flirt  desperately.  Of  course  I  can't 
trust  Rodney " 

She  threw  him  a  glance.  I  wonder  why  it  was 
I  ever  thought  her  eyes  unexpressive. 

The  room,  by  then,  was  half  full  of  people. 
Rodney  sat  down  by  me  on  the  sofa.  And  we 
talked  commonplaces.  I  was  tingling  to  the  fact 
that  he  had  called  me  '  oddly  fascinating.'  His 
mind,  I've  no  doubt,  was  centred  on  Cecil,  he  was 
vexed  that  she  had  left  him.  He  did  not  want  to 
talk  to  me.  Yet  we  both  bowed  to  the  conven- 
tions with  commonplace.  We  did  not  talk 
Cornwall. 

He  did  not.  And  I  could  not.  It  was  some- 
thing to  me — Mother,  your  daughter  has  no  pride 
left  in  her 

It  was  something  to  me,  still  something,  just 


36  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

to  sit  beside  him  ;  to  see  his  face,  that  I  had  not 
forgotten  ;  to  catch  the  tones  of  his  voice,  that  I 
had  so  well  remembered.  But  he  never  smiled 
once.  And  that  hurt  me. 

I  smiled — or  laughed,  at  any  rate.  It  is  easier 
to  laugh  than  to  smile,  isn't  it,  when  your  heart 
is  breaking  ?  Also  it  is  easier  for  women  to  act 
than  to  be  natural.  Never  had  I  found  words 
come  more  easily,  and  the  little  quaint  twists  of 
them  that  I  happen  on  sometimes — 

I  used  to  see  in  his  eyes  that  they  amused  him. 

To-night  they  came  tripping  out,  just  as  many 
as  ever  I  wanted.  Cecil's  father,  who  was  on  the 
other  side,  overheard  what  we  were  saying, 
turned  round,  joined  in  and  kept  crying,  '  Bravo  ! 
that  got  home/  and  things  like  that.  Then  one 
or  two  others  came.  Once  I  should  have  delighted 
in  being  the  centre.  Of  course  I  pretended,  and 
kept  it  up,  taking  all  the  openings  they  gave  me. 
I  won't  say  there  was  no  bravado  in  it,  I  expect  I 

wanted  to  show  him He  was  unusually  quiet 

and  occasionally  I  thought  he  looked  puzzled. 

He  was  glad,  I  think,  when  some  late  arrivals 
broke  up  our  circle  and  dinner  was  announced. 

He  never  came  near  me  all  the  rest  of  the 
evening.  Of  course  it  was  natural  he  should  be 
absorbed  by  Cecil ;  yet  I  saw  him  talking  and 
laughing  with  other  people.  Cecil  told  me  before- 
hand that  they  had  agreed  there  should  be  no 
'  rubbish  '  between  them. 

For  my  part,  I  kept  it  up  bravely.  I  never 
knew,  though,  it  could  be  so  tiring. 

He  did  not  look  at  me  when  he  said  '  Good- 
night ! ' 


87 

But,  Mother,  this  is  the  worst.  When  at  last 
all  was  over — you  can't  think  how  haggard  I 
looked  in  my  glass.  Your  child  has  grown  old 
very  quickly  !  I  was  just  unloosing  my  hair — I 
shan't  do  it  just  that  way  again,  ever — when 
Cecil  ran  in  and  came  swooping  down  on  me. 
I  was  sick  with  fatigue,  but  I  hope  I  didn't  show 
it  too  plainly.  She  lifted  up  some  of  my  hair  and 
kissed  it — Cecil  can  do  things  like  that  without 
seeming  silly — and  she  said :  "  Enchanted 
tresses  !  I  must  kiss  away  the  enchantment." 

And  I  said  :  "I  Qon't  really  know  what  you 
mean."  Though  I  did,  just  a  little. 

And  she  went  on  : 

"  You  know,  Linda,  you  are  more  than  a  bit 
in  love  with  him  ;  but  I  am  not  going  to  have  it." 

I  pretended  to  think  she  was  playing,  and  with 
all  the  innocence  I  could  muster,  I  answered  : 

"  Is  it  part  of  the  disease  ?  " 

"  Which  and  what  ?  "  She  laughed  in  a  rather 
shy  way,  which  showed  she  knew  what  I  meant. 
I  did  wish  she  would  not  hold  my  face  in  her  hands, 
forcing  me  to  look  up  in  her  eyes,  so  that  it  took 
all  my  powers  of  acting  to  answer  steadily : 

"To  think  all  other  women  want  the  man  you 
have  chosen." 

At  that  she  let  my  face  go,  and  began  to  play 
with  things  on  my  dressing-table,  as  she  said,  in 
a  low  voice : 

"  Not  all  other  women." 

"  Cecil,  you  have  no  need  to  be  jealous."  I 
said  it  as  lightly  as  I  could,  and  I  meant  it,  too, 
and  so  I  could  kiss  her. 

She  returned  the  embrace  affectionately. 


88  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"  You  darling,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  what  I  wouldn't  breathe  to  another  soul : 
that,  from  the  first,  I  meant  to  have  Rodney. 
Of  course,  he's  not  rich  nor  particularly  hand- 
some, nor  clever  or  anything — but  he's  just  him- 
self, and  I  wanted  him.  When  he  asked  me  first, 
I  didn't  feel  sure  enough  of  him,  and  I  knew  if  I 
said  '  No,'  then,  he'd  come  back  again.  So  I  sent 
him  away.  You  see  how  that  was,  don't  you  ?  " 

I  did  see.  She  had  been  playing  cat  and  mouse 
with  Rodney  —  though,  perhaps  that  is  an  ill- 
natured  way  of  putting  itj— and  all  along  she  was 
sure  of  her  power. 

Almost  I  hated  Cecil ;  and  all  the  time  her  arm 
was  round  me,  and  the  soft  touch  of  her  curly 
hair  on  my  neck.  I  hated  her,  yet  I  loved  her. 
For,  in  spite  of  everything,  I  believe  she  really 
cares  for  Rodney.  She  is  much  worthier  him  than 
I  am.  I  was  fighting — fighting  all  the  time  to 
make  myself  know  it. 

Then  came  the  final  blow.  Resting  her  head 
against  mine,  looking  with  approving  eyes  at  the 
reflection  of  her  rose-like  face  against  my  pale 
one,  she  cooed  into  my  ear  : 

"  You  are  very  young,  dearest.  I  feel  twice 
your  age  sometimes.  May  I  give  you  a  teeny- 
tiny  bit  of  advice  ?  " 

Of  course  I  said  '  Yes ' ;  though  the  whole  of  me 
was  crying  out '  No.'  A  cut  in  the  dark  is  so  often 
given  under  the  name  of  advice,  by  women. 

"  A  woman  who  throws  herself  at  a  man  is  a 
fool,"  she  said  softly. 

Once  I  tried  to  speak  and  failed.  The  second 
time  my  voice  came,  I  do  think,  unconcernedly. 


NEW  LIGHT  ON  THE  HERO          39 

"  What  makes  you  say  that  to  me,  Cecil  ?  " 

"  In  case  it  might,  some  time,  be  useful." 

With  that  she  drew  back,  murmured  something 
about  keeping  me  from  my  bed,  kissed  me  '  good- 
night,' and  went  away  humming. 

What  did  she  mean  ? 

What  does  she  think  ? 

I  didn't — I'm  certain  I  never  did  that  with 
Rodney.  \Ve  were  just  friendly.  I  see  now,  of 
course,  we  were  only  just  friendly.  And  even 
that  he  started. 

What  did  she  mean  ?  A  warning  ?  Can  Rod- 
ney have  said  anything  ?  No,  no,  he  would  not. 
I  shall  die  if  I  think  him  less  worthy.  Yet  '  oddly 
fascinating.'  And  to-night — that  new  look  in  his 
eyes.  Was  it  pity  I  saw  there  ?  A  man — he 
might  look  so  at  the  woman  for  whose  love  he 
had  no  answer. 

Does  he  pity  me,  then  ?  If  so,  mother,  I  have 
reached  the  veriest  bottom.  And  the  days  and 
the  years  before  me  are  endless.  Do  people  live 
to  be  old  when  they  are  terribly  unhappy  ? 

Of  course,  I  iave  Aunt  Emma.  I  must  go  back 
and  be  very  good  to  Aunt  Emma.  Did  she  ever 
suffer  like  this  poor  thing  ?  Perhaps  she  did,  and 
you  knew  it.  If  she  did,  she'll  find  out  about  me. 
I  don't  think  I  dare  face  Aunt  Emma. 

Mother,  what  can  I  do  ? 

Linda  stared  down  at  the  last  written  words, 
sombrely.  Yet,  though  she  did  not  know  it,  already 
her  burden  was  lightened. 

Outside  the  rain  fell  softly,  the  water-pipes 
gurgled,  the  air  came  in,  moist,  with  a  faint  sugges- 


40  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

tion  oi  the  mile-long  rain-clouds  that  drift  over  the 
cliffs  of  the  Cornish  homeland.  A  clock  struck  four 
muffled  strokes  melodiously. 

Linda  shivered,  yawned,  blotted  and  folded  her 
letter.  She  slept  with  it  clutched  in  her  hand 
under  the  pillow. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE   HERO'S   RELATIONS 

CECIL  sat  down  and  looked  at  Linda  rather  help- 
lessly, as  she  stated  : 

"  A  most  terrible  thing  has  befallen  me.  I  know 
I  have  no  right  to  make  moan.  It  is  the  natural 
consequence  of  my  own  folly." 

"  What  folly  ?  " 

"  Engaging  myself  to  a  man  with  a  family. — I 
have  got  to  go  and  see  Rodney's  people.  Honestly, 
I  never  suspected  he  had  any." 

"  But  he  has,"  Linda  returned,  "  and  he's  awfully 
fond  of  them.  He  thinks  all  the  world  of  his 
father." 

"  He  told  me  he's  a  rough  diamond."  Cecil's 
attitude  was  despairing. 

The  colour  rushed  to  Linda's  cheeks,  the  war- 
light  to  her  eyes. 

Cecil  made  a  restraining  gesture. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  Mother  has 
said  it  already.  For  his  sake  his  people  ought  to  be 
dear  to  me  !  Father  was  much  more  refreshing. 
He  said,  '  Do  the  polite,  and  thank  Heaven  you've 
not  got  to  live  with  the  lot  of  them.' — Then  there's 
his  sister.  Do  you  know  about  the  sister  ?  " 

"I'm  rather  afraid — did  he  tell  you ?     Of 

course  we've  all  a  right  to  our  opinions " 

41 


42  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

"  My  dear  child,  don't  go  on  scraping  your  feet 
on  the  door-mat.  The  sister's  a  Suffragette.  I 
only  knew  it  last  night  !  " 

"  Not  militant,  though Linda  held  out  the 

scanty  comfort. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure."  Cecil  looked  gloomy.  "Rodney 
seemed  more  troubled  than  he  need  have  been  over 
a  non-militant.  Personally,  of  course,  I  don't  see 
why  we  shouldn't  have  votes,  and  I  expect  the  men 
would  give  them  to  us  if  we  asked  nicely  instead  of 
breaking  windows." 

"  I  don't  really  understand  much  about  politics," 
Linda  said  frankly — "  but  those  women — any  of 
their  speeches  I  have  read — they  seem  so  illogical." 

"  I  could  forgive  that.  For  women  to  be  logical 
is  rather  '  stuffy.'  But,  my  dear,  they  do  dress  so 
badly.  Such  awful  hats  !  And  some  of  them  wear 
an  obsolete  thing  called  a  '  jacket.'  ' 

Linda  laughed. 
'  "  As  represented  by  Punch  and  the  pantomimes? " 

"  I've  seen  them  in  the  flesh,  worse  luck." 

"  The  jackets  ?  " 

"  The  creatures  themselves.  I  saw  them  out- 
side Westminster.  They  were  hot  and  perspiry, 
and  their  boots,  and  their  gloves,  and  their  voices  ! 
They  quite  put  me  off  having  the  vote  if  that's 
what  it  makes  you." 

"  They  haven't  got  it,  though." 

"  They  want  it — that's  the  same  thing,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  they  would  agree  to  that." 

"  It's  the  same  thing  to  me,  anyhow.  I  know  I 
am  illogical.  As  for  you,  I  believe  you  are  half  a 
Suffragette  at  all  events." 

"  Not  I — I  own  I  can't  see  anything  unfeminine 


THE   HERO'S   RELATIONS  48 

in  the  action  of  voting.  If  women  can  pay  taxes 
and  carry  on  businesses,  why  shouldn't  they " 

"  You    shan't !      I    won't    be    converted 

Cecil  put  her  hands  to  her  ears. 

Linda  pulled  them  away. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  I  have  been  uncon verted — or 
dis-,  is  it  ? — by  the  rough,  rude  ways  of  the  rowdy 
element." 

"  There  you  are "    Cecil  selected  a  rose  from 

a  bowl  and  smelt  at  it  daintily.  "  Isn't  it  horrid 
to  think  of  Rodney  with  a  rough,  rowdy  sister  ?  I 
know  I  shall  be  rude  to  her,  and  he'll  be  disgusted 

"    Her  eyes  filled  pathetically.     "  Why  ever," 

she  broke  out,  "  were  people  made  up  into  families, 
like  the  lots  they  offer  at  sales — a  sword,  an  earthen- 
ware pot,  a  piece  of  worn  table-linen — and — what 
shall  we  say  for  the  sister  ?  " 

"  Supposing  we  wait  till  we  see  her." 

"  I  know  she's  going  to  be  awful — a  great  brass 
knob  of  a  door  handle  !  " 

"  Worse :  a  white  china  one  with  a  gold  line 
on  it." 

"  Something  aggressively  vulgar,  anyhow.  And 
there  are  people  who  actually  like  sale  lots.  They 
seem  to  find  them  exciting." 

"  They  can  always  throw  them  away  after." 

Cecil  shook  her  head  dolefully. 

"  Unfortunately,  you  can't  throw  away  your 
relations-in-law. ' ' 

She  replaced  the  rose,  pushing  it  far  down 
amongst  the  ptjjafs.  It  was  Linda  who  had  filled 
the  bowl,  and  it  troubled  her  to  see  the  one-sided 
effect  Cecil's  touch  had  given  to  her  arrangement. 
She  did  not  like  to  rectify  it.  Cecil,  in  small  ways, 


44  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

was  thin-skinned,  she  liked  to  think  she  could  do 
everything  a  little  better  than  anyone  else,  that  her 
finishing  touch  improved  things.  So  Linda  left  the 
self-conscious  rose  with  its  green  leaves  sticking  up 
round  it ;  and,  forcing  herself  to  look  elsewhere, 
she  went  on  : 

"  Isn't  it  to-day  Mr.  Barett  is  taking  you  to  see 
them  ? — I  mean,  his  people." 

"  Mr.  Barett !  How  stiff  we  are,  all  of  a  sudden  ! 
Why  not  Rodney  ?  I  don't  mind.  And  I  know 
you  think  of  him  as  Rodney." 

Thoughts  flashed  through  Linda's  brain.  She 
knew  she  ought  to  have  had  ready  a  neat  retort, 
but  she  failed  to  find  one.  She  whitened  a  little  as 
she  said  calmly  : 

"  Is  he  taking  you  to-day,  then  ?  " 

"  That's  just  it.  Didn't  I  tell  you  ?  That's  all 
the  trouble.  We  had  settled  to  go  to-day — it  was 
quite  bad  enough,  then.  I  tried  all  I  could  to  put 
it  off — but  Rodney  is  so  pig-headed,  he  won't  give 
in.  I've  found  that  out.  And  at  first  I  thought  him 
so  amiable,  that  I  could  twist  him  twice  round  my 
finger.  I've  always  had  my  own  way,  and  I  don't 

half  like  it "  she  broke  off  with  a  sunny  smile — 

"  I  do  like  it,  really.  I  think  I  can  understand 
women  loving  a  man  who  beats  them." 

"  I  can't.  It  would  lower  him  in  my  eyes.  A 
really  strong  man  can  control  himself." 

Cecil  pursed  up  her  mouth. 

"  I  don't  think  I  like  '  controlled '  men  any 
better  than  logical  women. — How  you  keep  on 
interrupting  ! — To  try  back — it  was  Rodney  who 
chose  to-day ;  he  would  have  to-day.  And  now, 
after  all,  he's  not  coming." 


THE  HERO'S   RELATIONS  45 

"  You've  got  your  way  in  the  end,  then  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I've  just  got  to  go  without 
him." 

To  this  appalling  statement  silence  seemed  the 
only  appropriate  answer. 

Cecil  appreciated  Linda's  attitude,  for  she  went 
on  : 

"  You  are  just  about  right.    Isn't  it  awful  ?  " 

"It  is  too  bad  " — Linda  brought  out  with  an 
effort — "  too  bad  of— ^Rodney." 

"  It  isn't  his  fault,"  Cecil  returned  irritably,  "  it's 
the  Office  that's  keeping  him.  Some  silly  Lord,  or 
important  personage.  Rodney  has  done  the  plans 
for  his  house  or  something.  He  rang  me  up  on  the 
telephone.  I  said, '  All  right ;  another  day,  then.'  I 
was  so  glad  to  put  it  off,  I  felt  like  singing  into  the 
receiver.  Then  his  voice  was  saying,  '  My  luck 
again,  and  I  wanted  so  much  to  go  with  you.' 
'  Whatever  are  you  driving  at  ?  '  I  shouted  back 
— I  always  fancy  a  telephone's  deaf,  somehow. 
And  I  told  him  I  was  jolly  well  not  going  without 
him. 

"  '  But  you  must,  you  see.' 

"  '  I  don't  see,  and  I  don't  even  hear  very  well ; 
because  the  wire  is  humming.' 

"  '  You  will  go  though  ? ' 

"  Even  over  the  'phone  his  voice  sounded  coaxy. 

"  '  I  can't ;  I  simply  can't  go  alone.' 

"  '  Won't  your  mother  go  with  you  ?  ' 

'  As  luck  will  have  it,  she's  indulging  herself  in 
bed  with  a  headache.' 

"  I  thought  I'd  settled  him  then  ;  for  there  was  a 
lapse,  whilst  I  overheard  someone  else  making  what 
sounded  like  an  interesting  appointment. 


46  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

'  Are  you  there  ?  '  Rodney  had  returned  to 
the  charge.  '  You  see,  mother  will  have  made 
preparations.' 

"  Preparations  for  me  !  1  felt  like  breaking  it  off 
with  him,  then  and  there,  over  the  'phone.  The 
sort  of  people,  you  know,  that  make  preparations  ! 

"  It's  all  right  for  you,  Linda,  but  I've  got  to 
belong  to  them  ! 

"  He  went  on  with  a  lot  like  that,  and  about  its 
being  important  not  to  offend  his  father.  The  old 
man's  rich,  you  know,  still  I  never  thought  Rodney 
was  one  to  play  up  for  money " 

"  It  may  not  be  money/'  Linda  suggested. 
"  If  he  is  fond  of  his  father,  he  naturally  wants  him 
to  like  you." 

"  The  father  is  pretty  sure  to  like  me,"  Cecil  said 
carelessly.  "  I'm  much  more  bothered  about  the 
mother,  who  has  made  '  preparations ' !  And  the 
Suffragette  sister — she  came  into  it,  too.  It  seems 
she  is  staying  at  home  on  purpose.  I  don't  know 
what  she  does  generally.  I  expect  something 
awful !  As  I  said,  I  felt  horribly  like  yelling :  '  I 
won't  go,  and  this  is  an  end  between  us.'  I  believe 
I  should  have,  only  you  can't  throw  a  ring  back 
over  the  telephone. 

"  I  am  sure,  if  anyone  had  heard  us,  they  would 
have  thought  we  really  were  quarrelling.  The  end 
of  it  was,  as  he  made  such  a  point  of  it,  I  said  I 
would  go,  and  take  you  with  me. 

"  Rodney  suggested  your  going,  and  I  grabbed  at 
the  notion.  I  shan't  feel  half  so  bad  with  you  to 
back  me  ;  besides,  you  always  see  the  funny  side  of 
things  and  we  can  have  a  good  laugh  afterwards. 
They  can't  all  talk  to  me  at  once,  anyway." 


THE  HERO'S  RELATIONS  47 

"Suppose" — Linda's  eyes  were  dancing — "they 
are  all  heavily  silent  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  be  ?  "  Cecil  looked 
startled.  "  I  never  thought  of  that  possibility.  I 
imagined  them  all  firing  off  questions.  Isn't  that 
what  people  do  when  they  '  draw  '  a  new  relation  ? 
At  the  best  I  shall  have  a  sense  of  '  Sale  or  Return,' 
I  know  they'll  be  on  the  qui  vive  to  find  out  whether 
I'm  not  a  little  bit  shop-soiled.  It's  a  blessing  to 
know,  at  any  rate,  that  you  are  coming.  You'll 
stand  by  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I'll  stand  by  you." 

Oddly  enough,  Linda's  depression  had  lifted. 
She  acknowledged  to  herself  a  faint  sense  of  pleasure 
in  the  thought  of  meeting  Rodney's  people.  The 
fact  that  they  were  his,  drew  her.  She  knew  the 
father  was  a  self-made  man,  and  the  mother  had 
once  been  a  governess.  Rodney  had  not  said  much 
about  his  sister ;  Linda  had  an  ill-defined  feeling 
that  he  admired  or  was  afraid  of  her.  Perhaps  a 
little  of  both. 

As  she  was  choosing  a  hat  for  the  occasion,  she 
surprised  herself  humming.  She  stopped,  almost 
guiltily. 

Did  it  matter  which  hat  she  wore  ?  It  was  Cecil 
who  must  look  her  best.  But  that  she  did  always. 

Nevertheless,  Linda  put  aside  two  hats  and 
selected  a  third  as  the  most  becoming. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   HOUSE   OF   THE   HERO 

THE  Baretts'  house  was  frankly  Victorian  ;  ugly 
beyond  words,  it  only  escaped  vulgarity  by  the  fact 
that  it  was  sincere.  It  emphasised  Mrs.  Barett's 
placid  delight  when  a  meagre  '  semi-detached '  was 
exchanged  for  its  solid  comforts ;  it  told  of  Mr. 
Barett's  satisfaction  when  some  fifteen  years 
earlier  he  had  insisted  that  everything  should  be 
good  and — what,  it  has  to  be  owned,  he  called — 
genu-wtf.  Genuine,  certainly  the  house  was, 
genuine  as  home-made  pastry,  and  as  solid. 

Cecil  and  Linda  were  impressed. 

It  was  a  fresh  spring  day  and,  in  spite  of  the 
weight  on  their  spirits,  the  girls  had  enjoyed  their 
taxi-ride,  which  had  brought  the  colour  into  Linda's 
cheeks  ;  her  eyes  sparkled  too.  A  heavier  trouble 
than  hers  must  yield  to  the  call  of  sheets  of  blossom, 
yellow,  red,  purple,  white  and  rose,  that  rollicked 
through  the  staid  London  parks. 

But  directly  the  door  was  opened  the  Victorian 
House  laid  a  subduing  hand  upon  them,  with  some- 
thing of  the  formal  touch  of  a  school-parlour,  that 
tells  of  the  Eye  of  Inquisition  beyond. 

The  hall  received  them  coldly,  conscious,  though 
not  ashamed,  of  the  imitation  marble  of  its  walls. 
A  man-servant,  with  all  the  importance  of  a  Suffragan 

48 


THE   HOUSE   OF  THE  HERO  49 

Bishop,  preceded  them  up  the  wide  shallow  stair- 
way. The  girls  glanced  at  one  another  apprehen- 
sively ;  Cecil  furtively  pinched  Linda's  arm. 

The  stairs  were  thickly  carpeted,  the  fat  sausage 
of  a  baluster-rail  as  thickly  varnished.  Cecil  laid 
a  hand  on  it  timidly,  but  Linda  shook  her  head. 

"  The  Bishop  would  spot  a  mark  in  a  moment," 
she  whispered. 

A  dark  mahogany  door,  that  had  also  too  evidently 
been  glutted  with  varnish,  swang  open  without  a 
sound  ;  the  tail  of  a  heavy  plush  portiere  dragged 
noiselessly  away  behind  it.  Without  any  further 
preparation,  the  room  presented  itself  solemnly. 

Blue  rep  curtains,  two  '  arms,'  six  chairs,  and  one 
sofa  '  ditto  '  ;  six  '  occasional '  chairs  ;  a  shining 
oval  table  ;  a  marble  and  gilt  clock,  the  flight  of 
time  solemnly  punctuated  by  a  hydrocephalous 
cupid  on  a  swing  ;  two  gilt  gentlemen  on  bronze 
horses  ;  water-colours,  with  wide  white  margins 
and  gilt  frames  that  seemed  to  leap  from  the  walls 
— the  whole  thing  rushed  at  them  all  at  once, 
without  any  modesty  of  decent  self-repression ; 
and  this,  though  the  whole  room  was  the  incarnation 
of  honest '  pride.' 

At  either  end  of  the  blue  rep  sofa  was  a  hard 
round  bolster;  from  the  axle  of  each  dangled  a 
tassel  of  yellow  silk. 

Cecil  suppressed  an  inclination  to  giggle  ;  Linda 
felt  a  mad  desire  to  rush  round  opening  windows. 
The  room  was  so  oppressively  middle-aged,  so 
tightly  corseted  that  it  lacked  breathing-room. 
There  was  no  sign  of  human  presence  and  they 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Suffragan  Bishop, 
hollow-voiced,  was  announcing  them  to  the  room 


50  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

itself.  It  seemed  quite  fit  that  he  should  do  so. 
But  from  the  nearer  of  the  two  big  arm-chairs, 
which  sported  '  chairbacks '  illustrating  nursery 
rhymes  in  coloured  wool  on  an  oatmeal  ground, 
came  a  chirrupy  cough,  followed  by  the  jingling 
of  charm-hung  bracelets  ;  and  a  very  small  lady, 
who  had  till  now  been  hidden  by  the  high  chair 
back,  advanced  to  meet  her  visitors.  She  kissed 
them  both — Cecil  first — holding  her  hands  and 
looking  at  her  with  a  sort  of  pathetic  appeal,  Linda 
thought.  Mrs.  Barett's  eyes  were  pale  and  looked 
short-sighted,  but  she  wore  no  glasses. 

"  Come  to  the  fire,"  she  bade  them,  fluttering 
nervously,  glancing  up  at  them — she  was  very  tiny — 
in  her  startled,  short-sighted  way.  "  Come  to  the  fire." 

She  gave  an  inviting  pull  first  to  one  and  then  to 
the  other  of  the  dignified  chairs ;  then  perched 
herself  on  an  '  occasional,'  twisting  her  feet  round 
its  legs,  as  a  child  might  have  done. 

"  Do  come  nearer  the  fire,"  she  gasped  out, 
hospitably. 

An  enormous  fire  burnt  in  the  grate,  reflecting 
itself  with  terrible  brilliance  in  the  bright  steel 
fender,  which  was  adorned  at  either  end  with  the 
fore-part  of  a  dog  emerging  from  scroll-like  orna- 
ments, and  in  the  middle  with  a  stag's  head  and 
arching  antlers.  Cecil  was  wondering  who  had 
conceived,  who  had  carried  out  this  monstrosity  ; 
Linda  pondered  the  subject  of  servants.  Did  Mrs. 
Barett  keep  a  special  one  to  polish  this  fender  ? 

So  far  the  conversation  had  not  advanced  beyond 
the  primal  discussion  of  the  weather ;  though 
under  her  eyelashes  Cecil  had  signalled  to  Linda, 
'  Talk — talk,  girl — say  anything.' 


THE   HOUSE   OF  THE  HERO          51 

And  Linda  had  signalled  back,  '  Can't.  Blank- 
brained.'  But  had  managed  to  keep  the  face  she 
turned  towards  Mrs.  Barett  politely  interested. 

Presently  Cecil  made  a  plunge. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  flushing  a  little,  "  that 
Rodney  could  not  come.  You  know,  I  suppose, 
they  wanted  him  at  the  office  ?  " 

"  So  he  told  me  this  morning." 

When  she  spoke  of  her  son,  her  face  had  a  shining 
look  on  it.  Linda  felt  herself  drawn  to  the  fluttering 
small  woman.  To  Cecil  it  came  as  a  shock,  the 
reality  of  her  engagement  and  everything  ;  so  far 
she  had  not  realised  that  Rodney,  when  not  with 
her,  still  existed  ;  that  he  lived  at  home,  talked  to 
his  mother  and  all  of  them  ;  and  that  they,  almost 
certainly,  knew  him  much  better  than  she  did.  The 
realisation  brought  a  rush  of  bright  colour  to  her 
face. 

"  Do  you  find  it  too  hot  ?  "  Mrs.  Barett  asked 
timidly. 

"  Thank  you — yes,  a  little."  With  a  toe  Cecil  set 
her  chair  in  motion.  It  rolled  away  backwards, 
silent,  majestic.  To  Cecil,  Linda  looked  alarmingly 
far  away  now,  and  Mrs.  Barett  smaller  than  ever. 

Conversation,  strained  through  the  fine  sieve  of 
selection,  became  momentarily  more  attenuated. 
It  was  a  relief  when  the  door  opened  to  admit 
Rodney's  father. 

Mr.  Barett  wore  a  frock  coat ;  a  thick  watch-chain 
made  a  generous  curve  across  his  prominent  figure  ; 
a  wet-looking  sheaf  of  grey  hair  was  brushed  forward 
over  each  ear — perhaps  to  draw  the  eye  away  from 
his  baldness. 

Before  speaking,  he  waited  to  close  the  door  and 


52  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

to  pick  his  way  across  the  carpet  on  tiptoe,  as  though 
he  feared  he  might  crush  its  redundant  garlands. 
The  moments  were  filled  with  weighty  expectation 
before  he  stopped  and  put  his  head  on  one  side ;  his 
face  was  indeterminate  with  fat,  but  his  mouth 
well-shaped  and  flexible.  He  smiled  as  he  said  : 

"  And  which  of  these  ladies  has  promised  to  be 
my  daughter-in-law  ?  Don't  tell  me,  Mamma. 
I'm  going  to  guess."  He  laughed  like  a  great  happy 
child.  Looking  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other  of 
the  girls  with  engaging  frankness,  he  plunged  his 
hands  into  his  pockets,  rattling  his  coins. 

There  was  a  horrible  pause  of  silence.  Only  the 
fire,  cruelly  bright  and  overpowering,  seemed  to  be 
enjoying  the  situation.  Linda  wished  Cecil  would 
say  something.  Cecil  was  not  usually  tongue-tied. 

Cecil  was  swallowing  hard  and  wondering  why 
Linda  did  not  speak.  It  would  have  been  quite 
easy  for  Linda  to  tell  the  old  man  which  was  his 
son's  fiancee.  It  is  significant  that  neither  of  the 
girls  looked  for  ease  of  the  situation  from  the  timid 
little  lady  with  her  toes  twining  round  the  legs  of  her 
'  occasional.' 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Barett  was  contentedly  jingling 
his  coins  and  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  I  can't  have  my  choice,"  he  said  slowly,  his 
voice  was  unpolished  and  grating,  "  I  can't  have 
my  choice  ;  the  boy,  it  seems,  has  been  beforehand 
with  me." 

Already  Linda  had  a  faint  feeling  that  there  was 
something  likeable  about  Rodney's  father ;  to 
Cecil  he  was  still  frankly  '  awful.' 

"  Impulsive  generation  " — the  old  man  shook  his 
head,  though  he  was  smiling — "  they  don't  under- 


THE   HOUSE   OF  THE   HERO  53 

stand  that,  because  we've  lived  longer,  bought  and 
paid  for  experience,  we  must  know  better  than  they 
do.  They  don't  teach  'em  sense  like  that  at  the 
'Varsity — no,  not  at  the  'Varsity." 

He  repeated  the  word,  naively  pleased  with  the 
fact  that,  by  paying  his  son's  bills  at  Cambridge, 
he  had  bought  a  right  to  the  familiar  pronunciation. 
There  were  plenty  of  men — he  was  complacently 
aware  of  the  fact — men  of  his  own  standing,  who 
thought  the  word  was  spoken,  as  spelt,  University  ; 
who,  further,  didn't  know  that  his  son's  college, 
despite  the  evidence  of  the  eye,  was  called  '  Maudlin.' 
He  knew  it  so  intimately,  that  he  had  one  or  two 
little  jests  on  the  subject  with  which  he  was  wont 
to  flavour  his  conversation. 

"  Aye,  the  boy's  made  his  choice."  He  smiled  at 
the  girls,  delightfully  unaware  of  their  embarrass- 
ment, their  dread  of  what  he  might  say  further. 
Mrs.  Barett  was  not  at  all  embarrassed.  She  sat 
with  her  pale,  staring  eyes  fixed  on  her  husband. 
She  knew '  Papa,'  and  could  trust  him. 

"  And,  by  Jove,"  the  old  man  went  on  with  a 
chuckle,  "  when  both  are  so  charming,  I'd  have  a 
difficulty  in  choosing.  So  p'r'aps  it's  as  well  that 
rogue  of  mine  has  saved  me  the  trouble.  Mamma, 
you  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  telling  me  which  is  to 
be  my  daughter." 

"  This,"  said  Mrs.  Barett,  "  is  Miss  Wolney." 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  ear — 

"  Got  a  bit  of  cold  and  that  humming  sound  in 
my  ears." 

"  Miss  Wolney,"  his  wife  repeated  in  a  falsetto. 

"  What  say  ?— Woolly  ?  " 

"  Wolney— Cecil  Wolney." 


54  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"  Sister  Wolney  ?  A  nurse,  is  she  ?  Don't  like 
nurses,  they  always  treat  you  like  a  baby." 

"  Not  Sister — Cecil,"  Mrs.  Barett  explained  with 
untiring  patience. 

"  Did  you  say  Cecil  ?  That  isn't  a  girl's  name." 
Mr.  Barett  spoke  loudly.  "  A  girl  can't  be  called 
Cecil." 

"  As  it  happens,  I  am,  though."  Cecil  was  mad 
with  herself  that  she  coloured  furiously. 

Mr.  Barett  pursed  up  his  mouth  and  looked 
troubled. 

"  Whoever  called  you  that  ?  "  he  asked  her. 

"  I  suppose  '  my  god-fathers  and  my  god-mothers 
in  my  baptism,'  "  Cecil  answered  glibly. 

He  turned  to  his  wife. 

"  What's  that  about  fathers  and  mothers  ?  " 

"  '  God-fathers  and  god-mothers.' ' 

"It  is  really  her  name,  then  ?  My  dear  young 
lady,  haven't  you  got  any  other  ?  " 

"  No,"  Cecil  said  shortly.  Since  she  had  arrived 
at  years  of  discretion  the  intermediate  'A.,'  that 
stood,  of  all  things,  for  Augusta,  had  faded  out  of 
her  signature. 

"  Well " — he  was  clearly  making  the  best  of  a  bad 
job — "  Miss  Cecil,  if  Cecil  it  has  got  to  be,  I  am  very 
pleased  to  welcome  you." 

His  face  was  unpleasantly  near  as  he  laid  his  hands 
on  her  shoulders ;  for  one  awful  moment  Cecil 
feared  that  he  was  about  to  kiss  her ;  but  he  only 
looked  into  her  eyes  very  steadily.  His,  under  their 
shaggy  grey  eyebrows,  were  small,  dark  and  bright. 

"  If  you're  near  so  good  as  you're  pretty,  you'll 
do,"  he  said  slowly. 

The  rough  compliment  pleased.    Cecil  looked  at 


THE   HOUSE   OF  THE   HERO          55 

him  more  kindly,  as  he  turned  away  to  Linda, 
saying : 

"  Now,  tell  me,  who  is  this  young  lady  ?  " 

"  I  am  Linda  Ray,"  she  answered  for  herself, 
raising  her  voice  a  little. 

"What  a  blessing,"  he  said,  "to  find  someone 
who  doesn't  mumble.  A  pretty  name  too — Linda 
Ray.  You  met  my  boy  down  in  Cornwall."  He 
bent  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead. 

Not  in  the  least  offensively,  as  she  stated  later  to 
Cecil,  who  was  explaining,  rather  elaborately  how, 
for  her  part,  she  had  avoided  the  salute.  '  Silly  old 
thing  !  '  she  finally  concluded. 

Mr.  Barett  lowered  himself  on  to  the  sofa.  He 
was  close  to  Cecil  and  opposite  Linda,  who,  con- 
scious that  his  bright  little  eyes  dwelt  frequently 
upon  her,  could  not  help  wondering  what  Rodney 
had  told  his  father  about  those  days  in  Cornwall. 
What  had  he  said  of  her?  Surely  not — her  ears 
tingled — '  oddly  fascinating.' 

Mr.  Barett,  leaning  the  fat  weight  of  his  body 
forward  on  to  his  knees,  with  his  '  best '  ear  towards 
Cecil,  was  talking  to  her,  or,  for  the  most  part, 
listening  ;  weighing  her  up,  probably,  in  that  shrewd 
brain  of  his  that  had  acquired  for  him  place,  position, 
wealth,  and  that  knowledge  of  men  and  things  that 
had  served  him  as  education. 

Cecil,  trying  to  shut  out  of  her  mind  the  un- 
welcome thought  that  this  vulgar  old  man  was,  in 
the  future,  to  stand  to  her  in  intimate  relationship, 
tried  to  think  of  him  as  '  man  '  only  ;  and  so  far 
succeeded  that,  recapturing  her  usual  readiness,  she 
chattered,  laughed,  teased,  and  looked  at  him  under 
her  eyelashes. 


56  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

The  old  man,  not  averse,  it  seemed,  to  flattery  from 
a  pretty  young  woman,  yet  had  the  air  of  reserving 
his  opinion  and  judgment ;  and  now  and  again  his 
eyes  rested  inquiringly — Cecil  would  not  let  herself 
think  approvingly — on  Linda  Ray.  The  latter  was, 
meanwhile,  carrying  on  a  rather  difficult  conversa- 
tion with  '  Mamma.'  Mamma's  interests  appeared 
decidedly  limited.  She  liked  books — yes,  but  they 
must  have  a  happy  ending.  For  her,  '  book '  and 
'  novel '  were  evidently  synonymous  terms  ;  any 
other  printed  matter  was  unplaced  ;  with  the  excep- 
tion, of  course,  of  magazines — the  illustrated  variety. 

"  I  do  like  pictures  to  a  story,"  she  said,  rather 
plaintively.  "  You  can't  take  the  same  interest  in 
people  if  you  don't  know  what  they  are  like." 

A  sudden  illumination  came  to  Linda.  She  had 
often  pondered  the  reason  for  certain  illustrations 
of  limp  men  and  long-drawn-out  women,  with  an 
immense  moon  behind  sea-weedy  trees  and  a  bit  of 
impossible  ruin  in  the  distance.  Now  she  knew 
their  purpose.  They  were  drawn  for  Mrs.  Barett, 
they  added  to  the  pleasure  of  her  reading. 

She  proceeded  to  draw  her  out  on  the  subject,  she 
was  really  interested  ;  though  all  the  time  she  was 
conscious  of  the  glance  of  Mr.  Barett's  bright  little 
eyes,  and  once  she  thought  they  shone  an  approval. 
It  struck  her  as  odd  that  Mrs.  Barett,  who  had  once 
been  a  governess,  should  have  no  taste  for  real 
literature  ;  till,  with  an  illumining  imagination,  she 
fancied  her — rather  pretty,  in  those  days,  in  a 
fragile,  helpless  way — she  fancied  her,  then,  with 
scraped-back  hair  and  the  hideous  bustle  of  the 
'seventies,  a  little  flame  in  her  pale  cheeks,  preparing 
to  leave  her  last  situation.  Sentimentally  she  would 


THE   HOUSE   OF  THE   HERO  57 

kiss  her  engagement  ring — she  wore  it  still,  dim  with 
age,  forget-me-nots  formed  out  of  turquoise.  She 
would  pause  with  her  hand  on  her  well-worn  educa- 
tional library.  Without  sufficient  courage  to  burn 
or  drown  the  detested  volumes,  she  probably,  with 
a  little  furtive  glance  round,  simply  left  them 
behind  her  ;  promising  herself — it  would  have  been 
unladylike  to  swear  it — that  she  would  never  open 
any  book  but  a  novel,  henceforth  and  for  ever. 

She  had  never,  Linda  felt  quite  sure,  been  tempted 
to  break  her  vow,  or,  rather,  her  promise. 

"  Mamma,"  said  her  '  spouse.' 

Mrs.  Barett  would  use  the  word  '  spouse,'  Linda 
was  sure  of  it. 

"  Mamma,  where  is  Edith  ?  I  understood  she 
was  going  to  favour  us." 

"  She  is  at  a  Committee  Meeting."  Mrs.  Barett 
bristled  with  dignity  as  she  placed  her  arms  hori- 
zontally, so  that  each  hand  held  an  elbow.  "It  is 
the  '  Society  for  the  Interchange  of  Ultra-national 
Objections ' ;  the  '  S.I.U.O./  Edith  calls  it." 

Mr.  Barett  smiled ;  Linda  could  not  be  sure 
whether  he  was  amused  or  gratified. 

"  A  very  good  cause,"  he  stated.  Linda  was 
almost  certain  he  was  amused,  though  now  he  was 
no  longer  smiling.  "  Objections,  like  mustard,  bring 
out  the  flavour  of  everything.  I  thought,  though, 
she  had  promised  to  be  here  this  afternoon.  Rodney 
asked  her  particularly." 

"  She  can't  give  up  her  work  even  for  Rodney." 
In  Mrs.  Barett's  tone  was  a  faint  pot-pourri  of  ancient 
governess.  "  All  the  same,  she  is  coming  for  tea. 
She  will  get  straight  back  after  the  Meeting.  She 
managed  to  get  a  substitute  for  the  Tea-shop." 


58  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

She  fixed  her  pale  eyes  on  the  ornate  clock,  her 
lips  moved  in  company  with  some  mental  calculation 
before  she  concluded  :  "  She  should  be  here  in  ten 
minutes." 

'You  must  know,  my  dear  young  lady" — Mr. 
Barett  was  addressing  Linda — "  that  my  daughter, 

my  daughter  Edith  that  is "  he  gave  a  whimsical 

smile  in  the  direction  of  Cecil ;  Linda  was  quite  sure 
he  was  worth  knowing,  even  likeable — "  my  daugh- 
ter, Edith,  takes  life  very  seriously.  She  is  so  new- 
fashioned — or  very,  very  old-fashioned,  is  it  ? — as 
to  think  everyone  ought  to  work  ;  that  work  is  not 
a  curse  to  be  limited  by  Law  to  as  few  hours  as 
possible,  but  a  blessing  to  sweeten  life  and  give  it  a 
purpose.  Odd  of  her,  isn't  it  ?  " — he  turned  his 
eyes  on  to  Cecil — "  when  she  might  spend  all  her 
time  dressing  up  and  chasing  around  after  amuse- 
ment. Now,  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  It  depends  " — Cecil's  eyes  were  on  the  little 
embroidered  bag  with  which  she  was  playing — 

"  that  depends "  she  flashed  him  a  glance.     It 

was  wasted.  He  was  intent  on  the  little  bag  that 
glittered  as  she  turned  it  about  in  the  fire-light. 
Perhaps,  Cecil  thought,  he  was  unused  to  pretty 
things.  He  might  be  taught  though.  The  thought 
was  not  unpleasing.  He  was  said  to  be  fabulously 
rich.  She  might,  after  all,  have  a  use  for  him. 

She  made  another  cast  for  his  eyes.  This  time  she 
caught  them. 

"  I  mean  about  dress  and  amusement — it  all 
depends — at  least,  very  much — you  see,  if  a  woman's 

not  pretty  or  anything "    She  swang  the  little 

bag  round  and  round  by  its  cords,  then,  by  both 
hands,  her  arms  curving  prettily,  she  drew  it  up  to 


THE   HOUSE   OF  THE   HERO  59 

her  face  and  looked  over  it — "  of  course  if  a  woman's 
not  pretty  and  so  on — she  must  find  an  interest 
somewhere." 

"  So  that,"  he  said  slowly,  "  is  the  way  of  it,  is 
it  ?  "  He  stretched  out  and  handled  the  bag.  Cecil 
resented  the  action ;  the  toy  looked  pathetically 
fragile  in  his  big,  coarse  hand — there  were  tufts  of 
reddish  hair  on  the  backs  of  the  fingers.  At  that 
moment  Rodney  seemed  so  far  away  that  she  had 
no  single  satisfaction  in  the  thought  of  her  engage- 
ment. 

Still  fingering  her  plaything,  Mr.  Barett  continued  : 

"  Then,  arguing  contrariwise,  there's  no  need  for 
you,  dear  young  lady,  to  do  anything  but  dress, 
look  pretty,  and  just  amuse  yourself.  What  do  you 
think,  Miss  Linda  ?  " 

"  I  can't  agree."  Linda  surprised  herself  by  her 
eagerness.  Gratitude  at  escaping  '  Mamma's ' 
platitudes  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  it. 
"  No,  really.  I  think  all  women  should  work,  and 
yet  all  have  time  to  dress  and  amuse  themselves." 

"  That's  just  what  my  girl  says.  You  two'll 
cotton  together,"  said  Edith's  father. 

Only  then,  Linda  remembered  that  the  daughter 
was  said  to  be  a  Suffragette ;  her  spirits  sank  as 
she  questioned:  How,  in  this  house  of  solemn 
conversation  and  heavy  propriety,  could  be  such 
anachronism  ?  Was  it  the  force  of  antagonism  ? 
Or  did  Edith,  a  female  edition  of  her  father,  really 
enjoy  plastered  hair  and  the  wearing  of  a  thing 
called  a  '  jacket '  ?  Linda  pictured  two  large 
buttons  at  the  waist  at  the  back  of  it. 

"  Everyone  does  like  Edith,"  Mrs.  Barett  asserted, 
complacently. 


60  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

Mr.  Barett  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh  that  made 
the  yellow  tassels  dance  at  the  pillow-ends. 

"  Don't  dare  to  say  that  before  Edith,"  he  adjured 
her.  "  Liked  by  everyone  !  What  an  unnatural  sort 
of  a  person.  No  one  can  really  like  what  no  one 
dislikes — eh,  Miss  Linda  ?  " 

To  this  Mrs.  Barett  had  no  answer.  She  only 
turned  her  small  face,  with  its  large  insignificant 
eyes,  from  one  to  the  other,  as  much  as  to  say  : 
'  Papa  is  so  clever ! ' 

It  was  at  that  moment  the  door  opened  and  Edith 
entered. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   SISTER  OF  THE  HERO 

SHE  did  not  wear  a  jacket.  Linda  noted  the  fact 
quite  thankfully. 

She  was  not  at  all  plain.  That  was  Cecil's  first 
thought  about  her. 

Dressed  in  a  dark-toned  house-gown  relieved  by 
a  swinging  red  girdle,  Edith  Barett  walked  as  one 
who  has  no  need  to  think  of  her  movements  nor 
consider  the  impression  she  makes.  She  crossed  the 
room  as  no  princess  could,  and  no  actress — except 
one  at  the  very  top  of  the  profession.  She  brought 
a  largeness  of  atmosphere  with  her.  She  was  not 
a  big  woman ;  yet,  on  her  entrance,  the  massive 
Victorian  room  seemed  to  shrink,  to  bear  itself  less 
assertively. 

For  the  rest,  she  had  plentiful  dark  hair,  with  a 
spring  in  it,  eyes  like  her  father's,  a  dark  skin, 
bright  colour,  white  teeth,  thin  features,  red  lips. 

She  came  straight  to  Cecil. 

"  I  have  been  looking  forward  to  this  moment. 
Rodney  has  told  me  all  about  you." 

Her  manner  was  perfect ;  the  words  Cecil  resented. 
All  about  her  indeed  !  The  awful  feeling  of  the 
unreality  of  her  engagement  deepened.  She  per- 
ceived, dimly,  that  all  the  time  Rodney  had  pos- 
sessed a  life  of  his  own,  full  and  completed,  she 

61 


62  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

had  touched  only  the  outermost  edge  of  it.  These 
were  the  people  Rodney  knew  really  ;  to  them  he 
talked  intimately ;  had  even  discussed  her  with 
them. 

It  was  by  a  great  effort  she  smiled,  blushed  and 
made  appropriate  rejoinders.  She  hardly  knew 
what  she  was  saying.  Edith  was  altogether  sur- 
prising. For  one  thing  she  was  positively  hand- 
some. 

It  was  with  a  sense  of  thanksgiving  Cecil  realised 
that  they  would  not  clash,  but  rather  serve  as  foils 
one  for  the  other.  They  were  about  the  same 
height,  but  in  style  and  colouring  absolute  oppo- 
sites.  One  thing  was  distinctly  soothing — Edith  had 
avoided  the  common-sounding  voice  of  her  father, 
and  her  mother's  plaintively  '  genteel '  utterance  ; 
she  spoke  pleasingly  and  with  a  cultivated  accent. 

She  turned  to  Linda. 

"  I  know  you  by  name.  Rodney  has  spoken  of 
you  often." 

Linda  blushed,  sensitively  expecting  some  refer- 
ence to  Cornwall.  Edith  did  not  make  it ;  she  turned 
with  a  smile  to  her  mother. 

"  Is  there  no  tea  for  us  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barett  slipped  off  her  chair,  her  dull  face 
brightened. 

"  We  were  only  waiting  for  you." 

"  You  should  not  have  waited,  dear."  Edith 
spoke  caressingly,  as  you  would  to  a  child  only  half 
understanding  but  quaintly  precious. 

"  But  you  know  I  don't  like  pouring  out  for 
company,"  her  mother  said  naively. 

She  fluttered  away  to  the  door,  which  opened 
at  once.  The  Suffragan-Bishop  must  have  been 


THE   SISTER  OF   THE   HERO          68 

stationed  behind  it.  Mrs.  Barett  stood  aside,  wait- 
ing whilst  her  husband  with  a  corpulent  bow  and  a 
solemn  '  May  I  have  the  pleasure  ?  '  offered  his 
arm  to  Cecil. 

Edith  laid  a  hand  on  Linda's  shoulder. 

"  Come  along,  shall  we  ?  " 

There  was  something  not  exactly  condescending, 
perhaps  rather  protective,  in  her  manner.  Linda 
was  not  sure  that  she  liked  it. 

They  went  downstairs  in  solemn  procession.  The 
way  struck  Cecil  as  already  painfully  familiar  ;  on 
her  heart,  like  a  dead  weight,  sat  the  thought  that 
in  future  she  would  often  go  up  and  down,  breathing 
this  heavy  air  of  stagnant  respectability.  She  had 
not  the  faintest  idea  what  she  ought  to  say  to  her 
partner ;  he,  apparently,  did  not  consider  conver- 
sation necessary.  Once  or  twice  he  glanced  at  her 
kindly  and  pressed  her  arm  as  though  he  wanted  to 
assure  her  that  though  he  owned  all  this  expensive 
and  fully-paid-for  luxury,  though,  in  fact,  he  was 
Jeremiah  Barett,  half-millionaire  and  Director  of 
Brassyshine,  Ltd.,  she  need  not,  on  the  whole,  be 
afraid  of  him.  As  they  went  downstairs  he  breathed 
heavily,  and  with  his  free  hand  jingled  the  coins  in 
his  pocket. 

With  the  opening  of  the  dining-room  door  the 
extent  of  Mrs.  Barett's  '  preparations  '  burst  upon 
Cecil.  She  glanced  expressively  in  Linda's  direction. 
Linda  was  already  talking  animatedly  to  Edith,  and 
beyond  the  fact  that  the  table  was  long  and  heavily 
laden,  she  took  but  little  notice  of  it. 

Cecil's  mind  was  unoccupied  and  the  size  and 
weight  and  lavish  display  of  everything  crowded 
upon  her. 


64,  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

There  was  a  big  silver  urn  at  one  end  and  round  it 
a  group  of  silver  and  china  ;  there  were  dishes  with 
silver  covers,  china  figures  presenting  baskets  of 
sweets,  a  glass  wheelbarrow  loaded  with  jam  with 
a  miniature  spade  in  silver  ;  there  were  grapes 
falling  over  the  edges  of  a  blue  glass  cornucopia ; 
there  were  cakes  iced  in  all  sorts  of  colours  ;  there 
were  sandwiches  reposing  in  parsley  ;  and  gaudy 
objects  of  so  wonderful  an  appearance  that  only  the 
bold  indeed  would  dare  to  attack  them. 

All  this  and  more  was  faithfully  reflected  back 
from  the  brilliantly  polished  table  ;  on  which,  here 
and  there,  were  islets  of  lace  and  needlework  and 
ribbon  ;  and  flowering  plants,  the  nakedness  of 
their  pots  decorously  swathed  in  '  art '  muslin. 

"  Mamma's  done  it  this  time,"  said  Jeremiah 
with  a  laugh.  "  Lucky  I  was  done  out  of  my  '  mid- 
day.' A  belated  reward  for  devotion." 

"  What  kind  of  devotion  ?  "  Cecil  asked  carelessly. 
She  was  horribly  afraid  the  sight  and  the  smell  of  all 
this  food  was  going  to  be  too  much  for  her. 

"  Devotion  to  business,  of  course." 

"  Business  ?    Do  you  still  go  to  business  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  take  me  f or  ?  " 

He  pulled  out  a  massive  chair  from  the  table.  It 
was  the  companion  of  those  in  the  drawing-room, 
but  instead  of  blue  rep  was  '  in  '  red  leather. 

"  What  d'you  take  me  for  ?  Do  I  look  like  a 
bloated  aristocrat  ?  "  His  eyes  twinkled. 

"  Oh,  no — only  I  thought Really,  I  don't  think 

I  thought  anything  about  it." 

"  You  heard  I  was  rich,  and  you  thought  I'd 
nothing  to  do  but  sit  under  the  money-tree,  open 
my  mouth,  and  swallow  the  wind-falls." 


THE   SISTER  OF  THE   HERO          65 

Cecil  laughed. 

He  shook  his  head  solemnly. 

"  Nothing  funny,"  he  said,  "  about  money- 
getting." 

"  No;  but  the  picture  you  drew." 

"  Can't  draw  for  nuts.  Rodney  could  though, 
from  a  little  'un.  I  gave  him  a  pencil  before  ever  we 
breeched  him.  I  thought  he'd  go  scrawling  round 
and  round.  Not  he.  From  the  first  he  considered, 
and  went  to  work  as  though  he  knew  all  about  it. 
Drew  an  egg  with  the  end  chipped  ready  for  eating. 
'  Goggo,'  he  called  it.  That's  why  I  made  him  into 
an  architect." 

"  Because  he  called  an  egg  '  goggo  '  ?  " 

Cecil  stifled  a  yawn.  The  Rodney  belonging  to 
this  old  man  wasn't  her  Rodney.  Hers  was  the 
present  -  day,  completed  Rodney.  She  took  no 
interest  in  the  beginnings  of  him. 

Jeremiah,  thinking  to  please  her,  went  on  with 
his  story. 

"  No,  no  ;  because  he  wasn't  never  happy  lest  he'd 
hold  of  a  pencil.  That  egg  was  the  start.  He  was 
always  at  it.  I  tried  to  wean  him  off  it — no  money 
in  it,  see.  He  wanted  to  please  me,  bless  him,  but 
he  couldn't  hide  from  me  where  his  heart  was. 
And  after  all,  why  shouldn't  he  do  as  he  likes  ? 
I've  worked  hard  enough  for  the  money.  '  Barett's 
Brassyshine.'  'Brassy-shine  Ltd.'  That's  what  I 
am.  And  I'm  proud  of  it." 

Barett's  Brassyshine  !  Certain  posters  jumped 
to  Cecil's  mind,  things  she  had  heretofore  never 
connected  with  Rodney.  She  looked  down  at  her 
plate  whilst  the  old  man  continued  with  fat  self- 
satisfaction  : 


66  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  It  took  some  thinking  out  I  can  tell  you. 
There's  only  two  things  with  money  in  them. 
What's  wasted  and  what'll  save  trouble.  Brassy- 
shine  puts  a  polish  on  without  any  rubbing.  Two- 
pence a  tin  or  three  tins  for  fourpence  ha'penny* 
They  all  buy  the  three  tins,  they  can't  resist  the 
catchpenny  saving.  And  at  this  very  moment 
there  are  servants  wasting  the  stuff  and  making 
me  rich  all  over  the  country.  It's  all  in  my  hands 
really ;  but  as  the  boy  won't  have  a  look  in,  I'll 
have  to  see  about  another  working  Director." 

"  How — how  very  interesting." 

There  was  hot  buttered  tea-cake  on  Cecil's  plate 
and  a  pool  of  jam  ;  she  had  not  wanted  the  latter 
but  old  Barett  had  insisted  on  helping  her  to  it ; 
the  sight  of  its  glaucous  edge  meeting  the  dulling 
butter  that  had  flowed  from  the  tea-cake  sickened 
her.  It  was  typical,  somehow,  of  life  in  the  heavy 
Victorian  house,  the  life  that,  in  the  near  future, 
threatened  to  engulf  her. 

"  Interesting  ?  "  Jeremiah,  throwing  himself  back 
in  his  chair,  plunged  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 
Cecil  could  not  help  noticing  some  newly  fallen 
gouts  of  butter  on  his  waistcoat.  "  Interesting  ? 
'course  it's  interesting.  Nothing  more  so  than  the 
growth  of  a  big  thing  out  of  a  little  one.  I  s'pose 
you  know  all  about  an  oak  and  an  acorn,  young 
lady  ?  " 

"  In  little  green  glasses  ?  We  used  to  grow  them 
at  school.  Usually  the  water  got  nasty  and  they 
had  to  be  thrown  out.  It  was  called  Nature 
Study." 

"  Yes — yes  " — he  pushed  his  chair  farther  back 
from  the  table — "  that's  all  right.  But  I  have  held 


THE   SISTER  OF  THE  HERO          67 

an  acorn  in  my  hand  and  thought  and  thought 
about  it  till  the  whole  world  reeled  about  me. 
Growth  !  the  wonder  of  the  whole  world  is  in  it. 
Just  such  a  bit  of  a  thing  my  stuff  was  at  first.  I 
made  experiments  up  in  the  cistern-room.  We  only 
ran  to  a  jerry-built  '  semi '  at  that  time.  Lord  !  I 
love  to  hear  the  gurgle  and  swish  of  water  still, 
makes  me  feel  young  again,  fighting  you  know,  and 
all  before  you — '  messing/  Mamma  called  it.  I  was 
preparing  the  ground  for  my  oak-tree." 

He  drew  his  chair  nearer  and  his  tone  became 
confidential. 

"  Difficulty  was — to  get  what  I  wanted  and  keep 
clear  of  anything  poisonous.  Again  and  again  I 
came  up  against  that — poison  ! " 

"  But  no  one  wanted  to  eat  the  stuff,"  Cecil  ob- 
jected as,  with  a  massive  silver  knife,  she  dissected 
her  tea-cake. 

The  old  man  laughed  out. 

"  'Course  not.  I  was  going  to  say  I'd  like  to  see 
'em.  I  wouldn't  really.  You  can  never  be  sure. 
But  it  don't  do  to  have  things  lying  about  that  are 
poisonous.  There's  kids  and  domestic  animals." 

"  You  succeeded  in  the  end  ?  "  Cecil  stole  a  look 
at  Linda  and  Edith  ;  with  the  groaning  table  dead- 
ening their  conversation,  she  could  yet  judge  they 
were  getting  on  famously.  She  wished  etiquette 
had  not  forced  the  old  man  upon  herself.  He  was 
dreadfully  boring,  and  not  so  amusingly  vulgar  as 
she  had  expected. 

Linda  found  it  quite  easy  to  talk  to  Edith  Barett. 
Perhaps  she  drew  on  her  credit  as  a  good  listener, 
for  Edith  did  most  of  the  talking.  The  great  tea- 


68 

urn  partially  shut  off  the  others  and  there  was  no 
attempt  at  general  conversation. 

"  What  will  you  have  ? — help  yourself." 

There  was  just  a  trace  of  the  patron  in  Edith's 
tone,  Linda  could  not  help  thinking. 

"  Not  for  me  " — as  Linda  was  about  to  hand  on 
some  of  the  display  beyond  the  tea-urn  ;  "  I  have 
my  own,  here,  thank  you." 

Her  '  own  '  was  a  plate  of  rather  thick  brown 
bread  and  butter. 

"  Don't  you  like  sweet  things  ?  "  Linda  asked. 
"  I  always  choose  cakes  for  their  colour.  When  I 
come  to  eat  them  I  am  nearly  always  disappointed." 

"  And  you  don't  lose  your  faith  in  colour  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  in  the  crock  at  the  foot  of  the  rainbow." 

"  Rainbows  are  so  unpractical.  They  tell  you 
rain  is  over  when  everyone  knows  it." 

"  Beautiful  things  have  no  need  to  be  practical." 

"  I  don't  agree.  The  beauty  of  a  thing  depends 
on  its  practicability." 

"  Your  world  must  be  a  grey  place,"  said  Linda. 

"  Not  at  all.  It  is  full  of  light  and  colour.  A  very 
intense  world,  I  assure  you." 

"  You  have  so  many  interests  ?  " 

"  Too  many.  You  have  hit  on  my  besetting  sin. 
The  world  is  too  full  of  voices,  and  I  can't  help 
listening." 

"  Mrs.  Barett  said  something  about  a  tea- 
shop " 

"  That  is  only  one  thing  among  many.  You  see — 
some  of  us — we  want  to  find  out  about  Woman's 
Work  from  within.  Just  now,  I'm  doing  Tea- 
shops." 

The  off-hand,  consciously  superior  way  in  which 


THE   SISTER  OF  THE  HERO  69 

Edith  spoke  recalled  for  Linda  the  tone  of  her  school 
companions,  who,  after  removal  to  a  higher  Form, 
would  remark,  '  We  are  doing  such-and-such  a 
subject.' 

She  smiled  to  herself  slightly — growing-up  didn't 
seem  to  make  people  so  very  different. 

"  How  do  you  manage  it  ?  "  she  wanted  to  know. 

"  Apply  for  a  vacancy,  take  a  low  wage ;  supply 
one  another  with  references." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  right." 

"  My  dear  child,  is  anything  definitely  right  or 
wrong  in  the  world  ?  You  must  look  beyond — to 
the  purpose.  Our  purpose  is  good " 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  " — Linda's  voice  had  not  much 
conviction — "  only,  tell  me :  the  places  you  get  by 
giving  each  other  references,  aren't  there  others — 
real  people — who  need  the  situations  ?  " 

Edith  laughed. 

"  I  like  your  '  real '  people.  I  flatter  myself  I  am 
real,  intensely  so." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean  ?" 

"  I  should  not  own  it  if  I  did  not.  As  it  happens 
I  do.  But  that  is  a  small  evil  and  only  temporary. 
We  only  hold  the  place  for  a  week  or  two  and  then 
resign — in  favour,  of  course,  of  a  '  real '  person." 

"  And  what  then  ?  " 

"  You  mean,  what  do  we  do  with  our  knowledge  ? 
Docket  for  use,  some  of  it,  statistics  and  so  on. 
Sometimes  we  write  for  the  magazines  or  papers." 

"  '  Tales  of  the  Tea-shops,  or,  Behind  the  Bone  of  a 
Button  ?  '  " 

"  Evidently  you  know  something  about  it. 
You'll  have  glanced  articles  through  in  a  railway 
carriage  ?  " 


70  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  I  have,"  Linda  admitted.  "  I  always  thought, 
though,  they  were  written  by  journalists  paid  by 
the  papers." 

"  Some  are.  You  can  always  tell  the  difference, 
though.  Theirs  are  written  from  the  outside,  with 
the  view  of  pleasing  the  Public.  Ours  are  from  the 
inside.  Our  aim  is  to  disturb  the  public  com- 
plaisancy." 

"  And  you  get  them  published  ?  "  Linda  asked 
naively. 

"  Sometimes — not  often." 

"  And  after  that  ?  " 

"  We  go  on  working."  She  paused  to  fill — care- 
fully, capably,  for  the  third  time — her  father's  tea- 
cup. 

Linda  was  fired  by  an  excited  admiration  for  this 
steady  yet  flame-like  creature.  She  thought  of 
great  red  and  yellow  tulips ;  the  red  and  yellow 
that  clash  in  anything  else  but  a  tulip. 

Was  Edith  Barett  really  a  Suffragette  ?  she  won- 
dered, growing  hot,  and  daring  herself  to  ask  her. 

"  Is  it  true  ?  "  she  blurted  out  suddenly  on  the 
crest  of  a  wave  of  courage.  "It  must  be  true, 

though,  because  it  was  Rodney  who  told  me " 

In  her  excitement  the  Christian  name  slipped  out 
without  her  knowledge.  "It  is  really  true,  is  it, 
that  you  are  a  Suffragette  ?  " 

Edith's  face  clouded. 

"  So  much  is  true,  that  I  want  a  vote ;  personally, 
I  want  every  single  thing  the  world  has  to  offer. 
For  men  as  well  as  for  women,  for  women  as  well  as 

for  men,  I  want  it.  But "  She  played  with  her 

teaspoon.  For  the  first  time  she  seemed  to  have  lost 
her  assurance. 


THE   SISTER  OF  THE  HERO          71 

"  You  want  everything  ;  but  you  don't  think  all 
things  are  expedient."  That  was  Linda's  sugges- 
tion. 

"  I  don't  care  a  straw  for  expediency.  Not  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned.  What  do  I  matter  ?  Does  any 
one  of  us  matter,  individually  ?  The  good  of  the 
whole,  that  is  the  only  thing  of  consequence." 

"  But  the  whole  is  made  up  of  individuals.  If 
each  ear  of  corn  is  starved  and  unhealthy,  the  harvest 
won't  be  worth  reaping."  Linda  was  rather  pleased 
with  her  statement. 

"  That  isn't  a  good  illustration,"  Edith  said 
calmly.  "  We  can  be  compared  better  to  rooks  in 
a  cornfield.  There  ought  to  be  enough  for  all ; 
there  would  be  if  the  strong  were  not  also  the  greedy. 
The  point  to  me  is,  not  whether  I  get  enough  indi- 
vidually, but  whether,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the 
corn  is  divided  to  the  ultimate  good  of  the  whole 
flock  of  us." 

"  You  do  not  think,  then,  votes  for  women  good 
for  the  whole  ?  " 

"  Not  at  present,  any  more  than  universal 
suffrage  would  be.  For  the  matter  of  that,  a  large 
proportion  of  the  present  voters  are  unready.  It 
is  a  matter,  of  course,  of  education.  But  that  is  a 
very  big  subject."  She  took  and  folded  another 
piece  of  bread  and  butter.  The  plate  was  half 
empty.  Edith  had  evidently  conquered  an  art  that 
so  far  had  baffled  Linda :  she  could  talk  and  eat 
without  any  difficulty.  This,  in  some  way,  marked 
her  as  a  working  woman. 

"  So  Rodney  calls  me  a  Suffragette,  does  he  ?  " 
Edith's  eyes  were  on  her  bread  and  butter.  Her 
face,  bent  forward,  looked  less  hard  in  expression. 


72  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  He  told  me  so  once." 

"  Did  he  seem  pleased  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know.    I  am  sure  he  admires  you." 

"  Good  old  Roddy  !  "  said  Edith  ;  "  there  is  some- 
thing oddly  fascinating  about  him." 

Linda  felt  her  heart  quicken.  Perhaps  this 
'  oddly  fascinating '  was  with  the  Baretts  one  of 
those  familiar  phrases  that  make  up  household- 
flavoured  conversation. 

'  Yet,"  Edith  went  on,  "  few  people  really  under- 
stand him.  Because  he  is  so  lovable  they  set  him 
down  as  yielding.  He  is  not,  except  as  regards 
non-essentials.  Because  he  is  unreserved " 

"  But,  is  he  ?  "  Linda  murmured.  Edith  took  no 
notice. 

"  Because  he  is  unreserved,  they  conclude  there 
is  no  depth  in  him,  that  he  is  all  on  the  surface. 
Rod  isn't  " — her  face  had  softened.  "  So  few 
people  really  know  him.  Father  himself  doesn't. 
He  has  told  me,  often,  I  ought  to  be  the  son.  I  like 
him  to  say  it.  Who  is  not  weak-minded  enough  to 
love  flattery  ?  I  know  really  it  is  not  so.  For  all  I 
have  done  and  am  doing,  I  know  well  enough  I  am 
not  a  patch  on  Rodney.  The  worst  of  it  is,  things 
have  been  made  too  easy  for  him,  he  has  had  no 
chance  of  toughening  his  fibres.  I  did  hope  all  might 
not  go  too  smoothly  " — she  nodded  slightly  towards 
Cecil  who  was  at  present  talking  animatedly  to 
Mrs.  Barett.  Her  subject  was  clothes,  with  special 
attention  to  millinery.  Mrs.  Barett  seemed  im- 
pressed. Mr.  Barett,  meanwhile,  was  giving  his 
attention  to  cake  and  plenty  of  it.  His  eyes  were 
twinkling. 

Edith  had  lowered  her  voice,  though  it  was  quite 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  HERO          73 

unnecessary ;  Cecil's  voice  and  ready  laugh  held  all 
her  own  and  '  Mamma's '  attention,  and  '  Papa's ' 
deaf  ear  was  towards  the  tea-urn. 

Edith  went  on. 

"  It  would  have  done  Rodney  so  much  good  to  be 
brought  up  sharply  against  something.  He  was,  for 
a  little  while,  but  not  long  enough.  When  he  came 
back  from  Cornwall  I  saw  a  great  improvement — • 
he  was  more  manly,  No,  not  exactly  that — I  had 
a  feeling  that  I  could  trust  the  shaping  of  things  to 
him.  Just  that.  I  thought  he  had  failed  to  get 
something  he  very  greatly  wanted.  It  was  too  much, 
I  suppose,  to  hope  for.  We  Baretts  get  everything 
far  too  easily." 

"  Has  your  father  ?  " 

"  No.  I  dare  say  he  has  used  up  all  the  fight  in 
the  family.  It  is  not  good  for  us,"  sighed  Edith. 

With  quiet  joy  Linda  noted  the  illogic  of  this 
logical  woman.  After  all,  she  was  not  altogether 
superior  to  the  claims  of  individuality. 

It  was  reckless  of  Linda,  but  she  longed  to  hear 
more  of  Rodney.  She  knew  one  side  of  him,  the 
merry,  companionable  side  that  was  for  everyone  ; 
a  little,  perhaps,  of  the  thoughtful  side  that  was  for 
his  friends  ;  now  she  realised  there  was  yet  another 
Rodney,  known  only  to  his  intimates.  She  had  a 
sick  longing  to  know  more  of  that  Rodney,  the  one 
who,  at  present,  was  strange  to  her.  She  was  aware 
that,  so  far,  she  had  not  analysed  his  character.  He 
was  for  her  just  himself,  different  from  anyone 
else  ;  but  she  had  not  formulated  any  idea  concern- 
ing that  difference.  To  pull  him  to  pieces  as  Edith 
was  doing  would  have  been  to  her  presumptuous  ; 
there  was  even  something  a  little  indecorous  in 


74  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

viewing  the  picture  of  Rodney  as  seen  by  his  sister. 
Yet,  all  the  time,  she  was  tingling  with  interest. 

'  I  am  living  now.  All  this  is  living ! '  she  was  telling 
herself  in  an  excited  undertone. 

In  Cornwall,  life  had  been  so  peaceful,  had  flowed 
so  smoothly.  There  she  had  been  happy  ;  now  she 
was,  when  she  had  time  to  think  of  it,  desperately 
unhappy ;  yet  at  the  moment  it  seemed  worth 
while.  Life  was  opening  out  before  her — a  bigger 
thing  than  she  had  imagined. 

Others  were  working.  She  could  work  too.  It 
was  the  individual  that  was  of  no  consequence. 
She  had  grasped  that,  she  thought,  and  insisted  to 
herself  that  it  was  only  from  a  broad  point  of  view 
that  she  took  any  interest  in  Rodney  Barett. 

'  You  are  interested  in  my  brother  ?  "     Edith 
seemed  to  read  her  thoughts. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  she  hesitated;  then  added, 
"  Cecil  is  my  greatest  friend." 

Edith  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  ruthless, 
bright-eyed.  Then  she  said  : 

"  And  yet  you  don't  realise  the  need  for  the 
emancipation  of  women." 

"  If  you  mean  by  emancipation,  the  vote,  vulgar 
shrieking,  and  the  breaking  of  windows,  I  certainly 
don't,"  Linda  said.  She  was  angry,  without  being 
able  exactly  to  define  the  cause  of  her  anger. 

Edith  took  the  last  piece  of  her  brown  bread  and 
butter. 

"  When  women  are  emancipated,"  she  said  slowly 
and  without  looking  at  Linda,  "  they  will  have  no 
further  need  of  deception." 

Linda  coloured,  furious  with  herself ;  she  almost 
hated  Rodney's  sister. 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  HERO          75 

"  Deceit  is  the  natural  outcome  of  slavery," 
Edith  went  on  dispassionately.  "  Woman  will  have 
to  leave  her  slavery  many  years  behind  before  she 
learns  to  be  truthful." 

Now  Linda  had  been  brought  up  on  old-fashioned 
lines  by  Aunt  Emma.  A  lie  was  a  disgraceful  thing, 
soiling  the  lips  of  the  utterer.  She  had  told  no  lie, 
she  hotly  repudiated  the  suggestion. 

Cecil  was  her  greatest  friend.  What  did  this  self- 
assured  girl — however  did  Rodney  come  by  such  a 
sister  ? — what  did  she  mean  by  her  imputation  ? 
Linda's  own  inward  rage  ought  to  have  enlightened 
her.  However  she  begged  the  question. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  on  the  whole,  women  in 
the  past  had  a  better  position  than  they  have  at 
present,  or  are  likely  to  have  in  the  future." 

"  Better  in  what  way  ?  "  Edith's  eyes  were 
questioning. 

Linda  met  them  bravely. 

"  I  mean  they  were  happier." 

"  You  think  they  should  expect  happiness  ?  " 

"  At  least  they  can  aim  at  it." 

"  Do  you  remember  what  Tolstoy  says  on  the 
subject  ?  " 

Linda  shook  her  head.  From  Aunt  Emma's  point 
of  view  Tolstoy  was — well,  shall  we  say — unsettling. 

"  I  know  about  him,  of  course,"  Linda  said ;  "  a 
reformer  and  all  that,  and  lived  like  a  peasant.  But 
I've  read  nothing  of  his.  Why  did  you  ask  me  ?  " 

"  Because  you  made  me  think  of  his  words  :  '  He 
whose  aim  is  his  own  happiness,  is  bad  ;  he  whose 
aim  is  the  good  opinion  of  others,  is  weak  ;  he  whose 
aim  is  the  happiness  of  others,  is  virtuous  ;  he  whose 
aim  is  God,  is  great.'  " 


76  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"  But  that  is  splendid  !  " 

Edith  smiled  full  at  her.  Her  beauty  seemed  to 
blaze  out  all  of  a  sudden  to  Linda. 

"  Splendid,"  Linda  repeated,  "  and  yet " 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  express  it.  Are  splendid 
things  true  always  ?  I  mean  from  all  points  of 
view." 

"  If  you  would  achieve,  you  must  not  spend  your- 
self on  more  than  one  point  of  view." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Linda,  with  sudden  decision. 
"  My  point  of  view  is  —  we  are  meant  to  be 
happy." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  Edith  tapped  the 
table  lightly,  perhaps  impatiently,  with  her  fingers. 
Her  hands  were  coarse,  like  her  father's.  Linda  re- 
sented the  fact,  not  in,  but  for,  Edith.  "  What 
makes  you  think  we  are  meant  to  be  happy  ?  I 
know  it  is  a  common  claim  ;  but  you  seem  uncom- 
monly sure  of  it." 

"  I  am."  Linda's  smile  made  her  face  suddenly 
radiant.  "  I  can't  tell  you  why,  but  I  know  it." 

Yet,  it  was  only  since  she  had  been  plunged  into 
the  first  unhappiness  of  her  life  that  she  had  known 
it. 

"  I  think  we  shall  get  on  together,"  Edith  said 
quietly. 

She  rose  to  her  feet.  The  heavy  hot  tea  was  over. 
The  jam  was  still  on  Cecil's  plate,  the  butter  had 
congealed  and  not  mingled  with  it.  Cecil  thrust  her 
hand  through  the  arm  of  her  future  mother-in-law. 
Her  air  was  pretty  and  affectionate  ;  but  in  her 
flushed  cheeks  and  dark-rimmed  eyes,  Linda  could 
read  boredom  and  weariness. 


THE   SISTER   OF  THE   HERO  77 

"  She  is  rather  pretty,  don't  you  think  ?  "  Edith 
said  casually. 

It  was  only  then  Linda  recognised  how  little 
interest  Rodney's  sister  had  shown  in  the  girl  he  had 
chosen. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    EDUCATION   OF   A   HERO 

THE  guests  had  gone.  The  heavy  Victorian  house 
ponderously  considered  its  verdict.  Papa  Barett 
stood  back  to  the  fire,  hands  in  pockets,  heels  on 
the  fender,  body  pendulous,  eyes  on  the  toes  of  his 
shapeless  slippers. 

Seated,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  her  elbow  on  the 
arm  of  one  of  the  big  rep  chairs,  Edith  looked  into 
space.  She  had  been  photographed  just  so  for  a 
magazine  portrait.  Out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye 
Jeremiah  Barett  marked  her  position  and  thought 
she  was  posing.  Yet  the  attitude  was  a  natural  one, 
and  it  was  only  by  chance  the  photographer  had 
caught  it. 

'  Mamma  '  was  squatting  on  the  hearthrug.  She 
had  turned  up  her  '  company  '  gown  and  displayed 
the  satin  flounce  of  an  alpaca  petticoat.  Her  arms 
clasped  her  knees  tightly.  She  did  not  look  at  all 
comfortable,  yet  it  was  with  her  a  favourite  position 
when  '  no  one  '  was  present.  This  was  one  of  the 
numerous  small  ways  in  which  she  stretched  out  a 
futile  hand  towards  the  unconventional.  The  dull 
glow  of  the  dying  fire  gave  an  illusion  of  health  to 
her  thin,  drawn  features,  but  her  eyes  were  as  glassy 
and  unmeaning  as  though  hidden  by  spectacles. 

Jeremiah  spoke  first. 

78 


79 

"  Well,"  he  said,  with  an  effort  at  jocularity, 
"  now  they  are  gone,  I  suppose  we  pick  them  to 
pieces.  What  does  everyone  think  of  young 
madam  ?  " 

Into  the  ensuing  silence  '  Mamma  '  dipped  a  toe 
timidly. 

"  You  can  always  trust  Rodney  for  taste.  Miss 
Wolney  is  like  a  picture." 

"  A  modern  one,  then.  A  bit  too  modern  for  my 
liking.  There's  nothing  of  substance  about  her." 
Jeremiah  glanced  approvingly  on  his  comfortable 
Victorian  furniture.  "  Nay,"  he  said,  "  the  other 
little  girl  'ud  have  been  the  one  for  my  money." 

Edith  lost  her  look  of  abstraction. 

"  I  like  Linda  Ray  ;  she  has  possibilities." 

"  Linda  ?  Did  you  say  Linda  ?  What  odd  names 
people  do  choose  nowadays — and  the  other,  Cecil 

"  '  Mamma  '  turned  from  one  to  the  other, 

palely  questioning. 

'  Papa  '  chuckled.  In  his  own  family,  with  the 
voices  to  which  he  was  familiar,  his  deafness  was 
little  apparent. 

"  Live  and  learn,"  he  said.  "  I'd  always  supposed 
Cecil  was  a  man's  name,  and  a  poor  fool  of  a  name 
at  that." 

"  It  is  a  woman's  name,  too,"  '  Mamma  '  told 
him ;  "  you'll  find  it  occurring  now  and  again  in 
well-born  families." 

Her  husband  gave  her  a  glance  of  amusement. 

"  Can't  say  I  know  much  about  all  that  lot. 
I  don't  know  why  people  need  go  further  than  the 
Bible  for  names.  Though  I  suppose  I  ought  to, 
seeing  they  tacked  Jeremiah  on  to  me.  There  are 
plenty  of  sensible  names  though  in  the  Bible." 


80  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

"  Eveline's  not  a  Biblical  name,"  Mrs.  Barett 
suggested  with  timid  archness. 

"I'm  not  responsible  for  it.  They  named  you 
without  consulting  me,"  he  chortled  comfortably  ; 
"  and  if  I'd  had  my  way,  the  boy'd  have  been  plain 
John  without  any  Rodney." 

Mrs.  Barett  bridled.  She  never  forgot  she  had 
been  a  Miss  Rodney — '  The  Hereford  Rodneys/  as 
she  always  added  in  parenthesis. 

"  The  Rodneys  are  a  very  good  family,"  she  re- 
minded him  gently. 

"  My  dear,  I  must  take  your  word  for  it.  I  can't 
say  I  have  met  any  very  favourable  specimens." 

Mrs.  Barett  coloured. 

"  No  offence,  Mamma.  Mind  you,  I  don't  hold 
folks  responsible  for  their  relatives.  I  chose  you 
without  any  bias,  and  I've  always  stood  in  with  my 
bargain.  /  don't  bear  the  Rodneys  any  ill-will, 
seeing  Edith,  here,  took  her  good  looks  from  them." 

"  Not  the  eyes,  though,"  Mrs.  Barett  stated,  as  it 
seemed  with  unnecessary  insistence.  "  Our  son  has 
the  true  Rodney  eye — grey  with  a  slight  suggestion 
of  green  in  it." 

"  We  can  do  without  any  green,"  laughed  her 
husband  good-naturedly.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact  " — 
the  phrase  was  a  favourite  with  him  and  he  handled 
it  weightily — "  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  boy  is  the 
very  spit  of  my  brother  John  as  was  on  the  railway. 
Poor  chap,  he'd  have  done  well,  he  would  ;  he'd  got 
it  in  him."  He  looked  down  in  melancholy  mood  at 
the  aggressively  floral  hearth-rug. 

"  You  did  very  well  for  the  widow  and  children," 
Mrs.  Barett  reminded  him  with  a  touch  of  asperity. 

"  So  I  did  ought  to  " — he  looked  up  with  spirit. 


81 

"He'd  have  done  well  by  you  and  our  kids  if  it  'ud 
been  t'other  way  about,  John  would.  He  was  a 
good  sort,  brother  John,  and  Rodney's  the  spit  of 
him." 

Out  of  the  past  to  Mrs.  Barett  rose  the  wraith  of 
her  husband's  brother.  He  wore  a  G.W.R.  guard's 
uniform.  Had  it  not  been  so  unchristian,  Eveline 
Barett  would  have  been  tempted  to  thank  her  own 
narrow-minded  and  most  genteel  Providence  that 
brother  John  had  disappeared  with  the  dim  years 
of  the  jerry-built  '  semi.'  The  guard's  uniform 
would  have  been  incompatible  with  the  stately 
Victorian  house.  And  '  Papa '  had  nothing  to 
regret  as  regards  the  widow  and  children.  The  former 
was  long  since  dead,  and  the  latter  had  emigrated. 
There  was  really  no  need  at  all  to  refer  to  them.  As 
to  the  suggested  likeness,  no  one  could  for  a  moment 
fancy  her  Rodney  in  a  guard's  uniform  !  He  was  a 
gentleman  ! 

So  was  brother  John,  uniform  and  all,  in  Jeremiah's 
conception  of  one.  But,  like  many  another  pair  who 
live  in  outward  harmony,  he  and  his  wife  saw  not 
eye  to  eye  in  the  things  that  mattered. 

Edith  had  all  the  time  been  following  her  own 
line  of  thought,  and  now  she  brought  out,  rather 
suddenly  : 

"  I  cannot  think  what  Rodney  sees  in  her." 

"  Miss  Wolney  is  undoubtedly  pretty,  well-bred, 
and  I  fancy  kind-hearted,"  her  mother  said  reprov- 
ingly. In  her  eyes  Cecil  was  already  one  of  the  family 
and  therefore  beyond  reach  of  criticism. 

"  Father,"  asked  Edith,  "  what  do  you  think  of 
her  ?  " 

"  If  she  was  marrying  any  man's  son  but  my 
G 


82  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

own,  I  wouldn't  think  twice  about  her.  Young  eyes, 
more  often  than  not,  are  caught  by  a  bit  of  tinsel. 
To  my  mind,  there's  nothing  much  genu-ine  about 
young  madam." 

"  Indeed  you  are  wrong,"  Mrs.  Barett  flashed  out 
excitedly;  "  not  but  what  the  very  best  people  do, 
nowadays.  She  doesn't.  You  don't  suppose,  when 

I  kissed  her I'm  certain  the  colour's  her  own 

and  everything." 

Jeremiah  shook  his  fat  shoulders.  "  I'm  not  saying 
she  has  any  need  of — aids  to  beauty,  isn't  it  ? — at 
present.  But  you've  run  off  into  a  siding.  When  I 
say  her,  I  mean  her,  or  she — whichever  is  the  gram- 
mar of  it.  It's  herself  that  isn't  genu-ine.  Said 
'  How  interesting  !  '  when  she  wasn't  a  bit  interested. 
Asked  me  prettily  about  the  business,  while  all 
along  she  was  despising  me  for  it.  Rolled  her  eyes 
at  me,  while  she  thought,  '  How  can  this  vulgar  old 
brute  be  dear  Rodney's  father  ?  ' 

"  I  am  sure  she  would  not.  You  don't  do  her 
justice,"  Mrs.  Barett  assured  him. 

Edith  broke  in  equitably  : 

"  I  don't  see  that  we  ought  to  blame  her  for  her 
limitations.  We  don't  ask  more  from  a  rose  than 
the  scent  and  colour  it  gives  us." 

"  Well  put,  my  dear.  What  makes  my  gorge  rise 
is  that  while  she  despises  me  she  is  trying  to  curry 
favour  with  me." 

"  But  isn't  that  natural  ?  " 

"  Natural  enough.    That  don't  make  me  like  it." 

Mrs.  Barett's  Victorian  bridle  contrasted  oddly 
with  her  unconventional  attitude. 

"  After  all,  it  is  Rodney's  affair  rather  than  ours, 
isn't  it  ?  " 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  A  HERO         88 

Her  husband  laughed  rather  ruefully. 

"  That's  just  the  difficulty.  If  it  was  me,  I'd  be 
jolly  quick  off  with  my  bargain.  I  did  think,"  he 
protested,  "  that  Rod  had  more  sense  in  him.  I 
could  have  understood  if  it  'ud  been  t'other,  now. 
She's  as  pretty  and  peart  as  a  bird,  she  is.  I  like  the 
straight  way  she  looks  at  you.  None  of  the  '  glad  eye' 
about  that  one.  Her  voice  is  low  and  sweet  too,  as 
a  woman's  should  be.  I  know  I'm  rough  myself, 
but  I  like  women  dainty  and  soft-spoken.  Then  she 
doesn't  keep  up  a  continual  chatter.  You  coached 
me,  Mamma,  to  behave  myself  pretty  to  Rodney's 
one ;  but  I  own  I'd  have  liked  a  chance  with  the 
other."  He  thrust  up  his  great  hand  and  pulled  at 
one  of  his  wet  sheafs  of  hair  till  he  looked  like  a  lop- 
eared  terrier. 

"  Can't  think  what  Rod  was  thinking  of,"  he 
ruminated. 

Mrs.  Barett  looked  uncomfortable. 

"  /  cannot  think,"  she  said  primly,  "  that  this 
discourse  is  at  all  necessary,  or  desirable.  Rodney 
has  chosen  Miss  Wolney.  That  he  has  chosen  Miss 
Wolney  shows  that  Miss  Ray's  style,  even  had  he 
met  her  before  his  engagement,  would  not  have 
appealed  to  him." 

"But  he  had  met  her"  —  so  Jeremiah  blun- 
dered. 

"  Yes,  he  did,"  Edith  followed  up  quietly ;  "it 
was  down  in  Cornwall.  Not  that  that  is  anything. 
Of  course,  he  has  met  all  sorts  of  women.  I  own 
that  makes  it  all  the  stranger  that  he  should  have 
chosen  Cecil."  She  moved  her  position.  "  I  cannot 
help  feeling  rather  disappointed  in  Rodney." 

"  As  far  as  that  goes,"  said  her  father,  "  matri- 


84  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

mony's  a  leap  we  have  to  take  blindfold.  Rodney 
might  have  made  a  worse  mess  of  the  matter." 

"  He  has  no  low  tastes,"  his  mother  put  in ;  "  he 
would  never  have  stooped  to  a  ballet-girl  or  a 
barmaid." 

"  Some  barmaids  and  ballet-girls  no  doubt  make 
good  wives."  Sex-championship  drew  the  remark 
from  Edith. 

"  No  doubt — for  barmen  and  ballet-men,  if  there 
are  such  things,"  her  mother  told  her. 

"  Anyhow,  Rodney  must  have  a  lady,"  his  father 
said  naively;  "he's  had  the  education  of  a  gentle- 
man, and,  what's  more,  he  is  a  gentleman,  bottom- 
through,  is  Rodney.  This  Miss  Wolney — she's  good 
family  and  all  that — dashed  if  I  know  why  I  aren't 
contented.  I  aren't,  though,  that's  the  long  and 
short  of  it.  Difficulty  is" — he  pulled  at  his  coat 
lapels  and  settled  his  neck  in  his  collar — "  difficulty 
is,  I  don't  want  to  hurt  the  boy's  feelings.  It's  a 
dead  cert  he'll  ask  me.  What  have  I  got  to  say  to 
him  ?  " 

"  All  the  usual  things  that  sound  big  and  mean 
nothing,"  suggested  Edith. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  wouldn't  wash  with  Rodney." 

Mamma  Barett  rocked  herself  gently;  to  her 
cheeks  came  the  flush  of  inspiration. 

"  /  shall  tell  him  that  already  I  look  on  her  as  a 
daughter." 

Edith's  eyes  softened.  She  was  loyal  to  her 
mother;  in  spite  of  clear-eyed  perceptions  of  out- 
ward oddity,  loved  her  deeply. 

"  That  will  please  Rodney,  I  know,"  she  said 
gently. 

"  What,"  Jeremiah  asked  her,  "  will  you  tell  him  ? 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  A  HERO         85 

We  know  you — straight  to  the  point  and  devil  help 

your  listener." 

Edith  waited  a  moment  before  saying  : 
"  I  shall  tell  him  I  want  to  know  more  of  her." 
"  There's  one  thing,"   Jeremiah  remarked  with 

sudden  caution,  "  you  won't,  any  of  you,  tell  him 

what  I  said  about  the  other.    Now  the  thing's  done, 

there's  no  good  unsettling  Roddy." 

Edith  jumped  up  from  her  seat  and,  placing  her 

hands  on  his  shoulders,  shook  his  great  bulk  lightly. 
'  You  don't  suppose  it  will  make  any  difference 

to  him  what  we  think,  do  you  ?  " 

"  It  ought  to,"  said  Rodney's  father.     But  he 

smiled  whimsically. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   HERO  AND   HIS  FAMILY 

IT  was  not  till  after  dinner  that  the  two  girls  had  a 
chance  of  talking  things  over. 

"  I  suppose  I  must  call  on  them,"  Mrs.  Wolney 
had  said,  rather  reluctantly. 

Mr.  Wolney  jested  as  usual.  The  atmosphere 
was  a  strained  one  ;  but  to  Linda's  satisfaction — 
she  must  have  had  a  qualm  of  secret  doubt  as  to 
her  friend's  moral  standing — Cecil  struck  a  happy 
note  as  to  her  future  relatives,  dwelling  on  their 
kind  welcome,  calling  Mrs.  Barett  '  too  sweet  for 
words,'  and  Edith  '  distinguished  and  handsome.' 

"  The  old  man  hails  from  Yorkshire,  doesn't 
he  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Wolney,  "  so  one  may  be  permitted 
the  use  of  a  Yorkshire  expression  and  suppose  that 
he  '  stinks  of  brass/  or  does  he  '  shine  '  of  it  ?  " 

"  Don't,  Mortimer,"  Mrs.  Wolney  interjected. 

"  I  don't  mind,  really  I  don't."  Cecil  laughed 
happily.  "  Mr.  Barett  is  quite  an  old  dear.  We  are 
excellent  friends  already.  I'm  quite  sure  he  thinks 
me  charming.  I  shall  not  be  surprised  to  find  the 
stately  Edith  is  jealous.  I  believe  she  looks  on  me 
as  an  intruder.  Never  mind.  I  am  going  to  make 
them  all  in  love  with  me." 

Her  father,  as  well  as  her  mother,  looked  at  her 
with  credulous  fondness.  It  was  characteristic  of 

86 


87 

both,  though,  that  in  secret  they  had  deplored  their 
daughter's  engagement.  '  There's  nothing  the 
matter  with  him  ;  but,  my  dear,  his  people  !  '  In 
spite  of  this  then,  they  had  never  contemplated 
using  their  power,  even  their  influence,  against  it. 
They  were  so  very  un- Victorian. 

After  dinner,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wolney  being  obliged 
to  attend  some  stately  political  function,  the  two 
girls,  with  the  sensation  of  breathing  more  freely, 
ordered  coffee  and  cigarettes  in  Cecil's  sanctum  ; 
and,  throwing  aside  all  pretence,  gave  themselves 
up  to  the  rare  luxury  of  saying  just  what  they 
thought  about  everything. 

Cecil  began  with  : 

"  Wasn't  it  awful  ?  " 

"  Not  so  bad,"  Linda  owned,  "  as  I  expected." 

"  My  dear — the  house  !  " 

"It  is  ugly,  of  course,  and  rather  depressing  ; 
but  it  didn't  shriek  and  clash  vulgar  cymbals." 

"  Poor  Rodney  !  "  Cecil  slowly  blew  a  cloud  of 
tawny  smoke  towards  the  ceiling. 

"  It  won't  matter  to  him."  Linda  knocked  off 
her  cigarette  ash  thoughtfully.  "  It's  like  the  faces 
of  people.  When  you've  lived  with  them  always 
you  don't  consider  whether  they  are  ugly  or  hand- 
some." 

"  But  that  house  !  " 

"  That  '  house  '  reads  '  home  '  for  Rodney." 

Cecil  looked  incredulous. 

"  I  am  glad  now — I  was  put  out  at  the  time — but 
I'm  glad  now  he  was  not  with  us.  I  can  just  fancy 
his  dear  honest  eyes  appealing  to  me  not  to  judge 
them  too  harshly.  I  can  see  him  wince  when  the 
old  man  muddled  his  tenses  or  adjectived  his  adverbs 


§8  AN  ABSENT 

— not  that  I  know  anything  about  them  myself, 
unless  they  are  used  incorrectly.  I  can  see  his 

discomfort  when  his  mother You  know — in 

her  mincy  way  she's  just  as  vulgar  as  the  horrid  old 
man." 

"  And  just  now  you  said  she  was  '  too  sweet  for 
words.' " 

"  I  had  to.  You  don't  suppose  I'll  let  them 
know  that  already  I  rue  my  bargain." 

"  But,  Cecil " 

"  I  suppose  you  think  I  am  talking  rank  heresy." 
She  threw  the  end  of  her  cigarette  into  the  fender. 
"  Of  course,  I  don't  mean  it  exactly ;  still,  I  can't 
help  repeating  what  I've  said  before — who  was  the 
triple-dyed  idiot  who  conceived  the  idea  of  families  ? 
People's  people  are  never  so  nice  as  people  them- 
selves. You  must  have  noticed  that." 

"  Of  course.  Sometimes  I  wonder  why  it  is  they 
are  not  occasionally  nicer  than  the  people." 

"Of  course,  it  is  natural  that  you  should  know 
the  nicest  of  any  set  or  family." 

Lighting  another  cigarette,  Cecil  dismissed  that 
part  of  the  subject  airily. 

"  What  I  feel  so  glad  about,"  she  said,  "  is  that  I 
got  over  the  first  shock  without  Rodney.  I  should 
have  perfectly  hated  seeing  him  ashamed  and 
embarrassed." 

"  He  wouldn't  have  been,  though." 

"  How  can  you  tell  ?  You  don't  know  him  as 
well  as  I  do.  Rodney's  most  awfully  particular. 
Of  course,  in  that  way,  he  does  a  little  show  his 
origin.  You  can  be  too  particular,  can't  you  ?  " 
Her  cigarette  had  failed  to  light  well,  and  it  seemed 
to  claim  the  greater  part  of  her  interest.  "  You 


THE  HERO  AND  HIS  FAMILY         89 

understand  what  I  mean.  Things  ought  to  come 
naturally." 

"  Rodney  is  quite  the  last  person  to  be  anything 
but  natural."  Because  she  felt  so  much,  Linda 
spoke  in  a  constrained  fashion  and  coldly. 

Cecil  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"  You  don't  dislike  Rodney,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not.    Why  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  Only,  sometimes  I  fancy Oil, 

I  don't  know."  She  looked  at  her  cigarette,  said 
again  "  I  don't  know,"  and  still  seemed  troubled. 

"  I  wonder  " — she  burst  out  at  last — "  what  you 
really  do  think  of  him  ?  " 

"  I — I  think  him  good  enough  even  for  you." 
Linda's  voice  had  deepened,  she  did  not  look  at 
her  friend  while  she  was  speaking. 

"  You  darling,"  Cecil  cried  warmly.  She  slipped 
her  legs  over  her  chair  arm.  It  was  a  low  one,  and 
even  in  that  position  she  looked  graceful.  '  You 
know" — she  went  on — "it  is  all  true  in  a  way. 
I'm  not  going  to  pretend  humility  and  rot  like  that. 
I  am  quite  aware  people  will  say  I  am  marrying 
beneath  me.  You'd  have  laughed  if  you'd  known. 
All  dinner  time  I  was  picturing  the  wedding,  and 
poor  Mother  on  the  arm  of  old  Brassyshine ;  and 
father  looking  down  at  Mamma  Barett  as  though 
he'd  caught  an  odd  specimen.  Bother  it  all — 
how  can  I  help  what  people  say  !  Sometimes  I 
think  I'll  run  away  on  the  sly  and  be  married." 

"  Oh,  no,  Cecil,  you  couldn't !  " 

"  I  suppose  I  couldn't,  not  really — I  mean  not 
give  up  the  satin  and  orange-blossom,  the  cake  and 
all  of  it.  A  girl  naturally  wants  the  '  star '  part  just 
once  in  her  life.  Oh,  dear,  you  do  mix  me  up,  and 


90  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

there  was  something  I  so  much  wanted  to  tell 
you " 

Linda's  heart  was  beating  angrily.  If  Cecil 
really  loved  Rodney,  could  she  speak  so  of  his 
parents  ?  Could  she  plan  to  slight  them  ? 

As  though  reading  her  thoughts,  Cecil  went  on 
smilingly  : 

"  And  the  old  dears  would  simply  dote  on  a 
wedding.  The  vulgarity  of  it  all  would  so  appeal 
to  them " 

Linda  could  not  but  admit  it. 

"  And  I  shall  be  awfully  proud  of  Rodney." 
Oddly  enough,  Cecil  seemed  to  protest  it. 

"  I  suppose — will  it  be  very  soon  ?  "  Linda  heard 
her  voice  tremble,  as  the  anguish  of  her  own  empty, 
ended  life  seemed  to  rush  and  engulf  her.  "The 
wedding,  I  mean  ?  "  she  ended  bravely. 

"  We've  said  not  a  word  about  that  at  present. 
There's  no  hurry,  thank  Heaven  !  Rodney  said 
something  about  beginning  in  a  small  way.  I  don't 
see  the  fun  of  that,  thank  you  !  It's  now,  while  I 
am  young,  I  want  a  good  time,  and  I'm  going  to 
have  it.  The  Brassy  man  has  plenty  of  money. 
If  he  wants  me  for  his  son,  he  must  pay  for  it." 

"  Supposing  he  doesn't  ?  " 

The  point  just  struck  Linda.  If  a  momentary 
hope  flickered  up,  she  blew  it  out  loyally.  Though 
there  were  moments  when  she  thought  Cecil  could 
be  happy  without  Rodney,  she  knew  too  well  he 
never  now  could  be  happy  without  Cecil.  The  very 
graveness  and  difference  of  him  when  with  Cecil 
had  shown  her  that  all  too  plainly.  No !  This 
thing  would  go  on.  There  was  no  crying  off  her 
own  share  in  it.  Once  remembrance  came  of  kind, 


THE  HERO  AND  HIS  FAMILY         91 

placid  Aunt  Emma.  Why  not  rush  away  to  Aunt 
Emma  ?  All  the  while  she  knew  quite  well  she 
did  not  want  to  go  back  to  Cornwall.  There  is 
something  compelling  in  suffering.  The  dear  Lord 
Himself,  had  His  prayer  been  granted,  would  not 
have  let  the  Cup  pass  from  Him. 

All  this  passed  through  Linda's  mind  before 
Cecil  had  time  to  answer  : 

"  Doesn't  want  me  ?  old  Jeremiah  !  But  of 
course  he  does  though.  I  should  think  so,  indeed. 
You  could  see  that  plain  enough.  It  was  perfectly 
sickening  the  way  he  devoted  himself  to  me.  I 
don't  believe  Rodney  would  have  liked  it.  I  expect 
he's  horridly  jealous.  Oh !  dear — wasn't  tea 
horrid  ?  Jam,  my  dear,  and  hot  tea-cake  !  " 

"  There  were  some  beautiful  cakes." 

"  Did  you  enjoy  them  ?  " 

"  Not  much.  I  never  do  at  other  people's  houses. 
Besides,  I  was  busy  talking  to  the  daughter." 

"  You  monopolised  her,"  Cecil  declared  rather 
jealously,  "  you  had  much  the  best  of  it.  At  all 
events  she  is  educated  and  doesn't  talk  with  a 
grating  sound  like  an  unoiled  engine.  I  do  wish  the 
old  man  could  have  been  thin.  Fat  intensifies 
vulgarity.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  think,"  Linda  suggested,  "it  is 
rather  horrid  of  us  talking  like  this  ?  After  all, 
they  are  Rodney's  people." 

"  I  thought  you  were  so  great  on  the  truth," 
Cecil  retorted. 

Twice  in  one  day !  Linda  thought,  recalling 
Edith  Barett's  stab  on  the  same  subject. 

Cecil  went  on : 

"  Often  and  often  you've  said  so,  and  now  I  am 


92  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

being  truthful.  I'll  have  to  lie  like  a  trooper  to 
Rodney  though.  Of  course  I  shall  hate  myself  for 
it.  The  worst  of  it  is,  I'll  have  to  keep  it  up  even 
after  I'm  married — for  ever  and  ever." 

"  They  may  all  improve  when  you  know  them 
better.  I  think  there  is  something  about  the  old 
man  that's  rather  likeable.  I  am  sure  he  is  clever." 

"  What's  clever  ?  For  all  I  care  he  might  be  the 
silliest  old  owl  in  the  kingdom  if  he'd  only  been  a 
gentleman.  It's  all  very  well  for  you.  You've  not 
got  to  have  him  for  a  relation.  They'll  get  on  my 
nerves,  the  whole  pack  of  them.  I  shall  be  rude  to 
them,  I  know  I  shall,  before  I've  done.  And  then 
Rodney  will  hate  me." 

She  was  walking  up  and  down  now,  and  her  eyes 
were  suspiciously  misty.  It  seemed  to  Linda  she  had 
struck  a  truer  note.  She  did  not  want  to  fall  short 
of  Rodney's  idea  of  her — that  is  why  Cecil  was 
really  troubled  about  his  relations. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Truth  ?  Aunt  Emma 
always  said  :  '  If  you  are  strong  enough  to  be  true, 
you  need  not  fear  anything.' 

'  I  always  speak  my  mind,'  had  been  the  un- 
failing assertion  of  one  of  the  nastiest  ol  Linda's 
acquaintances.  She  had  wondered  why  the  boast 
invariably  comes  from  a  mind  that  is  unpleasing. 
In  her  early  impetuous  teens,  Linda,  herself,  had 
tried  marching  under  the  All-Truth  standard  ;  and 
life  became  almost  impossible. 

Here  all  seemed  a  mass  of  confusion.  There  was 
Cecil's  love,  there  was  Rodney's,  and  again  the 
claims  of  his  people.  It  was  all  very  well  for  Edith, 
the  onlooker,  to  quote  Tolstoy.  Life  isn't  a  bow  and 
arrow  and  plenty  of  time  to  choose  your  bull's-eye. 


THE  HERO  AND  HIS  FAMILY         93 

There  is  a  puzzling  choice  of  weapons,  and  people 
pressing  them  on  you  and  people  snatching  them 
from  you ;  people  obscuring  your  outlook,  and 
people  wanting  to  teach  you.  If  only  you  could 
get  quietly  away  by  yourself  somewhere  and  think  ! 

And  here  was  Cecil  plainly  expecting  advice 
from  her — from  Linda  !  Or,  if  not  advice,  help  of 
some  sort.  With  a  faint  sense  of  satisfaction  that 
it  was  so,  Linda  tried  to  flog  her  weary  and  baffled 
mind  to  a  final  effort.  She  must  not  fail  Cecil  ! 

"  Why  bother  about  the  future,"  she  asked : 
"  you've  got  through  to-day's  trial  very  creditably. 
You've  won  over  the  old  man,  and  if  you  re-trim  a 
few  hats  for  poor  little  '  Mamma,'  she  will  be  yours 
for  ever." 

Cecil  brightened  at  the  suggestion. 

"  She  really  isn't  half  bad,"  she  said  readily. 
"  She  is  just  a  little  bit  afraid  of  me,  I  fancy  ;  and, 
in  a  way,  that  is  not  a  bad  beginning.  I  have  an 
idea,  Linda,  that  they  don't  hit  it  off  very  well  with 
Rodney.  Of  course  he's  too  nice  to  say  so,  but 
they  don't  really  value  him ;  they  think  the  sister 
has  all  the  brains.  Of  course  he  only  got  a  Pass 
B.A.  He  didn't  bother  about  Honours,  I  expect. 
I  am  sure  I  shouldn't.  But  I  fancy  the  old  man 
thinks  he  did  not  get  his  money's  worth  at  Cam- 
bridge ;  also  he  looks  down  on  Rodney's  profession 
as  a  sort  of  gentlemanly  pastime.  And  Rodney's 
awfully  good  at  it,  really.  It's  silly,  too,  because 
people  have  to  have  houses ;  so,  naturally,  someone 
must  build  them.  And  churches  and  museums. 
I  can't  see  myself  that  the  museums  are  wanted, 
but  someone  must  or  they  wouldn't  build  them. 
I've  seen  some  of  Rodney's  drawings.  Beautiful 


94 

they  are — so  clean,  not  rubbed  out  or  smudgy  any- 
where. As  I  say,  I  don't  think  his  people  appreciate 
him.  It's  often  like  that  in  a  family — the  best  one  is 
underrated,  misunderstood— 

"  Did  Rodney  say  he  was  misunderstood  ?  " 

"  Say  !  My  dear,  you  don't  know  Rodney.  Of 
course  he  doesn't.  But  I  feel  it  somehow.  It's  a 
compliment,  really,  that  people  of  that  sort  should 
not  think  much  of  him." 

"  I  have  an  idea  they  do,  though." 

"  You  had  better  dispose  of  that  idea  then  or  you 
will  be  disappointed.  Rodney  does  not  seem  to 
belong  to  them  really.  I  suspect  he  had  a  lonely 
childhood." 

"  He  does  not  strike  me  at  all  like  that ;  he  is  so 
full  of  fun  and  lively." 

"  On  the  surface.  Linda,  wouldn't  it  be  scrump- 
tious if  it  turned  out  that  Rodney  did  not  belong 
to  them,  that  he'd  been  adopted,  or  something  ?  " 
She  waltzed  a  turn  or  two.  "  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit 
surprised.  You  do  read  of  such  things.  He'd  been 
left  with  them  as  a  baby  or  something.  Wouldn't 
it  be  glorious  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  it  would." 

Linda  felt  hurt  for  Rodney.  "  I  think  he  is 
better  as  he  is — just  as  his  birth  and  family  have 
made  him.  I  am  sure  he  would  not  like  to  find  out 
they  did  not  belong  to  him." 

"  No — I  suppose  he  wouldn't.  Aren't  people 
funny  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Cecil,  that  if  you  love  a  man, 
your  love  ought  to  be  like  sunshine,  able  to  gild  all 
his  surroundings." 

"  Very  pretty,   my  dear ;    but   I   wonder  how 


95 

you'd  feel  if  you  had  to  take  Papa  and  Mamma 
Barett  for  better  for  worse." 

"  I  don't  know.  I  think  I  should  be  glad  to  get 
hold  of  a  father  and  mother  at  all.  You  see,  I  have 
never  had  any." 

"  Therefore  you  know  nothing  about  their  draw- 
backs and  limitations.  Not  that  I've  a  word 
against  my  old  dears.  But  then,  from  the  very  first 
I  have  brought  them  up  properly." 

She  sat  down  and  began  to  strum  on  the  piano. 
The  crash  of  the  notes  suited  the  turmoil  that  was 
in  the  brain  of  Linda.  Amid  the  folly,  confusion, 
and  cross-purposes  of  Life,  only  one  thing  seemed 
quite  clear,  at  all  costs  Rodney  Barett  must  be 
happy. 

'  Edith  may  say  what  she  likes,  but  I  know,  I  do 
know,  I  shall  always  know  that  we  are  meant  to  be 
happy.' 

So  Linda,  striking  out  blindly,  not  for  her  own 
but  another's  happiness  ! 


CHAPTER    X 

THE   NURSE   OF  THE   HERO 

MRS.  BARETT  was  in  her  bedroom.  In  its  heavy 
Victorian  setting  she  looked  like  a  piece  of  worn 
and  inexpensive  jewellery  placed  inadvertently  in  a 
massive  presentation  casket ;  almost  as  though 
she  had  come  there  by  accident. 

The  toilet-table  was  spread  with  magnificent 
silver.  There  were  the  Reynolds  heads  in  relief  on 
the  backs  of  brushes  and  tops  of  powder-boxes. 
Mrs.  Barett  took  a  timid  delight  in  the  possessive 
contemplation  of  them  ;  but,  having  let  down  her 
limp  dun-coloured  tresses,  for  practical  purposes 
she  drew  from  the  back  of  a  drawer  a  worn  wood- 
backed  brush  and  a  horn  comb  with  three  teeth 
missing. 

She  was  so  small,  and  the  scale  of  her  furniture 
so  ostentatiously  massive,  that  the  looking-glass 
only  gave  her  a  view  of  the  top  of  her  head  where 
the  hair  had  grown  scanty.  This  did  not  matter, 
for,  as  she  brushed  conscientiously,  counting  out 
her  nightly  tale  of  strokes  first  on  the  one  side  and 
then  on  the  other,  her  pale  glassy  eyes  were  not  taking 
in  her  surroundings. 

She  was  asking  herself  with  a  little  sick  doubt — 
'  Am  I  jealous  ?  Mothers  are  said  to  be  jealous.  I 
ought  to  like  her.  No  doubt  I  shall  like  her.  I 

96 


97 

shall  be  proud  to  say,  "  My  daughter  was  a  Miss 
Wolney."  But  all  the  while  she  could  not  hide 
from  herself  her  abject  dread  of  meeting  the  Wolneys. 

From  the  adjoining  dressing-room — for  many 
years  now  habit  had  made  its  possession  a  luxury 
to  Jeremiah  and  Eveline,  instead  of,  as  at  first,  a 
nuisance — through  the  closed  intervening  door 
came  sounds  of  sluicing  and  a  humming  attempt  at 
a  rag-time.  Mrs.  Barett  quickened  her  brushing — 

'  eighty-seven,  eighty-eight,  eighty-nine '  The 

dressing-room  door  would  soon  open,  and  '  Papa  ' 
would  expect  her  nightly  toilet  completed,  would 
make  his  usual  jocular  attempt  at  blowing  out  the 
electric  light,  whilst  he  said  something  about  '  devil 
take  the  hindmost.' 

There  came  a  tap  at  the  other  door  of  the  bed- 
room. With  a  faint  echo  of  a  long-laid  fear  of 
'  something  wrong  with  the  children,'  Mrs.  Barett 
fixed  her  pale  eyes  on  it  with  a  haunting  ghost  of 
anxiety,  as  to  her  timid  '  Come  in,'  Ann  England 
entered. 

Ann  had  been  successively  '  general '  in  the 
'  semi '  days,  '  nurse-housemaid,'  and  full-fledged 
'  nurse.'  By  now  she  held  a  nondescript  position. 
Nominally  she  was  Mrs.  Barett's  personal  attendant  ; 
but  '  Mamma '  could  never  get  used  to  personal 
attendance  ;  was,  in  fact,  timidly  sensitive  to  having 
anyone  in  the  room  when  she  was  dressing  ;  so  that 
whilst  Ann  held  a  position  of  honour  in  the  House 
and  drew  excellent  wages,  she  had  to  depend  on 
her  own  ingenuity  to  find  herself  occupation.  She 
protected  her  timid  mistress  from  household  '  out- 
siders,' patronised  her  master,  had  occasional 
'  scenes  '  with  Miss  Edith — who  despised  the  feudal 
H 


98  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

system  and  at  the  same  time  resented  familiarity 
from  '  inferiors.'  But  the  real  object  of  Ann's 
existence  was  wrapt  up  in  her  intense  adoration  of 
Master  Rodney. 

In  his  childhood  she  had  done  her  faithful  and 
ignorant  best  to  spoil  him  completely,  had  shown 
her  teeth  at  necessary  parental  discipline  on  the 
part  of  her  master ;  had  bitterly  resented  the 
public  school  episode  ;  had  shaken  her  head  darkly 
over  the  folly  of  trusting  '  her  boy  '  with  '  that  lot ' 
at  Cambridge. 

For  the  rest,  Ann  was  a  little,  sandy,  white- 
eyelashed  woman,  curved  forward  as  though 
always  in  the  act  of  carrying  something  heavy. 
She  wore  black,  with  a  white  apron  of  unadorned 
plainness.  To  Edith's  annoyance  and  Rodney's 
amusement,  she  resented  a  cap  as  '  beneath '  her. 
It  was  a  long  while  now  since  Mrs.  Barett  had  given 
up  mildly  suggesting :  '  But,  Ann,  you  know, 
really,  caps  are  so  very  becoming.' 

At  Mrs.  Barett's  '  Come  in/  Ann  entered  with  a 
heavy-footed  disquiet  that,  after  long  years,  still 
recalled  the  '  general '  and  the  jerry-built  '  semi.' 

"  I  saw  her,"  she  said,  without  any  preliminary, 
and  rather  mysteriously. 

Mrs.  Barett  went  on  with  her  brushing  till  her 
silently  moving  lips  had  accomplished  ninety-nine, 
a  hundred,  before  she  answered — 

"Well,  Ann?" 

"  She's  quite  the  lady."  Ann  folded  her  arms  in 
unconscious  but  exact  imitation  of  one  of  her 
mistress's  most  favoured  attitudes.  "  Yes,  she's 
quite  the  lady,  is  Miss  Wolney." 


THE  NURSE  OF  THE  HERO  99 

Mrs.  Barett  coloured. 

"  Naturally.    Mr.  Rodney- 
Ann  puckered  her  mouth. 

"As  to  that,  Master  Rodney's  no  wiser  than  the 
rest  of  them  !  "  She  was  fond  of  belittling  her  god, 
but  woe  to  anyone  else  who  attempted  it  !  "  Just 
a  pair  o'  eyes  and  a  lively  bit  of  colour,  and  there 
he  is,  down  in  the  dust  before  them." 

Mrs.  Barett  coloured  again. 

Ann  was  free  with  her  tongue.  Old  retainers — 
and  that  sort  of  thing  !  Still,  there  were  limits. 

"  You  must  remember "  she  began,  but,  too 

timid  to  speak  the  rebuke,  she  put  a  limp  tress  of 
her  hair  into  her  mouth — they  did  that  in  Victorian 
days  for  some  long-forgotten  reason — and  her  words 
died  away  into  a  mumble. 

"  It's  getting  that  thin  on  the  top,  m'am.  You 
did  oughter  let  me  brush  of  it  for  you.  They  say  as 
there's  virtue  in  brushing." 

"  But  I  do  brush  it,  Ann  ;  a  hundred  each  side, 
night  and  morning." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  age'll  have  its  way  with  all  of 
us  if  only  we  live  long  enough.  Master  Rodney's 
young  lady,  she've  nice  hair,  now.  I'd  a  good  look 
at  her;  Jenkyns,  him  leaving  the  room  door  open 
by  my  orders,  while  you  was  having  your  teas  ; 
and  me  wondering  all  the  time  just  why  I  didn't 
quite  cotton  to  her." 

"  After  all,  Ann " — Mrs.  Barett  made  a  grab 
at  the  unready  thing  she  called  her  dignity — 
"  after  all,  Ann,  is  it  at  all  necessary ?  " 

"  As  how,  m'am  ?  " 
'  That  you  should — er — like  Miss  Wolney  ?  " 

"  I  don't  say  I  don't  like  her,  'cos  I  do.    That  is, 


100  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

I  can't  say  as  I  dislike  her.  She's  pretty  an'  all 
that.  But  I  don't  seem  to  see  as  she's  the  right  one 
for  Master  Rodney.  Do  you  think  so  yourself, 
m'am  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barett  fluttered. 

"  Really,  Ann,  we  ought  not  to  expect He 

hasn't  chosen — just  for  our  pleasure." 

"  Pleasure  !  "  Ann  snorted,  "  who'd  look  for 
pleasure  when  we're  bound  to  lose  him  ?  Tisn't 
that.  It's — well,  I  know  him  through  and  through, 

Master  Rodney,  and  he's  that  sensitive For 

all  her  fineness,  she'll  jar  on  him,  will  that  young 
woman.  It's  likely  our  fault  in  a  way.  We've  made 
him  too  much  of  a  gentleman ;  too  nice  to  stand 
up  against  coarser  stuff,  that's  what  he  is.  He'll 
be  surprised  at  first  when  he  gets  to  know  her — hurt 
more'n  a  bit ;  and  then  she'll  ride  over  him.  I  can 
see  that  in  her  as  plain  as  I  see  you  and  me  in  the 
glass  there,  opposite." 

"  Really,  Ann — I  think — I  am  sure — you  are  mis- 
taken." 

"  I'm  never  mistaken,"  she  returned  with  gloom}' 
confidence.  "  Master  Rodney's  one  of  those  as 
trusts  the  face  of  a  coin  without  ever  setting  his 
teeth  to  it.  And  me  waiting  all  these  years,  looking 
at  one  and  another  and  deciding  they  none  of  them 
good  enough.  And  he  giving  me  the  slip  in  such 
fashion.  What  does  the  master  think  of  her  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barett  looked  at  the  dressing-room  door 
apprehensively.  The  sounds  of  sluicing  and  hum- 
ming were  stilled ;  she  pictured  '  Papa '  in  his  long, 
old-fashioned  nightshirt  — '  Going  to  bed  in  your 
clothes,'  was  his  verdict  on  pyjamas — she  pictured 
him,  ponderously  faithful  to  a  lifelong  habit,  down 


THE  NURSE  OF  THE  HERO         101 

on  his  knees  by  the  bedside.  She  glanced  at  the 
door  apprehensively  and  lowered  her  voice  as  she 
answered  : 

"He  is  pleased,  very  much  pleased  about  it." 

"  Then,  m'am,  I  can't  say  as  he  looked  it.  All 
these  years,  and  me  not  know  the  master !  " 

Mrs.  Barett  bridled. 

"  Really,  Ann,  you — you "  Again  courage 

failed  her. 

"  Presume,  was  what  you  started  to  say  " — the 
sandy  head  went  up  defiantly.  "  Well,  and  what 
if  I  do  ?  You'd  get  on  poorly — and  you  know  it — 
without  me.  The  waste  in  this  house  !  the  gossip 
and  mischief-making  !  You'd  not  know  yourselves 
if  I  wasn't  here  to  look  after  you." 

"  Of  course — I'm — quite  aware "  Mrs.  Barett 

stammered  pacifically. 

"  That  much  for  presuming,"  Ann  said,  only  half 
placated.  "  And  if — thinking  as  we  both  do  about 
Master  Rodney,  me  and  you — we  can't  speak  our 
minds  out  like  Christians,  I  don't  know  the  world 
what  it's  coming  to." 

The  intermediate  door  opened  cautiously,  showing 
Mr.  Barett's  face  and  a  modest  slip  of  grey  Jaeger 
dressing-gown. 

"  Hallo,  Ann,"  he  said,  and  was  for  retiring. 

"Don't  mind  me,  sir,"  she  said;  "I  was  just 
about  going.  I've  been  saying  that  I  think  much 
as  you  do  about  this  engagement." 

Mr.  Barett  held  the  door  at  a  decorous  angle 
whilst  his  hand  went  up  to  his  hair,  even  wetter 
than  usual  after  his  nightly  ablutions. 

"  Oh — you  think  with  me,  do  you,  Ann  ? — I'll  be 
danged,  though,  if  I  know  what  I  do  think  about  it ! " 


102  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

'  You  think  she  ain't  good  enough  for  our  Master 
Rodney.  That's  about  the  size  of  it." 

"  Ann — Ann "  Mrs.  Barett  feebly  protested. 

Quite  unperturbed,  the  little  sandy  woman  went 
on  addressing  Jeremiah : 

"  You  think  he's  made  a  mistake." 

"  Really,  Ann "  Mrs.  Barett  disturbed  the 

dressing-table  silver  with  angry,  aimless  movements. 

"  And  it's  up  to  you,"  Ann  ended  defiantly, 
"  before  it  is  too  late,  to  prevent  it." 

With  that  she  turned  and  left  the  room,  head 
forward,  back  curved,  as  though  she  carried  a  heavy 
weight. 

Jeremiah  came  in  cautiously  and  stood  blinking 
at  the  door  whereby  Ann  had  departed. 

"  She  goes  rather  far,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  what  do 
you  think  of  a  pension  ?  " 

"She  is  dreadful  sometimes.  But" — Mrs. 
Barett's  eyes  filled — "  I  don't  think,  I  really  don't 
think  I  could  do  without  her.  She — she  is  so  much 
a  part  of  the  past — the  children  small,  you  know — 
little  Roddy  with  his  ways — and  Edith,  always  so 
clever.  And  the  scrimping  a  bit,  and  the  pleasure 

of  making  a  lot  out  of  little "  Without  thinking, 

she  swept  a  space  clear  of  the  silver  brushes  before 
her.  She  gave  a  sob  and  went  on  : 

"  Jerry  dear,  we  must  not  be  selfish  about  it,  or 
jealous.  But  do  you  think — are  you  really  sure — it 
is  for  his  happiness  ?  " 

"  That  I  am  not,"  Rodney's  father  answered, 
decidedly.  He  felt  for  the  familiar  pockets,  and 
failing  to  find  them,  drew  up  the  tails  of  his  dressing- 
gown  over  his  arms,  and  stood  before  the  elaborate 
fireplace  with  its  burnished  gas-fittings — an  oddly 


THE  NURSE  OF  THE  HERO         103 

ridiculous  figure  he  made — yet  not  altogether  un- 
lovable. 

"  Nay  I'm  not,"  he  went  on,  "  and  I  shouldn't  be 
surprised  if  Roddy's  not,  either." 

Mrs.  Barett  stared  at  him  palely. 

He  went  on,  rather  defiantly  : 

"  I  haven't  lived  all  these  years — I  haven't 
jostled  my  fellow-men,  bested  them,  been  bested, 
and  won  through — all  for  nothing.  I  haven't  read 
many  books,  I  haven't ;  I've  found  something  a  deal 
more  interesting — faces  of  men.  Aye,  when  you 
know  how  to  read  them  !  You  mark  my  words, 
that  boy  of  ours — he's  not  happy,  not  as  he  oughter 
be,  anyway." 

In  weak  natures  there  is  always  an  odd  tendency 
towards  contradiction.  Though,  in  secret,  Mrs. 
Barett  ruled  her  life  largely  according  to  the  dictates 
of  her  old  servant  Ann,  though,  openly,  her  husband 
was  to  her  more  than  the  'law  and  the  prophets,' 
yet,  the  more  the  two  were  averse  to  Rodney's 
engagement  the  more  she  felt  bound  to  uphold  and 
defend  it. 

"It  is  only  natural,"  she  said  rather  primly, 
"  that  Rodney  should  feel  the  weight  of  his  new 
responsibilities.  It  is  quite  possible  he  is  already 
troubling  about  the  expenses  of  a  wife  and  establish- 
ment." 

"I  bet  you  he  knows  his  old  dad  better  than 
that."  It  was  said  without  his  usual  assurance ;  he 
missed  the  familiar  jangle  of  the  coins  in  his  pocket. 
"  Rod  knows  who'll  stand  by  him." 

"  Of  course,"  Mamma  agreed ;  "  yet  still,  there 
are  many  things " 

"  A  man,  right  in  love,  don't  think,  though,  of 


104  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

many  things.  He  just  thinks  of  the  girl  and  what  a 
deuced  lucky  chap  he  is  to  have  got  her.  A  bit 
humble  and  soft  he  may  be,  thinking  her  a  dear  sight 
too  good  for  him.  But  happy  !  Lord  !  I  remember 
how  I  fair  sweated  happiness " 

"  Did  you,  Jeremiah  ?  "  She  was  looking  down  at 
her  small  worn  hands.  She  had  taken  off  the  costly 
rings  with  which  her  husband  loved  to  load  her, 
keeping  only  one  beside  her  thin  wedding-ring.  It 
was  nine-carat  gold  and  there  were  dull  turquoises 
and  a  few  tarnished  pearls  in  it.  Jeremiah  had 
slipped  close  behind  her  and  now  his  eyes  rested 
on  it. 

"  I  went  without  my  'baccy  for  I  don't  know 
how  long  to  pay  for  that,"  he  said,  and  his  husky 
voice  trembled.  "  And  when  I  shoved  it  on  to  your 
ringer,  no  king  in  his  palace  was  ever  half  so  proud 
and  so  happy.  I'd  like  to  see  our  Rodney  like  that. 
But  I  can't  see  it.  I  said,  to-night,  to  him,  '  There's 
the  ring,  Rod,  you  can  draw  on  me  for  that,  to  any 
reasonable  figure.' 

"  It  was  after  you'd  left  us.  He  was  standing  on 
the  other  side  of  the  fire,  and  he  just  looked  up 
smiling.  But  his  eyes  weren't,  as  they'd  ought er 
been,  shining. 

"  And  he  said,  '  Thanks,  awfully.  Yes,  I  must  see 
what  she'd  like.'  Then  he  was  thoughtful  again 
directly.  He  wasn't  going  to  get  no  real  happiness 
out  of  that  ring,  not  like  I  did,  when  I  went  all  that 
while  without  my  'baccy — passing  the  jeweller's 
shop  twice  a  day  just  to  have  a  look  at  the  one  I'd 
chosen. 

"  After  a  bit  Rod  said,  without  looking  up,  '  She 
said  you  were  all  awfully  good  to  her.' 


THE  NURSE  OF  THE  HERO          105 

"  Of  course,  I  guessed  he'd  been  along  there  to 
see  her  before  he  came  home,  and  I  wondered.  It 
was  a  bit  small  of  me,  but  I'd  have  liked  to  have 
known  what  young  madam  had  said  about  us.  But 
Rodney  didn't  say  much.  And  that  again  wasn't 
right,  not  to  my  way  of  thinking.  He  did  ought  to 
have  been  bubbling  right  over.  I  know  I  was " 

"  Were  you,  Jerry  ?  " 

He  laughed,  happily. 

"  I'll  bet  I  was  a  nuisance  to  folks.  I  wouldn't 
have  felt  that  way,  though,  with  Rodney.  He  was 
too  still  and  quiet  altogether.  And  sudden,  like  it 
comes  over  you,  the  clock  seemed  to  be  shouting 
^6ut  loud,  '  Mistake,'  '  Mistake.'  It  was  that  plain 
I  went  hot  lest  Rodney  heard  it.  He  didn't.  T  all 
events  he  didn't  say  anything.  Not  then.  Only 
presently,  he  brought  out,  as  if  it  was  a  bit  difficult, 
'  My  mother,  does  she  like  her  ?  Of  course  she  said 
everything  sweet  to  me — a  daughter — and  all  that. 
But  I  want — very  much — my  mother  to  like  her — 
and  for  Cecil  to  like  my  mother.' 

"  So  I  said  something  or  another.  I  don't  quite 
know  what.  I  think  I  made  that  all  right.  I  hope 
I  did,  anyhow. 

"  Then  next,  he  says,  '  And  you,  Father  ?  '  and  he 
looks  up  with  a  smile,  cock-a-hoop  all  of  a  sudden, 
'  I  hear  you  think  me  jolly  lucky.' 

'  Jolly  lucky  ! '  I  said  it  as  hearty  as  I  knew  how, 
though  all  the  while  I  wanted  to  lay  hold  of  him 
and  shout,  '  Listen  to  the  clock,  man.  The  clock's 
right,  all  the  rest's  humbug  !  '  " 

He  ran  his  hand  over  his  hair. 

"  Somehow,"  he  said,  "  I  think  I  oughter  'a  done 
it." 


106  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

"  Oh,  no,  Papa,"  Mrs.  Barett  protested,  "  you 
could  not  have  been  so  cruel." 

"  Cruel  ?  I  don't  know  about  cruel.  Ain't  it  a 
long  sight  crueller  to  let  the  lad  walk  into  the  fire 
with  his  eyes  blinded  ?  He's  been  let  into  this  'ere 
job,  I'll  take  my  oath  on  it."  He  brought  his  fist 
down  with  a  bang  that  made  the  toilet-fittings 
jangle  protestingly. 

"  That's  what  it  is — he's  been  let  into  it.  Young 
madamls  a  sly  one,  anyhow — and  he  can't  see  his 
way  out  again.  Not  fair  and  honourable  he  can't — 
and,  like  the  gentleman  he  is,  he's  trying  to  put  a 
good  face  on  to  it.  But  I'm  not  going  to  sit  down — 
not  me  " — his  voice  grew  harsher  and  louder — "  not 
to  see  the  lad's  life  spoilt  for  him — and  me  not  doing 
nothing.  I  just  aren't  going  to  do  it." 

"  But,  Jeremiah — Papa — what  can  you  do  ?  " 
"  That's  what  I've  got  to  think  out." 
He  was  thinking  so  hard  that  he  got  into  bed 
without  a  thought  for  his  little  joke  of  the  electric 
light,  the  devil  and  the  hindmost.    It  had  sometimes 
annoyed  Mrs.  Barett  by  its  vain  repetition.     Now 
she  missed  it. 


CHAPTER   XI 

ANOTHER   VIEW   OF   THE   HERO 

CONSCIENTIOUSLY  Edith  Barett  owned — to  herself, 
naturally  not  to  anyone  else,  least  of  all  to  Rodney — 
that  she  had  not  done  her  duty  by  Cecil.  Linda 
Ray  had  interested  her  to  the  neglect  of  the  other 
girl  who  was,  of  course,  under  the  circumstances, 
the  more  important. 

"  I  wish  it  could  have  been  Linda,"  she  was  tell- 
ing herself  as  she  was  shown  into  Cecil's  sanctum  ; 
"  that  girl  has  some  strength  of  character.  It  would 
be  possible  to  develop  her  into  something  worth 
having.  As  for  the  other,  she  is,  no  doubt,  modelled 
on  Nature's  original  idea  of  a  woman  ;  but  Nature 
has  advanced  a  long  way  since  the  era  of  fig  leaves 
and  aprons." 

She  took  a  seat  as  far  as  possible  from  the  fire  and 
as  near  as  might  be  to  the  window.  It  was  only 
open  a  little  way,  for  the  day  was  chill  and  now7  and 
then  a  gust  of  rain  spattered  on  the  panes,  whilst 
the  plants  in  the  window-box  outside  shivered  and 
turned  back  their  leaves  protestingly. 

Edith  glanced  round  the  room  ;  it  was  too  full 
for  her  taste ;  she  would  have  liked  to  turn  out  two- 
thirds  of  the  stuff,  when  the  remainder  might  have 
looked  well  against  a  low-toned  paper — the  present 
one  had  a  satin-like  stripe  which  annoyed  Edith. 

107 


108  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

There  were  too  many  flowers  in  the  room  ;  besides, 
their  sickly  perfume  cast  doubts  on  the  freshness  of 
some  of  the  water.  It  was  all  very  interesting,  of 
course,  to  a  student  of  character.  Edith  wondered 
what  her  brother  would  make  of  it.  As  yet  she  had 
not  seen  Rodney  and  Cecil  together  ;  and  when  she 
tried  to  picture  him  at  his  ease  in  this  room  imagin- 
ation failed  her.  For  Rodney  she  would  have  chosen 
a  more  austere  setting,  with  a  wife  yielding  but 
capable,  a  woman  of  charm,  yet  sensible.  Because 
Cecil  had  fluffy  hair  and  used  her  eyes  effectively 
Edith  had  fallen  into  the  common  error  of  sup- 
posing that  she  must  be  empty-headed. 

Edith  laughed  at  proverbs  and  well-worn  sayings, 
not  knowing  how  at  heart  she  accepted  most  of 
them,  or  she  might  have  realised  that  deep  waters 
are  not  necessarily  still ;  and  the  thing  that  glitters 
may  possibly,  after  all,  be  eighteen-carat  gold. 

She  had  plenty  of  time  to  observe  Cecil's  portraits, 
photographs,  and  the  'Le  Saxe'  on  its  pedestal.  The 
last  she  dismissed  as  vanity  ;  the  photographs,  as 
reflecting  moods,  claimed  her  interest ;  she  shook 
her  head  at  the  Cecil  in  the  rose-garden  ;  stared  a 
long  time  at  Rubelow's  pastel,  turned  away,  looked 
again,  and  said,  '  I  wonder.' 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  Linda  came  in. 
She  was  in  out-of-door  things.  Rain  and  wind  had 
given  her  a  delightful  colour.  Edith  Barett  interested 
her  ;  her  eyes  had  darkened  accordingly.  The  little 
wisps  of  hair,  which  she  would  have  disgustedly 
termed  '  straggles,'  clung  in  appealing  soft  curves 
to  the  blue-grey  brim  of  her  hat,  rain-drops  sparkled 
on  them. 

Edith's  heart  warmed  towards  Linda,  whilst  she 


ANOTHER  VIEW  OF  THE  HERO     109 

decided,  judicially, '  She  grows  upon  one ;  it  is  faint 
praise  to  call  her  pretty.' 

"  Cecil  will  be  here  in  a  minute,"  Linda  was  say- 
ing. "  Isn't  it  raining  ?  The  taxi  broke  down  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Square,  we  had  to  walk,  Cecil  got 
wet,  she  is  changing " 

Edith  smiled.  Her  thought  was,  '  She  is  too  vain 
to  be  seen  in  disorder.' 

"  Rodney's  sister — he  would  want  me  to  be  at  my 
best,"  Cecil  had  said.  "  You  go  in  and  do  the  polite, 
Linda;  it  doesn't  matter  for  you.  I'll  rush  and  make 
myself  pretty." 

A  service  of  love,  in  reality,  and  Edith  set  it  down 
on  the  shrine  of  vanity  ! 

Meanwhile  she  and  Linda  had  quickly  dismissed 
the  weather  with  Edith's,  "  It  is  like  a  spoilt  child, 
and  insists  on  our  notice." 

Linda  knew  Edith  had  come  to  see  Cecil,  yet  she 
could  not  rid  herself  of  a  certain  sense  of  gratified 
importance.  This  handsome,  clever  woman  stood  in 
intimate  relation  to  Rodney.  Had  she  been  plain 
and  dull  Linda  would  still  have  rejoiced  in  her 
presence. 

"  I  have  been  wanting  to  meet  you  again.  I  have 
thought  so  much  of  all  we  talked  about."  It  was  a 
pity  she  could  not  see  the  pretty  colour  come  and  go 
in  her  cheeks  as  she  said  it,  nor  the  dilating  of  her 
velvety  pupils.  "  Do  you  know,  you  have  made 
the  world  ever  so  much  wider  for  me  ?  " 

Edith  was  pleased  with  the  pleasure  a  teacher 
feels  in  a  responsive  pupil.  There  is  vanity  in  it — 
with  a  grain  of  something  bigger  and  better. 

"  Do  you  still  think,"  she  asked  the  younger  girl, 
"  that  we  are  meant  to  be  happy  ?  " 


110  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

Linda  glowed. 

"  Of  course  we  are,  only  happiness  is  a  bigger 
thing  than  I  thought  it.  I  don't  really  think  " — 
her  expressive  face  paled — "  that  as  yet  I  have 
grasped  the  idea  of  it." 

"  Names  are,  after  all,  nothing.  What  you  call 
Happiness  in  my  language  may  be  spoken  of  as  Pur- 
pose ;  in  another's  Success — or  even  Self-abnega- 
tion." 

"  I  used  to  think,"  Linda  went  on  naively,  "  that 
everything  was  so  simple.  Usually,  you  were  happy 
just  without  thinking  of  it.  A  few  people  were 
unhappy,  of  course,  and  you  were  sorry  for  them 
and  tried  to  help  them.  Then  they  got  happy  again. 
It  was  all  so  simple." 

"  And  now ?  " 

"  I  suppose  the  whole  world,  and  the  God  who 
made  it,  are  simple  to  savages." 

"  Naturally,  the  more  we  know  of  a  thing  the  more 
complicated  it  gets  for  us.  It  is  so  with  everything. 
I  remember  when  I  was  a  child  my  father  putting 
something  into  my  hand  and  asking  me  what  it  was. 
'  A  little  brown  seed,  it's  dirty.'  I  dropped  it.  '  Be 
careful/  he  said,  '  there  are  birds,  yet  unborn,  who 
will  need  to  rest  in  its  branches ;  don't  be  the  one  to 
rob  the  birds  of  their  tree-top.' 

"  I  dare  say  I  have  forgotten  the  words — he  may 
have  expressed  himself  more  ruggedly — but  I  have 
not  forgotten  the  gist  of  the  lesson.  I  often  think  of 
the  unborn  birds  and  the  tree-top  that  is  folded  as 
yet  in  the  seed." 

"  It  must  make  things  very  interesting." 

"  It  does." 

"  Only  the  seeds  are  so  many.    There  would  be 


ANOTHER  VIEW  OF  THE  HERO     111 

no  room  for  all  the  trees,  nor  would  there  be  birds 
for  all." 

"  Nature,  it  is  true,  works  on  the  simpler  plan  of 
extermination." 

"  Is  she  cruel,  or  wiser  than  we  are  ?  " 

"  Is  it  wise  to  sit  down  and  watch  things  happen  ? 
Sometimes  a  sort  of  terror  comes  over  me  as  to 
what  may  be  the  consequences  of  my  work — any- 
one's work — suppose  it  should  end  in  catastrophe." 

"  As  Nature's  does  sometimes." 

"  It  may  only  look  so  to  us,  whilst  she  sees  further." 

"  It  is  all  so  enchantingly  interesting ;  yet  all 
such  a  muddle." 

"  The  muddle,  I  suspect,  is  in  ourselves  only." 

"  Does  everyone  feel  it,  I  wonder  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  Edith  answered,  rather  con- 
temptuously. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  You  have  only  to  look  at  the  average  life.  What 
fills  it  ?  Eating  and  drinking,  giving  in  marriage." 

"  We  have  to  eat  and  drink,"  Linda  stated 
prosaically. 

"  And  to  give  in  marriage  ?  " 

Linda  blushed. 

"  I  did  not  say  so." 

"  But  you  thought  it.  And  all  that  is  right  and 
necessary  for  the  multitude.  It  is  as  far  as  they 
have  gone  at  present.  But  some  must  be  in  advance ; 
and  at  times  you  feel  wild  with  people.  There's 
Rodney,  now.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  that  he 
is  tremendously  interested.  When  something  has 
been  talked  about,  some  wrong,  perhaps,  or  injustice, 
I  have  seen  a  look  in  his  eyes.  It  has  been  like  wine 
to  me.  I  have  thought, '  He  cares !  He  is  with  us  1 ' 


112  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

Then  the  very  next  moment  he  is  laughing,  jesting, 
altogether  conventional.  Why  are  people  con- 
strained to  be  conventional  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  because  they  are  clothed  as  babies." 
'  You  do  say  things  with  thoughts  peeping  out 
behind  them." 

"  Do  I  ?  "    Linda  was  pleased. 

"  Is  it  because  you  are  still  so  young  ?  " 

"  I  am  nearly  twenty." 

"  Actual  age  has  nothing  to  do  with  youngness. 
The  most  youthful  person  I  have  ever  met  was  over 
eighty." 

Linda  looked  puzzled. 

"  By  youthful,  do  you  mean  childish  ?  " 

"  Childlike,  perhaps.  The  word  is  more  expres- 
sive ;  though,  probably,  strictly  speaking,  the  '  ish  ' 
and  the  '  like '  denote  they  are  one  and  the  same. 
For  myself,  I  never  was  childlike.  I  missed  it,  some- 
how. It  is  a  pity.  Your  friend  Cecil,  she  is  not 
childlike " 

"  But  you  do  not  know  her  as  well  as  I  do.  She 
is — very — sometimes. ' ' 

"  She  intends  to  be  thought  so." 

"  Edith,  don't  you  like  Cecil  ?  " 

She  smiled.  "  Supposing  I  do  not,  should  I 
own  it  ?  " 

"  You  would,"  said  Linda  audaciously. 

Edith  looked  pleased. 

"  I  might.  I  think  I  do  like  her.  Only— to  be 
quite  honest — I  don't  want  her  for  Rodney.  I  may 
be  wrong  " — she  gave  the  phrase  its  usual  negative 
turn  of  assurance — "  but  I  can't  help  thinking  she 
will  pull  him  down.  Now,  don't  be  offended  " — 
for  Linda  had  coloured  hotly — "  when  I  say  '  down,' 


I  mean  only  down  to  the  commonplace.  Can't  you 
imagine  them  together,  '  doing '  dances,  dinners, 
and  theatres  ;  growing  every  year  a  little  more 
commonplace — I  was  going  to  be  impertinent 
enough  to  add — and  fat  ?  I  will  add  it  for  Rodney." 

"  It  is  certainly  rather  depressing." 

"  The  pity  of  it  is — Rodney  has  wings.  He  has 
not  used  them  as  yet ;  perhaps,  now,  he  never  will. 
I  am  afraid  that  Cecil  will  clip  them.  He  will  smile 
at  her  fondly  and  let  her." 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  altogether  fair  to  Cecil." 

"  And  you  are  not  fair  to  Rodney." 

Linda's  lip  twitched. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?    How  am  I  not  fair  ?  " 

"  Not  fair  to  his  possibilities.  To  you  he  has 
seemed — how  shall  I  put  it  ? — admirable — admir- 
able in  its  original  sense,  as  derived  from  the 
verb  '  to  admire.'  He  has  seemed  admirable, 
but  only  as  an  ordinary  young  man  might  seem 
admirable." 

"  I  do  not  consider  him  ordinary."  Linda's  voice 
was  stifled.  The  words  were  torn  from  her  un- 
willingly ;  but  her  loyalty  to  Rodney  compelled 
them.  "  Not  at  all  ordinary,"  she  added  more 
firmly. 

Edith  made  a  movement  of  impatience.  She  did 
not  like  her  choice  of  words  questioned. 

"  If  not  ordinary,  only  so  far  as  he  interested  you 
personally.  You  liked  Rodney.  First  and  last  that 
sums  up  your  point  of  view  as  regards  him.  Your 
friend  Cecil  likes  him,  too — she  goes  as  far  as  you 

do,  and  no  further " 

^  Linda  flamed.    As  sometimes  before  momentarily 
she  felt  that  she  hated  Edith  Barett, 
\ 


114  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

'  You  are  not  fair  to  Cecil,"  she  said  again,  but 
more  coldly. 

"It  is  she  who  is  not  fair — not  fair  to  Rodney. 
Do  you  call  it  fair  to  capture  a  man  and  drown  him 
in  littleness  ?  " 

"  Cecil  has  not — does  not — I  cannot  find  words, 
I  am  not  clever  like  you — I  think  I  am  glad  I  am 
not  clever.  To  be  clever — it  seems  to  make  people 
hard  and  cruel — weighing  and  judging — prying  into 
people  to  find  their  motives — glad  to  unearth  a  mean 

and  sordid  one "  she  gave  a  choking  sort  of  a 

sob.  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  very  rude,"  she 
ended  tamely. 

"  Don't  apologise.  I'd  a  great  deal  sooner  you 
should  speak  out  your  mind." 

"  If  I  have  a  nasty,  uncharitable  mind,  it  would 
be  better  not  to  show  it."  Linda  felt  penitently 
small. 

"  It  is  only  hidden  things  that  are  nasty.  Perhaps 
I  am  hard  and  cruel.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  have 
thought  so  myself.  Does  it  matter  though  ?  The 
object  of  my  life  is  not  that  people  should  like  me. 
The  world's  work  needs  hard,  cruel  things  some- 
times. It  may  be  for  hard,  cruel  purposes  that  I  am 
needed." 

"  I  should  not  like  to  think  so."  Linda  warmed 
again  to  this  woman  who  could  be  in  a  breath  proud 
and  yet  selfless. 

"  You  forget.    I  hold  no  brief  for  the  individual." 

"  Then  why  " — Linda  smiled  suddenly — "  how  is 
it  you  are  anxious  about  your  brother's  individu- 
ality ?  " 

"  A  fair  question.  Motives  are  so  mixed  that  it  is 
difficult  to  sort  them.  Yet  I  think  you  will  allow 


ANOTHER  VIEW  OF  THE  HERO     115 

that  I  was  not  concerning  myself  about  Rodney's 
happiness.  He  will  be  happy  enough  with  clipped 
wings ;  many  insects  doff  theirs  after  their  nuptials, 
and  are  no  doubt  much  safer  without  them.  I  am 
not  crying  out  for  his  safety  or  for  his  happiness.  It 
is  the  things  he  might  do  that  matter." 

"  What  things  ?  " 

Edith  looked  into  the  fire  without  answering. 
The  rain  battered  in  petulant  gusts  at  the  window. 
From  the  wall  the  Rubelow  pastel  seemed  to  look 
down  maliciously.  Edith  spoke  slowly  at  last,  her 
eyes  still  on  the  fire. 

"  Have  you  ever  met  with  the  term,  a  '  Nature's 
gentleman  '  ?  " 

"  Often."  Linda's  spirit  had  always  secretly 
thrilled  to  the  suggestion. 

"  Do  you  remember  Dean  Hole's  definition  ? — 
'  There  is  no  such  being  as  a  gentleman  by  birth. 
.  .  .  The  real  elements — the  truthfulness  which 
cannot  lie,  the  uprightness  which  will  not  stoop,  the 
courtesy  which  considers  all,  the  honour  which 
cannot  be  bribed,  the  command  of  the  passions,  the 
mastery  of  the  temper — these  can  only  be  learned 
from  God.'  God's  gentleman,  Nature's  gentleman. 
It  is  one  and  the  same." 

"  He  would  be  Super-human."  Linda's  voice 
was  tense  and  low.  All  this  might  be  very  grand 
and  fine,  but  her  soul  cried  out  for  Rodney  as  she 
knew  him,  every  day,  human,  dear  for  his  imper- 
fections. 

'  You  know  the  highest  aim,"  Edith  said  softly. 

'  Be  ye  also  perfect.' ' 

"  But  Rodney " 

"  He  will  lose  himself  in  a  life  of  littleness.    But 


116  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

in  a  life  of  high  aims  there  is  no  telling  what  he 
might  achieve." 

Edith's  voice  rang  out  with  a  sort  of  triumph. 
Linda  felt  very  flat  and  far  beneath  ;  she  snatched 
at  something  nearer  earth. 

"  But  there  is  Cecil " 

"  Cecil  is  pretty,  sweet — a  woman  to  be  desired, 
but — incompatible  with  high  aims." 

"  You  are  wrong."  Linda  started  forward  im- 
pulsively. 

At  that  very  moment  Cecil  opened  the  door  of  her 
sanctum. 


CHAPTER   XII 

A  SIDELIGHT   ON  THE   HERO 

CECIL  looked  angelic  in  a  simple-seeming  and 
elaborately  costly,  pale  blue  and  soft  white  straight- 
falling  thing  she  called  a  '  rest-gown.'  She  was  a 
little  doubtful  as  to  how  Edith  would  regard  her 
prolonged  absence,  and  she  was  very  anxious  to 
impress  Rodney's  sister  with  her  desirability.  She 
certainly  looked  more  than  usually  charming. 
Wholeheartedly — she  was  convinced  it  was  whole- 
heartedly— Linda  wished  Rodney  were  there  to  see 
Cecil. 

Edith  admired  and  at  the  same  time  felt  her 
previous  opinion  further  strengthened.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  she  was  sore  for  Rodney.  Cecil  was  pretty, 
even  beautiful — yet  any  man,  almost,  would  do  for 
her  husband ;  any,  at  all  events,  of  the  well-groomed, 
well-mannered  young  men  that  frequent  London 
ball-rooms. 

One  of  these — in  her  heart  Edith  despised  them — 
would  pair  well  with  Cecil  Wolney.  For  her  brother, 
Edith  wanted  something  better.  Scorning,  as  she 
supposed,  happiness  and  success,  Edith  was  as  much 
an  individualist  as  anyone — only  the  individual  of 
her  purpose  happened  to  be,  not  herself,  but  her 
brother. 

So  far,  he  had  shown  himself  to  the  world  amiable, 
117 


118  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

clean-living,  a  pleasant  companion — nothing  further. 
But  Edith,  his  sister,  saw,  or  read  into  him,  possibili- 
ties. All  that  great  and  splendid  she  herself  longed 
for,  saw  dimly,  attempted  to  follow,  though  hin- 
dered as  dream-feet  are  weighted,  seemed  to  her  not 
too  far  off  nor  splendid  for  Rodney  to  reach  or  leap 
up  to.  For  him  all  things  were  possible.  Then  came 
this  girl.  A  charming  girl,  well-born,  good-looking, 
a  sweet  wife  for  someone — a  tragic  mistake  for 
Rodney. 

So  ran  Edith's  thoughts  ;  whilst  Cecil,  fluttering 
with  half-shy,  half-assured  beauty,  was  setting  her- 
self to  conquer  the  good-will  of  Rodney's  rather 
formidable  sister. 

"  I  didn't  hurry,"  she  started  airily ;  "  I  knew  you 
would  find  the  time  fly  with  Linda.  Isn't  she  a 
dear,  this  little  friend  of  mine  ?  "  She  took  Linda's 
hand  and  fondled  it. 

An  odd  little  flicker  of  something — it  could  not 
have  been  a  doubt  as  to  Cecil's  genuineness — yet  a 
disturbing  flicker  went  through  Linda's  mind,  taking 
away  something  from  her  enjoyment  of  the  caress. 

"  I  think  you  are  fortunate  in  your  friend," 
Edith  smiled,  playfully  for  her ;  yet  in  her  tone 
Linda  detected  a  touch  of  patronage,  and  hated 
herself  because  of  a  momentary  gratification  that 
the  tone  was  not  for  herself,  but  Cecil. 

Meanwhile,  Cecil  was  rattling  on  inconsequently : 

"  Linda's  the  only  decent  thing  I  got  out  of  my 
school-days.  I  never  was  the  least  good  at  lessons. 
The  joke  was,  I  used  to  be  terrified  when  Miss 
Higgins  said,  '  What  will  people  think  when  you 
are  in  "  Society "  and  they  find  you  do  not 
know ?  '  some  stuffy  old  fact  in  her  creed  of 


A  SIDELIGHT  ON  THE  HERO        119 

education.  I  used  to  fancy  myself  calling  on  a 
ball-room  floor  to  swallow  me  because  I  didn't 
know  how  many  wives  King  Edward  had — or  was  it 
King  Henry  ?  So  much  for  life  through  a  school- 
mistress's spectacles.  Jolly  soon  I  found  out  the 
real  thing.  Most  people  were  even  more  ignorant 
than  I  was — or  pretended  to  be — which  was  decent 
of  them  and  made  us  all  happy.  It's  all  stuff  and 
nonsense  about  having  to  know  things.  My  children, 
if  ever  I  have  any  " — she  was  carelessly  swinging 
her  blue  girdle — "  they  shan't  learn  a  single  thing 
till  they  are  grown  up.  Then  they  can  if  they  want 
to.  That's  the  proper  time  for  learning.  When  you 
are  children  everything's  all  out  of  proportion, 
anyhow ;  and  then  they  make  it  worse  with  silly 
happenings  in  the  thirteenth  century — improper 
happenings,  lots  of  them — that  they  wouldn't  let  you 
read  about  in  a  novel ;  or  dry  lists  of  the  population 
and  exports  of  places  with  unpronounceable  names. 
As  though  they  mattered  !  And  they  are  always 
changing,  too  !  Did  you  get  any  good  out  of  your 
school  ?  "  she  asked  Edith. 

The  flame  in  Edith's  cheeks  flickered  and  deep- 
ened. 

"  I  think  our  school-days — even  mine,  and  I  am 
older  than  either  of  you — are  not  far  enough  away 
yet  for  us  to  judge  them  fairly.  At  present,  I  own, 
I  wonder  whether  we  got  enough  good  to  dilute  the 
evil  ?  " 

Cecil  tossed  the  girdle  high. 

"  Ours  wasn't  that  sort,"  she  said  with  assurance  ; 
"  deadly,  if  you  like  ;  but  I  can  tell  you,  painfully 
respectable.  Though  I  do  remember  one  girl  getting 
conscientious  hysteria  because  she  had  passed  a  note 


120  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

to  a  schoolboy  who  purposely  got  mixed  in  our 
crocodile.  You  remember,  Linda — that  daft  Florrie 
Kettle." 

They  both  laughed,  and  Edith  in  sympathy. 
Then  she  went  on  : 

"  When  I  said  '  evil,'  I  meant  things  that  have 
already  come  home  to  me  as  evil ;  for  instance,  the 
slavish  flattery  we  gave  to  those  in  authority,  the 
deception  with  which  we  forced  laughter  at  their 
unhumorous,  often  unkindly,  jokes.  Worse  still, 
the  time-serving  which  prompted  at  least  quiescence 
during  the  official  baiting  of  some  unfortunate 
among  ourselves,  who  had,  perhaps  quite  innocently, 
fallen  under  displeasure  of  the  '  powers.'  All  these 
things  seem  to  me  evil — ugly  at  the  time,  more  ugly 
in  their  consequences.  They  made  us  hard — some 
of  us  at  all  events ;  they  sowed  the  seeds  of  petty 
tyranny.  Above  all,  they  engendered  the  '  peace- 
at-any-price '  principle.  It  is  the  '  peace-at-any- 
price '  section  that  is  the  dead  weight  in  any  com- 
munity. It  is  like  the  stone  at  a  drowning  dog's 
neck — there's  no  reaching  the  surface  whilst  that 
drags  you  down." 

"  I  suppose  there  was — when  I  come  to  think  of 
it  I  am  sure  there  was — all  that  you  speak  of  at  our 
school,"  said  Linda,  "  yet  I  never  thought  of  it  so ; 
I  mean,  not  to  realise  the  harm  in  it.  I  always,  in  a 
dim  sort  of  way,  supposed  it  was  all  for  our  good." 

"  Oh,  but  there  is  a  lot  of  good  at  school,"  Cecil 
put  in  with  her  usual  kindly  optimism.  '  You  are 
all  jolly  together,  and  get  the  corners  knocked  off, 
and  learn  to  live  and  let  live,  and  so  on." 

"  Which  is  probably  only  another  sucker  of  the 
'  peace-at-any-price '  growth,"  suggested  Edith ;  then, 


A  SIDELIGHT  ON  THE  HERO       121 

her  face  darkening,  "  but  the  evil  I  particularly 
thought  of — only  just  now  I  was  cowardly  enough 
to  shirk  it — was  a  thing  that  may  or  may  not  have 
affected  others  besides  myself ;  though  I  cannot 
but  think  it  must  have  been  contagious,  and,  in  all 
probability,  I  was  not  the  originator.  The  worst 
thing  that  came  to  me  when  at  school  was  this — I 
was  ashamed  of  my  father." 

"  Nonsense,  you  weren't,  I'm  quite  sure  of  that," 
Cecil  said  hastily,  whilst  Linda's  eyes  deepened  with 
pained  unbelief. 

"  It  seems  odd  now  that  I  could  have  been," 
Edith  went  on  quietly;  "  but  I  gather  that  we  were 
influenced  to  consider  too  much  the  outside  of 
things.  I  don't  think  we  were  snobbish  about  money 
— so  far  we  were  wholesome,  or,  at  any  rate,  most  of 
us.  It  was  speech,  manners — the  veneer  of  civili- 
sation. Once  I  remember  we  had  '  sports  '  and  an 
open-air  play,  the  '  prize-day,'  or  some  such  function. 
All  the  parents  were  invited — I  forget  why  father 
couldn't  come,  but,  at  the  last,  mother  turned  up 
without  him.  And  I  was  glad  !  That  was  the  dread- 
ful thing,  I  was  glad  !  I  was  fond  of  him,  tremen- 
dously fond  of  him  ;  yet  I  was  glad  he  did  not 
come.  I  was  ashamed  ;  it  quite  spoilt  the  day. 
I  mean  I  was  so  ashamed  to  find  I  was  ashamed  of 
him — the  father  that  I  loved.  For  months,  it  may 
have  been  years,  that  fact  poisoned  my  life.  I  was 
ashamed  of  father  !  It  would  not  have  been  half 
so  bad  had  I  not  been  fond  of  him.  And  once  or 
twice  I  can  recall  dreadful  moments  when  he  looked 
at  me  as  though  he  knew  it. 

"At  last  I  told  Rodney.  I  don't  quite  know  what 
I  expected  from  him — scorn  ?  rebuke  ?  or  had  I  a 


122  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

cowardly  hope,  a  deadly  fear,  that  he  would  think 
as  I  did  ? 

"  I  can  see  him  now.  We  were  playing  tennis 
and  had  come  together  at  the  net  for  the  ball.  I 
don't  know  what  made  me  speak.  The  net  was 
between  us.  He  was  in  the  weedy  stage  and  break- 
ing his  voice ;  his  open  flannel  shirt  showed  his 
stringy,  boyish  neck.  It  was  then  I  seemed  able, 
and  I  told  him.  He  looked  at  me  puzzled,  yet  in  a 
way  understanding.  At  last  he  said,  '  Poor  Edie, 
how  dreadful  for  you  ! '  Then  he  drew  a  long  breath 
and  said,  '  and  father  is  so  splendid  ! '  That  was 
about  the  time  when  we  had  rebelled  against 
'  Mamma  '  and  '  Papa/  and  I  thought  how  manly 
'  father  '  sounded  as  Rodney  said  it. 

'  I  know,'  I  agreed,  '  of  course  he  is  splendid. 
And  that  only  makes  it  harder.' 

"  '  Look  here/  he  said  over  the  top  of  the  net  and 
playing  with  the  ball  on  his  racket,  I  can  remember 
the  strong  look  of  his  mouth  and  the  way  his  eyes 
were  shining,  '  tell  me  straight,  what  do  you  want 
altered  ?  Would  you  like  him  to  speak  differently  ?  ' 

"  I  shook  my  head,  dumbly  ;  father,  without  his 
big,  rough-sounding  voice,  wouldn't  be  father. 

"  '  Is  it  how  he  dresses  ?  '  Rodney  demanded. 

"  No.  I  couldn't  imagine  him  clothed  differently. 
Besides,  at  that  stage,  I  considered  clothes  beneath 
consideration. 

"  '  I  don't  know  what  it  is/  I  burst  out,  '  I  only 
know  it  is  there.' 

"  '  Don't  you  think ' — he  flushed  and  examined 
the  ball  in  his  hand  minutely — '  that  souls  can  suffer 
from  a  sort  of  short-sightedness.  Fellows  I  know 
have  to  wear  spectacles  because  without  them 


A  SIDELIGHT  ON  THE  HERO        123 

everything  is  dim.  Don't  you  think  it  is  short- 
sighted not  to  be  able  to  look  beyond  people's 
outsides,  little  mannerisms  and  so  on,  at  the  self 
that  is  them  really  ?  I  don't  know  how  to  say  it, 
but  I  know  a  few  things  about  him,  and  if  you  knew 
father  really,  instead  of  being  ashamed  you'd  just 
glory  in  belonging  to  him.' 

"  It  wasn't  easy,  it  couldn't  have  been,  for  a  boy 
to  speak  so ;  and  from  that  time  I  began  to  see, 
dimly,  that  Rodney  had  possibilities." 

"  And  you  and  your  father  ?  "  Cecil  suggested. 

"  Rodney  was  quite  right.  It  was  not  long  before 
I  learned  to  glory  in  him." 

"  That  was  splendid  !  "  Cecil  said  with  sympa- 
thetic readiness,  yet  at  heart  she  hardly  believed  it. 

The  confession,  not  an  easy  one,  struck  Linda  as 
made  with  a  purpose.  A  wave  of  admiration  swept 
over  her.  It  must  be  grand  to  be  so  large-minded 
as  Edith.  Yet  all  the  while,  in  the  back  of  her  mind, 
a  bright  possession  to  take  aside  and  gloat  over 
presently,  was  the  picture  of  a  slim  boy  with  a  tennis 
racket  and  open  shirt-collar,  a  boy  with  honest  grey 
eyes,  who  broke  through  his  reserve  to  vindicate  the 
father  he  loved  and  was  proud  of.  The  boy  who 
helped  and  did  not  condemn  his  sister. 

It  was  all  so  like  Rodney. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE   HERO  ABSENTS  HIMSELF 

IT  was  later  on  the  same  day  that  Cecil  broke  in  on 
Linda. 

"  Talk  about  Job's  patience,"  she  cried  out 
angrily. 

"  What's  up  now  ?  "  Linda  was  at  the  side  table 
writing  a  home  letter.  She  wrote  very  good  letters. 
Aunt  Emma  favoured  her  friends  with  extracts  and 
told  them  all  how  she  '  read  between  the  lines  '  that 
her  '  child  '  was  tremendously  happy. 

"  What  is  up  now  ?  "  Linda  was  only  mildly 
interested.  Cecil's  mole-hills  were  only  mole-hills, 
and  usually  small  ones  at  that. 

"  Of  all  the  nuisances  " — Cecil  was  pushing  things 
about  irritably — "  I  do  declare.  What's  the  good  of 

being  engaged  ?     People  will  think Well,  it's 

his  own  look  out — /  don't  care  what  they  say."  She 
went  to  the  glass  and  impatiently  fingered  and 
patted  her  hair.  "  I'm  just  in  the  mood  to  throw 
the  whole  thing  over.  I'd  as  soon  as  not,  anyway." 

"  But,  Cecil,  you  haven't  told  me — has  anything 
happened  ?  " 

"  Has  anything  happened  ?  I  like  that.  You 
don't  suppose  I'd  be  mad.  I  am  mad,  I  can  tell  you 
— all  about  nothing."  She  was  breathing  fast,  her 
mouth  had  a  dangerous  quiver. 

124 


THE  HERO  ABSENTS  HIMSELF      125 

Linda  got  up. 
Cecil,  dear- 


"  For  goodness'  sake,  don't  touch  me.  If  you  do, 
I  shall  go  stark,  staring." 

Linda  stood  still,  her  arms  limply  hanging. 

"  Are  you  going  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am — if  you  won't  keep  on  inter- 
rupting." 

"Cecil  —  you  —  you  haven't  quarrelled  with 
Rodney  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  stupid." 

"  I  thought  he  was  staying  for  dinner  ?  " 

"  That  makes  it  worse.  Mother  will  be  vexed. 
She  hates  her  table  thrown  out.  And  I  particu- 
larly wanted  the  Maintons  to  meet  him.  Adele  was 
so  beastly  set-up  over  her  engagement,  and  Rodney 
— I  will  say  that  for  him — looks  glorious  in  evening 
clothes.  I'd  have  given  I  don't  know  what  for  this 
not  to  have  happened." 

"  I  still  don't  know  what  it  is  that  has  happened." 

"  Rodney  has  gone  away.  For  a  week,  or  even  a 
fortnight — gone  up  to  Scotland — a  silly  old  Town 
Hall,  or  something.  His  firm  want  him  to  compete, 
or  something.  I  laughed  when  he  talked  about  a 
'competition.'  It  sounds  like  'Answers'  or  the 
'  Corner '  in  a  Lady's  Paper.  But  he  took  it  all 
seriously,  looked  quite  huffed,  and  said  it  might 
'  make '  him.  I  was  pretty  wild  with  him.  And 
then  he  said  I  didn't  understand — they  always  say 
that  when  they  want  to  squash  you. 

"  So  I  told  him  I  understood  enough  to  know  that 
he  was  going  to  do  me  out  of  the  first  few  weeks  of 
our  engagement,  and  a  lot  like  that.  I  expect  I  was 
horrid.  He  went  white.  I  was  afraid  of  him,  but 


126  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

I  wasn't  going  to  let  him  see  it,  though  I  loved  him 
all  the  more  because  he'd  made  me  afraid.  So  I  just 
said  quietly  that,  after  all,  it  might  be  a  good  thing 
he  was  going,  and  seeing  he  meant  to  catch  the 
night-mail,  no  doubt  he  had  plenty  to  do,  so  I 
wouldn't  keep  him." 

"  Cecil,  how  could  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  a  beast  when  I  lose  my  temper.  You  ought 
to  know  that  by  this  time.  I  wish  he'd  lost  his.  But 
he  wouldn't." 

"  How  did  it  end  ?  " 

"  Tamely  enough.  Promising  to  write,  and  all 
that."  She  threw  back  her  head  with  a  glint  in  her 
eyes.  "  In  the  end  we  parted  as  usual."  She  gave  a 
little  low  laugh.  "  Men  are  fools,  aren't  they,  to  let 
us  find  out  how  easy  it  is  to  hurt  and  to  heal 
them  ?  " 

"Is  it  ?  "  Linda  said  shortly.  Her  heart  beat 
angrily.  It  was  all  so  hard.  Bad  enough  for  her, 
even  though  Cecil  were  devotedly  good  to  Rodney. 
But  that  Cecil  should  use  her  power  to  hurt  him  ! 
And  far  back,  somewhere,  was  the  insistent  prick  of 
the  thought  that  Rodney  had  gone.  She  would  not 
see  him  that  night,  nor  the  morrow,  nor  for  many 
days  after.  She  was  hurt  all  over,  and  so  she  blurted 
abruptly  : 

"  Is  it  ?  " 

"  Is  it  what  ?  " 

"  So  easy — I  mean,  to  heal  them  ?  " 

Cecil  gave  the  daintiest  shrug  of  her  shoulders 
and  laughed  rather  consciously,  then  threw  herself 
down  on  the  sofa  as  she  said  : 

"  I  can't  altogether  understand  Rodney." 

"  Did  you  expect  to  ?  " 


THE  HERO  ABSENTS  HIMSELF       127 

"  Why  yes  ;  I  thought  he  was  about  as  plain  and 
to  pattern  as  they  make  'em.  I  didn't  want  any- 
thing weird  and  Ibsen-like  in  my  engagement.  It 
was  mostly  because  he  was  always  so  easy  and 
ready  to  play  up  to  me  that  I  chose  him.  He  changed, 
though,  directly  after  I  accepted  him.  And  now, 
really,  I  don't  know  what  has  come  over  him." 
She  swung  one  leg,  carelessly.  Then  looked  up 
and  stated  with  an  air  of  having  discovered  a 
world-secret : 

"  I  believe  it's  a  mistake  to  know  much  about 
anybody.  Everyone's  nicer  the  less  you  know 
of  them.  Like  shops — the  most  exciting  things 
always  are  in  the  window.  I  do  wish  I  hadn't 
got  engaged  to  Rodney.  It  would  have  been  ever 
so  much  nicer  to  have  kept  him  off  and  on,  in- 
definitely." 

Linda  turned  away.  Something  seemed  pulling 
at  her  heart.  Perhaps  Cecil  was  right  in  the  odd 
conclusions  she  jumped  to.  Perhaps  a  friend, 
like  a  gift-horse,  should  not  be  examined  too 
closely. 

"  Would  that  have  been  quite  fair  to  Rodney  ?  " 
As  she  asked  it,  her  voice  was  stifled. 

"  Fair  ?  "  Cecil  retorted.  "  Is  it  fair  that  he  should 
go  off  and  leave  me  ?  " 

"  Can't  you  see — a  man  does  not  throw  up 
his  profession  because  he  is  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried?" 

"  Rodney  might,"  Cecil  returned  petulantly.  "  It 
does  not  matter  to  him.  His  father's  got  plenty  of 
money." 

"  He  wouldn't  live  on  his  father.  Besides,  he's 
keen  on  his  work.  This  '  competition  ' — I  expect  -it 


128  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

will  be  a  great  thing.  He  is,  no  doubt,  eager  to 
win  it." 

"  But,  of  course,  he  won't.  No  one  who  belongs 
to  you  ever  wins  things,  do  they  ?  " 

"If  he  did  you  would  be  tremendously  proud 
of  him." 

"  Of  course,  I'd  like  to  see  his  name  and  those 
uncomfortable  things  architects  draw  in  the  papers. 
But  more  than  that,  I  want  him.  You  don't  know 
what  it  is  yet,  Linda.  When  you  love  a  man  you 
want  him  all  the  time,  absurdly,  idiotically,  madly 
— all  the  time  you  want  him." 

Linda  put  down  the  paper-knife  she  was  holding  ; 
it  showed  that  her  hand  was  trembling ;  she  felt  a 
sick  shame  that  it  trembled. 

"  Yes  !  "  she  said  dully. 

"  Well,  there  it  is."  Cecil  stretched,  yawning. 
The  crackling  flame  of  her  anger  had  burnt  itself 
out  quickly.  "  Rodney's  gone,  and  I've  got  to  make 
the  best  of  it." 

She  tapped  an  impatient  foot.  "  Dinner  to- 
night will  be  simply  appalling  ;  I  know  Dad 
will  try  and  be  funny.  I  shall  take  the  line 
of  tremendous  interest  in  Rodney's  profession. 
Don't  know  anything  about  it ;  but  that  won't 
matter.  You'll  back  me  up?  You're  a  splendid 
old  pal,  Linda.  '  True  as  steel,'  Rodney  once 
called  you." 

"  Did  he  ?    When  was  it  ?  " 

"  My  dear  child,  how  can  I  tell  ?  I  know  he  did 
though.  He  thinks  a  lot  of  you ;  he  doesn't  say  it 
just  to  please  me.  You  know,  though  he's  not 
a  bit  clever,  Rodney  has  an  understanding  way 
of  summing  up  people.  I'd  take  his  opinion  of 


THE  HERO  ABSENTS  HIMSELF      129 

anyone  but  his  own  family.  There,  he  is  oddly 
prejudiced." 

"Why  'oddly'?" 

"  Because,  as  a  rule,  you  see  the  people  of  your 
own  household  with  the  gilt  off." 

"  Perhaps  the  Barett  gilt  does  not  come  off." 

"  They  make  common  metal  take  its  place  by  help 
of  Brassyshine,"  laughed  Cecil.  She  was  completely 
good-tempered  again.  She  took  a  cigarette  from  a 
silver  box  on  the  table. 

"  Help  yourself,"  she  said  as  she  lit  up.  After  a 
few  contented  puffs,  she  remarked,  "  It's  a  bit  of  a 
bore,  to-morrow." 

"  The  dance  at  the  Westons'  ?  Can't  we  get  out 
of  it  ?  " 

Cecil  knocked  the  ash  off  her  cigarette. 

"  The  bother  is,  they've  given  it  on  purpose  for 
me.  And  old  Weston,  being  Rodney's  chief,  I 
suppose  it  wouldn't  do  to  offend  them." 

"  What  sort  of  people  are  they  ?  " 

"  Quite  all  right.  Friends  of  ours  know  them. 
It  isn't  anything  like  that.  Only  I  do  not  want 
to  go  without  Rodney.  Friends  of  his  there  he 
wanted  me  to  meet.  Things  do  happen  beastly  in 
this  silly  old  world." 

"  We'll  have  to  go,  then  ?  " 

In  spite,  or  perhaps  because  of  her  hidden  sorrow, 
Linda  found  herself  anxious  to  go.  She  loved 
dancing  ;  besides,  she  knew  Edith  would  be  there. 
Just  now  Edith  occupied  a  very  important  place  in 
Linda's  thoughts,  and  not  only  because  she  happened 
to  be  Rodney's  sister. 

'  Yes,  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  go,"  sighed  Cecil, 
"  that  is,  if  Madame  Courie  does  not  disappoint  me. 


180  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

I  positively  refuse  to  go  in  any  grubby  old  thing  I've 
worn  before.  What  are  you  wearing  ?  " 

"  The  grey  ninon  You  told  me  to  save  it  for 
something  special." 

"  I  know,  a  sweet  little  thing,"  Cecil  said  absent- 
mindedly. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE   HERO  AND   HIS   FRIENDS 


IT  was  quite  the  gayest  thing  Linda  had  ever  seen 
or  imagined.  So  much  light,  so  much  colour  ;  yet 
so  well-balanced  that  there  was  not  too  much  of 
either.  The  scent  of  flowers  seemed  to  swirl  with 
the  music  and  the  radiantly  dressed,  bright-eyed 
people.  The  scent  of  flowers  and  the  glitter  of  eyes, 
passing,  passing — those  would  be  the  keynote  in  the 
remembrance  of  the  Weston  dance  for  Linda, 
always.  The  people  were  all  strange  to  her  except- 
ing Edith  Barett.  Edith,  in  coppery  satin  with 
roses  of  the  same  colour,  Linda  thought  quite 
the  most  beautiful  woman  there ;  and  expected 
from  her  no  more  than  a  glance  and  a  smile  in 
passing. 

Linda  had  plenty  of  partners ;  the  Weston  affairs 
were  always  well  stage-managed,  and  she  had  by 
now  taken  part  in  enough  gay  functions  to  feel  at 
home  in  the  odd  whirligig  that  brings  two  atoms 
into  momentary  contact,  only  to  separate  them 
again  relentlessly.  It  was  great  sport,  being 
whirled  round  now  with  this  and  now  with  that 
atom. 

Two  of  the  atoms  were  to  Linda  more  interesting 
than  the  others  for  the  simple  reason  that  she  had 
found  out  they  were  intimate  friends  of  Rodney's. 

131 


132  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

Montague  Craig,  familiarly  addressed  as  '  Monty  ' 
by  other  white-shirted  atoms,  was  tall,  dark, 
distinguished-looking ;  nevertheless,  Linda  would 
have  found  him  disappointingly  commonplace  had 
it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  he  not  only  knew 
Rodney  but  had  been  with  him  at  Cambridge. 

"  He's  the  sort  of  chap  you  don't  get  sick  of  on 
board  a  yacht.  Good  test,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Montague  Craig  was  extremely  wealthy,  Linda 
gathered ;  but  she  was  more  interested  in  the 
facts  that  he  danced  really  well  and  that  he  was 
evidently  fond  of  Rodney. 

The  name  of  the  other  particular  atom  was  Bob 
— and  something  else,  on  her  programme,  that 
began  with  an  H  and  ended  in  a  tail.  It  might 
have  been  Harvey  or  Harding.  Bob  was  a  little 
sleek  man  with  very  fair  hair  and  eyelashes,  and 
the  expression  of  an  intelligent  guinea-pig.  He 
would  have  been  an  excellent  dancer  had  he  not 
been  short-winded ;  it  annoyed  Linda  to  feel  his 
panting  breaths  in  her  ear,  yet  she  could  forgive 
him  even  that  on  account  of  the  very  warm  corner 
his  heart  most  evidently  held  for  Rodney. 

"  Good  sort,  old  Roddy.    Know  him  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  My  greatest  friend  is  the  girl  he  is 
engaged  to." 

"  Where  did  he  meet  her  ?  " 

"  In  Town,  I  think." 

"  Wasn't  it  Cornwall  ?  " 

Linda  blushed.  That  Bob  would  not  see,  because 
they  were  whirling  round  and  everything  was  blurred 
into  great  scented  waves  of  circling  colour. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so.  At  least  I  am  sure  not," 
she  answered. 


THE  HERO  AND  HIS  FRIENDS      183 

"  Good  sort,  is  she  ?  Sorry.  Friend  of  yours. 
Must  be." 

Linda  laughed.  The  music  had  ended.  Lights 
and  colours  no  longer  whirled  round  them,  but 
twinkled  and  steadied  as  they  moved  with  the  stream 
into  the  cooler  air  of  the  lounge  hall. 

"  Goes  deep  with  old  Rod,"  Bob  remarked. 
"  Takes  it  seriously." 

"  Wouldn't  you  ?  " 

The  small  guinea-pig  face  looked  startled. 

"  Dream  sometimes  I  am.   Wake  up.   Thankful." 
'  You  are  not  very  complimentary." 

"  When  I  meet  jolly  girl,  take  rest.  Big  strain, 
compliments." 

"  There  is  no  need  to  pay  them." 
'  They  expect  it." 

"  And  you  don't  see  the  remedy  ?  " 

"  Choke  'em  off — what  ?  " 

"  Get  engaged  to  a  girl,  of  course,  then  you'll 
have  no  further  trouble  with  the  rest." 

"  How  about  the  one  ?  "  Bob  looked  comically 
distressed. 

At  that  moment  Cecil  sailed  past,  chattering  to 
Montague  Craig. 

'  That,"  said  Linda,  "  is  Cecil  Wolney." 

"  Jove  !  why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

Linda  laughed. 

"  I  have  just  told  you." 

"  Didn't  give  me  time.    Top-hole  anyway  !  " 

On  the  whole  Linda  was  satisfied  with  the  im- 
pression Cecil  had  made,  looking  radiantly  fair  by 
the  side  of  her  dark,  handsome  partner.  Her 
'  little  French  thing '  in  mauve  and  silver  showed 
her  willowy  grace  to  perfection.  It  struck  Linda, 


134  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

with  a  little  pang  of  jealousy,  that  Cecil  did  not 
seem  to  be  missing  Rodney  ;  but,  of  course,  it  was 
Cecil's  way  to  flirt  with  every  man  she  danced  with  ; 
besides,  a  girl  has  to  hide  her  feelings. 

Presently  Monty  Craig  and  Bob — his  name  was 
neither  Harvey  nor  Harding,  but  Hendrey— cast 
anchor  at  the  same  moment  in  the  refreshment 
room. 

"  Decent  do,"  Bob  opined  across  a  frothing 
tumbler. 

"  Jolly  decent ;  yes,  tip- top  band  and  ripping 
girls.  Old  Weston  knows  how  to  do  it,  doesn't 
he?" 

"  Rather.  Pity  old  Rod's  not  here.  Clever 
fellow,  Roddy  ;  '11  leave  us  all  behind 

He  broke  off  to  gaze  in  silent  admiration,  as  with 
a  coppery  gleam  and  a  scent  of  tea-roses  Edith 
Barett  swept  by. 

Monty  looked  after  her  critically. 

"  Handsome  woman.    Know  who  she  is  ?  " 

With  difficulty  Bob  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the 
vanishing  vision. 

"  That,  why — Rod's  sister,  of  course." 

"  Not  the  Suffragette  sister  ?  " 

"  Suffragette  be  hanged  !  "  Bob  exploded. 

"Too  handsome  and  too  well-dressed,"  laughed 
Monty.  "  You  are  sure,  are  you,  it  is  his  sister  ?  " 

"  'Course,  know  her  quite  well,  met  her  at 
Roddy's." 

"  Ever  met  the  old  Brassie  ?  Awful,  I  suppose, 
isn't  he  ?  " 

"  Known  worse.    Rod  thinks  everything  of  him." 

Monty  smiled. 

"  I  suppose — a  rough  diamond." 


THE  HERO  AND  HIS  FRIENDS      135 

"Don't  know  'bout  diamonds.  Never  had  any 
use  for  'em." 

Monty  laughed. 

"  Wait  till  you  meet  the  woman  to  wear  them." 

"She'd  look  well  in  'em."  Bob  cast  an  expressive 
glance  at  the  place  Edith  Barett  had  made  radiant 
in  passing.  Then  he  screwed  up  his  comical  small 
face  rather  ruefully,  opened  his  mouth  and  said 
nothing. 

Monty  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"As  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  he  stated,  "  paste 
is  every  bit  as  pretty  as  diamonds  and  you  don't 
have  to  bother  about  losing  it." 

Just  then  Cecil  went  past.  Like  black  and  white 
moths  round  an  azalea,  men  clustered  and  followed. 
Monty  and  Bob  both  turned  to  look  after  her. 

Said  the  former,  quietly  : 

"That's  more  in  my  style  than  the  other.  There's 
not  a  girl  here  to  hold  a  candle  to  her." 

"  Right  enough.  Give  me  Edith  Barett  for  a 
woman." 

"A  bit  hard  for  my  taste.  Besides,  I  shy  at  the 
Suffragette  suggestion.  No,  if  I  were  thinking  of 
giving  up  my  liberty,  which,  while  Providence 
leaves  me  my  intelligence,  I  have  no  intention  of 
doing,  I'd  take  the  girl  with  the  hair  and  the  colour  ; 
roses  aren't  in  it,  anyway.  Didn't  catch  her  name. 
Got  her  down  as  silver  and  helio.  Do  you  go  by 
colour  ?  " 

"  Programme  ?  No— ears,  feet,  nose,  anything 
that  strikes  me." 

"  Must  read  a  bit  ogreish." 

"  No  matter.    Always  burn  'em." 

"  I  keep  mine.     Some  day,  when  I'm  old  and 


136  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

bald-headed,  I  shall  turn  them  out  and  regale 
myself  on  memories." 

His  eyes  were  still  fixed  on  Cecil.  She  was 
standing  with  her  back  to  a  mirror,  which  gave 
the  odd  but  pretty  suggestion  that  she  was  childishly 
measuring  her  height  with  another.  All  the  while 
she  was  alert  with  small  movements.  Her  eyes  and 
her  lips  were  busy. 

Bob's  eyes  had  followed  Monty's. 

"  Poor  old  Rod,"  he  said  shortly. 

"  Why  this  sudden  sympathy  ?  What  has  Roddy 
done  to  deserve  it  ?  " 

Bob  nodded  his  head  towards  the  group  at  the 
mirror. 

"  Don't  seem  any  room  for  him." 

Montague  paled  and  stiffened. 

'  You  don't  mean,  you  are  not  telling  me,  that 
that's— 

"  Rod's  girl."    Bob  nodded. 

Monty  tried  a  laugh.  It  did  not  come  off  very 
well. 

"  Lucky  beast,"  he  said  shortly.  He  had  looked 
away  from  Cecil. 

"Some  like  that  sort  of  thing,"  Bob  sputtered; 
'  'spose  it  flatters  'em.  I'd  like  my  girl  to  myself, 
thank  you." 

"  You  might  be  a  beastly  old  Pasha."  Monty 
kept  his  eyes  from  looking  at  Cecil,  though  a  half- 
glance  still  showed  him  the  back  of  her  head  in  the 
mirror.  The  way  her  hair  sprung  from  the  neck 
was  maddening.  The  realisation  of  its  impossi- 
bility had  lit  smouldering  attraction  into  leaping 
admiration.  It  was  just  his  luck,  he  told  him- 
self moodily.  So  far,  he  had  always  been  able  to 


THE  HERO  AND  HIS  FRIENDS      137 

have  all  he  wanted  and,  in  consequence,  had  never 
really  wanted  anything.  And  now,  something  he 
greatly  wanted  had  been  dangled  before  his  eyes, 
only  to  be  snatched  away  again,  out  of  his  reach. 
Rodney  Barett  was  a  capital  sort ;  but  there  was 
nothing  particular  about  him — looks  or  money 
or  anything.  His  people  were  more  or  less  unpre- 
sentable. And  here  he  had  romped  in  straight  away, 
a  winner ! 

"  See  you  again,"  Bob  was  saying.  "  This  is  Miss 
Barett's." 

His  pale  little  eyes  looked  eager. 

It  was  not  till  the  faint  light  of  dawn  was  begin- 
ning to  steal  in  at  the  windows  that  Linda  got  a 
few  precious  moments  with  Edith  Barett.  Even 
that  was  more  than  she  had  expected.  Edith  did 
not  dance  all  the  time  ;  though  in  great  request  as  a 
dancer,  she  was  often  to  be  seen,  quite  regardless  of 
the  movement  and  noise  about  her,  talking  to  some 
absorbed-looking  man,  or  with  a  group  of  earnest 
women,  some  of  whose  plainly  dressed  heads  rose 
rather  oddly  above  their  bare  shoulders,  as  though  it 
was  only  by  inadvertence  that  they  had  been  dressed 
at  all  for  the  evening.  And  always  hovering  some- 
where near  was  a  light-haired  little  man  with  the 
face  of  an  intelligent  guinea-pig. 

For  the  last  half-hour  the  room  had  been  percep- 
tibly thinning.  Now  and  again,  with  a  sighing 
sound,  petals  fell  from  the  massed  flowers  that  were 
weary  and  wilting.  The  shoe  of  Linda's  partner 
had  met  with  an  accident.  She  was  not  sorry  for  a 
few  unoccupied  moments  in  which  to  look  about 
her.  In  spite  of  the  sense  of  loss  and  depression 


138  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

that  came  over  her  occasionally,  she  could  not  but 
own  that  she  had  been  enjoying  herself.  It  was  a 
great  comfort  to  know  that,  even  when  you  had  no 
hope  of  the  best  thing  in  life,  it  was  not  all  empti- 
ness ;  people  had  not  ceased  to  be  interesting, 
rather  they  had  become  more  so.  More  than  ever 
before,  Linda  felt  herself  one  of  them.  All,  or 
nearly  all,  looked  bright  and  happy.  Perhaps  they 
were  thinking  the  same  thing  of  her.  Yet  there 
must  be  among  them,  sorrow,  anxiety,  trouble  of 
all  sorts.  It  was  an  exciting  thought,  giving  a  warm 
sense  of  being  bound  to  the  rest  by  a  bond  of 
sympathy. 

Finding  Linda  alone,  Edith  did  not  hesitate  to 
dismiss  her  partner  and  sink  with  a  sigh  of  relief 
into  a  neighbouring  chair. 

"  Was  he  very  heavy  ? ' '  Linda  asked  with  laughing 
sympathy. 

"  I've  known  worse ;  but  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you." 

"  How  '  dear  '  of  you." 

Edith  smiled. 

"  Don't  let's  waste  time  patting  one  another." 

"  Don't  you  like  being  patted  ?    I  do." 

"  I  want  to  talk  ;  and  your  partner  may  be  back 
any  minute." 

"  Can  they  put  a  heel  on  a  shoe  in  a  minute  ?  " 

"  I  expect  he'll  borrow  another." 

"  If  he  is  too  quick  I  can  send  him  away." 

"  You  won't.    You'll  want  to  finish  the  dance." 

"  Not  if  I  can  have  you  to  talk  to." 

"Please,  no  patting.  And  I  really  want  to  ask 
you  something — not  out  of  vulgar  curiosity.  Was 
Cecil  vexed  at  Rodney's  rushing  off  like  that  ? 


THE  HERO  AND  HIS  FRIENDS      139 

Myself,  I  hardly  know  what  to  think  about  it. 
Mother  said  it  was  hardly  '  the  thing '  on  his  part. 
I  ask  Mother  sometimes  what  '  the  thing '  is  which 
she  so  evidently  worships,  then  she  tells  me  not  to 
'  try  '  and  be  clever.  I  feel  so  small.  Father 
seemed  pleased,  though,  about  it.  He  backed 
Rodney's  going.  I  must  say  I  felt  sorry  for  Cecil. 
An  engaged  girl  naturally  expects  some  attention 
at  the  first,  at  all  events.  And  to-night — without 
him.  I  did  not  think  she  would  come." 

"  She  did  not  want  to.  There's  no  harm  in  telling 
you  she  really  was  angry." 

"  I  am  rather  glad  she  was,"  commented  Edith. 

"  Because  it  shows  she — cares  ?  " 

"  It  might  only  show  wounded  vanity.  Not  but 
what  I  think  she  does  care.  Only  I  don't  want  her 
to  be  too  yielding  with  Rodney." 

"  She  ought  to  yield  in  an  important  matter  like 
this." 

"  Because  she  ought  to  do  a  thing,"  stated  Edith, 
"  it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  better  for  him  that  she 
should  do  it." 

"  That  sounds  complicated." 

"  My  dear  child,  don't  you  know  that  the 
apparently  complicated  things  are  really  the 
simplest?  " 

"  Only  when  you've  found  the  solution." 

"  That  goes  without  saying." 

"  Supposing,  though,  you  do  not  find  it." 

"  Then  someone  enlightens  you  and  that  simpli- 
fies everything." 

"  How  does  it  apply  ?  " 

"  To  Rodney  or  to  Cecil  ?  "  asked  Edith. 

"  To  both  of  them." 


140  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  It  is  fatal  in  either  case,  should  they  conclude 
things  are  simple." 

"  I  used  to  think  " — Linda's  eyes  had  saddened — 
"  that  Love  would  simplify  everything.  You  had 
only  to  love  a  person  and  just  go  straight  on  loving." 

"  That  would  be  existing,  not  living." 

Linda  sighed. 

"  Why  can't  we  only  exist  ?  " 

"  Would  you  be  content  to  be  a  cabbage,  or  even 
the  slug  that  feeds  on  it  ?  You  don't  suppose  God 
made  us  in  His  own  Image  just  to  eat  holes  in 
cabbages  ?  " 

"  Some  hold,"  Linda  said  softly,  "  that  not  only 
man  but  every  created  thing  bears  the  stamp  of  His 
Divinity." 

"  '  Raise  the  stone/  "  quoted  Edith,  "  '  and  there 
thou  shalt  find  Me  ;  cleave  the  wood,  and  there  am 
I.'  To  the  wood,  to  the  stone,  He  gives  of  Himself ; 
but  that  does  not  say  that  He  desires  no  more  of 
mind  and  spirit  than  He  does  of  stone  or  wood.  It 
is  not  for  nothing  that  we  feel  urged,  compelled, 
flogged  on  to  greater  efforts,  higher  heights.  Once 
press  forward  and  there  is  no  going  back.  Once  it 
might  have  been  possible  for  life  to  have  remained 
simple  for  you  ;  only  because  you  would  have  been 
blind.  But  now  your  eyes  are  opened,  already  you 
have  raised  the  stone,  have  cleaved  the  wood  ;  you 
have  no  choice  now  but  to  take  your  share  of  the 
burden." 

Linda  thrilled  as  to  a  trumpet  call ;  yet  was  able 
to  thrust  the  thoughts  of  herself,  her  own  life  on 
one  side,  while  she  asked  : 

"  But  what  has  this  to  do  with  Cecil — and  your 
brother  ?  " 


THE  HERO  AND  HIS  FRIENDS     141 

"  Because,"  Edith  answered  deliberately,  "  I 
believe  you  are  destined  to  influence  both  of  them. 
You  are  Cecil's  great  friend,  she  looks  up  to 
you " 

"  No,  indeed.  Always  it  has  been  the  other  way 
about." 

"  You  have  both  thought  so.  But  it  has  been 
only  in  outward  seeming.  And  now  more  and 
more  she  will  take  her  line  from  you.  Don't  yield 
to  her,  Linda.  It  is  at  your  peril  you  yield  an 
inch." 

"  Why  my  peril  ?  " 

"  Because,  if  you  yield,  you  drag  her  down  instead 
of  drawing  her  up.  Our  influence,  has  it  ever 
struck  you,  must  draw  others  up  or  drag  them 
down,  continually.  The  responsibility  is  awful— 

"  I  daren't  think  of  it  so,"  Linda  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I  should  be  afraid — afraid  lest  something 
should  break.  Yet  it  is  an  enthralling  idea.  I 
would  like  to  exchange  my  own  for  it." 

"  What  is  yours  ?  " 

"  Only  that  the  world  is  thick  with  cobwebs, 
hanging  in  space,  grey  and  drifting.  They  hide  us 
one  from  the  other." 

"  Perhaps,  if  we  saw  more  clearly,  they  would  be 
cords,  binding." 

"They  might."  Linda  looked  wistful.  "  I  often 
think,"  she  said,  starting  off  at  a  tangent,  "  people 
like  Cecil  have  the  best  of  it.  They  just  go  on, 
saying  and  doing  whatever  occurs  to  them  ;  they 
are  always  happy,  and  everybody  likes  them." 

"  Some  people  do  right  by  instinct.  But  I  would 
rather  do  right,  painfully,  for  the  sake  of  the 
right." 


142  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"Why— I  wonder?" 

"  Because  it  implies  effort.  Effort  cleanses  as 
well  as  strengthens.  When  we  were  children  we 
had  daily  marks  for  good  conduct.  It  was  all  so 
easy  to  Rodney  that  he  was  quite  annoyed  if  he  had 
anything  less  than  '  Excellent.'  I  would  wage  a 
long  day's  battle  for  merely  '  Good.'  ' 

"  That  seems  to  prove  my  point.  It  is  better  to 
take  things  easily.  Rodney  attained  more  with  less 
trouble." 

"  That  covers  the  easiest  of  life's  pitfalls.  To 
attain  without  trouble  has  wrecked  more  lives 
than  half  the  recognised  and  tabulated  vices." 

"  You  value  the  need  for  fighting  ?  " 

"  Moral  battles — yes." 

"  And  how  am  I  to  help  Cecil  and — Rodney  ?  " 

"  By  preventing  them  from  attaining  too  easily." 

"  You  are  cryptic." 

"  Yet  I  believe  you  know  what  I  mean." 

Linda  thought  a  minute. 

"  Perhaps  I  do,  only  I  cannot  explain  it." 

"  Neither  can  I  explain  it,"  said  Edith. 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE   HERO  IS  DISCUSSED 

THE  Wolneys  called  on  the  Baretts. 

"Thank  Heaven,  they  were  out,"  Mrs.  Wolney 
stated  on  her  return. 

"  Better  beard  lions  in  their  den,  than  receive 
them  in  your  own  sheepfold,"  Mr.  Wolney  sug- 
gested. 

"  But  the  Baretts  are  by  no  means  lions,"  she 
objected.  "  Lions  are  nice  things,  they  do  parlour 
tricks,  and  never  pick  their  teeth  in  public.  I  am 
really  afraid  of  these  Baretts." 

"  You  afraid  ?    Tell  me  another." 

"  I  am  though — afraid  of  their  influence  with 
Cecil." 

He  cast  jesting  aside.  "  I  think  our  little  girl  is 
too  well-bred,  to  say  nothing  of  her  up-bringing." 

"  Not  that."  Mrs.  Wolney  answered  his  meaning 
rather  than  his  words.  "  I  am  afraid  of  the  contrast. 
She  will  get  to  think  too  much  of  herself.  I  have 
moments  of  doubt,  when  I  fancy  we  have  spoilt 
Cecil." 

He  laughed  easily. 

"  That  won't  wash.  Would  she  be  such  a  favour- 
ite  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wolney  shrugged  her  shoulders.    She  was 


144  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

still  a  pretty  woman,  a  sort  of  photogravure 
replica  of  the  artist's  proof  etching  that  was  her 
daughter. 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,  every  one  spoils  Cecil." 

He  laughed  again. 

"  Then  we  need  not  take  the  burden  on  our 
shoulders.  What  are  we  among  so  many  ?  " 

"  They  have  no  responsibility." 

"  Responsibility  be — shirked,  evaded  ;  Cecil's  a 
good  girl,  and  pretty — favourite  with  all  sorts.  I 
don't  see  what  more  you  want  of  her." 

"  I  don't  myself,  exactly."  Mrs.  Womey's  voice 
lacked  assurance.  Then  she  said,  more  decidedly, 
"  While  we  are  on  the  subject  "  —  which,  of  course, 
they  were,  mentally — "  I'd  like  to  know  just  what 
you  think  of  young  Barett — Rodney  I  ought  to  call 
him.  I  can't  get  into  it,  somehow.  It  seems  to  me 
he  ought  to  be  Philip.  There's  something  strong 
and  a  little  devil-me-care  about  '  Rodney.'  Now 
'  Philip  '  sounds  gentle,  well-mannered,  and  amiable. 
That  is  about  all  you  can  say  of  young  Barett." 

'  You  think  Cecil  should  not  have  chosen   a 
Philip  ?  " 

"  I  had  always  intended  a  strong  type  of  man  for 
her.  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

Her  husband  ruminated  a  moment  before  he 
answered. 

"  He  knows  a  decent  cigar  when  it's  offered  him, 
and  can  play  a  good  game  of  billiards." 

"  My  dear — for  a  son-in-law  !  " 

"  I  don't  see  I'm  so  far  out  of  it.  The  former 
proves  him  a  man  of  the  world ;  the  latter — a  straight 
eye's  not  to  be  despised,  anyhow,  nor  the  power  of 
keeping  your  temper." 


THE   HERO   IS  DISCUSSED          145 

Mrs.  Wolney  sighed. 

"  I  suppose  he  is  very  fond  of  her." 

'  That  certainly  seems  a  very  good  reason  why  he 
should  choose  her." 

Mrs.  Wolney  coloured. 

"  One  may  suppose  —  after  Cambridge  —  he'd 
hardly  want  one  of  their  set." 

"  My  dear,  it  isn't  like  you  to  be  snobbish.  As 
for  that,  a  lot  of  people  seem  to  know7  them.  The 
mother  is  said  to  be  of  quite  a  good  family." 

"I  own  it  might  have  been  worse" — this  rather 
petulantly ;  "a  'Varsity  man  is  something,  at  all 
events." 

"  A  snob,  that's  what  you  are,  and  you  can't  deny 
it !  "  he  told  her  good-naturedly. 

"  So  is  everyone,  for  that  matter,"  she  returned 
with  equal  good  humour.  "  A  very  good  thing 
too,  or  what  would  become  of  class  distinc- 
tions ?  " 

"  We  might  possibly  get  on  without  them." 

"  I  hate  fruit  salads,  mixed  grills,  and  all  kinds 
of  things  jumbled  together.  And  we  couldn't  get 
on  with  no  one  to  despise  and  no  one  to  envy.  I 
don't  deny  I  would  have  liked  Cecil  to  marry — say 
an  Honourable " 

"  With  a  distant  chance  of  a  peerage  !  " 

"  Not  too  distant  a  chance.  I  suppose  we  worldly 
mothers  all  see  a  phantom  coronet  hovering  over 
the  cradle  of  our  girl-babies."  She  sighed  and 
threw  out  her  hands.  "  We  always  said,  though, 
we  would  not  interfere,  and  we  haven't.  It  is  a 
comfort  to  know  he  is  fond  of  her." 

"  And  she  of  him  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wolney  coloured,  quite  prettily. 


146  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  Girls  don't  tell  these  things  to  their  mothers." 
At  that  Mr.  Wolney  dropped  his  air  of  a  jester. 
He  looked  solemn  and  tender.    He  held  out  his  arms 
to  his  wife,  a  moment  he  looked  into  her  eyes,  then 
he  bent  down  and  kissed  her. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THE   FATHER   OF  THE   HERO 

As  regards  the  return  call  of  the  Baretts,  Mrs. 
Wolney's  prayer  of  faith  was  granted  ;  she  was  out. 
It  fell  to  Linda  to  support  Cecil  in  the  big  grey  and 
pale  rose  drawing-room,  which,  by  the  way,  Jere- 
miah Barett  considered  a  washed-out  affair  and  not 
a  patch  on  the  blue-rep  Victorian  triumph  at 
home. 

Cecil,  if  not  exactly  nervous,  was  '  jumpy.'  She 
was  glad  her  own  people  were  out,  she  did  not  want 
them  to  meet  Rodney's  more  than  was  inevitable  ; 
but  she  felt  at  heart  she  would  be  thankful  when  the 
next  half-hour  was  safely  over. 

Against  the  grey  walls  and  unencumbered 
spaciousness  of  her  home-surroundings,  old  Brassy- 
shine  looked  even  more  vulgar  than  she  had  pic- 
tured him.  At  the  same  time,  she  was  conscious 
that  had  Jeremiah  been  on  the  stage,  or  in  a  book, 
it  was  quite  possible  she  would  have  loved  him. 
It  was  the  thought  of  belonging  to  him,  of  him  as 
part  of  her  intimate  belongings,  that  scared  her. 
Did  you  have  to  kiss  your  father-in-law  ?  she 
wondered.  The  thought  was  a  nightmare  ! 

To  begin  with,  he  put  his  hat  under  his  chair  ! 
Cecil  greeted  him  prettily,  fussed  a  little  over  him, 

1 47 


148  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

and  left  him  to  Linda,  comforting  herself  with  the 
thought  that  Mrs.  Barett,  though  the  very  last  thing 
in  boredom,  was  comparatively  harmless.  Her 
voice,  at  all  events,  was  not  rasping,  though  there 
were  times  when  Cecil  could  have  shaken  her  for 
her  plaintive  gentleness. 

They  talked  Hats,  and  Sale  Bargains  ;  Italy — 
neither  had  been  there ;  Servants — things  of  whose 
existence  beyond  the  flutter  of  white  caps  and 
aprons  Cecil  was  hardly  aware  ;  Theatres — Mrs. 
Barett  thought  Music  Halls  rather  wicked.  They 
also  touched,  in  a  Daily  Mail  sort  of  way,  on  the 
world's  doings.  Mrs.  Barett,  struck  by  Cecil's 
intelligence — which  was  really  tact,  a  much  more 
valuable  attribute — began  to  consider  herself  for- 
tunate in  her  future  daughter. 

As  for  old  Barett,  he  started  conversation  with 
Linda  in  a  most  embarrassing  fashion  by  the  thrust 
direct  of 

"  Well,  young  lady,  and  what  have  you  got  to 
say  for  yourself  ?  " 

Linda  thought  her  own  rejoinder  neat. 

"  That  depends  on  how  far  you  are  interested." 

He  settled  himself  comfortably  into  his  chair.  It 
didn't  matter  at  all  to  Linda  that  his  hat  was  under 
it.  There  was  a  touch  of  pleasant  and  expectant 
humour  about  his  mouth,  as  he  answered  : 

"  I  am  interested  in  everything  and  everybody. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  if  I  was  to  live  two  hundred,  five 
hundred,  years  I'd  be  as  interested  at  the  end  as  at 
the  beginning.  There's  not  a  word  spoken,  there's 
nothing,  not  even  "—his  eyes  twinkled — "  a  bit  of 
fluff  that  works  up  off  the  carpet,  but  what  finds  me 
profoundly  interested,  sets  me  thinking." 


THE  FATHER  OF  THE  HERO   149 

Linda  laughed.  "  Am  I  to  infer  that  you  class  me 
with  fluff  off  carpets  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  You  slipped  my  meaning.  I  don't 
say  equally  interesting,  but  all  interesting.  Some 
ways  are  jog-trot,  some  adventurous,  some  full  of 
beauty.  They  have  one  thing  in  common,  they  all 
lead  somewhere." 

"  Do  you  value  them  on  that  count,  or  for  their 
intrinsic  interest  ?  " 

"  For  both.  A  young  lady  like  you,  now  ;  I  take 
pleasure  in  your  eyes  and  your  frock.  I've  seen 
flowers  just  that  colour,  and  found  it  in  the  broken 
pools  of  a  trout  river.  Then  I  value  your  youth  and 
your  kindliness  in  giving  some  of  your  time  to  a 
funny  fat  old  fellow  who  hasn't  had  the  education 
of  the  people  you  are  used  to.  But  it  is  the  unknown 
that  excites  me.  Where  may  the  thoughts  I  get 
from  you  lead  me  ?  What  influence  will  you  have 
on  me  and  those  I  care  f or  ?  " 

It  was  a  queer  thing.  Rodney  and  his  father 
were  utterly  different  in  appearance,  voice,  and 
manner ;  and  yet,  whilst  the  old  man  was  speaking, 
in  a  way  Linda  felt  Rodney's  presence,  as  though 
he  were  standing  quite  near  and  smiling.  She  felt 
drawn  towards  Rodney's  father. 

The  babble  from  the  other  two  was  unceasing  : 
Mrs.  Barett's  slow  snipped-off  phrases,  Cecil's  care- 
less rise  and  fall  of  voice,  and  her  laughter. 

Jeremiah  leant  forward  a  little ;  words  were 
coming,  and  an  introductory  smile  twitched  at  his 
mouth. 

Suddenly  Linda  grasped  at  the  likeness.  The  old 
man  smiled  just  as  Rodney  smiled.  She  began  to 
take  pleasure  in  being  near  him. 


150  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  Now  I  want  to  know  " — he  was  saying  pon- 
derously— "  what  young  madam  thought  of  her 
sweetheart  bolting  away  to  Scotland  ?  " 

Linda  felt  herself  checked.  Colouring  vividly, 
she  answered  : 

"  Had  you  not  better  ask  that  of  Cecil  ?  " 

"  But  I  want  an  answer,"  he  returned  naively. 
"  She'd  put  me  off  somehow  with  a  laugh  and  a  look. 
You  know  she  would." 

"  Would  she  not  be  wise  ?  " 

"  Wise  ?  Young  things  are  not  wise  ;  not  after 
they've  learned  our  language.  Not  wise  but,  as  all 
weak  things  are,  they  are  cunning." 

"  Why  should  you  expect  me  to  be  any  wiser  than 
Cecil  ?  "' 

"  I  don't,"  he  said  bluntly.  "  I  expect  you  to  be 
truthful." 

"  Is  truth  not  wisdom  ?  " 

"  Only  in  a  way  that  young  eyes  are  too  far-sighted 
to  fathom." 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  veil  it,  veil  it  with  chiffon. 
If  you'd  let  me,  I  could  show  you  in  a  moment," 
Cecil's  voice  broke  in  with  ringing  clarity. 

"Fripperies!"  Jeremiah  gave  a  nod  and  smile 
towards  the  others.  "  I  don't  doubt  young  madam 
has  extravagant  notions.  But  if  it's  anything 
the  wife  wants,  or  she  wants  herself,  for  that 
matter,  when  the  time  comes"  — he  jingled  the 
coins  in  his  pocket  —  "well,  I  can  pay  for  it. 
You  can  make  your  mind  easy  on  that  point,  young 
lady." 

At  the  words  and  action  a  barrier  seemed  to  leap 


THE  FATHER  OF  THE  HERO   151 

up  between  him  and  Linda  ;  but  the  unseen 
presence  of  Rodney  was  on  her  side  of  the  bar- 
rier. There  must  be  times  when  he  found  his 
father  trying  and — it  was  no  good  mincing  words 
— vulgar.  Why  didn't  Rodney  tell  him  not  to  wet 
his  hair,  jingle  his  coins,  and  call  people  '  young 
lady '  ? 

But  the  very  next  moment  Jeremiah  seemed  to 
peer  wistfully  over  the  barrier. 

"I'm  blunt  and  plain,"  he  stated;  "but  it's 
Rodney's  happiness  I'm  thinking  of.  He's  a  right 
good  lad,  and  I  want  him  to  be  happy." 

"  Your  daughter  Edith  thinks  we  ought  not  to 
aim  at  individual  happiness." 

He  smiled  sunnily. 

"  She's  a  lot  younger  than  me,  is  Edith.  When 
she  comes  to  my  time  of  life  she'll  be  jolly  glad, 
looking  back,  to  think  she's  made  a  one  or  two,  here 
and  there,  a  bit  happier.  She'll  be  glad,  too,  to 
know  as  she's  been  happy  herself  when  she'd  the 
chance  of  it.  In  her  own  way,  Edith  is  right  down 
happy." 

"  You  think,  as  I  do — we  have  a  right  to  hap- 
piness ?  " 

He  pulled  at  one  of  his  wet,  grey  locks. 

"  Can't  say  about  '  right.'  When  a  man  goes  for 
his  '  rights,'  he  generally  comes  up  against  his 
'  wrongs.'  I  do  know  this — there's  nothing  one  half 
so  comfortable  as  happiness." 

'  Your  own,  or  other  people's  ?  " 

"  My  own  first  and  the  rest  a  good  second." 

"  Ought  it  not  to  be  the  other  way  round  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  talking  about  what  ought,  but  what 
is." 


152  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  And  you  " — she  asked,  wistfully — "  you  really 
are.  happy  ?  "  It  seemed  marvellous  to  think 
you  might  be  fat,  and  bald,  and  old,  and  yet 
happy. 

"  Happy  ?  'Course  I  am,  and  Mamma  there — 
and,  as  I  said,  Edith.  And  I  don't  mean  to  stand 
by  " — his  tone  and  air  were  pugnacious — "  and  see 
Roddy  anything  else  but  happy." 

"  But — can  you  ensure  it  ?  I  mean,  everyone 
wants  their  sons  and  daughters  and — everybody  to 
be  happy ;  yet — think  of  all  the  misery  !  " 

Jeremiah  set  his  jaw  and  thrust  his  hands  more 
deeply  into  his  pockets. 

"  Weakness,  all  of  it.  If  you're  only  strong 
enough,  you  can  make  sure  of  it  for  yourself  and 
your  children." 

At  that  moment  old  Barett's  weakness  was  clear 
to  Linda,  and  she  loved  him  for  it. 

He  smiled,  and  the  tension  was  relaxed. 

"  Young  lady  !  See  here,  you've  been  wandering 
me,  like  the  man  with  the  white  elephant.  Now  I'm 
big  and  fat,  but  I'm  not  quite  an  elephant,  and  I 
object  to  be  wandered.  So  now,  please,  you'll  just 
tell  me  all  about  Miss  Cecil  and  Master  Rodney." 
He  dropped  his  voice  confidentially  as  he  added, 
"It's  very  important  to  me,  this  is." 

"  I  think/'  Linda  began, "  I  know,"  she  amended — 
she  had  a  feeling  that  nothing  but  the  exact  truth 
would  satisfy  Rodney's  father — "  I  know  she  was 
angry  at  first,  but  it  soon  passed.  They  parted  as 
friends  and " 

"  They  parted  friends,  did  they  ?  " 

Old  Barett  did  not  seem  so  pleased  as  he  ought 
to  have  been  at  the  assurance.  And  suddenly  the 


THE  FATHER  OF  THE  HERO   153 

stupendous  idea  dawned  upon  Linda  that  he  did 
not  particularly  want  Cecil  for  Rodney ;  was,  perhaps, 
blind  enough  to  doubt  that  Cecil  would  make  his 
son  happy.  She  lifted  her  eyes,  they  expressed 
incredulity. 

'  Yes,"  said  Jeremiah,  "  that's  just  about  the 
long  and  short  of  it." 

"What  is?" 

"  What  you  think." 

Linda  dropped  her  eyes.  Her  heart  beat  a 
little  more  quickly.  The  thing  seemed  almost 
uncanny. 

The  old  man  leant  forward,  grasping  the  arms  of 
his  chair.  The  fragile  Sheraton  protested. 

'  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said  in  a  burring 
whisper,  "  I  don't.  A  fair-weather  wife  is  that  sort. 
Roddy  needs  something  with  a  bit  of  grit  in  her, 
chance  a  storm  comes." 

"  But  I  thought  " — Linda  lifted  her  eyes  defiantly 
— "  your  son  was  to  have  nothing  but  happi- 
ness ?  " 

"Aye,  lass!"— he  threw  himself  back,  his  face 
grown  dull  and  heavy — "  aye  !  that  is,  if  I  had  the 
ordering  of  it.  But  there  " — he  thrust  out  a  gnarled, 
splay-fingered  hand — "  there  is  happiness  to  be 
gleaned  after  sorrow.  And  thank  the  Lord  for  it. 
What  says  the  Marriage  Service  ? — '  For  richer,  for 
poorer,  in  sickness  and  in  health,  to  love  and  to 
cherish,  till  death  us  do  part ' — till  death  us  do 
part — and  then  not  for  long,"  he  added,  looking 
across  at  his  wife,  who  was  talking  to  Cecil  with  an 
anaemic  kind  of  animation.  Linda's  eyes  followed 
his.  Mrs.  Barett's  clothes  were  handsome,  but  all 
'  wrong.'  A  little  futile,  commonplace  woman  she 


154  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

was,  yet,  as  he  gazed  at  her,  old  Jeremiah's  bright 
eyes  misted. 

"That's  the  sort,"  he  said,  "that's  the  test. 
Poverty  and  struggle ;  children ;  pinching  here, 
managing  there ;  and  always  a  cheery  smile  and  a 
hand  to  help,  however  weary  it  might  be.  When  yon 
come  to  think  of  it,  I'm  like  to  be  hard  to  satisfy  for 
Rodney." 

Linda  felt  her  eyes  fill. 

"  All  the  same,"  she  said,  "I  do  believe  you 
are  wrong.  You  cannot  really  know  anyone  till 
they  are  tried.  I  am  quite  sure  that  there  is 
more,  far  more,  in  Cecil  than  you  give  her  credit 
for." 

"  Yes,  kind  but  firm.  You  have  to  be  firm  with 
servants." 

The  flying  vision  of  black  with  white  apron  strings 
had  no  attraction  for  Cecil,  but  on  the  subject  Mrs. 
Barett  was  plaintively  prolix. 

"  That  is  possible,"  Jeremiah  said  moodily ;  "  but 
supposing  the  trial  came  too  late  and  didn't  turn 
out  well.  How  about  Rodney  ?  " 

Yes,  how  about  Rodney,  then  ?  The  question 
echoed  hollowly  in  Linda's  heart.  How  about 
Rodney  ?  She  pulled  herself  together,  snapped  out 
'  jealous  !  '  to  her  inner  self,  and  aloud  : 

"If  trials  do  come,  I  rather  think  you  will  be 
surprised  in  Cecil." 

"  I  trust  so ;  we  must  trust  so,  dear  young  lady ; 
and  yet 

Just  then  Cecil  appealed  to  Linda  for  the  for- 
gotten name  of  some  obscure  milliner. 


THE  FATHER  OF  THE  HERO        155 

"  Anything,  anything,"  as  she  said  afterwards, 
feverishly,  "  to  deliver  me  from  that  concentrated 
essence  of  boredom,  Mamma  Barett.  The  old  man's 
pretty  awful,  but,  at  least,  he  is  a  man.  It  was  too 
bad  of  you,  Linda,  to  monopolise  him." 


CHAPTER    XVII 

QUESTIONS   THE   HERO'S   CHOICE 

EDITH  and  her  father  had  a  habit  of  talking  cosily 
together  after  '  Mamma  '  had  '  retired  to  rest.' 

The  days  were  far  off,  pale  as  a  dream  in  recollec- 
tion, when,  long  after  midnight,  '  Mamma  '  had  sat 
close  under  a  gas-light,  patching  small  clothes,  or 
casting  up  household  accounts  with  a  view  to  deter- 
mine the  accuracy  of  each  highly  important  half- 
penny. Mrs.  Barett  enjoyed — it  is  obvious  she 
must  have  enjoyed — her  present  life  of  ease  ;  but  it 
is  a  fact  that  invariably  she  would  begin  to  suppress 
her  yawns  about  nine-thirty  ;  and,  after  continual 
glances  at  the  clock,  punctually  at  ten  she  would 
fold  her  fancy-work,  or  shut  up  her  novel  decidedly. 
This  was  the  signal  for  '  Papa's '  unfailing  remark 
about  beauty  sleep,  and  her  trite  rejoinder  : 

'  Pray  don't  sit  up  too  late ;  you  know  you've  to 
be  up  in  the  morning.' 

Fond  as  they  were  of  '  Mamma,'  it  was  always 
with  a  certain  sense  of  relief  father  and  daughter 
heard  the  door  close  (very  gently)  behind  her. 

The  evenings  were  mostly  spent  in  the  study. 
The  Victorian  tradition  of  handsomely  furnishing 
several  large  rooms  and  habitually  occupying  a 
small  one  was  naturally  observed  in  the  House  of 
Barett.  The  study  was  lined  with  books.  These 

156 


QUESTIONS  THE  HERO'S  CHOICE     157 

had  been  supplied  in  uniform  binding  by  the 
furnishing  firm  that  had  '  done '  the  big  house 
for  Jeremiah  Barett.  He  was  no  reader  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word ;  yet  no  one  ever 
enjoyed  a  library  of  books  more  than  Jeremiah. 
The  sense  of  their  companionship  warmed — the 
thought  of  their  ownership  enriched — him ;  then,  too, 
at  any  moment  he  might- stretch  forth  a  hand  and 
draw  out  a  smooth  leather-bound  volume  with  a 
pleasant  luxury  of  touch,  open  it  haphazard  and 
find  words  of  wisdom  and  beauty — something  that 
would  strike  him  as  absolutely  original  yet  sur- 
prisingly true.  At  times  he  was  positively  frightened, 
with  a  pleasant,  surprised  sort  of  fear,  when  he 
found  some  formless,  incoherent  thought  of  his  own 
that  had  hovered  just  out  of  his  reach,  alluring  and 
baffling,  caught  and  set  down  plainly  on  the  page 
before  him. 

To-night,  awaiting  '  Mamma's  '  departure,  he  kept 
a  blunt-ended  finger  between  the  leaves  of  his  book  ; 
he  hurried  the  beauty-sleep  joke,  and  positively 
galloped  over  his  little  nightly  observance  of 
opening  and  closing  the  door.  In  truth,  he  hardly- 
concealed  his  anxiety  to  see  the  last  of  his  '  good 
lady.'  He  often  called  her  that ;  she  gave  an 
answering  '  bridle  '  (the  art  went  out  with,  good 
Queen  Victoria)  and  counted  it  as  a  compli- 
ment. 

"  See  here,  Edith,"  he  said  as  he  plumped  back 
into  his  easy-chair  with  a  force  that  set  the  castors 
rolling  back  from  the  hearth.  The  night  was  warm 
and  the  fireplace  appropriately  hidden  by  a  screen. 
Seaweed,  ferns,  dried  grasses  and  butterflies  were  all 
pressed  flat  between  the  double  glass  of  it. 


158  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  See  here,  my  lass.    Talking  of  happiness " 

No  one  had  been  talking  of  it. 

"  Now,  you  look  here.    I  opened  this  book  just 
anywhere — in  the  only  fashion  a  book  should  be 
opened — and  see  here,  what  it  had  for  me — 
Slightly  waving  the  book  to  emphasise  the  points,  he 
read  out  in  his  rasping  voice  : 

"  '  I  call  any  creature  '  happy  '  that  can  love 
or  that  can  exult  in  the  sense  of  life  :  and  I  hold 
the  kinds  of  happiness  common  to  children  and 
lambs,  to  girls  and  birds,  to  good  servants  and  good 
dogs,  for  no  less  God-like  than  the  most  refined 
raptures  of  contemplation  attained  to  by  philo- 
sophers.' ' 

"  That's  Ruskin,"  said  Edith. 

"  That's  sense,  which  is  more  to  the  point.  And 
truth,  which  is  more  important  still.  I  don't  care 
a  hang  who  is  it  says  a  thing ;  it  is  what  he  has  to 
say  as  matters  to  me.  Children,  lambs,  birds  and 
girls — they  know,  bless  'em,  as  they've  a  clear 
right  to  be  happy — 

"  Or  are  happy  without  knowing  anything 
about  it." 

"  Anyway,  they've  the  right.  I'm  not  clever 
like  you,  Edith — not  with  that  sort  of  cleverness.  I 
can't  take  words,  like  '  Mamma '  does  her  silks,  and 
make  patterns  and  things.  But  I  can  see  what's 
true,  plain  as  any  man,  or  any  woman  either.  And 
I've  said  once,  and  I  say  it  again — we  was  meant 
to  be  happy." 

"  That  is  what  Linda  says."  Edith  was  sitting 
back  in  her  chair,  her  attitude,  as  always,  just  a 
little  studiedly  graceful. 


QUESTIONS  THE  HERO'S  CHOICE     159 

Her  father  looked  up  sharply,  shut-to  his  book 
and  replaced  it  in  the  book-case  at  his  elbow. 

"That  young  lady,"  he  said,  "  has  got  a  lot  of 
sense  in  that  little  head  of  hers  —  though  it  is  a 
pretty  one,  an'  all." 

"  You  think  her  pretty  ?  "  Edith  was  sufficiently 
feminine  to  be  discursive  when  it  was  a  question  of 
another  woman's  looks. 

"  I  do."  Jeremiah  banged  his  hand  down  with 
unnecessary  violence  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  It 
was  solid  Victorian,  yet  it  emitted  a  little  gasping 
breath  of  dust  as  a  protest. 

"  To  my  taste,"  the  old  man  went  on,  "  that 
little  lady's  a  sight  bonnier  than  young  madam. 
Young  madam  does  to  look  at  for  a  bit,  like  a  picture ; 
but  t'other's  sort 's  like  a  book  ;  you'll  not  tire  of  it. 
Always  something  fresh  to  please  you."  He  brought 
his  hands  together  on  his  knee.  "  You'd  tire 
sooner,  wouldn't  you,  of  a  picture  than  a  book, 
any  day?  " 

He  bent  forward  and  gazed  with  apparent  interest 
at  a  flattened  butterfly  in  the  fire-screen,  while  he 
murmured  : 

"  Don't  like  it.  Sort  of  dressed-up  to  catch  the 
eye.  Don't  satisfy  you  inside,  it  doesn't." 

Then  he  went  on  confidentially  : 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Edith "  he  glanced 

up  at  the  closed  door  and  appeared  to  listen.  Never 
once  had  '  Mamma '  returned  after  her  ten-o'clock 
departure. 

Jeremiah  nodded. 

"  I  wouldn't  unsettle  her  mind  about  it ;  but  I 
wish — I  do  wish  Rod  had  chosen  the  other.  I  have 
a  curious  feeling  he  oughter  'a  chosen  the  other. 


160  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

You  know  how  he  spoke  about  her  when  he  came 
back  from  Cornwall.  Not  that  exactly  ;  but  little 
things  he  let  drop.  Straws,  I  did  think,  to  show 
which  way  tide  was  setting.  1  thought,  at  the  time, 
to  see  further  than  he  did,  and  I  says  to  myself— 
'  Ho !  ho !  so  you'll  be  bringing  me  home  a  daughter ! ' 
And  I  wasn't  jealous  a  bit  that  I  can  swear  to — I 
seemed  to  warm  to  the  thoughts  of  her.  The  name 
—Linda  Ray.  It  was  the  way  he  spoke  her  name 
seemed  to  tell  me  ;  so  as  you  could  see  the  sunlight 
pouring  dowrn  through  the  lime  trees  and  hear  the 
bees,  humming  away,  rare  and  busy  over  the 
honey." 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  head. 

"  Seems  I  was  on  the  wrong  track,  all  the  time,  I 
was.  Fact  was,  I  had  an  idea  just  before  he  went 
off — he  did  go  off  rather  sudden — that  young  madam 
had  given  him  the  go-by.  I  never  thought  much 
about  that.  A  young  chap  will  be  after  the  petti- 
coats, and  as  I  said  to  him,  soon  as  ever  I  saw  the 

down  on  his  chin,  '  There's  safety  in  numbers 

Well,  well '  he  clasped  his  hands  tightly,  the 

big  coarse  thumbs  up-sticking.   "Tell  me,  lass,  what 
do  you  think  about  it  ?  " 

"  In  the  end,"  she  said  slowly,  "  in  the  end  it 
may  be  the  best  thing  for  Rodney." 

"  In  the  end  ?  "  He  considered  her  words.  "  In 
the  end  ?  Do  you  think  she'll  make  the  boy 
happy  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  Edith  stated  deliberately,  "  she  will 
make  him  very  unhappy.  But  that  may  be  the 
best  thing  for  Rodney." 

Jeremiah  shook  his  head. 

"  Now  you  go  against  Nature.    Happiness  is  the 


true  fulfilling  of  the  Law.  The  Law  is  order — un- 
happiness,  disorder." 

"  Strength  comes  out  of  disorder.  Rodney 
needs  strength.  Father,  you  have  erred  in  kindness. 
You  have  made  life  too  easy  for  both  of  us." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  that  I  haven't.  I've  but  cleared  the  way 
of  the  things  that  hinder.  Life  without  a  helping 
hand  is  like  bricks  without  straw,  and  you  have 
the  Bible  for  that.  Maybe,  you'll  make  the  bricks, 
if  you're  not  over  and  above  disheartened  ;  but 
you  won't  make  many — and  they'll  not  be  good 
bricks,  not  up  to  sample,  anyway." 

He  spoke  heatedly.  Edith  wondered  how  she 
had  hurt  him.  Long  ago  she  had  recognised  the 
sensitive  soul  under  her  father's  rough  exterior  ; 
for  a  long  time  now  it  had  been  the  sensitive  soul 
she  had  held  as  father. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  gently,  "  you  did  your 
best,  always,  for  both  of  us ;  and  I  may  be  mis- 
taken about  Rodney." 

"  I  back  your  opinion  against  the  rest."  He  spoke 
without  assurance,  though,  and  cautiously. 

"  I  can't  see,"  Edith  said,  "  that  it  is  really  our 
part  to  help  or  to  hinder.  Rodney  has  made  his 
choice.  Only  Time  can  show  the  wisdom  or  un- 
wisdom of  it." 

"It  is  her  we  want  to  prove,"  Jeremiah  said, 
almost  furtively.  "  To  prove  before  it  is  too  late, 
that  is." 

"  She'll  come  out  all  right,"  Edith  said  hastily. 
"  Otherwise  Linda  Ray  would  not  think  so  much 
of  her." 

"  That  does  not  follow.    Girls  read  themselves 


162  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

into  their  friends.  Any  flesh  and  blood  serves  to 
clothe  an  ideal.  And  then  they'll  turn  round 
and  abuse  it.  Might  as  well  blame  the  man  whose 
ready-mades  are  too  small  for  him." 

"  He  is  to  blame  for  not  choosing  more  wisely." 

"  What  if  they've  been  given,  thrust  on  to  the 
poor  beggar " 

For  a  few  minutes  there  was  silence.  Then 
Jeremiah  rolled  his  chair  close  to  his  daughter's  ; 
grasping  the  arms,  shuffling  his  feet  to  do  it  whilst 
still  seated. 

"I  have  been  thinking  hard,"  he  said.  "I  want 
to  get  hold  of  something  as' 11  prove  just  how  much 
there  is  in  young  madam.  And  if,  at  the  same 

time,  we  can  test  Rodney You  yourself  said 

he'd  be  better  to  find  himself  sharp  up  against 
something Must  shirk  or  climb  over " 

"  Yes,"  Edith  said,  smiling. 

"  You  seem  to  be  pretty  sure  of  him  !  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  Rodney." 

"  And  of  young  madam  ?  " 

"  Does  she  come  into  it  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I've  to  work  out  at  present." 

"  You  have  a  plan,  then  ?  " 

"  Only  this  minute." 

"  Am  I  to  know  it  ?  " 

"  No— better  not." 

"  It  is  taking  form,  then  ?  " 

"He  laughed. 

"  It's  a  wick  'un,  this  idea  of  mine,  already." 
He  rubbed  his  hands  on  his  knees.  "  It'll  be  a  bit 
of  fun  too — good  as  a  play  for  some  of  us." 

"But,  suppose" — Edith  looked  straight  at  her 
father,  speaking  very  slowly — "  suppose  Rodney 


does  not  climb,  suppose  his  life  has  made  him  too 
soft,  too  yielding.  You  are  counting  on  the  success 
of  your  plan,  whatever  it  is ;  all  the  same,  you 
must  be  ready  to  face  failure." 

Jeremiah  sobered,  his  mouth  quivered  like  that 
of  a  disappointed  baby. 

"  It'll  be  a  big  drop,"  he  said ;  "  it  will  that. 
Though  I  don't  say  but  what  it'll  be  better  to  know 
worst,  like ;  and  begin  building  of  him  up  more 
bravely." 

"  And  suppose  she  does  not  stand  the  test  ?  " 

"  Young  madam  ?  Like  as  not  she  won't.  All 
the  same,  I  have  a  notion  as  Rodney'll  live  to 
thank  me." 

"  And  I  am  to  know  nothing  ?  " 

"  Better  not,  lass,  though  I'd  have  liked  well 
enough  to  have  had  you  in  with  me.  It  wouldn't 
'a  been  fair  to  you,  neither." 

"If  I  guess ?" 

"  I  look  to  you  to  stand  by." 

"And  Mother?" 

"  She'll  believe  owt  I  tell  her.  She's  a  true  wife 
— God  bless  the  woman." 

"  It  will  be  very  interesting,  no  doubt,  but— 

"  But  what  ?  out  with  it." 

"  Is  it  right  ?  I  mean,  I  gather  you  are  going 
j  > » 

"  Aye  !  but  for  a  jolly  good  purpose." 
"  The  means  justified  by  the  end  ?  " 
He  laughed. 

"  We  don't  know  the  end,  and  that's  just  the 
sport  of  it." 

"  Father,  you  are  nothing  but  a  big  boy," 
"  And  this  is  my  '  play/  " 


164  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"  I  trust  your  play  will  be  harmless." 
"  Worst  come  to  worst,  it'll  harm  me  more'n 
anybody." 

"  How  can  it  harm  you  ?  " 

"  By  taking  away  from  my  trust  in  Roddy." 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

THE   HERO  ASSERTS   HIMSELF 

"Mv  dear!"  Cecil  burst  into  Linda's  room.  "I've 
had  the  most  extraordinary  letter  from  Rodney." 
Her  cheeks  flamed,  her  mouth  quivered  and 
twitched. 

"  From  Rodney  ?  "  Linda  sprang  from  her  place 
at  the  writing-table.  "  Tell  me  quick,  what  has 
happened  ? " 

"  Happened  !  Things  don't  '  happen  '  to  people 
in  real  life,  ever.  Nothing's  happened — not  to  call, 
happened." 

As  Linda  sat  down  she  neatly  replaced  her  pen 
on  the  inkstand.  As  usual,  Cecil  was  no  doubt 
exciting  herself  about  nothing. 

In  all  probability  Rodney's  letter  had  started 
with  '  Dearest '  instead  of  '  Darling,'  or  the  other 
way  round.  At  times,  Linda  found  something 
overpoweringly  tiring  in  the  way  Cecil  magnified 
trifles.  It  had  been  right  enough  in  the  old  days. 
At  school  you  were  grateful  to  anyone  who  could 
make  much  out  of  little.  Now,  Life  seemed  too 
important  to  be  frittered  away  and  wasted. 

She  smiled  a  little  as  she  said  : 

"  Well,  am  I  to  hear  about  this  most  extra- 
ordinary letter  ?  " 

'  You  are  laughing  at  me,  Linda,  and  I've  half 
a  mind  not  to  tell  you.  Only  I  really  must  tell 

165 


166  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

someone—  She  drew  out  the  letter.  "  You 

may  as  well  read  it." 

Linda  flushed. 

"I'd  much  rather  not,  thank  you." 

"  He  wouldn't  mind,  if  that's  what  you  are 
thinking  of.  He  thinks  a  tremendous  lot  of  your 
opinion,  I  can  assure  you.  And  his  letters  are  not 
a  bit  sloppy.  There  is  nothing —  She  was 

glancing  down  the  opened  page.  "This  one  is  even 
less  '  lovery  '  than  usual." 

Linda's  heart  was  beating  quickly ;  she  was 
aching  to  read  the  letter,  to  see  Rodney  behind  the 
phrases,  to  visualise  him  in  the  very  formation  of 
the  letters — even  to  touch  for  a  moment  the  inani- 
mate thing  he  had  handled. 

She  denied  herself.  She  felt  she  would  dis- 
honour her  affection  for  Cecil,  perhaps  even  her 
attitude  towards  Rodney,  by  yielding. 

'  You  read  out  the  parts  you  want  to  explain  to 
me,"  she  suggested. 

"  If  you'd  rather."  Cecil's  brows  were  con- 
tracted, her  lips  moved  silently,  then  formed  dis- 
jointed sentences  : 

"  '  You  may  be  surprised  .  .  .  must  ask  you  to 
trust  me  .  .  .  shall  be  coming  back  sooner.  .  .  .' ' 

"  That  seems  all  right  so  far." 

"  Um ! — no  .  .  .  listen  to  this — '  I  have  always 
thought  of  my  father,  of  the  great  business  he  has 
built  up,  as  stable,  fixed  things,  a  part  of  the  back- 
bone of  the  world,  almost.  Nothing  is  really  stable 
or  fixed,  so  it  seems.  Father  writes  of  great  changes, 
threatened  losses.  It  may  mean  poverty  for  all  of 
us.  It  may  mean,  for  me,  the  giving  up  of  my 
profession.  I  own  it  would  be  particularly  hard 


THE  HERO  ASSERTS  HIMSELF      167 

just  now,  in  every  way.  When  I  sat  down  to  write, 
I  intended  to  say  you  must  decide  for  me.  But  I 
begin  to  see  that  would  be  shirking.  I'll  have  to 
thrash  the  thing  out  for  myself.  Father  leaves  the 
matter  to  me  entirely.  But  I  can  see  he  wants  me. 
Only  I'm  afraid  he  thinks  I  could  be  a  great  deal 
more  help  in  the  business  than  I  should  be.  It  is 
a  bit  hard,  anyway,  seeing  all  he  has  done  for 
me '  ' 

Cecil  broke  off : 

"  There's  a  lot  more  like  that ;  but  it  wouldn't 
interest  you." 

Linda's  heart  gave  a  quick  thump,  but  she  said 
nothing. 

Cecil  flung  herself  into  a  chair. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  or  to  think,  about 
it."  She  sat  bolt  upright,  the  letter  tightly  held  in 
her  hands  ;  her  dominant  note  was  one  of  anger. 

There  was  a  momentary  silence,  and  when  at 
last  Linda  spoke,  her  words,  from  Cecil's  point  of 
view,  were  hardly  sympathetic. 

"His  work  means  so  much  to  him,"  she  said 
thoughtfully. 

"  I  can't  see  much  in  that.  Why  did  he  choose 
such  a  silly  sort  of  thing  as  architecture  ?  ' ' 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  he'd  gone  into  something  with  plenty 
of  money — Stock  Exchange  or  something  big  in  the 
City — he  wouldn't  have  had  to  throw  it  over  to  help 
his  father.  I  expect  the  silly  old  man  has  been 
speculating  or  something,  or  his  beastly  Brassy- 
shine  would  have  gone  on  coining  money "  She 

moved  restlessly.  "  I  am  in  a  horrid  hole,  anyhow. 
How  on  earth  shall  I  advise  Rodney  ?  " 


168  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"  He  does  not  ask  you  to,  does  he  ?  "  Linda 
said  it  hesitatingly.  "  I  thought  he  said  he  must 
settle  it  for  himself." 

"  He  says  so  ;  but  of  course  he  doesn't  mean  it. 
Men  always  say  that,  but,  all  the  while,  they  want 
you  to  advise  them,  so  that  when  it  turns  out  wrong 
they  can  blame  you  afterwards." 

'  That  seems  more  a  woman's  way  than  a 
man's.  Rodney's  not  like  that,  at  all  events," 
Linda  contended. 

"  You  seem  to  be  pretty  sure  about  him.  Person- 
ally I  don't  know  what  to  think  about  it.  To  make 
matters  worse,  he  says  his  plans  are  finished,  and, 
though  he  pretends  not  to  be  satisfied  with  them,  I 
expect  they  are  awfully  good  and  he'll  win  the 
thing,  and  then,  after  all,  he'll  not  be  able  to  go  in 
for  it." 

"  I  thought,  before,  you  did  not  care  much  about 
it?" 

"  It's  better  than  Brassyshine,  anyway.  Though 
that  wouldn't  matter  so  much  so  long  as  there 
were  piles  and  piles  of  money  in  it.  You  can  always 
look  away  or  put  down  your  sunshade  that  side.  I 
particularly  dislike  that  one  with  the  grinning  page 
displaying  his  buttons.  But  now  it  seems  to  me 
the  old  man's  going  down  hill  and  wants  to  drag  his 
son  with  him." 

"  I  don't  seem  able  to  understand  it,"  said  Linda. 

"  I  don't  expect  to."    Cecil's  tone  was  acid. 

Linda  went  on  with  her  own  train  of  thought, 
unconcernedly. 

"  I  can't  see  how  his  going  into  the  business  will 
save  it  if  it  is  in  a  bad  way  really." 

"  I  give  it  up,"  Cecil  returned  petulantly.    "  Rod- 


THE  HERO  ASSERTS  HIMSELF      169 

ney  says,  if  he  does,  he'll  have  to  go  into  the  work- 
shops and  understand  the  thing  right  from  the 
beginning,  just  like  a  workman  !  "  Her  voice 
grew  shrill  with  horror.  "  I  have  a  cousin  learning 
engineering ;  he  has  to  wear  overalls  and  creep  into 
boilers." 

"  That  wouldn't  hurt  him." 

"  Think  of  his  hands.  Rodney  has  beautiful 
hands,  like  his  mother's.  Edith's  are  ugly,  have 
you  noticed  ?  He'd  be  all  oily  !  " 

"  Do  you  think  they  have  boilers  for  Brassy- 
shine  ?  " 

"How should  I  know?  It's  sure  to  be  messy."  She 
tapped  an  impatient  toe.  "  I've  been  a  fool,  that's 
what  it  is,"  she  broke  out  petulantly,  "  and  I  do 

think  my  people You  hear  such  a  lot  about 

age  and  experience — I  do  think  they  might  have 
warned  me " 

"Would  you  have  listened?"  Linda  asked  it 
indignantly. 

"  I  don't  suppose  I  should ;  but  that  doesn't 
make  it  a  bit  the  less  maddening." 

"But,  Cecil" — Linda's  voice  shook — "you  do 
— care  for  Rodney  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  do,"  she  said  discontentedly ; 
"  though  I  am  not  at  all  sure  sometimes.  Really, 
I  don't  think  I  like  him  as  much  as  before  we  were 
engaged.  Perhaps  it  is  always  like  that,  though. 
How  am  I  to  know  ?  I've  had  no  experience.  What 
I  mean  is — he's  just  as  sweet  and  all  that — and  it's 
lovely  to  know  that  he  loves  me  madly — and  I 
expect  we'll  be  quite  all  right  as  soon  as  we  are 
married.  It's  all  this  waiting  about  that  does  it. 
And  now,  I  suppose,  with  all  this  happening,  it'll 


170  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

be  years  before  we  get  married.  I  mean,  he  isn't 
as  jolly,  somehow.  He  hasn't  ever  been  so  jolly 
since  that  time  I  sent  him  away  to  Cornwall.  I 
suppose  he  doesn't  feel  sure  of  me,  or  something. 
He  seems  so  far  away  sometimes.  I  don't  get  to 
know  him  a  bit  better,  really.  Not  as  well,  perhaps, 
as  I  did  at  the  beginning.  And  I  thought  it  would 
be  so  splendid  to  find  out  all  about  the  mind  of  the 
man  who  loves  you.  And  it's  not  as  though  I'd 
been  stand-offish.  He's  quieter,  too,  or  I  fancy  he's 
quieter.  Anyhow" — she  blinked  her  lashes  and 
dabbed  at  her  cheeks  with  a  scrap  of  a  handkerchief 
— "  being  engaged  isn't  a  bit  what  I  thought  it  was 
going  to  be.  Even  before  all  this  bother " 

Linda,  thinking  the  moment  had  come  for  active 
sympathy  went  and  sat  down  beside  her.  Cecil 
leant  her  head  on  a  convenient  shoulder,  and  said, 
with  a  sniff : 

"  You  are  a  dear,  always,  and  worth  a  dozen  of 
Rodney." 

"  No,  no,  Cecil,  you  don't  really  mean  it."  The 
pain  in  Linda's  voice  was  evident ;  only  by  keeping 
hold  of  Cecil  and  Rodney's  love  one  for  the  other 
did  Life  seem  at  all  possible. 

"Of  course  I  do  mean  it.  I  believe  I've  made  a 
mistake.  Well,"  she  gulped,  "  it's  not  too  late. 
People  do  break  off  their  engagements." 

"  But,  Cecil— think  of  him  !  " 

'  You  must  not !  you  shall  not ! '  a  voice  in  Linda's 
heart  was  saying.  To  have  won  the  love  of  Rodney, 
and  to  throw  it  carelessly  away  !  The  thing  was 
unspeakable ! 

Cecil  dabbed  at  her  eyes. 

"I'll  have  to  think  it  all  over,  I  suppose.    I  wish 


THE  HERO  ASSERTS  HIMSELF      171 

we  hadn't  let  anyone  know ;  then  it  wouldn't  so 
much  have  mattered." 

'  You  care  what  people  would  say  ?  As  though 
that  mattered  !  The  only  thing  is — how  would  he 
bear  it  ?  Cecil,  think  of  what  it  would  be  to  him  !  ' ' 

"  You  don't  seem  to  consider  me.  And  I  am  your 
friend,  not  Rodney.  You  might  think  of  me  a 
little.  You  see,  I've  told  everyone  he's  an  architect, 
such  a  refined  sort  of  a  thing — and  then,  to  think  ! 
— I  may  have  a  husband  in  overalls,  creeping  into 
boilers,  or  however  it  is  they  make  that  beastly 
Brassyshine — Barett's  Brassyshine  !  It  stinks  in 
my  nostrils  already."  She  sprang  to  her  feet, 
almost  upsetting  Linda  in  her  haste.  "  Never 
mind  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  he  isn't  in  the  business 
yet !  " 

She  went  to  the  glass  and  looked  at  her  eyes  and 
cheeks  with  annoyance.  "  What  have  you  got  for 
this  ?  "  she  asked.  "  What  do  you  use  ?  " 

"  Me  ? — nothing." 

"  I  thought  you  spoke  the  truth  always."  Cecil 
was  opening  sundry  pots  and  caskets.  "  Here's 
powder,  anyway." 

Whilst  manipulating  a  tiny  puff  with  care  and 
precision,  she  questioned : 

"  Linda,  what  do  you  think  Rodney  will  do  ?  " 

"  Do  !  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  Linda  was  looking 
out  of  the  window.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly, 
yet  it  seemed  pale  to  her  ;  at  her  heart  was  a  sick 
feeling.  If  only  the  chance  might  have  been  hers 
to  help  a  man  like  Rodney  to  rise  to  the  highest 
that  was  in  him  ! 

"  I  mean  " — Cecil  paused,  powder-puff  suspended 
— "will  he  chuck  architecture  and  descend  to  Brassy- 


172  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

shine  ;  or  will  he  stick  out  for  his  rights  and  let  his 
father  sink  or  swim  without  him  ?  " 

"If  you  ask  me" — because  she  was  feeling  so 
deeply,  Linda's  voice  was  cold  and  constrained — 
"  if  you  ask  me,  I  have  not  a  doubt  that  he  will  do 
— what  is  right." 

"  Burked  !  The  point  is,  which  is  the  right  thing  ? 
There's  where  I  want  an  answer." 

Linda  pressed  her  hands  tightly  together,  swal- 
lowed hard,  moistened  her  lips,  and  said  slowly  : 

"  To  give  up  his  own  wishes  and  do  all  he  can 
for  his  father." 

To  her  it  seemed  solemn  and  splendid,  and  yet  in 
a  way  pathetic — this  thing  Rodney  was  to  do.  Un- 
consciously, to  heighten  the  splendour  she  over- 
estimated the  young  man's  pride  in  his  profession, 
painted  too  sordidly  the  manufacture  of  the  harm- 
less metal  polish.  She  would  have  repulsed  any 
suggestion  that,  the  first  disappointment  over, 
Rodney  would  bid  '  good-bye  '  to  architecture  with 
philosophy  and  take  a  quite  wholesome  interest  in 
the  working  of  the  family  factory.  Linda  was 
Rodney's  lover,  so  for  her  he  must  be  altogether 
splendid  ! 

Cecil  laughed  quite  cheerfully. 

"  The  best  of  talking  things  over  is  that  you 
sort  them  out  and  see  them  more  plainly.  When  I 
came  in  here  it  all  seemed  such  a  muddle.  Now 
it's  quite  simple." 

Linda  sprang  up  impulsively,  her  eyes  were 
shining. 

"  I  am  so  glad,  darling.  Won't  it  be  splendid  to 
help  him  !  " 

"  Help  him  ?     I  see — yes — I  suppose  it  will  be 


THE  HERO  ASSERTS  HIMSELF       178 

helping  him,  in  the  long  run.  I  am  going  to  back 
Rodney  for  all  I  am  worth  against  his  father." 

"  Cecil !  no  !  " 

"  Linda  !   yes  !  " 

"  It  would  not  be  right !  " 

Cecil  laughed. 

"  Right  or  wrong,  who  is  to  settle  ?  Anyway,  I 
know  what  I  am  going  to  do." 

"  You  will  not  alter  his  decision." 

"  I  shall,  though ;  that  is,  if  he  has  decided  to 
give  in  to  old  Brassyshine."  She  flushed.  "  Linda, 
I  thought  at  one  time  you  cared  something  for 
Rodney.  I  was  stupid  enough  to  be  almost  jealous. 
I  see  now  I  must  have  been  mistaken.  You  would 
never  coolly,  heartlessly,  consign  a  man  you  cared 
about  to  a  life  of  dirt  and  drudgery.  You  can't 
have  much  perception  of  character,  or  you  would 
know  Rodney  would  never  be  able  to  stand  it.  To 
hear  you,  he  might  be  an  ordinary  commonplace 
drudger.  I  should  have  thought,  even  during  the 
time  you  have  known  him,  you  might  have  judged 

him  better "  She  spoke  rapidly,  breathless  with 

excitement  and  anger. 

Linda  was  white  and  still.  Her  lips  felt  stiff,  as 
she  answered  : 

"  I  still  do  not  think  you  will  be  able  to  persuade 
him." 

"Oh yes  I  shall."  Cecil  threw  up  her  head,  her 
eyes  glinted  ominously. 

"  Not  against  his  conscience,"  said  Linda  slowly. 

"  It  will  be  me,  then,  or  his  conscience." 

"  Cecil,  you  don't  mean " 

"  I  do.  It  has  come  to  this  :  he  must  choose 
between  me  and  his  vulgar  old  father," 


174  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

"Cecil!" 

"  Child,  you  bore  me  to  death  with  your  parrot- 
like  'Cecils.'  " 

Linda's  lips  quivered. 

"  We  need  not,  at  all  events,  quarrel." 

"  /  don't  mind  quarrelling.  It  would  be  rather 
a  relief  just  at  present." 

"Not  afterwards " 

Tears  rose  to  Cecil's  eyes. 

"  Look  here,  Linda,  you  know  I  do  love  you 
really,  only  you  do  aggravate  me  at  times." 

"  You  did  not  really  mean  what  you  said  about — 
Rodney  ?  " 

"I  am  not  quite  sure."  Cecil  hedged.  "Anyway, 
it  is  no  use  deciding  till  I  have  seen  him." 

Linda  grasped  at  the  straw. 

"  No.    You  can't  decide  till  you  see  him." 

After  all,  the  straw  was  worth  grasping,  Rodney 
was  ever  so  much  stronger,  she  knew  it,  than  Cecil. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE   MOTHER   OF  THE   HERO 

ANN — I  suppose,  though  I  ought  not  to  speak  of 


it- 
Mrs.  Barett  was  quivering  on  the  verge  of  the  mild 
form  of  hysteria  for  which  at  times  Ann  was  obliged 
to  slap  her  mistress's  hands  and  administer  sal 
volatile. 

"  Now,  you  tell  me,  if  it'll  make  you  feel  better." 
Ann's  little  red  eyes  behind  their  white  lashes 
looked  eager.  Hers  was  a  staunch,  faithful  soul,  but 
not  on  a  level  above  vulgar  curiosity.  Besides,  the 
inherent  weakness  of  loyalty  is  a  desire  to  stand  on 
an  intimate  footing.  Jealous  weakness  rather  than 
virtuous  strength  often  goes  to  the  keeping  of 
secrets.  Such  were  perfectly  safe  with  Ann  England 
— she  gloated  too  much  in  the  sense  of  possession  to 
share  them. 

' '  Now,  you  just  tell  me  if  it'll  make  you  feel  better. ' ' 
Ann  stood  up  spare  and  square  before  her  mistress 
and  spoke  as  one  having  authority. 

Mrs.  Barett  was  seated  in  the  corner  of  one  of  the 
big  chintz-covered  chairs  in  her  bedroom.  Her 
neat  grey  locks  were  a  trifle  disordered  as  though 
she  had  been  thrusting  her  fingers  through  the  hair 
on  her  temples,  but  now  the  clenched  knuckles  of  one 
hand  were  pressing  into  the  palm  of  the  other  con- 

J75 


176  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

vulsively  ;  her  whole  agitated  appearance  promised 
some  interesting  disclosure.  Though  unfeignedly 
sorry  for  the  distress  of  her  mistress,  Ann  was, 
nevertheless,  capable  of  enjoying  the  situation. 

"  I  don't  know  that  there  is  anything  to  tell, 
really."  A  tear  rolled  down  Mrs.  Barett's  left  cheek, 
her  tongue,  insect-fashion,  darted  out  and  caught  it 
at  the  corner  of  her  mouth  dexterously.  There  had 
been  times  in  her  life  when  not  to  acknowledge  tears 
had  saved  the  situation. 

"  But  there  must  be  something,  m'am,"  Ann 
persisted ;  "  it's  not  as  though  you  was  one  to 
'  tue  '  yourself  all  for  nothing." 

Mrs.  Barett  dropped  a  little  more  forward. 

"  No,"  she  said,  with  a  half-sob  ;  "no  one  could 
accuse  me  rightly  of  giving  in  till  the  last." 

"That,  indeed,  they  could  not,"  Ann  chimed  in 
reassuringly. 

Mrs.  Barett  altered  the  position  of  her  lean  hands 
so  that  the  finger- tips  were  pressed  together;  her 
massive  rings  slipped  down,  hanging  loosely. 

"It's — Ann — it's" — her  voice  took  on  sorrow 
— "  I  am  sure — nearly  sure,  that  is — there  is  some- 
thing— about  Master  Rodney " 


"  There's  naught  amiss  there- 


Rodney  was  the  weak  spot  in  the  old  servant's 
armour,  so  her  voice  hardened  whenever  she  spoke 
of  him. 

"  It  is  true,"  Mrs.  Barett  admitted,  "  all  seemed 
right  in  my  letter.  But  your  master  had  one  too, 
and  did  not  show  it  to  me.  He  said  it  was  only 
about  business." 

"  I  shouldn't  doubt,  then,  it  was  about  business," 
Ann  said  judicially. 


THE  MOTHER  OF  THE  HERO   177 

"  Why  should  he  not  let  me  read  it  ?  " 

"  That's  beyond  me.  You  can't  use  a  tape- 
measure  to  the  mind  of  a  man.  You  may  be  sure, 
though,  with  the  master,  he's  reasons,  and  middlin' 
good  ones.  And  so  that  bit  of  a  letter's  all  there  is 
of  trouble  ?  "  She  could  not  keep  a  note  of  dis- 
appointment out  of  the  question. 

Mrs.  Barett  was  too  absorbed  in  self  to  notice 
it. 

"That  is  only  a  part."  She  leant  forward,  a  meagre, 
weak  little  figure — in  spite  of  its  handsome  gown,  or 
perhaps  because  of  it,  something  pitiful.  "That  is 
only  part  of  it.  I  feel  sure  something  is  happening, 
or  has  happened,  and  they  are  keeping  it  from  me. 
There  is  so  much  harm  done  by  kindness — keeping 
things  back — breaking  things  gently — not  letting 
you  know  —  it  is  far  worse  to  grope  in  the  dark. 
Fancied  things  are  bigger,  more  terrible— 

"  Now,  don't  you  give  way  to  no  fancy  ings. 
That's  nerves,  that  is." 

"It's  all  very  well  to  talk  so.  Unmarried  women 
like  you,  Ann,  keep  all  their  nerves  in  their  own 
bodies ;  there's  no  excuse  for  their  getting  dis- 
ordered. But  for  us  mothers  the  nerves  get  stretched 
out — attenuated  is  the  word — till  they  are  drawn 
fine  as  gossamer ;  every  breath  of  fear  and  anxiety 
moves  them." 

"  If  it  wasn't  you  speaking,  m'am,  I'd  say  '  stuff 
and  nonsense.'  I  think  I'd  best  get  you  some  sal 
volatile." 

"No,  no" — Mrs.  Barett  rested  her  chin  on  her 
hands,  her  elbows  on  her  knees — "  sal  volatile  cannot 
administer  to  a  mind — distressed,"  she  finished  by 
happy  inspiration.  Then,  flying  off  at  a  tangent, 

N 


178  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

she  remarked,  "  Whatever  it  is,  Miss  Edith  either 
knows  or  suspects  it." 

"  Why  not  ask  Miss  Edith,  then  ?  "  Ann  sug- 
gested prosaically. 

"  I  think — I'm  really  afraid  to  ask  her." 

"  That's  your  own  fault  for  having  brought  of  her 
up  too  clever.  She'd  ought  to  have  been  kept  under 
when  she  was  little.  Always  asking  questions,  was 
Miss  Edith.  I'd  have  slapped  her,  if  it'd  been  me. 
I  would  that." 

"  She  says  she  is  still  asking  questions." 

"•  Not  of  me,  anyhow."  Ann  spoke  in  the  Heaven- 
be-thanked  tone  which  is  yet  a  little  resentful. 

"  Miss  Edith  says  she  asks  questions  of  life," 
Mrs.  Barett  spoke  impressively. 

"  It's  safe  to  ask  where  you  won't  get  an  answer," 
Ann  concluded. 

"  Miss  Edith's  the  sort  to  insist  on  an  answer." 

Ann  sniffed. 

"  You  can't  get  blood  out  of  a  stone.  But  as  to 
Master  Rodney,  now  he  was  a  comfortable  bairn 
and  believed  what  you  told  him." 

"  Did  he  ?  I  mean,  I  wonder,  does  he  ?  There 
are  those  who  seem  to,  only  because  they  are  too 
lazy  to  question  or  too  shy  to  differ." 

Ann  fired. 

"  You  can't  call  Master  Rodney  lazy,  not  with 
truth  you  can't ;  and  him  making  his  back  ache  over 
them  everlasting  drawings.  Shy,  neither  you  can't ; 
though  time  was  when  he'd  hide  his  face  in  my  skirt 
and  I'd  use  to  scold  him  for  it ;  though  never  could 
I  be  hard  on  Master  Rodney.  There  it  was,  I 
couldn't."  Her  sandy  little  face  softened  to  a 
mother-look  at  some  recollection. 


THE  MOTHER  OF  THE  HERO   179 

"  Lor',  m'am,"  she  broke  out,  "  to  think  when  he 
was  that  innocent  he  did  use  to  say  he'd  marry  me 
when  he  was  grown." 

"  No,  always  me,  Ann,"  Mrs.  Barett  corrected. 

"  Me,  anyway,  when  we  was  alone." 

This  statement  being  unanswerable,  Mrs.  Barett 
returned  to  the  source  of  her  trouble. 

"  Why  should  the  master  tell  me  not  to  worry  ? 

"  He  wouldn't  do  that,  so  as  there  was  nothing  to 
worry  about." 

Ann's  interest  quickened.  By  nature  she  scented 
trouble  as  a  ferret  does  blood.  She  had  something 
of  the  appearance  of  a  ferret — a  story-book  ferret — 
with  a  character  of  its  own. 

"  It  wasn't  as  though  I  had  said  anything,"  Mrs. 
Barett  continued,  "  I  hadn't.  He  kissed  me  spon- 
taneously and  said — said  .  .  ." — '  Old  girl '  had  been 
the  words,  supplied  by  a  blank  in  the  revised  version 
— "  he  said,  '  you've  no  need  to  worry.' ' 

"  Well,  so  you  haven't  then.  Not  if  the  master 
says  so." 

"  Ann,  I  can't  help  it.  I  feel  in  the  dark,  and 
people  behind  me,  and  moving  about,  and  treading 
over  me  without  taking  any  notice." 

'  You're  quite  sure  Master  Rodney  ails  nothing  ?  " 

"  My  letter  was  written  only  yesterday — in  ink." 
Mrs.  Barett  drew  comfort  from  the  last  fact.  Since 
the  very  first  of  Rodney's  boarding-school  days  a 
pencilled  letter  had  always  set  her  mother-heart 
a- jump  with  presage  of  disaster.  Rodney  had  never 
had  a  serious  illness  or  accident,  yet  his  mother  had 
suffered  every  conceivable  one  on  his  behalf,  and 
many  times  over.  Rodney  had  not  known.  If  he 
had  he  would  probably  have  set  her  down  as  '  silly.' 


180  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"  Well,"  Ann  considered,  "so  as  he  isn't  ill,  I 
can't  see  as  there's  much  to  cry  over.  It's  not  as 
though  he's  the  wild  sort." 

If,  for  Ann,  Master  Rodney  did  just  fall  short  of 
perfection  it  was  on  account  of  the  lack  of  a  touch 
of  wildness.  Her  soul  was  an  undeveloped  one, 
clearly  left  over  from  feudal  generations. 

Mrs.  Barett  flushed. 

"  Master  Rodney  has  always  been  steady." 

"  So  far  as  we  know,  he  has."  It  was  thus,  in  her 
own  mind,  Ann  strengthened  her  idol's  position. 

"  I  don't  doubt  for  a  moment,  and  I  am  sure  you 
do  not."  If  she  was  sure,  the  reproof  in  Mrs.  Barett's 
tone  was  quite  unnecessary.  "  Master  Rodney  has 
not  got  into  any  vulgar  trouble.  It  is  not  that." 

"  D'you  think — can  it  be  this  engagement  busi- 
ness ?  Miss  Wolney — I  grant  she's  a  beautiful  lady 
—but " 

"  There  is  no  '  but,'  Ann  ;  no  '  but '  at  all  in 
question." 

Her  manner  forced  Ann's  ready  response. 

"  Of  course  there  isn't,  even  without  you'd 
say  so." 

"I  do  not  know  what  to  think."  Bent  still 
farther  forward,  Mrs.  Barett  regarded  her  shoes. 
She  had  small,  pretty  feet ;  in  the  old  days  of  sordid 
economy  she  had  suffered  much  from  ill-made  and 
shabby  shoes  ;  she  revelled  now  in  new  and  dainty 
ones,  and  if  sometimes  they  pinched  her,  no  one 
was  any  the  wiser.  Looking  down  at  her  shoes, 
with  their  winking  buckles,  she  said  meditatively  : 

"  I  cannot  think  there  is  anything  wrong  with  the 
business." 

"  Wrong  with  the  business,"  Ann  echoed,  but 


THE  MOTHER  OF  THE  HERO   181 

with  an  incredulous  inflection.  "Don't  you  run 
away  with  that  idea.  Why,  you  can  scarce  go  the 
length  of  a  street  but  what  you  see  half  a  dozen  of 
our  coloured  posters.  Used  as  I  am  to  it,  I  can't  but 
stop  for  a  look  at  that  there  audacious  page  with  the 
buttons.  I've  heard  them  say  none  but  the  most 
flourishing  businesses  could  keep  up  all  them 
posters." 

"  I  don't  understand  business  matters,"  her 
mistress  stated,  "  but  I  fancy  they  must  cost  a 
great  deal  of  money." 

"  That  as  good  as  tells  you  the  profits,"  said  Ann 
triumphantly. 

"  If  something  were  wrong,"  Mrs.  Barett  went  on 
reflectively,  "  I  hardly  think  the  master  would  be 
in  such  excellent  spirits.  He  certainly  does  seem  in 
the  best  of  spirits." 

"  Might  be  put  on,"  Ann  suggested.  She  showed 
a  pessimistic  turn  of  mind  occasionally. 

Mrs.  Barett  sighed. 

"Anyhow,  I  do  wish  he  would  tell  me." 

"  Can't  you  ask  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  could,  certainly,  but  as  certainly  he  would  not 
answer  should  he  not  feel  disposed  to.  He  would 
put  me  off.  As  they  always  do  with  us.  They  think 
us  silly.  We  have  let  them.  I  suppose  because  it 
was  easier,  or  we  thought  to  get  more  by  it.  And 
now  it  is  too  late  to  alter." 

"  Miss  Edith  does  not  think  so."  Ann's  tone  was 
what  she  herself  would  have  called  '  snotty.' 

"  Miss  Edith  is  young  yet.  Her  ideas  are  working." 

"  Like  yeast  ?  " 

"  Like  dough.  The  bread  may  be  good  when  it 
comes  to  the  baking." 


182  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

"  Rather  her,  then,  than  me  to  the  eating.  Old- 
fashioned  ways  are  good  enough  for  me." 

"  For  me,  too,  Ann.  But,  I  suppose,  we  are  old 
fashioned,  both  of  us." 

"  None  the  worse  for  that,  neither." 

"  Sometimes  I  have  doubts.  To  be  old-fashioned 
is  to  be  different ;  there  is  unrest  in  difference.  At 
times  rest  seems  the  one  thing  desirable."  She  rose 
to  her  feet  rather  stiffly.  "  I  have  calls  to  pay,  and 
must  be  getting  ready." 

With  sudden  alacrity  Ann  rushed  to  the  ward- 
robe. 

"  What  will  you  wear,  m'am  ?  " 

She  always  went  through  the  fictitious  ceremony 
of  asking.  In  the  end,  after  Mrs.  Barett  had  offered 
ineffectual  reasons  why  the  plainest,  most  shabby 
of  her  gowns  was  the  most  suitable  for  the  particular 
occasion,  Ann  had  the  last  word  and  decided  on 
something  handsome.  It  was  she,  not  her  mistress, 
who  drew  pleasure  from  the  well-stocked  wardrobe. 
In  her  richest  attire  Mrs.  Barett  had  an  air  of  pro- 
test rather  than  pleasure.  She  enjoyed  buying 
things,  but  was  uncertain  of  herself  when  the 
moment  came  to  wear  them. 


CHAPTER    XX 

CONCERNING  THE   ROLE   OF  A   HERO 

"  HANG  !  Dash  !  Blow  !  Stop  your  ears  if  you  like, 
Linda.    I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  say  it.    I  am 

going  to Damn !  Damn ! — There  !  I  feel  better 

already." 

Stormily  Cecil  entered  her  sanctum,  swept  a 
small  table  clear — fortunately  it  was  a  '  silver  '  one 
and  nothing  was  broken — flung  down  on  it  sundry 
possessions,  sat  down  with  a  bang  on  the  sofa,  and 
stared  at  Linda  defiantly. 

Linda,  her  pupils  dilated,  questioned  in  silence. 

Cecil  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  I  should  think  even  you  will  allow  I've  a  right 
to  be  angry." 

"  Why,  '  even  ' ?  " 

"  Because,  of  course,  you  are  so  saintly." 

"  Cecil !  "  Linda  was  one  great  protest  against 
the  unkindly  aspersion. 

'  Yes,  you  are."  Cecil's  nostrils  were  quivering. 
'  You  are  always  showing  me  up  and  making  me 
feel  what  a  beast  I  must  be.  And  I  don't  like  it." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  say  so."  Linda's  eyes 
were  more  than  usually  bright  by  reason  of  the  tears 
that  filled  them. 

"  I  don't  say  you  mean  it.  I  don't  suppose  you 
would  be  so  beastly.  You  can't  help  it,  of  course. 

183 


AN  ABSENT  HERO 

I'm  just  about  mad  though  when  I  catch  myself 
thinking  Linda  wouldn't  have  said  this,  or  done 
that." 

"  Have  I  been  doing,  or  leaving  undone,  anything 
special  ?  " 

"  Not  at  the  moment.  I  just  had  to  fly  out  at 
somebody." 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Everything — and  nothing.  You  knew  I  was  to 
meet  Rodney  at  Fuller's.  It  happened  to  be  con- 
venient. And  then  that  stupid  Madame  Courie  kept 
me  hours  and  hours  fitting.  It  really  was  all  Rod- 
ney's fault,  because,  of  course,  when  you're  engaged 
it  is  only  natural  to  want  yourself  decent.  I  was 
bothered  about  being  late,  of  course,  and  was  going 
to  be  extra  nice  to  him.  He  must  have  thought  I'd 
forgotten.  As  though  I  should  !  " 

"  He  waited  a  full  hour  " — Linda  could  not  quite 
control  her  voice — "  and  then  concluded  you  must 
be  ill." 

"  I'm  never  ill ;  he  ought  to  know  that  by  now," 
Cecil  retorted.  "  And  to  cap  it  all,  I  rush  back  here, 
wildly  angry,  only  to  find  he's  left  without  seeing  me. 
It  was  horrid  having  to  ask  those  beastly  young 
women — I  knew  they  were  smiling,  though  they 
didn't  show  it.  Of  course,  I  said  it  was  my  brother, 
but  I  couldn't  help  not  being  sisterish.  I  took  a 
taxi,  making  sure  he'd  be  here.  I  think  I've  some 
right  to  be  angry."  Her  eyes  were  shining,  she  was 
splitting  one  of  her  gloves  with  vicious  deliberation. 

"  He  couldn't  stay,"  Linda  assured  her  rather 
heatedly ;  "  it  was  business  for  Mr.  Weston." 

"  You  seem  to  know  more  about  him  than  I  do." 
The  words  darted  out  like  the  tongue  of  a  serpent. 


CONCERNING  THE  ROLE  OF  A  HERO     185 

"  Only  because  I  happened  to  be  in,  and  he  asked 
to  see  me."  Linda's  voice  dropped  soothingly. 

"  Was  it  necessary  ?  " 

"  Only  that  I  might  explain  things  to  you." 

Cecil  sneered. 

"  Very  thoughtful  of  Rodney." 

"  He  was  quite  upset.  He  said  you  had  never 
kept  him  waiting." 

"  As  for  that  " — Cecil  brought  down  the  tortured 
glove  on  to  the  table  smartly — "  I  always  do — on 
principle." 

"  Hardly  for  an  hour.  As  it  was,  it  had  been 
difficult  for  him,  to  spare  the  time.  He  had  several 
business  appointments." 

"  He  had  no  right  to  have  business  appointments 
when  he  is  only  just  back  from  Scotland.  What's 
the  good  of  travelling  all  night  to  go  and  waste  his 
time  on  business.  You  must  own  it's  hard  on  me — 
you  seeing  him  when  I  haven't." 

'  You  will  see  him  to-night." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure.  It  would  jolly  well  punish  him 
if  I  had  a  headache  and  didn't  come  down  to  dinner. 
Better  still,  if  I  went  off  somewhere.  I  could,  easily. 
The  Craigs  would  be  only  too  glad  if  I  changed  my 
mind.  They  are  so  specially  kind  to  me,  I  didn't 
like  putting  them  off  a  bit ;  besides,  I  want  to  see 
'The  Sword-Bearer. '  You  know  my  weakness  for 
Martin  Roberts.  And  they  say  he's  splendid.  Only, 
of  course,  as  soon  as  I  knew  Rodney  was  coming — 
though  now  I  don't  know " 

'  Yes,  you  do,  Cecil.  You  know  you  are  dying  to 
see  Rodney.  And  you  wouldn't  care  two  straws  for 
any  play  on  earth  if  all  the  while  you  were  thinking 
you  had  been  unkind  to  him." 


186  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"  I'm  not  that  sort.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  should  be 
flirting  hard  with  Monty  Craig  and  thinking  him 
ever  so  much  pleasanter  than  Rodney,  and  twice  as 
handsome." 

"  You  wouldn't,  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't.  Montague 
Craig  is  right  enough,  but  there's  nothing  whatever 
in  him." 

"  I  don't  mind  that  so  long  as  he  thinks  there 
is  plenty  in  me.  And  he  does,  I  do  assure  you. 
Honestly,  Linda,  I  don't  believe  I  satisfy  Rodney. 
I  sometimes  doubt  whether  he  really  does  love  me." 

"  But  why  ?  " 

"  This  afternoon — oh  !  and  heaps  of  things. 
Anyhow,  I  am  going  to  put  him  to  the  test.  If  he 
loves  me  enough  to  do  as  I  tell  him  I  shall  be  satis- 
fied." 

Linda  deliberately  turned  away  her  eyes  and  her 
voice  was  not  quite  steady  as  she  asked — the  answer 
meant  so  much  to  Cecil  and  to  Rodney  : 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  tell  him  to  do  ?  " 

Cecil  laughed. 

"  What  will  jump,  I  fancy,  with  his  own  inclina- 
tion ;  to  give  up  all  that  tommy-rot  of  the  old  man 
and  the  Brassy-business." 

There  was  a  slight  pause  before  Linda,  rather  to 
her  own  surprise,  heard  herself  saying  very  quietly  : 

"  I  don't  think  he  will  do  it." 

"  You  seem  to  be  pretty  sure  about  Rodney." 
Cecil  spoke  coldly. 

Had  she  said  too  much  ?  Linda  wondered. 

"It  was  only  " — she  stumbled — "  only,  I  gathered 
— from  what  he  said " 

"  So  you  were  talking  over  our  affairs.  Rather 
odd,  wasn't  it  ?  " 


CONCERNING  THE  ROLE  OF  A  HERO     187 

"  It  did  not  seem  odd  at  the  time.  It  wasn't  odd, 
really  ;  we  were  friends  down  in  Cornwall." 

"I'm  always  forgetting  " — Cecil's  manner  was 
frigid — "  that  you  and  Rodney  were — friends — 
down  in  Cornwall." 

Linda  swallowed  hard  before  she  said  gently  : 
'  You  were  pleased,  at  first,  when  you  knew  it." 

"  I  dare  say  I  was.  I  was  amiable  then,  because 
I  was  happy.  I'm  unhappy  now,  and  naturally  I  am 
horrid.  You  must  just  put  up  with  it  though,  if  you 
still  care  anything  about  me." 

"  You  know  I  do." 

"  I  don't  seem  to  feel  so  sure  of  things  as  I  used  to. 
I  seem  to  have  grown  hard  somehow.  I  mean,  1 
wouldn't  mind,  as  I  once  would  have,  if  you  turned 
against  me.  I  don't  care  as  much  as  I  did  whether 
Rodney  loves  me.  Linda,  if  you  only  knew  how 
awful  it  is — trying  to  feel  things  and  you  can't  feel 
them  any  longer." 

"  Why  does  anyone  want  to  feel  anything,  I 
wonder  ?  "  Linda's  voice  was  tense  and  strained. 
"  It  is  far  better  not  to  feel,"  she  added,  as  though 
to  herself. 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  Cecil  contended  sharply,  "  it's 
hateful.  Like  being  dead  before  you  need  be.  There 
have  been  times  when  I've  felt  a  nasty  little  sore 
feeling,  thinking  I've  made  anyone  suffer.  I  know 
now,  I  needn't.  Lucky  beasts  they  were  to  be  able 
to  suffer." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  Linda  asked  with  a  wakening 
curiosity,  "  that  you  feel  just  numb,  as  though 
nothing  mattered  ?  " 

"  Not  numb  exactly.  I  feel  that  I  still  could  feel 
—feel  hard,  if  the  right  thing  happened  to  make  me." 


188  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

"  I  see,"  Linda  said,  which,  as  usual,  being  inter- 
preted, meant  she  did  not. 

"  I  think,"  Cecil  announced  seriously,  "  that  I 
want  to  be  jealous.  Or  is  it  that  I  am  jealous  ?  I 
know  I  don't  want  to  think  of  you  and  Rodney 
sitting  here  and  talking  together,  yet  my  mind  keeps 
hovering  round  it,  like  a  nasty  little  child  trying  to 
overhear  a  grown-up  secret." 

"There  is  nothing  secret  about  it,"  Linda  re- 
turned proudly. 

Cecil  flushed. 

"  I  didn't  mean  there  was.  Don't  be  stupid. 
Still,  of  course,  if  there's  anything  you'd  rather  not 
tell  me " 

"  I  want  to  tell  you.  All  along  I  have  been  trying 
to  tell  you.  Not  that  there  was  anything  par- 
ticular." 

Cecil  stooped  for  a  fallen  cigarette-case,  opened 
and  found  it  empty. 

"  Bother  those  servants !  I'm  quite  sure  they  steal 
my  cigarettes,"  she  said  petulantly. 

"  There  were  none  in  it  yesterday." 

"  Perhaps  not.  I  can't  be  bothered  to  remember 
things  like  that."  She  rose  languidly,  hunted  in 
unlikely  places,  came  upon  some  cigarettes  unex- 
pectedly, lit  one,  and  came  back  to  her  sofa. 

"  Fire  away,"  she  said,  "I'm  ready  to  listen." 

Whilst  Cecil  had  been  fidgeting  about,  Linda  sat 
quite  still,  her  arm  resting  on  the  table,  her  fingers 
holding  a  pencil.  When  bidden  to  '  fire  away  '  she 
recalled  her  thoughts  with  an  evident  effort,  and, 
seeming  to  concentrate  them  on  the  point  of  the 
pencil,  began  in  a  low,  even  voice  : 

"  Rodney  was  shown  in  here.    I  was  writing." 


"How  did  he  look?  "  Cecil  took  her  cigarette 
from  her  lips  to  ask  eagerly. 

"  Tired  and  worried,  I  thought.  Rather  pale, 
too  ;  but  that  might  have  been  the  night  journey." 

Cecil  knocked  the  ash  off  her  cigarette — her  face 
had  brightened. 

"  He  was  really  cut-up  at  not  seeing  me  ?  "  She 
said  it  with  satisfaction. 

"  He  was  very  glad  to  hear  there  was  nothing 
wrong,  and  we  settled  the  best  thing  he  could  do 
was  just  to  wait  for  you  here.  He  said  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  would  have  to  be  the  limit  because  of  some 
appointment." 

"  He  didn't  wait  as  long  as  that  ?  "  Cecil  was 
aggrieved  again  directly. 

"  When  the  fifteen  minutes  had  gone  he  looked  at 
his  watch  and  said, '  I'll  risk  another  five.'  ' 

Cecil  looked  pleased. 

"  After  all,  I  believe  I'll  see  him  to-night,  and  I'll 
wear  that  little  mauve  frock — the  one  you  like,  with 
the  roses." 

Linda  smiled,  remembering  what  Rodney's  words 
had  been.  'I'll  risk  another  five  ;  it's  not  often 
there's  a  chance  of  thrashing  things  out  with  some- 
one so  clear-headed.  And  it  has  got  to  be  done 
somehow.'  Linda  had  been  glad  that  Rodney 
thought  her  clear-headed.  Men  do  not  love  clear- 
headed women,  but  they  like  them  as  friends,  to 
talk  to.  Some  time  in  the  future  when  Linda's  heart 
had  attained  a  safe  numbness,  it  would  be  nice  to 
talk  to  Rodney — as  a  friend. 

"  Well  ?  "  questioned  Cecil. 

With  a  flash  Linda  was  recalled  to  the  present. 

"  Well  ?  "  Cecil  repeated  impatiently.     "  What 


190  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

did  you  talk  about  ?  You  can  talk  a  lot — I  know  I 
could — in  twenty  minutes." 

"  We — oh,  we  talked  of  his  work."  Linda's  eyes 
shone  and  deepened.  "  He  was  awfully  modest 
about  it,  yet  I  could  see  he  had  hopes  of  success, 
because  of  what  people  had  told  him.  And  while 
we  were  talking  we  forgot  that  he  might  have  to  give 
it  all  up — it  was  so  exciting — and  architecture  is  so 
tremendously  interesting." 

"  Is  it  ?  It  wouldn't  be  to  me,  because  of  the 
horrible  newness.  New  stone  and  brick  set  my  teeth 
on  edge.  Like  having  newly  cut  nails.  You  know 
the  feeling." 

"  Why  don't  you  file  them  ?  "  Linda  asked 
prosaically. 

"  What  ?  The  nails  ?  I  do.  All  the  same,  it's 
the  feeling.  But  go  on.  Tell  me  what  Rodney  said, 
exactly.  That  is,  if  you  haven't  forgotten.  I  never 
can  remember  what  people  say,  really.  I  always 
make  them  say  what  I  want  them  to — you  know  my 
way." 

Linda  did  know  Cecil's  way,  which  to  herself  she 
allowed  for  and  glossed  over  as  '  Cecil's  journalistic 
attitude.' 

"  You  have  such  a  neat,  well-sorted  mind,"  Cecil 
went  on,  "  that  I  am  sure  you  remember  what 
Rodney  said,  exactly." 

There  was  a  hidden  taunt,  Linda  felt,  in  the  words. 
Yet,  she  did  remember. 

"  We  were  talking,  as  I  said,  of  his  plans,  when  all 
of  a  sudden  he  glanced  up  at  the  clock  and  said, 
'  Did  Cecil  tell  you  about  my  letter  ?  ' 

"  Did  he  mind  my  telling  you  ?  "  Cecil  broke  in 
eagerly. 


"No;  he  was  glad." 

"  Why  should  he  be  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  because  it  saved  time.  He  wanted  to 
talk  about  it." 

"  I  can't  see  why." 

"  I  expect  he  wanted  badly  to  talk  it  over  with 
you  and  was  disappointed."  Linda  rather  despised 
herself,  even  though  she  was  a  little  proud  of  her 
attempt  at  diplomacy,  for  she  realised  that  it  would 
never  do  to  relate  to  Cecil  how  Rodney  had  sprung 
up,  leant  his  arm  on  the  mantelpiece,  flushed,  and 
said  :  '  I'd  very  much  like,  if  it  isn't  asking  too 
much,  to  have  your  opinion.'  And  how  hot  she  had 
felt  with  embarrassed  joy  to  think  that  her  opinion 
could  matter.  And  how  he  had  gone  on  :  '  You 
remember  we  used  to  talk  things  over  in  Cornwall.' 

And  her  heart  had  nearly  broken  with  joy  and  the 
sense  of  the  futility  of  everything. 

None  of  this  might  be  Cecil's,  hence  the  need  for 
diplomacy. 

"  Well,  then,"  the  other  urged,  "  what  did  he  say 
next  ?  " 

"  He  said  " — Linda  was  selecting  from  all  too 
keen  memories  that  kept  intact  not  only  every  word 
of  Rodney's,  but  the  inflexion  of  his  voice,  the  glance 
of  his  trusting  grey  eyes,  the  expressive  movement 
of  his  mouth :  it  was  not  quite  easy  to  settle  just 
how  much  she  could  give  to  Cecil — "  he  said  " 
her  words  came  slowly — "  he  said,  '  I  suppose  in  life, 
sooner  or  later,  a  man  must  be  brought  up  sharp 
against  something,  a  great  choice,  or  a  great  trouble. 
All  men  have  to  meet  it '  " 

And  all  women.    So  Linda's  heart  had  answered. 

"  '  You  can't  shirk  it,  or  go  round  it.    So  far,  my 


192  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

life  has  been  all  plain  and  easy.  I've  had  the  best  of 
luck  in  everything — my  own  people,  health,  friends, 
everything.  And  now  it  has  all  come  upon  me '  ' 

"Didn't  he  say  anything  at  all  about  me?  " 
Cecil  broke  in  jealously. 

"  He  didn't  say."  The  accent  on  the  verb  was 
permissible.  "  But  I  was  telling  you  what  he  did 
say,  he  said, '  Do  you  believe,  as  they  used  to  tell  us 
when  we  were  kids,  that  the  hardest  course  is  always 
the  right  one  ? '  '  We  women  like  to  think  so,'  I  told 
him,  '  because  it  makes  sacrifice  easy.'  '  Is  sacrifice 
ever  easy  ?  '  he  said.  Then  I  knew  for  certain  what 
I  had  known  all  along  really,  that  he  meant  to  sac- 
rifice— that's  not  the  right  word  though  ;  there  is  a 
sort  of  I-will-be-a-martyr  air  about  '  sacrifice,'  it  is 
too  self-conscious  for  Rodney.  He  meant,  I  knew, 
to  give  himself,  simply,  whole-heartedly,  as  a  son 
should,  to  his  father's  service."  Warming  to  the 
thought,  Linda  spoke  out,  self-forgetting. 

Cecil  threw  her  cigarette  end  with  careful  aim 
behind  the  potted  marguerites  that  hid  the  fire- 
place. 

"  That  sort  of  thing,"  she  said,  "  may  be  right 
enough  for  a  book-hero.  I  don't  want  to  marry  a 
hero." 

"  But,  why  not  ?  "  Linda's  eyes  as  well  as  her 
lips  wondered. 

"  I  don't  want  a  husband  on  a  pedestal,  and 
me  humbly  taking  the  cloth  off  to  display  him  to 
strangers.  He's  got  to  do  all  the  worshipping." 

"  But,"  Linda  objected,  "  some  of  the  most  every- 
day men  are  the  real  heroes." 

"  I  don't  want  him  everyday,  either.  He  must  be 
distinguished  enough  for  other  people  to  envy  me, 


CONCERNING  THE  ROLE  OF  A  HERO     198 

but  not  so  distinguished  that  he  can  ever  forget  how 
much  he  was  honoured  when  7  accepted  him." 

"  How  oddly  you  weigh  and  consider."  Linda's 
fingers  moved  restlessly  now,  digging  the  pencil  into 
a  blotter.  "  Sometimes — there  are  times  when  I 
begin  to  doubt — that — you  love  him." 

"  According  to  you,  Love  does  not  weigh  and 
consider." 

"  Indeed  it  does  not.  Love  just  is  a  glory  of 
being,  all  else  excluded." 

"  How  do  you  know,  little  Linda  ?  "  Cecil  laughed 
lightly. 

The  laugh  hurt  Linda.    She  faltered  and  coloured. 

"  I  suppose — one  can  imagine." 

"  All  a  mistake,"  Cecil  said  moodily  ;  "  reality 
always  falls  so  far  below  imagination."  She  drew 
a  luxurious  sigh.  "  Go  on,  tell  me  the  rest." 

"  Well,  then,  he — he  went  on  to  say  what  it  would 
mean  to  him.  He  didn't,  of  course,  say  much  ;  yet  I 
gathered  what  it  would  mean  for  him  to  give  up  the 
thing  he  cares  for.  By  what  he  didn't  say,  really  I 
gathered  it.  What  he  said  was :  'If  you  go  the 
right  way  to  work,  there's  interest  in  everything. 
Have  you  noticed — but,  no,  you've  not  seen  enough 
of  him — how  interested  my  father  is  in  everything  ?  ' 
I  was  so  glad  I  could  say  I  had  noticed." 

"  Interested  in  eating  and  money-making,"  Cecil 
interjected  with  a  sneer  that  was  not  at  all  becoming. 

"  No,  indeed ;  you  are  quite  mistaken." 

"  I  may  be.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  could  not — 
really  could  not — see  anything  to  admire  in  a  person 
who  makes  his  hair  wet  and  brushes  it  forward." 

Linda  rather  grandly  ignored  this  sally. 

"  He  went  on  to  say  how  hard  it  would  be  for  his 
o 


194  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

father  to  see  the  work  of  his  life  come  toppling  down 
after  all  his  strength  had  been  spent  on  it.  '  Of 
course,  I  can  throw  in  mine  to  help  him,  but  will  it 
help  him  ?  '  He  added 

"  That's  just  where  it  is,"  Cecil  broke  in  excitedly. 
"  Rodney  will  sacrifice  himself  without  the  old  man 
being  one  penny  the  better.  What  does  Rodney 
know  about  Brassyshine  ?  " 

"  He  means  to  learn." 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  He  seems  to  think  it  is  his  father's  nerve  that  is 
going ;  that  it  is  moral  support  he  needs.  And  that, 
Rodney  can  give  him." 

"  Nerves  ?  I  never  could  stand  people  with  nerves. 
They  oughtn't  to  think  about  such  things.  It's 
hardly  decent.  And,  anyway,  why  should  /  be  sac- 
rificed, just  because  old  Brassy  has  nerves  ?  "  She 
sent  out  her  breath  through  her  nostrils  impatiently. 
"  Great  fat,  vulgar  thing !  Last  person  to  have 
nerves ! " 

"  Can't  you  see  Rodney's  point  of  view,  though  ?  " 
Linda  asked  it  gently,  because  most  urgently  she 
felt  it  her  part  to  keep  all  fair  between  Rodney  and 
Cecil,  to  drag  her  if  it  might  be  to  his  higher  level. 
Rodney  must  not — it  would  be  too  cruel  if  Rodney 
were  disappointed  in  Cecil ! 

'"As  for  that,"  Cecil  answered  coldly,  "  Rodney's 
point  of  view  ought  to  be  the  same  as  mine.  We  are 
young,  we  love  one  another,  we  have  a  right  to  be 
happy." 

"  What  about  his  father  and  mother  ?  " 

"  They  are  old,  their  day  is  over,  they  ought  not 
to  expect  anything  further.  Anyone  would  tell  you 
that  is  only  fair," 


CONCERNING  THE  ROLE  OF  A  HERO     195 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  fair,"  Linda  objected. 
"  Even  granting  it  is,  would  you  not  want  the  man 
you  care  for  to  be  something  more  than  fair  ? 
Supposing,  for  instance,  that  he  were  only  fair  to- 
wards yourself :  would  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  With  me,  of  course,  it  is  different." 

"  Why  should  it  be  ?  He  has  only  known  you  a 
few  months.  Think  of  the  long  years  during  which 
his  father  has  worked  for  him  and  loved  him." 

Cecil  yawned. 

"  My  dear,  you  are  old-fashionedly  sentimental, 
and  at  the  same  tune  horribly  commonplace. 
Besides,  you  are  all  wrong.  Doesn't  it  say  in  the 
Bible  that '  a  man  must  leave  his  father  and  mother 
and  cleave  to  his  wife '  ?  " 

"  Generalities  never  cover  particular  cases.  Be- 
sides, there  is  no  question  of  cleaving  and  leaving. 
It  is  not  as  though  he  had  to  choose  between  you." 

"  He  has  though,"  Cecil  returned  doggedly.  "  I 
have  made  up  my  mind.  With  me  it  is  a  matter  of 
principle.  If  he  does  not  give  in  to  me  on  this  point, 
then — I  have  done  with  him." 

"  He  will  not  give  in."  Linda  spoke  with  sad 
assurance. 

"So  you  think?" 

"  Somehow,  I  know  it." 

"  After  all,  it  is  none  of  your  business."  Cecil 
spoke  jerkily. 

"  I  should  not  have  said  anything  about  it  had 
you  not  asked  me." 

Cecil  got  up  stormily. 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  you  seem  so  sure  about 
Rodney.  And  I  don't  like  it.  A  closed  book — that 
is  what  he  seems  to  me,  often  and  often,  And  you — 


196  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

you  turn  over  the  pages  and  read  just  wherever  you 
like.  I  will  say,  you  evidently  made  the  most  of 
your  time  down  in  Cornwall." 

"  Cecil,"  pleaded  Linda,  "  don't  say  things  you 
will  be  sorry  for." 

"  As  for  that,  I'm  not  saying  anything.  How  can 
I  help  what  you  are  thinking  ?  "  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders.  "  Don't  blame  me  if  you  feel  guilty." 

Linda  was  sufficiently  self-restrained  not  to  utter 
the  reply  she  could  not  help  looking.  Then  she  went 
out  of  the  room  with  conscious  gentleness. 

"  Ill-tempered  little  cat."  Cecil  threw  the  words 
after  her  friend.  "  I  can  stand  a  decent  quarrel, 
there's  something  exhilarating  in  that.  But  the 
people  who  are  too  virtuous  to  answer  back  !  Un- 
fair, I  call  it.  Personally,  I  loathe  saintliness.  I  am 
sure  I  pity  anyone  who  marries  Linda.  She'd  make 
them  feel  in  the  wrong  always— Rodney  is  a  bit  like 
that,  too— sometimes  I  wonder ' 

She  stood  for  a  long  while  gazing  up  at  Rubelow's 
pastel  of  herself. 

"  I  do  wonder "  she  muttered. 

And  after  a  while  added  aloud  : 

"  When  I  do  make  up  my  mind,  nothing  on  earth 
can  alter  me." 

As  she  went  about  the  room,  setting  to  rights  her 
scattered  possessions,  there  was  a  glint  in  her  eye, 
and  she  was  humming  aggressively. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

TESTING   THE   HERO 

CECIL  had  braved  the  forbidding  countenance  of  the 
Victorian  house  and  asked  for  Mr.  Barett.  She 
would  not  take  Linda  with  her.  She  was  lusting  for 
battle,  and  feared  the  pacific  influence  of  her  friend. 
The  unbelievable  had  happened.  Rodney  had  defied 
Cecil.  To  say  '  defied  '  is,  perhaps,  if  not  a  mis- 
statement,  certainly  an  overstatement  of  fact,  for 
there  was  nothing  defiant  in  his  attitude.  Yet 
taunts,  caresses,  and  even  tears  had  failed  to  move 
him.  The  first  he  had  borne  in  silence,  accepted  the 
second,  and,  not  without  embarrassment,  over- 
looked the  third.  But,  he  had  not  given  in  to  Cecil. 

She — checked,  but  not  defeated — retired  in  good 
order,  meditating  an  attack  on  the  principal  ally  of 
the  enemy.  Hence  her  approach  to  the  Victorian 
house,  her  demand  for  a  parley  with  Jeremiah 
Barett. 

Mr.  Barett  was  at  home,  so  the  '  suffragan  bishop ' 
condescended  to  assure  her.  It  had  never  even 
occurred  to  Cecil  that  Rodney's  father  could  be  out 
when  she  wanted  to  see  him.  He  was  in  his  study, 
enjoying  a  quiet  half-hour  after  lunch  before  return- 
ing to  the  Works,  where  he  was  not  above  taking 
off  his  coat  and  displaying  his  snowy  shirt-sleeves 

197 


198  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

in  the  intimate  interests  of  his  beloved  Brassy- 
shine. 

The  '  suffragan  bishop '  knocked  twice  at  the  door 
deferentially  before  an  answering  voice  told  them 
to '  Come  in." 

"  Miss  Wolney  to  see  you." 

Jeremiah  was  on  his  feet  looking  so  consciously 
wide-awake  that  Cecil  might  be  excused  her  suspi- 
cion that  he  had  been  sleeping,  even  without  the 
corroboratory  evidence  of  his  flushed  moist  face  and 
the  two  arm-chairs  plainly  pushed  from  a  recent 
juxtaposition. 

"  Ah  !  Miss  Wolney — Miss  Cecil."  He  greeted 
her  noisily.  Cecil  felt  sure  he  would  add, '  And  what 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  '  She  was  afraid  she  would  laugh 
if  he  did,  and  she  very  much  wanted  to  be  dignified 
with  Rodney's  father. 

He  did  not  say  it ;  but  with  a  wave  of  the  hand 
offered  her  the  arm-chair,  two  dents  in  the  thick 
upholstery  of  which  proclaimed  the  fact  that  his 
feet  had  recently  rested  there. 

"  Now  this  is  very  kind,"  he  said  blandly.  "  Un- 
fortunately, my  good  lady  is  not  at  home." 

"  But  it  was  you  I  wanted,"  Cecil  informed  him 
sweetly.  "  You  see,  I've  come  to  talk  about 
Rodney." 

"Ah!  of  course  —  to  be  sure  —  yes,  about 
Rodney." 

He  seated  himself,  his  hands  on  the  arms  of  the 
chair,  his  body  well  forward,  so  that  his  corpulence 
rested  on  his  widespread  knees.  His  appearance 
disgusted  Cecil.  From  every  point  of  view  she  de- 
spised him,  and  was  doubly  vexed,  therefore,  that 
she  felt  herself  to  be  nervous. 


TESTING  THE  HERO  199 

After  a  moment's  embarrassing  silence,  during 
which  her  host  regarded  her  with  unpolished  intent- 
ness,  he  asked  : 

"  Well,  and  what  about  Rodney  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  you "     Cecil  was  playing 

with  her  long  bead  chain.  Jeremiah  looked  at  it 
curiously.  "  I  have  come "  she  repeated. 

Jeremiah  nodded.  It  was  a  self-evident  fact  the 
movement  stated.  Cecil,  bolstering  her  courage 
with  annoyance,  went  on  rapidly  : 

"  I  have  come  to  you,  because — because  I  am  sure 
there  is  some  misunderstanding.  You  don't  really 
want  Rodney — do  you  ? — to  throw  up  his  profession 
and  go  into — er — the — your " 

"  Brassyshine  job.  Don't  be  shy  of  the  name, 
young  lady.  It's  given  us  bread  and  butter,  Brassy- 
shine  has  " — he  gave  a  satisfied  look  round  his  solid 
book-lined  room — "  not  to  mention  shrimps  and 

water-cresses "  '  Creases '  he  called  them  ;  Cecil 

shuddered.  "  It  has  so,  for  more  years  than  I  care 
to  count.  And  is  like  to  do  the  same  for  Rodney  a 
bit  yet,  not  to  mention  any  number  of  little  Rodneys 
in  the  future." 

Cecil,  hating  herself  for  it,  coloured  furiously. 
The  man  was  too  awful.  She  began  desperately  to 
long  for  Linda's  presence.  She  had  an  idea  Jeremiah 
would  have  behaved  better  before  Linda.  She 
swallowed  her  anger  and  went  on  hurriedly  : 

"  Is  there  any  necessity — there  is  surely  no  real 
necessity  for  Rodney  to  go  into  the  business.  What 
I  mean  is — can't  it  go  on  as  it  always  has  done, 
without  him  ?  "  Thinking  she  had  made  a  good 
point,  she  brightened  and  went  on :  "  It  seems 
to  me  the  business  ought  to  be  able  to  go  on 


200  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

making  money  whilst  Rodney  sticks  to  his  pro- 
fession." 

She  waited  an  answer.  It  meant  so  pathetically 
much  to  her  that  Rodney's  business  should  be  a 
'  profession.' 

Jeremiah,  when  his  turn  came,  spoke  deliberately. 

"  Now  you  are  asking  more  than  I  can  tell  you. 
There  are  ups  and  downs  in  all  businesses,  and  a 
man  like  me  as  knows  " — he  slipped  his  thumbs  into 
the  arm-holes  of  his  waistcoat — "  well,  it's  his 
business  to  watch  out  for  indications.  Much  the 
same  as  these  scientific  Johnnies  do  with  the 
weather — very  interesting  it  is  too,  cyclones  and 
a  untie-cy clones  and  depressions  and  the  rest — 
astonishing  how  often  they  hit  on  what's  coming. 
Well,  what  I  want  to  express  is — as  I'm  like  a 
weather- Johnny — I  sits  up  aloft,  and  looks  out  for 
business  weather — and — er — so  on,"  he  ended  rather 
abruptly. 

"  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  Rodney  ?  " 

"  Everything  it  has  to  do  with  Rodney.  Where' d 
he  be  ? — where 'd  you  be  when  you've  married  him 
— if  Brassyshine  left  off  shining  to  the  tune  of 
L.S.  D.  ?" 

"  He  would  have  his  profession.  I  suppose  people 
make  their  living  at  architecture." 

"  Precious  few,  and  not  much  of  a  living,  anyway. 
Architecture  is  a  genteel  employment,  but  not 
enough  dirt  about  it  for  the  coining  of  brass.  It's 
dirt  that  breeds  money;  you'll  have  to  make  up 
your  mind  to  stomach  that,  young  lady." 

Cecil  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  What  I  fail  to  see  is — if  this  business  of  yours  is 
going  to  the  dogs " 


TESTING  THE  HERO  201 

Jeremiah  grew  apoplectic  as  he  managed  to  stifle 
an  indignant  disclaimer.  Brassyshine  going  to  the 
dogs  !  He  wiped  his  brow  with  relief  that  it  was  not 
so,  even  whilst  he  felt  sick  at  his  disloyalty  to  his  old 
Life-comrade. 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  "  he  murmured  gruffly. 

"  If  it  is  going  downhill,  I  don't  see  how  Rodney 
is  to  stop  it." 

"  That's  because " — his  eyes  brightened  and 
gleamed  slily — "because,  my  dear  young  lady,  if 
you  will  excuse  my  saying  so,  you  know  nothing 
whatever  about  business." 

"  Of  course  I  don't."  Cecil's  glance  was  innocent 
and  appealing. 

Jeremiah  saw  through  its  wiliness,  yet  his  vanity 
was  flattered.  It  was  '  nuts '  to  him  that  young 
madam  should  consider  him  worth  flattering. 

"  I'll  bet  anything,"  he  went  on  briskly,  "  you 
haven't  the  beginning  of  an  idea  as  to  what  is  meant 
by  new  blood  in  a  business  ?  " 

"  Sounds  suggestive  of  cannibals."  Encouraged 
by  her  apparent  success,  Cecil  rose  to  a  lighter  vein. 

"  Sounds  what  it  isn't  then.  It's  more  like  putting 
dung  to  growing  crops.  New  blood,  young  blood, 
energy,  push,  fresh  point  of  view.  All  that  is 
valuable  to  a  surprising  extent  in  a  business.  And 
that's  just  where  Rod  comes  in  at  the  present 
identical  moment.  And  I  will  say  for  the  lad,  he's 
took  and  buckled  to  like  a  good  'un." 

'  You  don't  mean  that — he's  started  already?  " 
Cecil's  voice  shrilled  with  horror.  In  spite  of  his 
decided  air  she  had  not  in  the  least  realised  the 
unalterableness  of  Rodney's  determination. 

Jeremiah  chuckled. 


202  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  Started  this  morning  in  the  grinding-shop." 

"  He — he  won't  do  dirty  work,  will  he  ?  " 

"  Pretty  mucked  up  he  was  when  I  saw  him." 

"  Did— did  he  mind  it  ?  " 

"  Mind  it  ?  Bless  you,  he  was  enjoying  it — jolly  as 
a  cricket,  Rod  was.  That  alone's  worth  more  than 
a  bit  to  the  business.  Tell  you  what" — he 
spoke  with  sudden  inspiration — "  you  come  along 
with  me  to  the  Works  and  give  him  a  little  surprise." 
He  laughed  like  a  mischievous  boy.  "  He's  in 
borrowed  overalls  a  sight  too  wide ;  he's  not  much 
flesh  to  spare,  hasn't  Rod.  And  him  in  a  muck- 
sweat  and  that  black  with  the  dust  o'  the  grinding 
you'd  think  twice,  so  you  would,  before  you'd  ask  a 
kiss  of  him." 

Cecil  rose  to  her  feet.   This  was  past  bearing. 

"  Coming  are  you  ?  Now,  I  like  that.  A  good 
plucked  'un,  that's  what  you  are,  young  lady."  He 
started  towards  the  door. 

Cecil  sank  back  into  the  wide  arm-chair  limply. 

"  No,  no,  I  couldn't "    And  then,  as  he  stood, 

bulky,  sturdy,  staring  down  at  her,  "I'm  not  going 
I  tell  you.  I  won't !  Nothing  would  make  me  !  " 
She  clutched  her  chair  as  though  it  were  that  of  a 
dentist. 

Slowly  and  with  deliberation  Jeremiah  sat  him- 
self down.  At  that  moment  he  knew  himself  suc- 
cessful, yet  it  was  a  sorry  sort  of  a  success.  As  a  rule, 
he  was  sure  of  himself,  now  he  wondered  had  he 
bungled.  He  had  been  so  sure  the  girl  was  not 
worthy  his  son,  had  been  so  anxious  to  prove  it, 
and  now  he  had  proved  it,  almost  he  would  have 
been  glad — perhaps  for  the  only  time  in  his  satis- 
factory life  he  would  have  been  glad — to  find  himself 


TESTING  THE  HERO  208 

in  the  wrong.  For  he  could  not  rid  his  mind  of  the 
thought  of  his  boy,  Roddy,  as  he  had  seen  him  that 
morning,  in  the  absurd  overalls  that  were  all  too 
wide ;  hot  and  grimy,  working  away  at  the  lowest, 
coarsest  part  of  the  business,  yet  blithe  and  happy 
in  service.  '  How  long  does  it  take  to  learn  ? '  he 
had  sung  out  in  his  clear,  well-modulated  voice,  the 
voice  his  father  affected  to  scorn  and  was  so  proud  of. 

'  How  long  ?  They  used  to  say  seven  years  for 
a  'prentice.' 

'  Seven  years  ?  A  devil  of  a  time,'  Rod  had 
answered,  but  his  eyes  were  dancing. 

And  now  an  unwelcome  thought  had  come  to  the 
father.  Like  Jacob  of  old,  Rodney  would  cheerfully 
have  served  seven  years  for  his  wife  ;  but  supposing 
there  was  no  promised  wife  at  the  end  of  them  ? 

'  I'll  not  go  and  try  him  too  far/  the  old  man 
thought  tenderly. 

All  this  had  passed  through  his  mind  close  on 
Cecil's  disclaimer.  She  would  not  go  to  see  Rodney 
at  work,  and  he  had  not  really  expected  it. 

"  So,"  he  said,  "  you  are  one  of  them  that  think 
to  work  with  the  hands  means  dishonouring  them." 

"  Certainly  not,"  Cecil  returned  briskly.  She  had 
had  a  momentary  desperate  fear  lest,  whether  she 
would  or  no,  he  would  carry  her  off  to  this  terrible 
business.  "  Hands  are  intended  for  work.  My  con- 
tention is  that  the  work  should  be  suitable.  Rod- 
ney's hands  were  made  for  drawing." 

"  There's  sense  in  that,  too,"  Jeremiah  admitted. 
"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  reckernised  that  when  I 
started  him  in  the  architecture  business." 

She  followed  up  her  advantage. 

"Is  it  fair  then,  when  he  has  got  over  the  first 


204  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

drudgery,  when  he  is  beginning  to  make  his  way,  is 
on  the  eve,  perhaps,  of  a  big  success,  to  force  him  to 
throw  it  all  over  ?  " 

"  Nay,  that  wouldn't  be  at  all  fair,  that  wouldn't." 

Cecil  bent  forward  eagerly. 
'  There  now  !    We  agree  after  all." 

Jeremiah  smiled  in  a  way  Cecil  instinctively 
resented,  and  yet  the  old  man's  smile  was  like 
Rodney's. 

"It  wouldn't  be  fair,"  he  said,  "  not  if  I'd  forced 
him,  it  wouldn't.  But  that's  just  what  I  didn't  do. 
I  did  but  tell  him  to  choose — and  Rod  has  chosen." 

Cecil  breathed  quickly. 

"  All  the  same,  /  call  it  forcing  him.  Practically, 
you  said  to  him,  '  I  cannot  make  you  do  this,  but 
you  are  a  beast  if  you  don't.' ' 

Jeremiah  looked  at  her  attentively.  There  was 
certainly  more  in  this  girl  than  he  had  at  first  sup- 
posed. He  had  expected  sloppy  protestations, 
perhaps  tears.  Yet  Jeremiah  Barett  was  not  often 
wrong  in  his  summing  up  of  a  fellow-being. 

"  Well  put,"  he  answered.  "  Yet  that  was  not 
the  way  of  it.  Rodney's  a  man,  and  I  treated  him  as 
a  man.  He'd  his  free  choice,  as  he  wouldn't  have 
done  had  I  let  him  think  it  would  make  me  look 
upon  him  as  less  than  a  man  if  he  didn't  choose  as  I 
wished  him." 

"Naturally,  he  would  want  to  please  you." 
Cecil's  suggestion  came  as  a  lightning  dart,  pro- 
voking from  Jeremiah  the  rumbling  return  : 

"  I  don't  say  nothing  about  that.  Me  and  Rod 
stand  plain  to  one  another,  without  any  frillings." 

"  Then,  why  on  earth  has  he  done  it  ?  " 

"  Before  I  answer  that  question  I'll  beg  leave  to 


TESTING   THE   HERO  205 

put  one  to  you.  Did  he  ask  your  advice  on  the 
matter  ?  " 

"  Yes — no,  not  exactly.  He  said  he  was  going  to 
— but  then  he  wouldn't." 

"  Um-m '  By  now  Jeremiah  had  his  hands 

deep  in  his  pockets.  For  once,  he  was  not  jingling 
the  coins.  In  her  present  raw-nerved  condition 
Cecil  must  have  protested  aloud  had  he  done  it. 
"  And — why  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  He  said — well,  he  didn't  want  to  burden  me 
with  the  onus— he  didn't  want  me  to  blame  myself 
afterwards." 

"  That's  Roddy  all  over.  The  boy's  a  gentleman, 
that's  what  he  is,  first  and  last.  So  he  settled  it 
right  on  his  own  ?  " 

"  As  for  that  " — Cecil  seldom  considered  before 
she  spoke,  even  to  save  her  own  pride — "  as  it 
happens,  he  is  not  so  self-reliant  as  you  think  ;  he 
didn't  trust  himself " 

"  Dear  me !  I'm  glad  to  know  that.  Seems  I 
don't  understand  the  boy  yet,  not  altogether." 

"  Of  course,  he  may  not  have  meant  to  consult 
anybody,  only  he  happened  to  see  Linda — 

"  The  little  blue-eyed  girl,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Linda  Ray,  my  friend,"  Cecil  said  stiffly.  "  I 
did  not  mean  to  mention  her,  not  that  there  is  any 
harm  in  it — I  chanced  to  be  out,  he  was  waiting  for 
me,  and  Linda " 

"  Her,  wasn't  it,  as  he  met  down  in  Cornwall  ?  " 
His  mouth  was  pursed,  he  was  thinking.  "  And  so  he 
asked  her  advice,  did  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  asked  it,  exactly." 

"  Anyhow,  he  got  it,"  Jeremiah  chuckled.  "  Good 
that  for  the  little  lady.  And  what  did  she  advise  ?  " 


206  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

"If  you  knew  her  as  well  as  I  do,"  Cecil  returned 
crossly,  "  you  would  not  ask.  Linda  is  incorrigibly 
romantic.  " 

"  Um-m.  She  told  him  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  Brassyshine  ?  "  And  now  he  was  jingling  the 
coins  in  his  pocket. 

"  I  shouldn't  call  that  romantic,  but  practical," 
Cecil  returned  with  asperity. 

Jeremiah  gave  an  inaudible  whistle. 

"  Linda's  one  of  the  people  that  are  not  content 
with  sacrificing  themselves  but  want  others  to 
sacrifice  themselves.  That's  horribly  muddly — but 
you  see  what  I  mean,  don't  you  ?  " 

Jeremiah  nodded  his  head  like  a  big  reflective 
baby.  "  She  just  wants  them  to  get  hold  of  the 
best." 

"  No,  not  at  all.  She  wants  the  ideal  for  everyone." 

"  Isn't  the  ideal  the  best  ?  " 

"  In  a  way  I  suppose  it  is.    But  it  isn't  practical." 

"  Practical  or  practicable  ?  " 

"  Either  or  both."  Cecil  was  flippant  because 
she  was  not  sure  of  his  meaning. 

"  Am  I  to  take  it  that  the  little  lady  put  her 
weight  into  the  scale  with  Brassyshine  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  she  had  any  weight,  exactly. 
Of  course,  she  is  very  young." 

"  And  so  sees  clearly." 

Cecil  stared  at  the  interruption,  then  went  on  : 

"  She's  young — and — how  was  I  going  to  put  it  ? 
Oh  !  I  know.  I  don't  know,  of  course,  what  she  said, 
because  she  didn't  tell  me.  But  it  was  after  she  had 
been  talking  to  him  that  she  said  she  was  certain 
he  would  throw  up  his  profession  and  stand  by  you, 
And  I  said  that  he  wouldn't." 


TESTING  THE  HERO  207 

Jeremiah  caressed  his  wet  hair  sheaf. 

"  Seems  the  little  lady  knew  what  she  was  talking 
about." 

Cecil  flung  herself  into  a  different  position. 

"  A  bit  hard  on  me."  It  struck  Jeremiah  how 
quickly  her  face  aged  when  she  looked  ill-tempered. 
"  A  bit  hard  on  me  that  what  I  said  should  be 
ignored,  and  what  she  said  followed." 

"  Only,  as  like  as  not,"  the  old  man  said  sooth- 
ingly, "  because  it  jumped  with  the  boy's  own 
intention." 

"  I  see.  Yes,  no  doubt  that  was  it !  "  Cecil  was 
graciously  pleased  to  be  mollified.  And,  with  a 
vague  feeling  that  in  some  mysterious  way  Rodney's 
father  was  on  her  side,  she  added :  "  And  now  I 
want  to  ask  you  a  favour." 

"  Right  ho  !  "  he  answered. 

"  Will  you  promise  to  grant  it  ?  " 

"As  to  that,  I  never  yet  bought  '  a  pig  in  a 
poke,'  young  lady." 

"  It  is  this  way,  now  that  you  have  tested  Rod- 
ney  " 

Under  his  thick  skin  old  Barett  coloured.  There 
was  certainly  more  shrewdness  than  he  had  bar- 
gained for  in  young  madam. 

"  Now  you  have  tested  him,  will  you  let  him  off 
his  bargain  ?  "  Suddenly  she  turned  the  artillery 
of  her  eyes  upon  him.  "  You  don't  want  him  to 
sacrifice  himself,  do  you  ?  And  there  is  nothing 
wrong  with  the  business,  really  ?  " 

Almost  he  was  vanquished  ;  but  he  felt  the  coins 
in  his  pockets,  good  coins,  the  palpable  outcome 
of  the  trusty  Brassyshine,  the  touch  hardened  and 
heartened  him, 


208  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

'  You  jump  to  conclusions  very  nimbly,"  he  said ; 
"  but  supposing  I  did  not  do  this,  as  you  say,  to 
test  Rodney." 

"  But  you  did,  you  must  own  it,"  she  insisted. 

"  Nay,  then — that  I  did  not."  He  answered  with 
genuine  assurance ;  for,  by  now,  he  knew  clearly 
that  for  him  his  son  had  needed  no  testing  ;  it  was 
for  Rodney's  own  sake  he  had  done  this  thing,  that 
the  girl  of  his  choice  might  appear  in  her  true  colours 
— the  colours  which,  he  judged,  were  like  herself, 
meretricious — or,  as  he  put  it,  with  '  no  wash  and 
wear  about  'em.' 

"  Nay,  that  I  did  not,"  he  repeated. 

Cecil  stared  at  him.  Had  she  been  wrong  or  was 
he  deceiving  her  ?  She  wanted  to  think  so,  but 
could  not.  Vulgar  as  he  was,  hateful  almost  in  his 
self-satisfied  assurance,  she  could  not  prevail  on 
herself  to  think  he  was  lying. 

With  a  sigh  she  rose  to  her  feet,  gathering  her 
possessions  about  her. 

Jeremiah  remained  seated. 

She  could  have  stamped  her  foot  at  the  blatant 
ungentlemanliness  of  Rodney's  father.  She  re- 
strained herself  and  took  a  dramatic  pose. 

"  Very  well.  It  only  remains  to  tell  you,  as  I  have 
told  your  son  already.  Seeing  that,  in  a  matter  to 
me  of  vital  importance,  he  has  not  given  in  to  my 
wishes,  the  engagement  must  be  at  an  end  between 
us."  She  was  pleased  with  the  tone  of  her  voice, 
her  attitude — everything.  1 1  was  a  little  disappoint- 
ing, therefore,  that  her  audience  of  one  remained 
unshaken.  As  old  Barett  leant  forward  in  his  chair 
she  almost  thought  he  was  smiling,  or  trying  not  to 
smile,  which  was  even  more  hateful, 


TESTING  THE   HERO  209 

"  And  what  did  the  boy  say  to  that  ?  "  he  asked 
quite  pleasantly. 

"  Rodney  ? — He  said  nothing." 

"  Then  I  say  nothing." 

"Is  it  nothing  to  you" — her  air  was  that  of 
a  quite  good  tragedy  queen  ;  Jeremiah  was  amused 
at  it — "  is  it  nothing  to  you  whether  I  marry  your 
son  or  do  not  marry  him  ?  " 

"There  is  only  one  thing  that  matters  to  me." 
His  mouth  still  had  that  faint  suggestion  of  a  smile. 
It  was  annoying,  but  a  fact,  Jeremiah's  smile  was 
like  Rodney's.  "  The  only  thing  that  really  matters 
to  me  is  whether  the  boy  will  be  happy." 

"  You  think,"  her  voice  sounded  stifled,  "  that 
he  can — be  happy — without  me  ?  " 

At  that  the  old  man  sobered ;  the  thing  might 
have  gone  deeper  with  this  child  than  he  had 
thought,  so  he  answered  her  gravely  : 

"Are  you  thinking  of  his  happiness,  or  your  own  ? ' ' 

"  As  for  that — /  can  be  happy  enough  without 

him.    He  is  not  the  only In  the  old  man's 

eyes,  bright  and  dark,  she  read  an  unwelcome  truth. 
She  it  was,  not  he,  that  was  vulgar.  Hastily  she 
throttled  the  suggestion ;  but  she  altered  her 
sentence.  "  He  is  the  only  one  you  need  consider." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  young  lady  " —the  smile 
again  hovered — "  and  that  simplifies  matters,  don't 
it  ?  I  have  been  thinking  a  deal  about  the  boy  lately. 
Nowt  else,  '  Mamma '  would  tell  you  ;  tossing  and 
turning  about,  keeping  her  wakeful." 

Sometimes  Cecil  thought  this  horrible  old  man 
took  a  malicious  pleasure  in  his  vulgarity. 

He  went  on  serenely  : 

"  And  what  is  the  outcome  of  this  here  thinking  ? 

r 


210  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

Something  as  follows :  for  a  man  to  be  right  and 
happy  his  wife  must  be  ready  to  help  him " 

"  I  would  have  " — Cecil  put  in  hurriedly — "  I  could 
have  introduced — oh  !  heaps  of  people — the  best 
sort — and  everyone  always  says  that  is  everything  to 
an  architect." 

Jeremiah  waited  patiently  for  her  to  finish,  he  did 
not  always  fail  in  good  manners ;  then  he  went  on, 
much  as  though  he  had  been  keeping  his  place  with 
his  finger : 

"  A  help  to  him,  that's  what  a  wife's  meant  for. 
We're  rough  things,  at  the  best,  us  men,  even  the 
most  polished  of  us.  To  lead  us  up,  not  draw  us 
down,  that's  woman's  true  work  with  us.  Now  I 
take  it  that  a  woman  as  tries  to  persuade  a  man  to  do 
summat  as  the  gorge  of  his  better  self  rises  at,  she 
ain't  fit  to  help  him,  nor  like  to,  nohows.  But  the 
woman  as  loves  him  too  true  to  see  his  worse  self 
leap  on  the  back  of  his  better ;  and  draws  him,  even 
against  her  own  interests — that's  the  right  sort  of 
mate  for  him.  I'm  not  saying  as  you've  done  one 
or  the  other  with  Rodney,  I'm  stating  the  case,  as 
the  lawyer  chaps  put  it." 

Cecil  read  more  hi  his  words  than  he  meant,  for 
he  had  not  been  thinking  of  Linda,  and  her  jealousy 
flaming,  she  broke  out,  unrestrainedly  : 

"  As  for  that,  if  you,  or  Rodney,  think  Linda  Ray 
is  more  suitable,  more  worthy  your  son  than  I  am — 
she  is  jolly  welcome.  For  my  part,  I  have  done  with 
him."  Her  voice  trailed  down  from  proud  certainty 
to  piteous  realisation. 

Jeremiah's  shrewd  eyes  were  on  her.  And  Cecil 
realised  the  thing  which  always  she  would  remember 
most  plainly  in  the  whole  bitter  business — the  fact 


TESTING   THE   HERO  211 

that  Jeremiah  Barett  of  Brassyshine  notoriety,  the 
self-made  man,  coin- jingling,  rasping  of  voice, 
awkward  in  speech  and  manner,  had  found  in  her — 
Cecil  Wolney — the  Wolneys  had  been  well  bred  for 
generations  —  something  common,  perhaps  even 
vulgar.  She  had  seen  it  in  his  eyes.  She  hated  him 
for  it.  She  hated  Rodney,  too,  at  the  moment. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE   HERO  RECEIVES  HIS  DISMISSAL 

"  IF  you  please,  Miss  Ray,  Miss  Cecil  would  like  to 
speak  to  you." 

Linda  stared  at  the  maid  who  stood  in  her  door- 
way. The  formality  was  so  unsuggestive  of  Cecil, 
who  raced  over  the  house,  bursting  in  on  anyone,  at 
any  moment,  without  thought  of  apology. 

"  She  wants  me,"  Linda  faltered ;  "  where  is  she  ?  " 
She  had  a  cold  presage  of  some  dread  happening. 
The  thing  was  so  unlike  Cecil.  "  Where  is  she  ?  " 
She  would  not  have  been  surprised  at  some  such 
answer  as  '  They  are  carrying  her  in  now  '  ;  instead, 
came  the  commonplace  intimation  : 

"  In  the  morning-room,  Miss."  The  morning- 
room  was  the  household  name  for  Cecil's  sanctum. 

Linda  went  there,  hastily,  not  waiting  to  tidy 
mind  or  person,  still  obsessed  with  the  idea  that 
something  important,  even  terrible,  must  have 
happened. 

An  unnatural  stillness  reigned  in  the  room,  seem- 
ing to  emanate  from  Cecil  herself.  She  was  on  the 
window  seat,  her  face,  though  in  tone  against  the 
light,  seemed  to  have  taken  on  a  certain  hardness. 
With  a  throb  of  the  heart,  Linda  realised  this  was 
not  the  Cecil  of  her  girlish  adoration. 

"  You  wanted  me,"  she  said,  hesitating. 

312 


THE  HERO  RECEIVES  HIS  DISMISSAL     213 

"Yes.  Come  here."  Cecil's  tone  was  constrained, 
yet  not  exactly  unfriendly.  Linda's  heart  leapt  to 
the  thought  that  she  was  still  necessary  to 
Cecil. 

She  sat  down  beside  her.  The  day  was  dull  and 
oppressive.  The  flowers  in  the  window-box  looked 
assertively  garish  against  the  universal  grey  ness. 

"I  just  want  you  to  know" — Cecil's  words 
came  as  slowly  and  deliberately  as  her  slim  fingers 
moved  sideways  over  the  gay  brocade  of  the  window- 
cushion — "  I  just  want  you  to  know  that  I  have 
broken  off  my  engagement  with  Rodney  Barett." 

"  Cecil !  you  mustn't !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "     Cecil  turned  sharply  upon  her. 

Linda  flushed,  stammered  : 

"  You  wouldn't  have  the  heart — you  couldn't — 
to  make  him  so  unhappy." 

"  I  have,"  Cecil  said  shortly.  "  After  all,  who  is 
he  that  everyone  should  think  so  much  of  his 
happiness? " 

"  Does  everyone  ?  " 

"Of  course  they  do.  Roddy's  happiness,  that's 
what  I'm  out  after.  There  you  have  old  Brassy- 
shine " 

"  And  isn't  it  natural  in  his  father  ?  " 

"  I  hate  natural  things,  '  natural '  so  often  means 
'  nasty.'  Then  there's  his  genteel  mother.  The 
word  '  genteel '  has  survived  from  Victorian  times 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  expressing  Mrs.  Barett.  She 
sucks  up  to  me,  because  she  thinks  I'm  going  to 
make  her  dear  Rodney  happy.  Little  she  knows  ! 

His  sister  dislikes  me "  She  silenced  Linda's 

embryo  disclaimer.  "  She  does.  And  why  ?  I 
don't  believe  there's  anything  really  dislikable 


214  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

about  me,  it  is  only  that  she  thinks  I  shall  somehow 
fail  to  make  the  inestimable  Rodney  truly  happy. 
She's  clever  enough  to  see  that  I  have  too  much 
strength  of  character,  and  he  too  little." 

"  No — I  mean,  he  hasn't." 

"  That's  where  you  are  wrong,  my  dear.  I  always 
knew  he  was  weak  and  yielding.  I  did  not  mind  at 
first.  I  wanted  him  to  yield  to  me  in  everything. 
He  told  me  afterwards  he  never  meant  to  ask  me  a 
second  time — weak  people  are  often  obstinate — but 
I  simply  made  him.  It  wasn't  altogether  selfish  of 
me  either.  I  knew  " — she  gulped — "  at  any  rate 
I  thought — I  could  make  him  happy." 

Linda's  eyes  shone. 

"  So  you  are  as  bad  as  anybody." 

"How?" 

"  In  wanting  his  happiness." 

"  No,  I'm  not.  I  did  then,  because  I  thought  it 
would  make  me  happy." 

"  I  see.    Yourself  first."    Linda's  voice  hardened. 

"  Myself  first,  naturally.  In  that  respect  I  am  no 
different  from  anyone  else,  except  that  I  have  the 
courage  to  say  so.  Everyone  is  first  with  them- 
selves. Babies  and  idiots  show  it,  and  old  people 
when  they  get  childish.  The  rest  make  a  pretence. 

So  silly  when  everyone  knows  it.  You,  now " 

She  turned  on  Linda  with  triumph.  "  At  the  bottom 
of  your  heart,  isn't  it  just  your  own  happiness  you 
are  seeking  ?  " 

"No."  Linda's  voice  was  low,  and  there  was  a 
thrill  in  it. 

Cecil  turned  away  jerkily. 

"It  is  simply  that  you  deceive  yourself,  or  you 
won't  own  it." 


THE  HERO  RECEIVES  HIS  DISMISSAL    215 

"  It  would  not  be  true  if  I  said  so." 

"  You — you  are  a  sort  of  saint  with  an  invisible 
halo.  Anyway,  you  can't  say  it  is  my  happiness  you 
are  thinking  of.  No  fear !  No  one  thinks  of  my 
happiness.  That's  what  makes  it  all  so  hard,  so 
disappointing.  After  all,  it  is  not  asking  so  very 
much,  surely,  that  the  man  you  are  engaged  to 
should  think  of  your  happiness,  only — 

"  But — would  it  really  make  you  happy  that  he 
should  be  less  than  himself  to  please  your  passing 
fancy  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  a  passing  fancy.  It  is  a  matter  of  the 
utmost  importance.  I  don't  mind  marrying  an 
architect.  I'm  not  really  snobbish  and  stupid— but 
I  won't — I  simply  won't — marry  Barett's  Brassy- 
shine." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  me — of  course,  I  don't  know 
very  much ' 

"  You  don't  know  anything,"  snapped  Cecil. 

"  Not  much  of  the  world  at  any  rate."  Linda's 
colour  was  rising.  "  But  it  seems  to  me — if — if  you — 
cared  for  a  man — it  wouldn't  make  any  difference, 
whether  he  sat  on  the  throne  or  worked  in  the 
humblest  way  for  his  living." 

"  Not  when  it  comes  to  overalls — ill-fitting  overalls 
— and  '  in  a  muck-sweat,'  as  my  would-be  father-in- 
law  put  it  so  prettily  ?  " 

Linda  paled. 

"  But— has  he  to  ?— will  he  ?  " 

"  He's  up  to  his  eyes  in  Brassyshine  at  this 
moment.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  your 
hero  ?  " 

"If  you  mean  Rodney  Barett" — Linda  spoke 
steadily — "  I  think  he  is  splendid/' 


216  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  Well,  I  don't  then.  I  take  life  as  it  is,  without 
any  gush  or  sentiment.  I  have  made  a  mistake,  I 
own  it,  over  this  engagement.  After  all,  a  girl's 
pretty  helpless.  How  does  she  know  anything  of  a 
man  or  his  belongings  till  he  has  proposed  to  her  ? 
It's  a  pretty  rotten  system,  anyway.  What  chance 
do  you  get  of  knowing  a  man,  really  ?  " 

All  in  a  moment  the  grey  outlook  from  Cecil's 
Avindow  faded  for  Linda,  the  complacent,  too- 
highly-complexioned  flowers  went,  taking  Cecil, 
excusing  and  accusing,  with  them.  In  their  place 
was  the  shimmer  of  Cornish  waters  heaving  into  the 
sunshine,  and  a  man's  head  sunburnt  and  hatless 
against  it. 

"  Why  do  you  look  so  ?  "  Cecil's  voice  broke  out 
loudly — it  seemed  too  loudly. 

"  How  ?— Was  I  ?  " 

Cecil  shivered. 

"  You  looked  so  rum  for  a  moment.  As  though 
you  were  seeing  things.  You  don't  suffer  from 
second-sight  or  anything,  do  you  ?  " 

Linda  tried  to  laugh  as  she  said  : 

"  I  was  only  thinking." 

"  Please  don't  think  if  it  affects  you  that  way," 
said  Cecil.  "  What  were  we  saying  ?  Oh  !  about 
Rodney.  I've  written  to  release  him."  She  offered 
a  letter  that  she  had  been  sitting  on.  "  Here,  read 
it." 

Linda  did  not  like  the  expression  of  her  eyes, 
which  were  dancing  maliciously. 

"  Oh  no.  I  couldn't.  I  would  rather  not, 
really." 

"  But  I  want  you  to.  You  must,"  Cecil  insisted. 
She  drew  out  the  letter  and,  unfolding  it,  placed  it  on 


THE  HERO  RECEIVES  HIS  DISMISSAL    217 

Linda's  knees.     Against  her  will,  Linda  could  not 
help  glancing  at  the  big  sprawling  writing. 

"DEAR  RODNEY, 

"  Since  your  love  for  me  is  so  little  you  have 
done  what  I  did  not  want  you  to,  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  I  don't  care  one  way  or  the 
other.  CECIL. 

"P.S.— You  will  understand  by  this  that  the 
engagement  is  broken." 

Cecil  laid  a  finger  on  the  postcript. 

"  Men  are  so  dense,  you  can't  put  things  too 
plainly.  Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

Linda  folded  the  letter  and,  as  though  it  were  an 
unclean  thing,  thrust  it  back  at  Cecil  hastily.  It 
almost  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  see  Rodney's 
face  when  he  would  read  it — his  face,  with  all  the 
boyish  light  killed  out  of  it. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  send  it  ?  "  she  said  in  a 
stifled  voice.  "  You  are  not  cruel,  Cecil." 

"Sometimes  I  think  I  am,"  the  other  said  moodily. 
"  I  know  I  take  a  horrid  sort  of  pleasure  in  reading 
about  accidents  or  misfortunes  ;  and  with  illnesses 
and  operations  I  always  have  a  morbid  sort  of  hope 
that  the  poor  things  won't  get  better.  I  believe  I 
am  cruel.  Lots  of  people  are  like  that,  really,  only 
they  wouldn't  own  it.  /  wouldn't  to  every- 
body." 

"  You  wouldn't  to  Rodney,"  Linda  said  quite 
fiercely. 

A  wave  of  colour  blotted  out  Cecil's  fairness. 

"  I  believe,"  she  said,  "  I  have  not  been  really  true 
to  Rodney.  I  have  tried  to  show  myself  better  than 


218  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

I  am.  And  this  " — she  waved  the  note  scornfully — 
"  is  where  it  has  led  me.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
Linda,  I  am  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  strain  of  pretend- 
ing. I  am  not  good,  really — at  least,  not  the  sort  of 
good  I  was  trying  to  seem  to  Rodney.  I  am  right 
enough  on  my  own  level  where  too  much  is  not 
expected  of  me.  The  sort  that  would  be  all  right, 
for  instance,  with  a  man  like  Monty  Craig.  He's  not 
a  bit  clever,  and  as  for  goodness — I  suppose  he's 
just  ordinary — a  gentleman  and  so  forth — anyone 
would  be  at  their  ease  with  Monty.  He  wouldn't 
expect  anything  special  of  you." 

"  Cecil,  you  talk,  almost,  as  though  you  might — 
care — for  Mr.  Craig." 

"  Care!  If  you  mean — you  prudish  small  thing — 
love  by  your  care,  then  I  don't  care  for  Monty.  All 
the  same,  don't  be  surprised  if  you  hear  some  time 
that  I'm  engaged  to  him." 

Linda  sprang  up  and  away. 

"  You  are  talking  sheer  nonsense,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  listen  to  you." 

"  It  seems  to  me  " — Cecil  was  turning  her  envelope 
over  and  over,  looking  down  at  it  reflectively — "  it 
seems  to  me  only  now  that  I  am  beginning  to 
be  sensible.  Who  was  the  old  Josser  that  said, 
'  Know  thyself '  ?  Well,  I  fancy,  I  am  just  begin- 
ning to  know  myself,  without — as  old  Brassyshine 
would  say — '  any  frillings.'  I  am  not  the  sort  to  be 
happy  without  means  and  position.  And  that's  not 
so  selfish  as  it  sounds,  because  unless  I  am  happy  I 
should  be  perfectly  horrid.  I  really  should,  Linda, 
and  then  how  on  earth  could  my  husband  be  happy  ? 
No,  I  am  not  cut  out  for  anything  high-falutin. 
They  talk  about  women  loving  self-sacrifice ;  if 


THE  HERO  RECEIVES  HIS  DISMISSAL    219 

that  is  so,  I  am  not  a  normal  woman.  /  don't  want 
sacrifice — my  own  or  anyone  else's." 

"  Yet  you  asked  a  great  sacrifice  of — him." 
Linda's  throat  hurt  her,  but  she  had  to  say  it. 

"  That's  where  you  are  quite  wrong.  I  asked  him 
to  give  up  the  sacrifice.  But  he  would  not.  Of 
course,  I  don't  know,  he  may  have  had  a  secret 
hankering  all  the  while  after  the  business.  According 
to  his  father,  he  seemed  pretty  cheery  in  the  midst 
of  it." 

"  Was  he  ?  "  Linda's  eyes  brightened.  "  I  am 
so  glad.  I'd  pictured  him  wretched." 

"  Linda,  my  child,"  Cecil  said  sententiously, 
"  take  my  advice,  don't  let  that  active  imagination 
of  yours  run  away  with  you." 

Linda  bit  her  lip. 

"  Surely  I  can  be  reasonably  glad  that — someone 
I  know — is  not  unhappy." 

Cecil  gave  a  quick  comprehensive  glance ;  then 
she  went  on  toying  with  the  envelope,  whilst  her 
mind  worked  rapidly.  This,  that  she  was  throwing 
aside,  was  it,  after  all,  so  worthless  ?  she  pondered. 
With  a  smile  of  self-approbation  she  drew  her  tongue 
along  the  flap  of  the  envelope  and  sealed  it.  Then 
she  stretched  and  yawned. 

"  Let's  go  to  the  Coliseum,  or  somewhere,"  she 
said.  "  I've  a  sick  longing  for  some  amusement." 

Linda  gazed  at  the  sealed  letter  almost  as  though 
it  held  an  explosive. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  post  that,  are  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am — or  rather" — Cecil  laughed 
out  maliciously — "  I'll  get  you  to  do  it  for  me." 

"  Indeed  I  shall  not,"  Linda  flared  out  stormily. 
"  I  don't  know  what  has  come  to  you,  Cecil.  I  used 


220  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

to  love  you — but  now —  She  checked  herself 

suddenly,  and  hurried  out  of  the  room. 

Without  any  comment  Cecil  picked  up  the 
morning's  paper  and  ran  her  eye  down  the  list  of 
Matinees. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

IN  THE   HERO'S  ABSENCE 

LINDA  refused  point-blank  to  go  to  the  Coliseum. 
Cecil  scoffed  at  her  mental  attitude. 

"  To  look  at  you  one  would  think  it  was  a  funeral. 
A  broken  engagement  is  nothing.  I  know  girls 
who've  been  engaged  two  or  three  times  and  think 
nothing  of  it.  Not  that  I  mind  about  it.  If  you 
won't  come,  there  are  plenty  of  people  who 
will." 

This  plenty,  as,  perhaps,  all  along  she  had  intended, 
resolved  itself  into  only  one ;  Montague  Craig  was 
more  than  ready  to  be  her  escort. 

There  were  one  or  two  '  turns  '  quite  worth  seeing. 
Monty  decidedly  approved  of  the  Russian  ballet ; 
and  the  performing  dogs  took  Cecil's  fancy,  especi- 
ally the  fox-terrier  in  a  crinoline  who  played  the 
part  of '  Bunty.'  When  the  stage  failed  to  interest, 
their  box  was  quite  a  good  place  in  which  to  sit  back 
and  talk  ;  on  account  of  the  music  and  clapping  it 
was  necessary  to  sit  rather  closely  together ;  but 
Cecil  was  pleasantly  conscious  that  the  pink  and 
white  of  her  complexion  could  have  stood  an  even 
closer  scrutiny  than  that  afforded  by  Monty's 
monocle,  even  had  she  not,  before  now,  dragged 
from  him  the  admission  that  it  was  only  a  plain- 
glass  deception. 

221 


222  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

In  a  spirit  of  bravado  the  girl  had  dressed  herself 
with  more  than  her  usual  care,  and  Monty's  eyes — 
they  were  a  pale  brown  and  much  less  critical  than 
Rodney's  dark  grey  ones— expressed  undisguised 
approval. 

Conversation,  to  give  it  so  dignified  a  name,  was 
flipped  backwards  and  forwards  between  them  till, 
apropos  of  something  or  nothing,  Cecil  found  her- 
self being  questioned  : 

"  By  the  way,  what  have  you  done  with  Roddy 
Barett  ?  Have  you  spirited  him  away  somewhere  ? 
I've  dug  up  all  his  usual  haunts  and  drawn  blank 
every  time.  What  have  you  done  with  him  ?  " 

"I?    Nothing." 

"  Where  is  he,  then  ?  " 

"  Haven't  you  heard  ?  He  has  set  himself  to 
brighten  the  world." 

"  You  speak  in  riddles.  It  is  a  dull  old  world. 
How  does  he  intend  to  accomplish  the  impos- 
sible ?  " 

"  By  the  aid  of  Brassyshine." 

Monty  fixed  his  glass.  He  had  really  come  to 
think  he  could  see  better  through  it. 

"  You  don't  say  so.  That's  the  stuff,  isn't  it  ? 
The  old  man  has  made  his  bit  out  of  it.  Is  Rod  out 
after  money,  too  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  "  She  kept  an  admirable 
countenance. 

Monty  looked  puzzled. 

"  I  say,  though,  doesn't  he  let  you  into  his 
secrets  ?  " 

"  Why  ever  should  he  ?  " 

Monty  coloured. 

"  I  don't  know.    I  mean — stop  me  if  I'm  saying 


IN  THE  HERO'S  ABSENCE  228 

anything  I  ought  not — but  I  understood — I'm  sure 
somebody  told  me " 

"  As  usual,  somebody  told  you  wrong  then." 
Cecil's  laugh  was  delightfully  careless. 

Monty  fingered  his  small  bristling  moustache. 

"  Could  have  sworn  it  was  Rod  himself,"  he  said 
sotto  voce. 

She  opened  her  shot-silk  theatre-bag  and  care- 
fully selected  a  chocolate. 

"  Have  one  of  these,  they're  liqueurs.  No  ?  Go 
on.  It's  really  amusing.  May  I  hear  what  Rodney 
Barett  told  you  ?  Stop  me  if  I'm  saying  anything 
I  ought  not  to." 

"  Oh  no,  it's  all  the  other  way.  And,  now  I  think 
of  it " — he  lied  manfully — "  it  couldn't  have  been 
Rod — old  Bob  it  might  have  been." 

"  Bob  Hendrey  ?  Little  guinea-pig  man  with 
light  eyelashes  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"I've  met  him.    What  did  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  He,  or  someone  else.  I  wouldn't  like  to  swear 
to  it.  And  I'm  dashed  if  I'll  ever  believe  anything 
anyone  tells  me  again." 

"  But  you'll  believe  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  I'll  believe  you."  He  put  so  much 
expression  for  once  into  his  calmly  good-looking  face 
that  the  eye-glass  deserted  its  post.  Whilst  he  was 
looking  for  it  Cecil  took  the  opportunity  of  assuring 
him,  without  meeting  his  eyes  : 

"  You'll  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  there  is  not 
an  atom  of  truth  in  what  Bob  Hendrey  or  anyone 
else  told  you." 

"  You  mean — er — that — er — you  are  not ?  " 

"  Most  decidedly,  I  am  not." 


224  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

"  And  Roddy  ?  " 

"  Naturally,  he  isn't  either." 

"  By  Jove  !  " — Monty  readjusted  his  recovered 
glass  and  stared  down  at  her  solemnly  —  "by 
Jove,  you  do  take  a  chap's  breath  away,  Miss 
Wolney !  " 

"  You  believed  it  then  ?  "  She  lowered  her  voice 
and  her  eyelids,  and  the  glance  she  threw  him  was 
reproachful. 

He  took  out  a  coloured  silk  handkerchief  and 
polished  his  monocle.  With  a  thrill  of  delight  Cecil 
realised  his  fingers  were  trembling. 

Down  below  them  on  the  stage  a  stoutish  woman 
in  a  preposterous  burlesque  of  hunting-clothes 
carried  out  in  velvet  and  satin,  was  tapping  her 
polished  boots  with  a  parody  of  a  hunting-crop  and 
singing  something  about  '  the  dogs '  with  a  chorus 
of  '  Bow- wow- wow.'  To  Cecil's  ears  it  sounded  far 
off  and  meaningless ;  whilst  it  is  doubtful  whether 
Monty  Craig,  busily  polishing  his  monocle,  heard  it 
at  all.  His  thoughts,  which  as  a  rule  floated  gently 
on  a  sleepy  current,  seemed  to  be  rushing  rapidly 
over  a  weir ;  he  made  an  effort  at  steadiness,  but 
they  were  fast  carrying  him  away. 

"  You  did  not  believe  it  ?  "  Cecil  slightly  altered 
her  question. 

"  Well — now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  don't  believe 
I  did.  Though,  of  course,  in  a  way  I  had  to.  And 
yet  I  don't  know.  Rod's  one  in  a  thousand,  but — 
it  doesn't  matter  now,  my  saying  it — the  old  man's 
a  bit  off — what  ?  " 

"  He's  simply  awful.  Not  that  " — she  composed 
her  voice  to  a  sweet  gravity — "  I  should  have  taken 
that  into  account,  if  I  had •" 


IN  THE  HERO'S  ABSENCE  225 

"  Of  course  not,  naturally.  I  didn't  suggest  that, 
did  I  ?  Jove — the  whole  thing  I  "  He  fixed  his 
glass  once  more  and  looked  at  her  admiringly. 

She  turned  her  head  away,  fixing  unseeing  eyes 
on  the  satin-clad  lady  who,  to  an  ever-increasing 
cataract  of  applause,  'was  still  beating  her  boots 
and  leading  the  chorus  of  '  Bow- wow- wow.' 

Monty  drew  his  chair  a  little  nearer.  The  noise 
rising  from  the  stage  and  roaring  out  from  the  audi- 
torium justified  the  movement. 

"Look  here" — he  set  his  face  firmly,  perhaps 
only  to  keep  the  wayward  monocle  in  place — "  you 
don't — er — I  suppose — object  to  engagements — on 
— er — principle ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  ?  Between  the  right  people,  of 
course.  But  the  way  they  go  and  settle  two  people 
together  if  they  happen  to  be  at  all  pally — it's 
enough  to  make  them  hate  one  another.  It  is 
really." 

He  nodded.  He  did  not  want  to  lose  the  thread 
of  what  he'd  made  up  his  mind  to  say  to  her. 

"  Jolly  stupid,"  he  blurted  out ;  "no  ground  for 
it,  or  anything — fact  is — I  don't  suppose  you  would 
though — I  can't  see  why  you  should.  But  I'd  like 
it  most  awfully." 

"  Like  what  ?    I  really  don't  understand." 

Monty  smiled — quite  an  ordinary  smile,  it  hadn't 
the  charm  of  Rodney's. 

"  I  bet  you  do  understand,"  he  told  her. 

"Ho,  really.    Do  tell." 

"  Only— thai— couldn't  we  ?  " 

"  Is  it  a  guessing  game  ?  "  Cecil  asked  teasingly. 

"  Couldn't  we — you  and  I — what  they  were  say- 
ing— only  really  ?  " 
Q 


226  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

"  You  mean,  be  engaged."  Cecil  spoke  with 
sudden  gravity. 

"  You've  got  it." 

She  sat  for  a  moment  in  silence.  A  little  air- 
pocket  of  silence  that  shut  away  from  them  the 
babel  of  stage  orchestra  and  the  thousand-seated 
building. 

"  Won't  you  ?  "  Monty  said  earnestly. 

"  Would  it  make  you  happy  ?  " 

"  Try  me,"  he  returned  emphatically. 

"  I  believe  I  have  half  a  mind  to." 

He  bent  nearer. 

She  drew  away. 

"  Not  now,  not  here.  Come  this  evening.  Of 
course,  there's  father  and  mother." 

He  fingered  his  lip  bristles. 

"  You  don't  think  they'll " 

"  I  don't  see  " — she  glanced  at  him  under  her 
lashes — "  that  they  can  have  any  objection."  Her 
heart  was  beating  hard,  her  brain  working  quickly. 
'  I'll  have  to  prepare  them,'  she  thought ;  '  mother' 11 
like  it,  I  know,  but  father  will  get  talking  of  honour.' 
Once  again  she  felt  the  sick  sensation  she  had 
experienced  when  she  saw  herself  through  the  eyes 
of  old  '  Brassy  shine.'  Then  she  set  her  lips.  She 
would  have  to  go  through  with  it,  for  beyond,  it 
seemed  to  her,  stretched  peaceful  tracts  of  undis- 
turbed happiness. 

"  We'll  go  now,"  she  said,  rising.  Looking  at  him 
with  the  critical  eyes  of  possession,  she  told  herself, 
'  He  is  bigger  than  Rodney ;  ever  so  much  better- 
looking.'  But  she  could  not  rid  herself  of  the  im- 
pression that  from  the  box-shadows  she  could  see 
Rodney's  eyes  grey  -  looking  and  questioning : 


IN  THE  HERO'S  ABSENCE  227 

'  Have  you,  a  Wolney,  treated  me — Barett  that  I 
am — quite  fairly  ?  ' 

She  tried  to  rid  herself  of  the  thought  that 
at  that  very  moment  he  might  be  reading  her 
letter. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

AN   EVERYDAY   LIGHT  ON   THE   HERO 

LINDA  had  no  idea  what  she  ought  to  do  next.  It 
never  occurred  to  her  that  there  was  no  need  to  do 
anything.  When  you  are  young  you  must  do  some- 
thing. It  takes  many  years  to  learn  that  you, 
individually,  are  of  very  little  importance  ;  that, 
mostly,  things  will  go  on  their  way  much  the  same, 
with  or  without  you.  Linda  did  not  magnify  her  own 
importance ;  in  fact,  she  was  inclined  to  minimise 
it,  giving  herself  credit  for  less  strength  of  character 
than  she,  in  truth,  possessed.  Of  late,  her  mental 
growth  had  been  rapid,  and  with  mental  as  with 
physical  growth  rapidity  involves  a  sense  of  las- 
situde. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  I  ought  to  do.  I  am  sure  I 
ought  to  do  something." 

So  Linda  beat  herself  against  the  wall  of  Cecil's 
recent  decision.  Only  one  thing  seemed  certain. 
This  crushing  blow  must  not  fall  on  Rodney.  Yet, 
how  was  it  to  be  prevented  ?  To  appeal  to  Cecil 
when  in  one  of  her  hard,  flippant  moods  would  be 
worse  than  useless.  Besides,  there  was  little  doubt 
that  the  fatal  letter  was  already  posted. 

Linda  groaned  aloud  as  she  fancied  the  hurt  look 
in  Rodney's  eyes  as  he  read  it.  She  had  never  seen 
him  look  hurt,  not  for  himself ;  but  she  knew  he 


AN  EVERYDAY  LIGHT  ON  THE  HERO    229 

felt  deeply,  because  of  that  soul-searing  time  when 
he  had  looked  at  her  with  a  sort  of  pity.  That  did 
not  bear  thinking  of,  ought  not  to  be  thought  of, 
because,  of  course,  Rodney  was  mistaken.  She 
hurried  her  thoughts  away  from  that  point  as  an 
anxious  mother  her  children  from  the  edge  of  a 
precipice. 

She  paced  up  and  down  her  room  half  conscious 
that  was  the  correct  thing  to  do,  half  driven  by 
restless  necessity.  She  was  anxious,  uneasy,  ashamed 
of  her  lack  of  self-reliance,  for  always  she  had  wanted 
to  be  strong,  had,  indeed,  fancied  her  character  a 
strong  one,  until  she  came  to  lean  on  it. 

To  make  matters  more  intolerable,  there  was  no 
one  to  talk  to,  no  one,  that  is,  who  could  help  her. 
Cecil's  mother  was  quite  kind,  but  outside  the 
barrier.  Cecil's  father  was  meant  only  for  gay  times, 
with  his  pleasant,  inconsequent  teasing. 

Aunt  Emma  ?  Not  for  the  first  time  her  thoughts 
flickered  about  a  hasty  return  to  Aunt  Emma.  But 
they  drew  away.  Aunt  Emma  would  not  under- 
stand, Linda  decided ;  giving  no  admission  to  one 
self-willed  thought  that  suggested  Aunt  Emma 
might  understand  all  too  clearly. 

Who  else  was  there  ?  One  by  one  she  dismissed 
a  number  of  casual  acquaintances,  lingering  for  a 
moment  now  and  again  over  a  face  that  looked 
sympathetic,  a  face  that  might  have  helped  had 
acquaintance  had  time  to  give  birth  to  friendship. 

She  lingered  longest  over  the  thought  of  Edith 
Barett,  went  on  with  a  sigh,  returned  and  lingered 
again,  half  reluctantly  finding  in  herself  a  growing 
resolution.  Edith  would  certainly  see  things  from 
a  sane  outlook.  She  was  not  a  petty  woman.  She 


230  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

would  speak  out  plainly  without  any  prevarication. 
Besides,  she  was  Rodney's  sister. 

By  the  time  Linda  had  reached  the  Victorian 
house  she  was  sick  with  apprehension  lest  Edith 
should  be  out  or  unable  to  see  her. 

Miss  Barett  was  at  home.  The  '  Suffragan  Bishop ' 
seemed  almost  worthy  a  halo  as  he  admitted  it. 
Instead  of  mounting  the  broad  staircase  with  the 
highly  varnished  banister,  he  conducted  Linda 
through  a  maze  of  ground-floor  passages  and  ushered 
her  into  a  little  white  room. 

"  Miss  Edith's  own,"  he  unbent  to  inform  her. 
"  She  is  in,  and  if  you'll  take  a  seat  I'll  let  her  know 
you  are  waiting." 

Almost  at  once  Linda  felt  a  sense  of  ease  and 
refreshment.  This  was  not  a  Victorian  room,  the 
thought  struck  her  directly.  If  it  belonged  at  all  to 
the  Victorian  house,  she  thought  whimsically,  then 
it  cast  back  to  some  forgotten  ancestor.  The  white- 
washed, or  white-papered,  walls  gave  the  effect  of 
open-air  daylight.  Here  and  there  delicate  foliage 
sprays  or  the  beauty  of  a  few  long-stalked  blossoms 
stood  out  against  the  whiteness,  their  shadows 
softening  any  effect  of  harshness.  There  were  no 
pictures.  The  floor  was  polished,  with  one  dull  red 
rug  on  it.  The  window,  set  rather  high  hi  the  wall, 
was  long  and  small-paned  ;  there  were  no  curtains, 
but  a  white  frill  ran  along  the  top  of  it ;  there  were 
black  oak  chairs,  and  a  writing-desk  stood  near  the 
window,  which  gave  on  to  a  tiny  square  of  courtyard, 
just  now  vivid  with  the  pink  of  clambering  roses. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  like  my  room."  Edith's  voice 
came  from  behind  Linda  suddenly.  "As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  converted  it  out  of  a  scullery.  The  windows 


AN  EVERYDAY  LIGHT  ON  THE  HERO     231 

were  of  corrugated  glass,  and  the  roses  outside  were 
wasted." 

"  I  do  like  it,"  Linda  returned  enthusiastically  ; 
"  it  reminds  me  of  a  sweet  old  lady,  restful  and 
gracious." 

They  sat  down  near  the  window.  Edith  was  in  a 
white  dress,  which  accentuated  her  rich  colouring 
and  laid  flakes  of  brilliant  light  against  the  shadowed 
white  of  the  wall  behind  her. 

"  I  am  so  glad,  too  " — Edith  rested  her  arms  on  her 
desk  and  leant  towards  Linda — "that  you  like  me." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  "  Linda  was  half  pleased, 
half  puzzled. 

'  You  would  not  be  here,  unless.  It  will  save  time 
if  we  are  straight  with  one  another.  Of  course,  I  can 
see  you  are  in  trouble,  and  I  shall  be  so  glad  if  I  can 
help  you." 

Linda  flushed  hotly. 

"I  am  in  trouble,"  she  owned,  "but  not  on  my 
own  account." 

"  I  knew  that,"  Edith  said  quietly. 

"  It  is  someone  else  I  am  worried  about,"  Linda 
went  on  rapidly,  lest  she  should  lose  courage.  "  The 
worst  is,  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  ought  to  speak, 
even  to  you,  about  it." 

"  That  is  a  point  only  you  can  decide."  After 
that  Edith  sat  quite  still,  looking  out  of  the  window. 
There  was  no  embarrassment  to  Linda  in  her  silence. 
On  the  contrary,  in  this  peaceful  white  room  from 
which  the  noisy  town  beyond  seemed  absolutely 
excluded  silence  became  the  apt  thing  till,  without 
haste,  speech  was  ready  to  enter. 

"It  is  this  way,"  Linda  said  at  last,  fixing  her 
earnest  blue  eyes  on  Edith,  "  a  great  wrong  has  been, 


232  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

or  is  going  to  be,  done.  I  don't  know  how  to — yet 
I  feel  I  ought  to  prevent  it." 

"  You  are  quite  sure  it  is  a  wrong  ?  "  Edith  asked 
quietly. 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  that.  And  the  one 
who  is  doing  it  will  be  just  as  unhappy  as  the  one 
to  whom  it  is  done.  Yet  I  don't  know  how  to  prevent 
it.  And  they  might  have  been  so  happy  !  " 

Edith  was  silent,  with  an  understanding  silence 
that  caused  Linda  to  draw  her  breath  more  freely 
as  she  went  on  : 

"  I  don't  see  the  harm,  seeing  you  are  his  sister, 
of  telling,  what  no  doubt  you  have  guessed,  that  it 
is  about — him  and  Cecil." 

Edith  nodded.  "  Things  are  not  right  between 
them  ?  " 

"  Cecil  is  my  friend,  my  very  great  friend,"  Linda 
said  with  hasty  assurance. 

"  You  are  loyal  to  her." 

"That  is  it.  I  want  her "  Her  eyes  deepened 

almost  to  blackness.  "  I  can't  bear  her  to  be  un- 
worthy of  herself." 

"Of  herself  as  you  have  conceived  her  ?  " 

"  That  is  herself." 

"  Isn't  it  rather  hard  on  her  ?  " 

"  Hard  ?— How  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  her  fault,  is  it,  if  she  fails  to  act  up  to  the 
ideal  you  have  created  around  her." 

"  I  haven't.  I  know — of  course  I  know — Cecil 
isn't  perfection " 

"It  is  only  lately,  though,  that  you  have  ad- 
mitted it." 

"  I  suppose  I  would  have  liked  her  perfect,"  Linda 
owned  rather  sadly. 


AN  EVERYDAY  LIGHT  ON  THE  HERO    238 

"  She  was  not  responsible  though  for  your  wishes. 
We  have  to  take  our  friends  as  they  are,  and  love 
them,  if  we  love  them  at  all,  the  more  for  their 
humanity.  You  must  not  ask  Cecil  Wolney  to  act 
according  to  the  convictions  of  Linda  Ray." 

"  That  would  be  stupid." 

"  Yet  that  is  just  what  you  are  doing." 

"  Life  seems  to  get  more  and  more  difficult." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  worth  living  otherwise,"  said 
Edith. 

"  You  are  so  strong,"  Linda  burst  out  petulantly, 
"  I  am  not,  and  Cecil  isn't.  Poor  Cecil,  you  must 
not  expect  her  to  be  like  you  are." 

Edith  smiled. 

"Now  you  are  turning  my  own  weapon  on  me. 
But  I  am  unscathed,  for  the  very  good  reason  that 
it  is  unloaded.  I  do  not  expect  from  Cecil  Wolney 
more  than  I  find  in  her.  She  is  a  pretty  girl  when 
she  is  amiable,  an  amiable  one  as  long  as  she  knows 
she  is  pretty ;  good-natured  as  long  as  it  involves  no 
self-sacrifice,  self-sacrificing  just  far  enough  to  show 
off  her  good  nature.  Those  that  love  her,  she  loves 
— more  or  less.  As  for  those  who  dislike  her — she 
ignores  them.  But  the  key,  as  I  see  it,  to  her  char- 
acter is  her  greed  for  power.  She  likes  flattery,  but 
you  would  flatter  her  more  by  yielding  to  her  than 
by  praising  her.  She  wants  to  possess  things — love, 
friendship,  whatever  it  may  be — not  for  their  intrin- 
sic value,  but  for  the  sense  of  possession.  There  are 
many  women  of  the  type,  and  most  of  them  lack  one 
thing — a  delicate  sense  of  honour.  Have  I  drawn 
her  portrait  fairly  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  Linda  hotly  protested.  "  You  do 
not  know  Cecil  a  bit.  She  is  not  like  that,  really. 


284  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

Your  portrait  is  no  more  like  Cecil  than  is  Rubelow's 
pastel  of  her." 

"  Rubelow  is  said  to  be  a  good  judge  of  character." 

"  Not  in  this  case.  And  you  misjudge  her  equally. 
She  likes  love  and  flattery  no  more  than  we  all  do. 
She  is  affectionate,  though  you  may  not  have  had 
any  opportunity  of  finding  that  out.  She  is  always 
sorry  afterwards  when  she  has  hurt  you.  And  it  is 
as  much  for  her  sake  as  his  that  I  don't  want  her  to 
hurt — your  brother." 

Edith  nodded. 

"  I  see.    So  that  is  the  trouble." 

Linda's  cheeks  flamed,  her  lips  quivered. 

"  Perhaps  I,  too,  have  not  what  you  mean  by  a 
delicate  sense  of  honour ;  I  should  not  have  come 
to  you  about  it.  But  I  have  come  to  you  because 
I  am  desperate.  Something  must  be  done,  and  I 
feel  utterly  helpless.  Has  he  told  you  anything 
about  it  ?  No — I  ought  not  to  ask  that  question." 

Edith  turned,  clear-eyed. 

"  Rodney  and  I  do  not  have  many  secrets.  I 
certainly  knew  matters  were  likely  to  be  strained 
between  him  and  Miss  Wolney  when  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  come  to  the  help  of  my  father.  All  the 
same,  do  you  think  he  could  have  done  otherwise  ?  " 

"  I  don't,  of  course  not." 

"  But " 

Linda  flushed.  "  Cecil  was  hurt  that  he  would 
not  do  as  she  wanted." 

"  Could  not."  There  was  a  bright  point  of  colour 
on  Edith's  cheeks.  Her  eyes  sparkled.  "  We  must 
remember  Rodney  has  what  we  women  so  often  lack, 
that  which  my  father  possesses  so  pre-eminently — 
a  keen  sense  of  honour.  You  would  not  have  Rodney 


AN  EVERYDAY  LIGHT  ON  THE  HERO    285 

— after  all  my  father  has  done  for  him,  for  all  of  us — 
you  would  not  expect  him  to  turn  his  back  in  the 
day  of  trouble  ?  "  Her  low  voice  thrilled. 

"  No,  indeed,"  Linda  readily  responded.  Then 
added  rather  sadly,  "  It  is  not  me,  though,  you  have 
to  persuade,  but  Cecil." 

"Do  you  think  she  will  allow  herself  to  be  per- 
suaded ?  " 

Linda  was  troubled.  "  At  present,  I  am  afraid 
she  has  broken  off  the  engagement." 

Edith  drew  in  her  underlip  sharply.  She  might 
not  say  what  she  thought.  Linda  was  the  first  girl 
she  had  come  near  to  loving,  and  Cecil  Wolney  was 
dear  to  Linda  Ray.  Linda  evidently  saw  Cecil  from 
some  unexplainable  point  of  view ;  Edith  tried  to 
be  just,  broadminded ;  but  her  heart  was  against 
Cecil,  and  running  like  hot  blood  through  her  head 
was  the  thought,  '  How  will  Rodney  take  it  ?  '  All 
along  she  had  known  a  pin-prick  of  doubt  as  to 
Rodney's  happiness  in  this  engagement,  and  had 
tried  to  ignore  it,  persisting  to  herself  that  it  arose 
only  from  her  own  clumsy  handling  of  the  delicate 
fabric  of  another's  inner  self. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  she  said  at  last, 
gravely. 

"  And  you — you  are  so  strong."  The  note  in 
Linda's  voice  was  appealing. 

"  I  wish  I  were,"  Edith  said  rather  sadly.  "  To 
be  strong  to  bear  is  comparatively  easy  of  attain- 
ment ;  it  is  active  strength,  the  strength  that 
decides,  that  is  wanting  in  most  of  us.  In  this 
particular  case  I  cannot  see  that  we  can  do  any- 
thing." 

"  Could  not  you  speak  to  Cecil  ?  " 


286  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

"  She  would  only  harden  her  heart.  Unfor- 
tunately, she  dislikes  me." 

"  She  thinks  you  dislike  her." 

"  There  she  is  mistaken.  I  have  no  reason  to 
dislike  Cecil  Wolney." 

"Do  you  always  have  a  reason  for  your  likes  and 
dislikes  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  ?  Without  reason  they  blow  hither 
and  thither  like  paper  in  a  wind." 

"  And  with  reason  ?  " 

"  As  moving  clouds,  they  show  us  the  set  of  the 
weather." 

"  To  me  they  seem  more  like  the  taste  and  smell 
of  things,  telling  us  which  are  wholesome  or  harm- 
ful." 

"  Poisonous  berries  are  sometimes  sweet,  and  the 
smell  of  cabbage  is  unpleasing." 

"  After  all,"  Linda  considered,  "  analogies  do  not 
prove  anything." 

"  You  are  right.  Though,  like  flowers,  one  is 
tempted  to  gather  them." 

This  by-play  had  answered  Edith's  purpose.  The 
lace  at  Linda's  throat  was  not  rising  and  falling  so 
jerkily. 

"To  return  on  our  tracks,"  said  Linda  quite 
easily,  "  what  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  would  advise  the  hardest  of  all  things,  that 
you  do  nothing." 

"  That  seems  so  cowardly." 

Edith  smiled.  "  When  it  is  the  hardest  of  all 
things  ?  " 

"  But  to  stand  by  and  see  someone  un- 
happy  " 

"  Is  sometimes  the  sublimest  test  of  love  and 


AN  EVERYDAY  LIGHT  ON  THE  HERO     287 

courage.  My  dear,  my  dear" — she  bent  forward, 
her  bright  eyes  had  softened — "  don't  you  believe  / 
care  that  Rodney  must  suffer.  I  have  known  him 
all  my  life.  What,"  she  asked  fiercely,  "  does  Cecil 
Wolney,  or  anyone,  know  of  him,  compared  with 
what  I  do  ?  It  is  hard,  hard  " — her  proud  mouth 
twitched — "  that  Rodney  should  be  the  one  to  suffer. 
Yet,  there  is  this — it  may  be  the  making  of  him. 
And,  at  all  events,  it  is  better  his  pride  should  suffer 
now  than  his  heart  later." 

"  Why  not  his  heart  now  ?  " 

"  Because,"  Edith  said  firmly,  "  I  believe  his  heart 
is  not  involved  at  present." 

"  You  mean  that  he  does  not — care  for  Cecil  ?  " 

"  He  does  care  for  her,  but  not  as  he  is  capable 
of  caring.  Not  as  he  will  care  some  day." 

The  white-walled  room,  with  its  outlook  of  roses, 
was  destined  to  linger  in  Linda's  mind  with  a  sense 
of  peace  and  uplifting  of  spirits. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

STILL  THE   TALK   IS  OF  THE   HERO 

EDITH  sought  her  father.  The  talk  in  the  white- 
walled  room  had  wearied  her ;  paying  the  price  of 
Linda's  lightened  burden,  she  suffered  a  sense  of 
lassitude  as  the  result  of  the  virtue  that  had  gone 
out  of  her. 

Jeremiah  was  in  his  study  enjoying  a  pipe  and 
looking  round  on  his  glossy-backed  books  with  a 
sense  of  satisfaction.  He  liked  to  soak  himself  in 
the  thought  of  all  the  wisdom  and  beauty  stored  in 
them — his  to  use  when  the  humour  should  take  him. 
Though  he  read  his  books  seldom,  in  his  library 
he  found  an  unending  source  of  contented  enjoy- 
ment. 

He  turned  as  Edith  entered  and  held  out  a  coarse, 
stubbed  hand  affectionately. 

"I've  just  been  calculating,"  his  voice  chortled 
richly,  "  that,  reading  two  books  a  week,  it  would 
take  me  five  years,  three  months,  one  week  and  a 
half  to  get  through  the  lot  of  'em.  When  I'm  old 
and  retire  from  business,  I  mean  to  begin  at  the 
corner  of  the  top  shelf  there  by  the  window  and  go 
right  through,  steadily." 

"  What  an  awful  idea !  "   said  Edith. 

"  No— is  it  ?  " 

"  To  me.  I  could  never  make  rules  about  books, 
238 


STILL  THE  TALK  IS  OF  THE  HERO     239 

far  less  keep  them.  My  mood  would  be  bound  to 
clash  with  the  book  of  the  moment." 

He  rubbed  his  chin. 

"  There's  something  in  that,  there  is,  too.  I 
never  thought  of  that.  Books  are  a  bit  like  people — 
you  feel  sort  of  set  against  certain  ones  sometimes. 
No  matter.  The  time  is  far  enough  off  before  I'll 
be  retiring." 

"  Meanwhile,  you  can  go  on  enjoying  your  books 
at  random,  which  is  the  proper  way  with  old  as  well 
as  new  friends  and  acquaintances."  She  sat  herself 
down  on  his  chair  arm. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  he  asked.    "  You  are  worried." 

"  I  am.  Father,  are  you  satisfied  as  to  how  your 
plan  is  working  ?  " 

"Aye! — I  am  that.  It  has  brought  out  the 
gold  in  the  boy.  He's  buckled  to  like  a  right 
good  'un." 

"  Yes ;  but  about  his  engagement  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  going  to  bear  the  strain  of  it,  Edith. 
We  have  had  a  bit  of  talk,  me  and  young  madam. 
She's  more  in  her,  too,  than  I  thought  for." 

"  You  don't  think  the  engagement  will  hold  ?  " 

"  Nay.  There's  not  enough  grit  in  her.  A  fair- 
weather  maid  she  is ;  right  enough  for  pleasure 

sailing,  but — the  first  puff  of  a  storm "  He 

shrugged  his  fat  shoulders  and  plunged  his  hands 
deep  in  his  pockets.  "  Nay.  The  lad  must  do 
better'n  that  for  himself,  must  our  Roddy.  Another 
thing  I've  fathomed.  She  don't  care  about  him,  not 
even  so  much  as  she  is  capable  of.  It's  my  belief 
the  only  thing  that  riles  her  in  letting  him  go  is  a 
bit  o'  jealousy.  Like  enough  you  can  guess  just 
who's  she  jealous  of,  Edith  ?  " 


240  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

"  Linda  Ray  has  only  just  left  me,"  Edith  said 
thoughtfully. 

Jeremiah  looked  down  at  his  carpet  slippers 
intently. 

"  Say — you  don't  think — you  women  can  pick 
up  a  scent  of  the  sort  a  deal  quicker  than  men — do 
you  think  she'd  have  had  him  ?  I  mean,  if  there 
hadn't  been  the  other." 

Edith  flushed. 

"  As  for  that,  I  know  nothing  and  I  don't  mean 
to  guess." 

"  There  were  those  letters  the  lad  wrote  from 
Cornwall.  And  when  he  came  back,  I  won't  deny 
I  said  summat  or  other  'bout  him  having  been  after 
Miss  Wolney — not  teasing-like  but  talking  straight 
as  one  man  to  another.  And  Rodney,  he  says, 
'  I  suppose  we  all  make  mistakes ;  false  starts, 
anyway.'  Aye  !  that's  how  he  put  it — '  false  starts.' 
And  then  he  looks  up  with  his  eyes  shining,  so  as 
to  make  me  feel  young  again  to  see  them,  and  he 
says,  '  Later,  we  are  glad  enough  they  led  nowhere.' 
Then  he  laughed  and  looked  ever  so  happy.  I  dunno 
as  I've  seen  Rod  look  happy  like  that,  not  since  he 
was  engaged,  I  haven't.  That  is,  lest  it  was  in  the 
Works  this  very  morning.  You'd  have  fair  laughed, 
you  would  that,  Edith,  an'  you'd  seen  him,  all  of 
a  muck  and  as  gay  as  sunshine.  He  frames  well, 
too,  the  boy  does." 

"  You  don't  mean,  though,  to  let  him  go  on 
with  it  ?  " 

"  Nay.  But  there's  no  harm  done  with  his 
buckling  to.  In  some  ways  it's  a  pity  he  shouldn't 
go  on."  The  light  died  out  of  his  face.  "  But  then 
there'd  be  no  call  for  all  his  schooling  and  the 


STILL  THE  TALK  IS  OF  THE  HERO    241 

'Varsity  on  top  of  it — not  to  make  Brassyshine. 
Though  this  I  will  say,  a  man — supposing  he  is  a 
man — is  none  the  worse  for  education  whatever  he 
sets  his  hand  to." 

"  You  did  very  well  without  it." 

"Me  !  I'm  one  in  a  hundred,"  he  answered  her 
coolly.  "I'm  the  sort  as  gets  on  planted  t'other 
side  up  or  however  you  like.  There  aren't  many 
like  me.  Rod,  he's  different,  more  finely  drawn, 
he  is.  He  needed  all  the  advantages  you  could  give 
him.  And,  Jove,  he's  had  'em." 

He  jingled  his  money  complacently — the  sound 
was  music  to  Edith,  emphasising,  as  it  did  for  her, 
her  father's  content,  his  wide-spreading  geniality. 

"  What  I  am  wondering  is  how  he  will  take  it  ?  " 
she  said.  "  A  broken  engagement  must  give  a  hard 
rap  to  a  man's  vanity.  It  is  as  though  the  woman 
takes  all  she  has  accepted  and  flings  it  back  at 
him,  crying,  '  It  is  not  good  enough.'  At  the 
best,  it  must  be  a  great  blow  to  his  vanity." 

"  As  for  vanity,  that'll  bear  a  deal  of  knocking 
about  and  be  none  the  worse  for  it.  Rod'll  come  out 
all  right  if  it  goes  no  deeper  with  him  than  vanity. 
It'll  be  a  bit  of  a  pruning  for  him  ;  but  he'll  spring 
out  all  the  fresher  after  it.  The  real  thing  as  troubles 
me  is  whether  young  madam'll  stick  to  it.  Now, 
if  she  gets  playing  fast  and  loose  with  the  boy, 
there's  no  telling  how  he  may  take  it.  He  may  feel 
bound,  whether  she  does  or  no.  Rod  has  just  that 
nice  sense  of  the  right  way  of  things. — Hullo  !  you, 
'  Mamma ! '  Come  in  !  We're  having  a  bit  of  a 
confab,  Edith  and  me." 

He  rose  from  his  chair  till  his  wife  was  seated, 
and  under  cover  of  the  movement  managed  to  wink 


242  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

at  his  daughter  in  a  manner  meant  to  convey,  '  We 
must  not  let  her  know  more  than  is  good  for  her.' 

Mrs.  Barett  was  all  of  a  flutter. 

"  Oh  !  I've  just  heard.  Of  course,  it  may  not 
be  true.  I'm  sure  I  hope  not.  I  know  nowadays 
people  are  not  nearly  so  particular.  Chaperons, 
I  mean,  and  so  on — they  tell  me  quite  out  of  fashion. 
Though,  myself,  I  can't  see  how  they  can  be.  An 
engaged  girl,  too.  I'm  not  saying  for  a  moment 
there's  any  truth  in  it." 

Whilst  she  spoke  jerkily,  but  continuously, 
Mrs.  Barett  had  drawn  off  her  gloves  and  was 
pulling  them  into  shape,  finger  by  finger,  with 
deliberate  exactitude,  her  action  being  the  after- 
math of  those  days  when  a  new  pair  of  gloves  could, 
by  an  almost  slavish  consideration,  be  coaxed  into 
remaining  '  new  '  for  a  space  of  many  months.  She 
was  handsomely  dressed  for  '  calling.'  That  is,  her 
clothes  were  handsome,  but  her  body  appeared  to 
have  slipped  into  them  by  accident  and  all  the 
while  to  be  apologising  for  its  presence  within 
them.  Her  hat  was  set  on  her  head  with  mathe- 
matical precision  when  the  creative  mind  of  an 
ultra-expensive  milliner  had  willed  that  it  should 
be  tilted.  Under  it,  Mrs.  Barett  looked  from  husband 
to  daughter  pathetically. 

"  It  was  Mrs.  Blundell  who  told  me.  She  was 
only  just  back  from  the  Coliseum.  Though  I  sup- 
pose everyone  goes  there  now — even  royalties.  Still, 
in  a  box,  just  the  two  of  them  !  She  was  absolutely 
certain — I  specially  asked  the  question — that  no  one 
whatever  was  with  them.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
was  right  opposite  and  couldn't,  even  if  she  wanted 
to,  by  any  possibility  be  mistaken.  They  were 


taking  no  notice,  she  said,  of  the  performance, 
though,  for  that  matter,  it  was  very  likely  silly, 
even  though  it  was  not  vulgar.  They  were  talking 
away — and  their  chairs  close  together  !  Mrs.  Blundell 
seemed  so  sure  !  I'm  afraid  she  used  opera-glasses, 
which  we  were  always  taught  was  not  the  thing— 
not  where  you  know  the  people,  though  permissible, 
of  course,  with  foreigners,  and,  under  suitable 
conditions,  with  royalties.  And  they  left — right  in 
the  middle  of  a  song — she  told  me  the  name,  but 
I  have  forgotten.  I  know  she  said  they  left  in  the 
middle  of  it." 

"  Who  did  ?  "  asked  Edith,  trying  to  stay  the 
tide  of  her  mother's  verbosity — "  the  royalties  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  there  were  any ;  I  think  Mrs. 
Blundell  would  have  said  so,  though  she  seemed 
quite  taken  up  with  observing  Cecil — Cecil  Wolney." 

"  Cecil  Wolney  was  it  ?  "  said  Edith,  whilst  her 
father  nodded,  "  I  thought  so." 

"  Of  course  it  was  Cecil  Wolney.  There  would 
have  been  no  point  in  it  otherwise.  And  who  do 
you  think  was  with  her  ?  " 

"  Not  Rodney,"  Jeremiah  said  with  a  twinkle. 

"  Poor  boy " — Mrs.  Barett  looked  doleful  re- 
proach— "  you  know  he  is  shut  up  in  those  dreadful 
Works  at  this  very  moment.  No,  it  wasn't  Rodney, 
but  a  man  named — Crag,  was  it  ?  or  Craigie,  or 
something.  He's  immensely  rich,  so  it  seems ; 
very  good-looking ;  in  fact,  quite  an  eligible.  Now 

what  I  say  is "  She  looked  about  with  an  air 

of  suburban  melodrama — "  now  what  is  an  engaged 
girl  doing  alone  with  an  eligible  man  of  that  sort  ? 
Mrs.  Blundell,  herself,  put  that  to  me.  And  really, 
I  could  find  her  no  reasonable  answer." 


244  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

Edith's  eyes  met  her  father's.  '  I  suppose  we 
must  tell  her,'  they  said.  And  his  answered  back, 
but  dubiously,  '  Yes,  I  suppose  so.' 

"The  fact  of  it  is, '  Mamma/  "  he  said  aloud,  "  that 
is  what  we  were  talking  about.  We've  just  had 
information  that  Miss  Wolney  is  not  engaged  at  all 
at  present." 

"  But — she  is  engaged  to  Rodney.  He  hasn't 
broken  it  off.  Rodney  wouldn't." 

"  She  has  though."  The  old  man  could  scarcely 
repress  a  chuckle. 

"  The  wicked,  wicked  girl."  Mrs.  Barett's 
withered  cheeks  were  flaming.  "  How  dare  she  ? 
She  can't  though — he  wouldn't  let  her.  She  mustn't 
be  allowed  to.  You  don't  mean  that  it's  for  this 
Crock  man  she's  thrown  him  over  ?  Why — it's  an 
insult  to  all  of  us  !  " 

"  Insult  or  no,  my  dear,  it  seems  we  have  to  face 
the  fact  that  she  has  thrown  him  over.  Though 
we've  no  grounds  to  suppose — and  it  wouldn't  be 
fair,  either — that  it  is  in  favour  of  anyone  in  par- 
ticular." 

"  It  will  just  break  the  boy's  heart."  Mrs.  Barett 
clasped  her  hands  tightly.  "  And  she  seemed  such 
a  nice  gentle  girl,  and  really  clever  at  millinery." 
Then,  with  a  sudden  high  note  of  tragedy — "  Why," 
she  asked,  "  has  she  done  it  ?  They  can't  have 
quarrelled.  Rodney  would  never  agree  to  quarrel." 

Edith  looked  across  at  her  father  ;  he  pursed  his 
mouth  and  slightly  moved  his  eyebrows  as  though 
he  would  say,  '  Yes,  you  tell  her.' 

"As  far  as  we  know  " — Edith's  voice  was  sweet 
and  clear  after  her  mother's  high-pitched  excite- 
ment— "  as  far  as  we  know,  it  is  that  Rodney  has 


STILL  THE  TALK  IS  OF  THE  HERO     245 

displeased  Cecil  as  regards  father's  business.  She 
wanted  him  not  to  give  up  architecture." 

"  That  was  quite  natural."  Mrs.  Barett  con- 
sidered. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  told  him  he  must  choose 
between  her  and  the  business." 

"  And  Rod  chose  the  businesss,"  her  father  put 
in  triumphantly. 

"  I  don't  like  to  infer  it  of  Rodney,"  said  Mrs. 
Barett,  "  but  to  me  it  seems — wasn't  it  rather  un- 
gentlemanly  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all."  Jeremiah  and  Edith  spoke  the 
words  in  duet.  Then  she  waited  for  him,  he  raised 
his  eyebrows,  and  she  continued  as  solo  : 

"  Don't  you  think  father  had  the  first  claim  on 
him  ?  " 

"  There  is  something  in  that."  But  Mrs.  Barett 
seemed  doubtful.  "  All  the  same,  she  must  not  be 

allowed Am  I  tidy,  Edith  ?  "  Her  fingers 

fluttered  to  her  hat  and  her  hair.  "  I  think  I  had 
better  go  and  see  Miss  Wolney." 

"  But,  mother— 

"I  can  explain  things" — Mrs.  Barett  spoke  with 
a  certain  dignity — "and,  if  the  worst  comes  to  the 
worst,  clearly  it  is  Rodney's  place  to  yield  to  her 
wishes." 

"And father?  " 

"  'Papa'  has  managed  by  himself  so  far.  If  he 
needs  help — I  don't  see  that  he  does — but  if  he 
really  must  have  it — you  are  clever,  Edith,  why 
should  not  you  be  the  one  to  help  him  ?  In  any 
case,  Rodney  must  not  be  sacrificed." 

Having  cast  her  bomb  at  the  feet  of  the  family, 
frightened  at  her  own  audacity,  yet  not  a  little 


246  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

elated,  Mrs.  Barett  rose  to  her  feet,  ready  for  further 
action — action  that,  however  well-intentioned, 
would  probably  prove  so  disastrous  that  at  any  cost 
it  must  be  prevented. 

Jeremiah  half  rose  from  his  chair  ;  Edith  instinc- 
tively blocked  the  way  to  the  door,  though  neither 
thought  for  a  moment  of  any  physical  com- 
pulsion. Meanwhile  Mrs.  Barett  looked  first  at  one 
and  then  at  the  other  with  the  air  of  a  defiant  rabbit. 

At  this  critical  moment  there  came  a  decorous 
tap  at  the  door  and  the  voice  of  the  '  Suffragan 
Bishop '  announcing  '  Miss  Wolney.' 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE   HERO — IS   HE   A   HERO  ? 

"  HERE  she  is."  Mrs.  Barett  was  suddenly  com- 
placent. In  her  small,  tenacious  mind  she  welcomed 
the  chance  that  had  frustrated  the  evident  intention 
of  Jeremiah  and  Edith  to  prevent  her  speaking  to 
Cecil.  Jeremiah  dropped  back  into  his  chair, 
assuming  the  look  of  humorous  resignation  that  he 
reserved  for  his  dealings  with  women.  Brassy  shine 
employed  women  packers. 

Edith's  first  thought  was  for  Cecil.  She  looked  so 
youthful  to  be  the  centre  of  recent  happenings ; 
and,  at  the  moment,  so  attractive  that  Edith's 
heart  smote  her  as  to  how,  after  all,  the  blow  would 
fall  on  Rodney. 

Save  for  a  slightly  heightened  colour,  Cecil 
showed  not  the  least  embarrassment.  After  a  per- 
functorily formal  greeting  she  broke  out : 

"  You  know,  you  have  all  been  so  good  to  me." 

Her  eyes  were  for  Jeremiah,  but  her  smile  in- 
cluded Mrs.  Barett  and  Edith. 

Everyone  was  seated  by  now.  Mrs.  Barett  bolt 
upright,  with  her  hat  subsiding  unawares  to  its 
intended  angle ;  it  gave  its  wearer  something  of  the 
oddly  pathetic  air  of  a  dressed-up  animal. 

'  You   have   all   been   so   particularly   kind   in 
welcoming  me  and  everything" — this  time  Cecil's 

247 


248  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

gaze,  gay  yet  deprecatingly  grateful,  rested  more 
especially  on  Edith — "  that  I  feel  I  want  to  tell  you 
all  about  it  myself.  Of  course,  people  will  talk." 

"  My  dear  " — Mrs.  Barett's  prim  air  was  un- 
friendly— "  they  are  talking  already." 

"  Let  them.  I'm  sure/  don't  mind."  But  Cecil's 
nostrils  were  quivering.  "  It's  no  business  of  theirs, 
or  anybody's.  It's  our  own  affair  entirely.  There's 
only  one  thing  I  want  to  say.  It  is  all  my  fault. 
No  one  must  blame  Rodney." 

At  this  Jeremiah  met  his  daughter's  eyes  with 
understanding  ;  but  Mrs.  Barett  drew  up  her  spare 
figure  even  more  stiffly  as  she  answered  : 

"  No  one  would  think  for  a  moment  of  blaming 
Rodney." 

"  That's  all  right,"  returned  Cecil.  "  Anyway, 
it  is  better  now  than  later,  isn't  it  ?  It  was  my 
mistake,  not  Rodney's.  So  I  am  the  one  to  right  it. 
I  felt  certain  we  shouldn't  suit.  He's  miles  too 
good  for  me,"  she  spoke  jerkily ;  "it  would  be  a 
strain  to  me  to  have  to  live  up  to  him." 

Mrs.  Barett  shook  her  head. 

"  Believe  me,  Rodney's  not  at  all  hard  to  live 
with.  I  am  sure,  any  nice  young  girl ' ' 

"I'm  not  a  nice  young  girl  though  by  any  means. 
Not  half  so  nice  or  so  good  as  I  tried  to  make  you 
think  me.  I  should  never  do  for  a  husband  with 
high  ideals." 

"  Or  for  one  who  wears  dirty  overalls  ?  "  Jeremiah 
slily  suggested. 

Cecil  coloured  hotly. 

"  You  think  that  is  it,  but  it  isn't.  I'd  quite  made 
up  my  mind  before,  really.  I  only  said  that  about 
the  business  to  test  him.  If  he  had  given  up  his 


THE  HERO— IS  HE  A  HERO  ?        249 

wishes  to  mine  I  should  have  known  that  I  meant 
something  to  him.  And  then — there  is  no  knowing 
— I  might  have  gone  on  with  the  thing."  She 
laughed.  "  And  then,  I  suppose,  there  would  have 
been  one  more  unhappy  marriage.  But  when  I'd  said 
'  Don't '  and  he  went  straight  and  did  it,  it's  hardly 
likely  I'd  take  a  man  like  that  for  a  husband." 

"  For  fear  he'd  not  turn  out  obedient,"  Jeremiah 
suggested. 

"  Whatever  you  may  think,  it's  hardly  decent  to 
jest  about  it."  Cecil  spoke  with  sudden  dignity. 

"  No,  '  Papa/  please  be  serious." 

Mrs.  Barett  reproved  her  '  spouse  '  much  as  she 
had  done  Rodney  in  his  early  boyhood. 

Tears  had  risen  to  Cecil's  eyes  unexpectedly. 

"  To  me,"  she  said,  "  it  is  all  very  important. 
It  means  all  my  life  to  me." 

"  And  his  to  Rodney,"  Edith  said  quietly. 

"  Of  course  it  does.  You  need  not  think  I  am 
forgetting  him.  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,  that  I  have 
had  to  hurt  him ;  but  it  wouldn't  have  mended 
matters  to  have  gone  on  hurting  him." 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  think,  even  now,  that  you 
could "  Mrs.  Barett  pleaded. 

Cecil  turned  to  her  sunnily. 

"  I  am  afraid  not,  though  I  would  have  simply 
loved,  to  have  you  for  a  mother." 

From  that  moment  all  Mrs.  Barett's  sympathies 
were  for  Cecil.  Secretly  she  shook  her  head  over 
Rodney.  She  did  not  exactly  blame  him,  but  again 
and  again  she  told  herself  that  young  men  were 
sadly  headstrong  and  foolish. 

Meanwhile,  old  Jeremiah,  in  his  broadest  of 
accents,  was  asking  Cecil : 


250  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

'  You  didn't  hanker  now,  did  ye,  m'  lass,  for  me 
as  a  father?  " 

"  I  didn't."  But  her  eyes  coquetted.  "How 
can  I  like  you  when  you  sacrifice  poor  Rodney  to 
that  horrid  business  ?  " 

"  Supposing,"  he  said,  screwing  up  his  eyes,  "  as 
how  I  was  to  release  him  again."  •*,.-> 

For  a  moment  Edith,  watching,  saw  a  scared  look 
pass  quick  as  a  camera  shutter  across  Cecil's  face. 
Then  she  said,  almost  carelessly  : 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  ?  " 

"  Supposing  I  was  to,"  he  returned  doggedly, 
"  would  that  make  any  difference  ?  " 

'  Yes,  dear,"  Mrs.  Barett  thrust  in,  anxious  and 
hurried ;  "  wouldn't  that  make  a  difference,  if '  Papa ' 
decided — I  mean  if  Rodney  gave  in — did  as  you 
asked  him  ?  "  For  the  moment  this  dainty,  charm- 
ingly dressed  '  Society '  girl  seemed  to  the  little 
Victorian  lady  eminently  desirable,  even  as  the  wife 
of  her  adored  son.  "  Wouldn't  it  make  a  difference  ? " 

"  Yes,  would  it  ?  "  The  final  question  came  from 
Edith,  and  Cecil  did  not  like  the  flicker  of  a  smile 
that  accompanied  it. 

"  No,"  she  said  firmly,  "  it  would  not  make  the 
slightest  difference.  Not  now  it  wouldn't.  I  have 
written  to  Rodney,  leaving  him  no  room  for  doubt 
that  my  decision  is  final.  I  only  just  came — you 
have  been  so  kind  " — she  included  them  all  in  her 
swift,  effective  glance — "  so  I  just  had  to  come  and 
say  good-bye." 

"But"  — Mrs.  Barett  faltered  — "if  anyone 
asks " 

"  You  need  only  tell  them  the  truth,"  said  Cecil, 
adding  with  a  laugh,  "  Won't  that  be  refreshing  ?  " 


THE  HERO— IS  HE  A  HERO  ?        251 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  the  small  Victorian  lady  re- 
turned humbly,  "  that  we  know  the  truth."  Vague 
hovering  suggestions  concerning  the  conduct  of 
Rodney  flitted  like  bats  through  her  mind.  But  no, 
Rodney  was  her  son,  with  true  Victorian  craft  she 
assured  herself. 

Jeremiah  rose  to  his  feet,  back  to  the  hearth, 
his  thumbs  in  his  waistcoat  arm-holes,  he  gave 
forth  his  dictum. 

"  The  truth,  as  I  take  it,  is  that  young  madam 
would  like  us  to  know  that  our  boy  is  not  good 
enough — or  else  we,  ourselves,  are  not  good  enough 
— for  Miss  Cecil  Wolney." 

"Or  is  it  that  I  am  not  good  enough  for  any  of 
you  ?  "  Cecil  said  sweetly. 

"Supposing,"  he  said,  with  a  smile — Rodney's 
smile  that  still  had  the  power  to  make  Cecil's 
heart  throb  uneasily — "  supposing  we  leave  it  at 
that." 

'  You  may  say  what  you  like,"  returned  Cecil 
with  a  certain  sweet  gravity,  "  so  long  as  no  one 
blames  Rodney.  He  comes  out  of  it  all  with " 

" — out  a  stain  on  his  character  ?  "  Jeremiah  sug- 
gested. 

"  If  that  is  how  you  like  to  put  it." 

"  My  poor  boy  " — his  mother  was  winding  her 
new  gloves  round  and  round  her  fingers — "  my 
poor  boy,  he'll  take  all  this  hardly." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Cecil. 

Edith  had  never  liked  her  so  well  as  at  that 
moment. 

"  We  are  all  sorry,"  she  said  quite  truthfully. 

"  Are  you  ?  "  Cecil  looked  up  at  her  gratefully. 
"  I  mean  you,  specially.  I  thought  you  disliked  me, 


252  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

that  you  would  be  so  glad  to  know  that  I  am  not 
going  to  be  forced  upon  you  for  a  sister." 

Edith  smiled  rather  sadly. 

"  I  never  have  had  one.  I  think  I  should  be  very 
grateful  for  a  sister." 

"  Not  me  though/'  said  Cecil. 

"  It  seems  I  am  not  to  have  the  chance,"  re- 
turned Edith. 

Taking  all  things  into  consideration  the  interview 
had  not  been  so  strained  as  might  have  been  ex- 
pected. When  Jeremiah  returned  from  showing 
Cecil  out,  an  office  of  punctilious  ceremony,  he  said, 
with  an  exaggeration  of  his  usual  assurance  : 

"  Well,  I'm  not  so  cast  down  as  I  might  be  as 
that's  over  and  done  with.  Edith,  my  dear,  you 
shove  up  the  window.  I  can't  think  why  women 
want  to  make  themselves  into  scent  '  sacheys '  ; 
not,  that  is,  so  long  as  they're  clean  and  wholesome. 
Now  cheer  up,  '  Mamma,'  it's  no  good  counting  the 
shells  when  you've  made  an  omelet." 

Mrs.  Barett  replied  with  a  sniff ;  then,  quite  dis- 
regarding the  splash  of  two  tears  on  the  light- 
coloured  gloves  she  was  torturing,  she  broke  out 
nervously : 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  if  I  thought  Rodney  wouldn't 
mind,  though  it  would  have  been  in  so  many  ways 
what  one  could  have  wished  and — er — suitable  and 
I  would  have  liked  to  see  one  of  my  children  married 
before " 

Jeremiah  put  a  comfortable  arm  about  her. 

"  Cheer  up,  old  dear.  Don't  you  be  in  a  hurry. 
You're  a  bit  over-young  yet  for  a  grandma.  Now, 
Edith,  what  are  you  thinking  of  there,  so  solemn  ?  " 

"  I  was  wondering,"  she  answered  abstractedly, 


THE  HERO— IS  HE  A  HERO  ? 


258 


"  Cecil  coming  like  that — whether  there  is  anything 
between  her  and  Montague  Craig." 

"  Hardly  yet,"  Mrs.  Barett  said  through  her  tears, 
indignantly.  ' '  You  heard  what  she  said  about  liking 
me  for  her  mother.  Besides,  the  engagement  is  only 
just  broken.  I  am  sure  no  nice  girl ' 

"Cecil  would  not  like  to  be  called  a  nice  girl," 
said  Edith. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

THE   HERO   FINDS  A  CHAMPION 

THERE  was  no  denying  it.  A  solemn  strain,  marked 
by  extraneous  politeness,  a  deferential  waiving  of 
individual  opinion,  an  almost  eager  desire  to  give 
way  to  one  another  in  trifles  had  crept  into  the 
relations  between  Cecil  and  Linda.  Their  friendship 
was  attenuated.  The  snapping  point  was  imminent. 
Linda's  mind  turned  with  frank  longing  towards 
Aunt  Emma  and  Cornwall ;  whilst,  at  the  same 
time,  she  shrank  from  the  thought  of  leaving  London 
behind  her.  It  is  true  Rodney  was  so  deeply  immersed 
in  Brassyshine  that  there  was  little  chance  of  her 
seeing  him  ;  she  was  not  at  all  sure  that  she  wanted 
to  see  him  ;  but  it  was  much  to  her  that  one  place — 
even  so  mighty  a  place  as  London — held  both  of 
them. 

Outwardly  the  two  girls  followed  the  lines  of 
their  old  routine,  talked  and  laughed,  exchanged 
opinions,  went  in  and  out  together — only — it  was 
all  so  different.  Their  friendship  was  dead  and  was 
only  galvanised  to  a  jerky  pretence  of  life  between 
them. 

The  sun  was  shining  cheerily,  and  the  streets  were 
full  of  the  indescribable  glow  and  colour  of  early 
summer  when,  one  morning,  Cecil  came  into  Linda's 
room,  fingering  things,  laughing,  talking  about 

254 


THE  HERO  FINDS  A  CHAMPION     255 

nothing  in  particular.  Linda  was  putting  away  some 
clothes  that  had  come  from  the  laundry,  opening 
and  shutting  drawers,  placing  things  neatly. 

Cecil  came  up  behind  her. 

"  You  haven't  forgotten,  I  expect,  that  letter  I 
wrote  to  Rodney  ?  " 

"  No."  In  a  moment  Linda's  heart  was  thump- 
ing. "  Why  do  you  ask  me  ?  " 

"  Only  I  wondered.  You  might  like  to  see  the 
answer." 

"  No,  no  !    It  wasn't  meant — for  anybody." 

"  I  got  it  a  day  or  two  ago.  It  made  me  feel  sick, 
I  can  tell  you." 

"  I  thought  you  no  longer  cared  for  him." 

"  I  don't,  of  course,  in  a  way.  But  you  can't  love 
a  man  and — kiss  him  and  so  on — " 

Linda  stood  still  and  staring. 

"  Need  we  " — she  swallowed  hard — "  need  we 
talk  about  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  still  my  friend,  if  you  want  to  be  of 
any  use  to  me,  we  must  talk  about  it.  Isn't  that  the 
whole  point  and  object  of  friendship — to  be  able  to 
talk  about  things  when  you  want  to — to  share,  as 
they  say,  your  joys  and  troubles  ?  " 

"  It's  always  the  troubles  people  want  to  share," 
Linda  said  dully. 

"Of  course  it  is.  Anyone  can  be  happy  alone,  so 
long  as  they  are  happy.  But  when  you  are  wretched 
it's  only  natural  to  want  other  people  to  be  wretched 
too.  I  know  it  sounds  horrid,  but  most  true  things 
are  horrid — like  one's  beautiful  body  being  made 
up  of  slushy  flesh  and  blood-vessels — or  the  moon 
being  only  dead  ashes.  I  hate  truth.  And  that 
brings  me  back.  I  don't  love  Rodney ;  I  know 


256  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

now  I  never  did  love  him  ;  but  I  still  like  him,  I 
want  him  still  to  like  me.  And  see  what  he  says 
in  his  letter  !  " 

Linda's  lips  formed  a  mute  protest. 

Cecil  took  no  notice.  The  letter  she  unfolded  was 
worn-looking  and  crumpled. 

"  Now  listen.  To  begin  with,  he  starts  without 
any  beginning.  /  call  that  shirking.  He  says,  '  / 
accept  your  decision  and  am  willing  to  take  all  the 
blame  in  the  matter.'  That's  what  I  don't  like.  You 
see,  by  that  he  puts  me  in  the  wrong  right  away. 
It's  just  like  a  man — since  the  very  first — with  his 
'  The  woman  tempted  me.'  ' 

Linda  flamed. 

"  You  are  wrong,  quite  wrong ;  he  wants,  as  a 
man  does,  to  protect  you,  to  take  the  blame  so  that 
you  may  go  scatheless.  Seeing  it  is  you  who  are 
breaking  the  thing  off,  I  think  he  is  very  generous." 

"  Sorry,"  said  Cecil,  "  I  can't  see  it  quite  in  that 
light.  But  there's  more,  he  goes  on  to  say,  '  /  hope 
you  will  be  happy.'  Cheap,  I  call  that.  And  he  just 
signs  himself  '  Rodney  Barett.' '  She  waited  for 
comment  that  she  might  argue,  destroy  it ;  and  when 
none  came,  she  burst  out : 

"  I  call  it  insolent.  At  the  very  least,  cold- 
blooded. He  might  have  said  he  was  broken- 
hearted." 

"  Had  he  said  it,  it  would  have  meant  nothing." 

"  You  mean  to  say  he  is  not  broken-hearted  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  when  anyone  is  broken-hearted  they — 
could  not  talk  about  it." 

"  I  should.  I  should  go  rushing  round  to  every- 
one, wanting  them  to  know  it  and  sympathise." 

"  But  a  man  would  not,"  said  Linda, 


THE  HERO  FINDS  A  CHAMPION     257 

Cecil  checked  her  excitement. 

"  When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  perhaps  he 
wouldn't."  She  waited  a  minute,  then  said,  "  When 
the  creatures  are  so  different  in  every  way  from  us, 
why  do  we  ever  try  to  understand  them  ?  " 

"  But  do  we  ?  "  asked  Linda. 

"  Of  course  we  do.  I  suppose  there's  a  certain 
excitement  in  it,  or  a  fault  far-away  hope  of  a  prize, 
like  in  guessing  competitions.  It's  not  a  bit  worth 
while,  really." 

She  folded  the  letter. 

"  Linda,  do  you  think  he  is  broken-hearted, 
really  ?  "  Cecil's  face  looked  cruel  behind  the  bars 
of  its  youthfulness.  "  Do  you  think  he  is,  Linda  ?  " 

The  next  moment  she  was  smiling. 

"  They  seem  to  get  over  it,  all  of  them,  very 
easily." 

"Who?   and  what?" 

"  The  men,  you  silly,  and  their  little  love  troubles." 

"  They  do  not  go  deeply  then." 

Linda  felt  ashamed  for  humanity. 

"  They  talk  of  dying  for  love,"  Cecil  went  on 
lightly.  "  All  rot !  They  may  believe  in  them- 
selves, which  I  doubt.  I,  for  one,  don't  believe  in 
them." 

"  I  think  sometimes,"  so  Linda  flashed  out,  "  that 
you  do  not  believe  in  anyone  or  anything." 

"  You  are  wrong.  I  believe  in  myself,  which  is 
the  only  thing  that  really  matters.  And  just  now  " 
— she  laughed  softly — "  if  you  want  to  know,  I 
believe  also  in — Monty." 

If  she  had  planned  a  surprise,  it  was  successful. 
The  colour  ebbed  from  Linda's  face,  her  voice 
sounded  husky  as  she  said : 


258  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  Montague  Craig — what  has  he  got  to  do  with 
it?" 

"  You  are  dense ! "  To  her  own  disgust  Cecil 
blushed  hotly.  "  Can't  you  see  ?  " 

Linda  went  whiter  still  before  she  said  slowly  : 

"  I  don't  think  I  see  anything,  clearly." 

"  Of  course,  we  don't  want  it  known  by  outsiders, 
not  till  people  have  done  talking  about — the  other. 
I've  wanted  all  along  to  tell  you — but,  you  know, 
Linda  dear,  you  are  rather  difficult." 

Linda  had  averted  her  eyes,  she  did  not  turn 
them  towards  Cecil  as  she  asked  her  : 

"Tell  me?" 

"It  was  that  day  " — Cecil  was  annoyed  to  find 
her  own  tone  conciliatory,  almost  apologetic — "  that 
day  when  he  and  I  went  to  the  Coliseum  together. 
There  was  a  fool  of  a  woman  and  an  idiotic  chorus, 
It  was  all  your  fault,  really,  because  you  wouldn't 
come  ;  you  were  sulky,  or  something.  If  you  had 
come  it  wouldn't  have  happened.  Not  so  soon, 
anyway." 

"  Tell  me  ?  "  Linda  repeated  with  dry  lips,  auto- 
matically. 

"  Well — if  you  want  it  in  black  and  white — a 
marriage  has  been  arranged  and — if  they  don't 
change  their  minds — will  take  place  some  day — 
between  Montague  Callam  Craig,  Esqre.  of  42  Gros- 
venor  Place,  and  Strathallow,  Farnham,  Hamp- 
shire, and  Cecil,  only  daughter " 

"  And  you  can  jest  about  it  ?  " 

"  You  dear  little  prude — or  Puritan,  is  it  ?  Don't 
you  know  that  life  is  a  jest — that  is — if  you  don't 
want  to  break  your  heart  over  it." 

"  Does  Rodney  know  ?  "  Linda  whispered. 


THE  HERO  FINDS  A  CHAMPION     259 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  It  is  not  announced,  but  these 
things  are  like  thistledown,  every  breath  carries 
them." 

"  Do  you  think" — Linda's  throat  felt  knotted — 
"  that — he  knew — when — he  wrote  that  letter  ?  " 

"Of  course  not.  That  was  written  only  the  next 
day,  and  quite  early." 

"  He  hoped  that  you  would  be  happy." 

"  Not  meaning  anything  in  particular." 

"  Mr.  Craig  is  a  friend  of  his." 

"  I  know,"  Cecil  said  carelessly.  "  It  was  Rodney 
who  introduced  us." 

"Did  you — when  you  wrote  to  him ?  " 

"  To  which  of  them  ?  " 

"To  him — Rodney — had  you — did  you  care  then 
for " 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  him  in  that  way,  if  that 
is  what  you  are  trying  to  get  at.  Of  course,  I  was 
feeling  sore,  and  as  though  I  didn't  care  a  damn 
about  what  happened  to  any  of  us.  And  he  was 
so  nice  and  understanding.  My  dear — you  can't 
think — the  blessed  relief  and  satisfaction  of  being 
just  as  silly  and  unideal  as  you  like,  and  knowing  all 
the  while  that  he'll  think  none  the  worse  of  you. 
Dearest,  whatever  you  do,  don't  marry  a  man  better 
than  yourself.  In  matters  of  goodness  a  man  must 
look  up  to  a  woman.  And  if  he's  very  much  so 
himself,  he  sticks  her  up  on  a  pedestal,  and  there 
she  stands,  poor  dear,  open-eyed,  sleepless,  on  the 
verge  always  of  coming  down  with  a  crash.  For  my 
part,  I  was  getting  so  nervy  I  took  a  header  off  the 
pedestal,  just  to  put  an  end  to  the  suspense.  I 
don't  Ijave  to  climb  or  pose  for  Monty.  And  you 
can't  think  how  grateful  I  am  to  him  for  the  com- 


260  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

fort  of  it.  The  only  thing  now  is  " — she  put  an 
arm  round  Linda — "  that  you  must  be  sweet  and 
congratulate  me." 

For  the  first  time  in  the  course  of  their  friendship 
Linda  made  no  response  to  Cecil's  caresses. 

"  Of  course,  if  you  are  huffy "  Cecil  drew  back, 

justified  as  she  supposed  in  her  anger,  imagining 
that  at  least  she  had  done  Linda  no  wrong,  uncon- 
scious that  she  had  broken  down  for  her  youth's 
supreme  illusion  that  other  people  are  as  we  see 
them.  Linda  had  owned  to  herself  that  Cecil  was 
thoughtless,  flighty,  even  on  occasions  malicious — 
but — there  had  always  been  a  '  but '  until  all  that  it 
had  implied  had  been  swept  ruthlessly  away  by 
Cecil  herself.  In  the  dishonour  of  her  friend,  Linda 
felt  herself  dishonoured.  And  behind  and  above  all 
was  the  pitiful  thought  that  it  was  Rodney  who 
must  suffer.  With  an  oft-repeated  pang  she  recalled 
him  as  he  had  been  in  the  blue  air  of  Cornwall, 
sunny  and  youthful,  with  untroubled  eyes.  Now, 
she  pictured  him  altered — quiet,  grave,  and  dis- 
illusioned. Never  again  would  he  be  the  same 
Rodney.  In  all  probability  she  would  never  even 
see  him  again,  never  have  the  sad  opportunity  of 
noting  the  difference.  Naturally  he  would  shun  all 
those  connected  with  Cecil.  At  the  thought,  Linda 
felt  her  heart  was  breaking. 

Meanwhile,  Cecil  was  talking  rapidly,  trying  to 
justify  her  conduct,  accusing  herself  by  excusing. 

"  Don't,  don't,"  Linda  cried  out  at  last.  "  Let  us 
leave  it.  There  it  is.  It  has  happened.  All  the 
talking  in  the  world  cannot  explain  it  away. 
Don't  let  us  pretend  it  is  anything  but — what 
it  is." 


THE  HERO  FINDS  A  CHAMPION     261 

"  You  are  cruel " — there  was  a  whimper  in  Cecil's 
voice — "  it  is  not  like  you  to  be  so  hard." 

"Am  I  hard  ?  Perhaps  I  am.  I  am  sorry,  of  course. 
But  you  see — I  thought  so  much  of  you,  Cecil." 

"  Rub  it  in."    She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  I  did  not  mean  it  like  that."  The  tone  of  the 
other  was  humble.  "  And  I  am  sure  I  hope — I  do 
really  hope — you  will  be  happy." 

"  You  hope — without  faith,  or  any  chanty." 

"  Just  now  I  feel  as  though  I  have  no  faith  in 
anything." 

"  And  you  were  always  a  bit  lacking  in  charity." 

"  Cecil !  " 

"  It  is  true.  Good  people  are  hard,  always.  You 
can't  understand  that  what  for  you  is  plain  and 
easy,  for  less  virtuous  people  is  ever  so  difficult. 
You  walk  straight  on,  with  your  head  in  the  air, 
whilst  we  unfortunates  flounder  and  stumble.  I 
know  I  have  made  a  mess  of  things ;  but  it  was 
'  no  earthly  '  for  me  to  plunge  deeper.  Monty's  a 
contented  sort,  he's  jolly  glad  to  have  got  me,  and 
not  at  all  likely  to  repent  his  bargain." 

"  Nor  did — Rodney." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  about  that.  Perhaps  he  did, 
and  the  business  bogy  was  a  bit  of  a  plot  to  test 
me."  She  had  not  an  idea  of  the  half-truth  in  her 
words  as  she  said  them  lightly,  laughed,  and  went 
on  :  "  If  it  was,  it  seems  to  me  /  am  the  one  who  has 
come  up  smiling." 

"  And  does  that  make  you  feel  happy  ?  " 

"  Naturally." 

"  Do  you  like  " — Linda's  voice  rose  in  a  cres- 
cendo of  indignation — "  do  you  like  to  think  of  him 
being  miserable  ?  " 


262  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  My  dear  child,  he  won't  be  long  miserable.  You 
may  be  pretty  sure  he'll  soon  console  himself." 

"  There  you  do  him  a  wrong,"  Linda  said  staunchly. 

"  I  don't.  He'd  be  a  fool  to  let  me  spoil  his  life 
for  him.  He's  sense  enough  to  know  I  am  not  worth 
it.  Hearts  are  caught  in  the  rebound — don't  you 
forget  it."  Her  face  took  on  a  malicious  likeness 
to  le  Saxe's  marble.  "Who  knows?  "  she  added. 
"  Perhaps  I  may  dance  at  your  wedding." 

Linda  flamed,  flared. 

"  Cecil,  you  are  vulgar,  you  are  horrid,  I  hate 
you  !  " 

"  You  don't  really,"  Cecil  assured  her  quietly, 
"  only  you  consider  it  the  thing  to  say  so.  After  all, 
I  have  suggested  nothing  reprehensible,  nor  even 
improbable." 

"  You  have  !  "  fiercely. 

Cecil  laughed. 

"  I  know — you  yourself  know — that  down  in 
Cornwall  you  had  your  little  hopes,  fears,  and 
heart-flutterings." 

"  You  are  a  fiend,  Cecil !  " 

"  I'd  rather  be  that,  any  day,  than  an  angel. 
Angels  are  horribly  self-controlled  and  long-suffer- 
ing." 

"  They  speak  the  truth,  at  all  events." 

"  So  far,  then,  I  am  akin  to  the  angels.  It  is  true 
that  you  took  a  fancy  to  Rodney,  and  you  can't 
deny  it." 

"  How  dare  you  suggest " 

"  Things  that  are  undeniable  ?  "  Cecil  was  flit- 
ting about  the  room ;  she  always  suggested  a  mal- 
evolent moth  when  the  teasing  mood  seized  her. 
"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  she  went  on  maliciously,  "  I 


THE  HERO  FINDS  A  CHAMPION     263 

shan't  want  now  to  keep  Rodney's  portrait.  I'll 
give  it  to  you  as  it's  not  worth  returning.  It  would 
look  quite  in  place  on  your  neat  little  dressing- 
table." 

Linda  felt  perfectly  stiff  with  passion. 

"  Will  you  go — or  shall  I  ?  "  She  brought  out 
her  words  with  difficulty. 

"  Of  course  I'll  go,  if  you  feel  like  that,"  said 
Cecil;  "all  the  same,  you  ought  to  be  grateful  to 
me  that  I  bear  you  no  ill-will — am  not  even  jealous  " 
— she  was  edging  away  towards  the  door.  "  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  you  are  so  transparent  that  I  am 
quite  sure,  down  in  Cornwall,  Rodney  must  have 
seen  quite  plainly " 

She  escaped,  leaving  her  sentence  unfinished. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  door  her  heart  smote  her. 
She  had  been  a  brute  to  Linda.  Linda  had  been 
loyal  to  her,  always.  A  brute — that  was  what  she 
had  been  ;  worse  still,  she  could  not  quite  rid  her- 
self of  the  suspicion  that  she  had  been  vulgar.  She 
was  warm-hearted  enough  to  think  of  owning  her 
fault.  She  laid  a  hand  on  the  knob  of  the  door  and 
listened.  Was  Linda  crying  ? 

Had  she  been,  Cecil  would  have  rushed  in  ;  mutual 
sobs  would  have  re-cemented  their  friendship. 

Linda  was  not  sobbing.  She  was  moving  about 
the  room  quietly  as  usual. 

"  Tidying  !  "  Cecil  exclaimed  with  disgust.  "  The 
woman  who  can  '  tidy '  never  yet  broke  her  heart 
over  anything." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

ALMOST  IGNORES  THE  HERO 

CECIL  went  about  with  the  air  of  a  chastenetl  kitten 
— a  kitten  that  has  been  whipped  for  breaking  the 
china ;  not  ashamed,  for  no  kitten  possesses  a 
conscience,  but  uncomfortable,  playing  graceful 
tricks  to  attract  attention,  annoyed  to  find  itself 
out  of  favour.  To  her  parents  Cecil  showed  herself 
charmingly  affectionate. 

She  was  pretty  sure  of  her  mother.  The  first 
shock  over,  she  would  say,  '  The  child  is  quite  right. 
It  is  better  to  find  such  things  out  soon  than  too 
late  ;  and  after  all,  there  was  the  family  ! ' 

Which  was  exactly  what  Mrs.  Wolney  did  say 
more  than  once  to  intimate  friends  who  came  to 
condole  with  her. 

Cecil's  father  was  not  quite  so  easy.  For  a  day 
or  two  he  treated  her  coldly.  She  had  touched  the 
raw  nerve  of  his  probity.  But  after  a  little  delicately 
administered  coaxing  he  began  to  realise  that  what 
he  mostly  desired  was  his  daughter's  happiness. 
There  was  absolutely  nothing  against  Montague 
Craig.  He  was  rich  and  well  connected.  And  if  it 

suited  Cecil  to  mate  herself  to  a  cipher !  Mr. 

Wolney  expressively  raised  his  dark  eyebrows. 
Finally  received  back  into  favour,  Cecil  had  not  the 
least  idea  that  her  father  still  had  a  sore  spot  in  his 

264 


ALMOST  IGNORES  THE  HERO       265 

heart  for  Rodney ;  she  was  all  herself  again — laugh- 
ing, teasing  and  lovable ;  none  the  less  happy 
because  her  secret  engagement  of  necessity  assumed 
an  officially  clandestine  character.  This  added  a 
sauce  piquante  to  all  discreet  condolences  over  her 
broken  engagement.  She  would  repeat  such  little 
scenes  for  Montague's  benefit,  drawing  a  grave, 
sweet  face  and  saying,  '  We  found  out  in  time  that 
we  were  unsuited.' 

For  his  part,  Montague  Craig  liked  kittens,  and 
never  could  see  why  people  made  such  a  fuss  over 
the  breaking  of  china. 

On  the  surface,  Linda  and  Cecil  were  friendly. 
Sometimes  Linda,  reproaching  herself  for  fickleness, 
managed,  by  dint  of  exhausting  exertion,  to  coax 
into  flickering  flame  the  old  fire  of  friendship.  It 
wavered  and  died  when  the  chill  breath  of  remem- 
brance blew  on  it.  Not  only  had  Cecil  trampled  on 
Linda's  affection — she  had  poisoned  the  soil  where 
it  grew  by  her  evil  suggestions.  No  longer  could 
she  let  her  thoughts  hover,  bird-like,  over  the  recol- 
lection of  those  few  weeks  in  Cornwall ;  Cecil  had 
smirched  all  the  blue  and  gold  for  her.  To  think 
that  Rodney  had  guessed  !  Linda's  cheeks  grew 
wan  and  transparent ;  her  eyes,  with  violet  stains 
under  them,  had  darkened. 

One  day  Mr.  Wolney  caught  her  by  the  elbows. 

"  London  does  not  suit  our  Cornish  Fair  Maid." 
He  spoke  as  a  jest,  but  his  kind  eyes  were  ques- 
tioning. 

Feeling  she  would  die  if  a  soul  guessed  her  secret, 
Linda  answered  him  gaily,  set  herself  to  appear  at 
her  liveliest.  After  a  while  it  became  almost  easy 
to  live  like  a  gnat  on  the  surface,  ignoring  the  dark- 


266  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

ness  beneath  her.  Sometimes,  it  is  true,  in  a  room 
full  of  people  she  would  glance  round  her  furtively, 
questioning. 

All  this  jest  and  animation,  was  it  real  or  forced 
for  each  one  of  them  ?  At  others,  she  wondered 
why  writers  waxed  sentimental  about  suffering, 
when  it  was  so  easy  to  suffer.  The  place  scarred 
over  so  quickly.  She  fancied  herself  grown  hard 
and  callous. 

But  she  had  not  as  yet  come  face  to  face  with 
Rodney  ! 

One  day  Edith  Barett  asked  Linda  to  tea.  Linda 
welcomed  the  invitation.  She  did  not  feel  sure, 
but  thought  it  might  be  possible  to  speak  out  to 
Edith.  As  one  who  aches  to  set  down,  if  but  for 
a  moment,  the  weight  of  a  burden,  she  longed  to 
talk  of  her  trouble.  She  was  not  so  hard,  then, 
as  she  had  supposed,  if  she  let  herself  think  of  an 
outlet. 

It  was  a  still  summer  day,  and,  after  the  dust  and 
glare  of  the  streets,  Edith's  room  was  doubly  cool 
and  refreshing.  It  looked  faintly  grey  after  the 
brilliant  sunshine.  Outside  the  window  the  roses 
were  crisped  and  withered,  but  a  few  summer  shoots 
of  foliage  thrust  up  to  the  sky  with  a  ruddy  vigour. 
It  encouraged  Linda  to  see  them. 

Edith  was  in  white,  with  a  touch  of  red  that  accen- 
tuated the  shadowy  coolness  of  her  surroundings. 
Linda  herself  was  wearing  the  greyish  blue  that 
was  '  her  colour.'  Edith  thought  her  looking  quite 
lovely.  This  mutual  admiration  made  things  smooth 
between  them  as  they  sipped  China  tea,  talked  or 
were  silent. 

Once  Edith  asked  thoughtfully  : 


ALMOST  IGNORES  THE  HERO       267 

"  Do  you  think  a  woman  is  happier  with  or 
without  marriage  ?  " 

Linda  started.  Unconsciously  her  thoughts  had 
strayed  down  to  Cornwall.  In  this  grey,  still  room, 
her  ears  had  been  open  to  the  far-off  siren  song 
of  the  ocean.  Recalled  from  forbidden  ways,  she 
flushed  and  started. 

"  I — how  can  I  tell  ?  It  seems  to  me — you  would 
have  to  try — and  then — it  would  be  too  late." 

"  There  is  something  in  that,"  Edith  said  medi- 
tatively. "  It  is  certainly  a  far-reaching  experiment. 
Yet  only  a  coward  would  fear  to  face  it." 

Linda  put  her  cup  and  saucer  down  on  the  table. 

"  I  seem  to  know  so  little — so  little  about  any- 
thing." 

Edith  smiled  at  her. 

"  That  shows  how  fast  you  are  learning.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  a  few  months  ago  you  thought  you 
knew  a  great  deal  about  everything." 

"  Perhaps  I  did — except,  of  course,  the  things 
that  one  does  not — that  you  ought  not  to  know 
about." 

"According  to  Aunt  Emma  ?  " 

Linda  looked  down. 

"  Do  you  know,  I'm  not  sure  that  Aunt  Emma 
is  not  right.  What  is  the  use  of  knowing  such 
things  ?  " 

"  Would  you  like  to  live  in  a  sort  of  black  box  of 
ignorance  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  not,  though  some  people  could  be 
quite  happy." 

"  People,  not  individuals." 

"  There  is  a  difference  ?  " 

"  You  and  I  are  individuals,  the  rest  are  people." 


268  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

'  You  and  I  in  a  wide  sense." 

"  Certainly." 

"  I  think  I  begin  to  see  what  you  mean.  It  is  all 
rather  wonderful  and  tremendously  interesting." 
The  look  of  weariness  had  gone  from  Linda's  face  as 
though,  like  a  veil,  she  had  removed  it. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  went  on,  "  whatever  happens, 
so  long  as  you  go  on  learning  and  knowing,  life 
cannot  be  utterly  empty.  Yet  isn't  there  a  danger 
of  making  a  hobby  of  knowledge,  like  the  useless 
lumber  of  insects,  dried  flowers,  and  fossils  some 
people  spend  all  their  time  in  collecting?  " 

"  There  is  no  fear,"  Edith  assured  her,  "  so  long 
as  you  live  for  the  collecting  and  not  for  the  collec- 
tion." 

"  There  is  life  in  the  one,  you  mean,  and  death  in 
the  other." 

Edith  leant  forward  in  her  chair ;  her  flame-like 
colour  had  heightened ;  she  looked  beautiful, 
Linda  thought,  as,  faltering  a  little  from  her  usual 
clear,  careful  utterance,  she  said  : 

"  You  have  not  yet  answered  my  question." 

"  How  can  I  ?  "  replied  Linda.  "  I  should  have 
to  be  terribly  wise  to  answer  it." 

"Child,  I  want  you,  yourself,  no  cold  abstract 
wisdom.  What  do  you  think  ?  You  must  have 
thoughts  about  a  thing  so  vital." 

Linda  looked  out  of  the  window.  The  young 
green  and  rich  madder  of  the  upspringing  rose- 
shoots  invigorated  her,  and  she  felt  able  to  answer. 

"  If  you  put  it  so,  there  seems  no  question  about 
it.  No  woman  is  complete  till  she  has  fulfilled  her 
destiny,  just  as  no  plant  is  complete  till  it  has 
blossomed." 


ALMOST  IGNORES  THE  HERO       269 

"  And  fruited,"  said  Edith. 

Their  eyes  met,  solemn,  sweet,  understanding. 

Edith  went  on  : 

"  I  did  not  think  so,  always.  There  was  some- 
thing attractive  to  me  in  standing  alone,  tied  to  no 
one — the  mother  of  great  deeds  instead  of  small 
babies." 

"  And  now  ?  " 

"  Is  it  weakness,  I  wonder,  that  makes  me  dream 
of  the  babies  ?  " 

"Edith" — Linda's  voice  sank  as  it  would  do  in 
some  prayer-filled  cathedral — "  have  you — are  you 
— going  to  be  very  happy  ?  " 

Edith  covered  her  face,  but  uncovered  it 
quickly. 

"  Silly,  false  shame,"  she  said  hurriedly,  bright- 
eyed  and  smiling,  "  when  I  am  really  so  glad,  and  as 
triumphant  as  the  most  unintelligent  woman  who 
has  found  her  man  and  the  meaning  of  things  in  a 
moment." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "     Linda's  eyes  sparkled. 

"  You  have  met  him,  I  think — Bob  Hendrey." 

For  a  cold  half-second  Linda  felt  shivering  in  on 
herself.  The  little  guinea-pig  man  and  this  splendid 
woman  !  Then  she  thrust  the  thought  aside  as 
unworthy.  Edith  Barett  was  too  great-hearted  to 
care  about  outward  seeming.  In  spite  of  his  snippety 
talk  and  white  eyelashes,  if  Edith  cared — Bob 
Hendrey  must  have  a  soul  worth  loving. 

"  I  hope,"  she  said,  breathing  quickly,  "  I  do 
hope  you  will  be  very  happy." 

"  I  don't  care,"  Edith  said  earnestly,  "  so  long  as 
he  is." 

Linda  smiled  lovingly. 


270  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  I  thought  you  disapproved  of  individual  hap- 
piness." 

"  Not  the  thing  itself,  only  the  desire  for  it.  The 
desire  hinders,  happiness  helps  us." 

She  smiled  at  a  thought  of  her  own,  tenderly  yet 
not  without  triumph,  then  she  said  : 

"  Yes.  I  hope  to  make  Bob  very  happy.  His  is 
one  of  those  blithe  souls  that  is  meant  to  absorb 
and  spread  happiness." 

Sympathetically,  Linda  tried  to  forget  the  white 
eyelashes. 

Edith  was  playing  with  her  teaspoon.  It  was 
unusual  for  her  to  be  restless ;  besides,  as  a  rule, 
she  did  not  bring  her  hands,  which  were  coarse  like 
her  father's,  into  undue  prominence. 

"  Oddly  enough,"  she  broke  out,  "  in  a  way,  Bob 
and  I  owe  our  happiness  to  Cecil  Wolney.  He  had 
heard  about  the  broken  engagement,  and  came  to 
find  Rodney.  He  thinks  all  the  world  of  Rodney. 
He  overflowed  with  indignation — and  that's  how  it 
all  happened.  Of  course,  he  says  his  was  love  at 
first  sight.  I  told  him  not  to  stoop  to  conventional 
platitudes.  No  one  ought  to  know  when  love  is 
born  in  them.  Falling  in  love  is  so  incompetent 
and  helpless.  I  like  to  think  Bob  and  I  have  loved 
one  another  always,  perhaps — who  knows  ? — in 
some  bygone  existence.  The  only  thing  I  can't 
understand  is  why  I  took  so  long  before  I  knew 
that  I  cared  for  him.  Perhaps  I  was  so  small  and 
blind  I  could  not  see  beyond  his  physical  insignifi- 
cance." 

Linda  felt  ashamed  of  her  own  standpoint. 

"  Aren't  we  like  children,"  she  said  hastily, 
"  judging  by  outward  appearances  ?  " 


ALMOST  IGNORES  THE  HERO       271 

"  Children  are  wiser  than  we.  They  have  not 
lost  the  soul  instinct." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  delicate  spiritual  antennae,  able  to  feel 
things  our  other  senses  are  too  coarse  to  be 
aware  of." 

"  Do  we  lose  it  when  we  are  no  longer  children  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  we  regain  it  when  love  opens  our  eyes 
for  us." 

They  were  silent  till  Linda  said  : 

"  You  know,  I  suppose,  about  Cecil  and— 

Edith  nodded. 

"  Bob  told  me.  They  are  well-suited.  Both  live 
on  the  surface.  Montague  by  nature  and  Cecil  by 
inclination.  I  was  pleased  to  hear  it." 

"  You  don't  think  it  will  make  it  harder  for— for 
him  ?  " 

"  I  don't.  The  thing  that  I  feared  was  that  she 
would  play  fast  and  loose  with  Rodney.  As  it  is, 
he  will  be  no  worse  for  a  good  knock-down  blow. 
His  life,  so  far,  has  been  too  easy." 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  can  be.  All  the  nicest  people 
have  easy  lives.  It  is  when  they  begin  to  be  worried 
and  troubled  that  they  get  disagreeable  and  hard 
to  deal  with.  I  know  by  myself.  Down  in  Cornwall 
it  was  all  so  easy.  Little  things  did  not  matter. 
I  felt  a  sort  of  sunshine  towards  everybody.  Every- 
one seemed  delightful  and  so  interesting "  She 

stopped  with  a  sudden  qualm. 

What  would  Edith  think  of  her  ? 

"I  think  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Edith; 
"  people  who  have  had  nothing  to  trouble  them 
are  more  pleasant.  The  question  is,  are  they 
worthier  ?  " 


272  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

"  Wouldn't  you  rather  be  pleasant  than  worthy  ? 
I  would." 

"  It  is  not  a  question,  as  I  take  it,  of  what  you 
would  rather.  It  is,  which  is  most  valuable — the 
pleasant  or  the  worthy  ?  Besides,  there  is  really 
no  reason  why  you  should  not  be  both." 

"  Except  that  no  one  ever  is.  Worthy  people 
are  usually  bores ;  in  some  subtle  way  they  make 
you  uncomfortable,  you  are  always  glad  to  be  rid 
of  them." 

"Are  you  not  confusing  the  really  worthy  with 
those  that  are  called  worthy  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  Linda  acknowledged. 

"  It  makes  all  the  difference.  The  people  called 
pleasant  are  not  usually  pleasing." 

To  this  Linda  agreed  with  unfeigned  heartiness, 
recalling  Aunt  Emma's  not  infrequent,  '  My  dear, 
I  wonder  you  do  not  like  Mrs.  So-and-so,  she  is  such 
a  pleasant  person.' 

Then  she  glanced  at  her  wrist-watch. 

"  I  have  stayed  a  fearful  time,  and  I  know  you 
are  always  busy." 

"  Don't  go  yet  though,"  said  Edith.  "  I  want 
you  to  stay  a  bit  longer.  To  tell  you  the  truth  I  am 
expecting  Rodney,  and  I  know  he  would  like  to 
see  you." 

Linda  sprang  up  hastily.  Her  eyes  were  those  of 
a  startled  animal. 

"  I'm  so  sorry — another  time — I  must  get  back — 
I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late." 

"  I  thought,"  Edith  said  gravely,  "  we  had  agreed 
there  need  be  no  conventional  untruths  between 
you  and  me,  Linda." 

Linda  sat  down  limply. 


ALMOST  IGNORES  THE  HERO       273 

"  If  you  must  have  the  truth  " — her  breath  came 
in  short  pants — "  I  am  quite  sure  he — your  brother 
— would  not  care  to  see  me." 

Edith  raised  her  brows. 

"  Why  not  ?    You  have  not  treated  him  badly." 

"  Of  course  not.  But,  you  see — won't  he  connect 
me  in  his  mind  with  Cecil  ?  I  am  quite  sure  it  would 
be  better ' 

She  got  up  again,  hurriedly. 

"  All  that,"  Edith  told  her,  "  is  not  one  little  bit 
like  Rodney.  He  takes  people  and  things  for  their 
own  worth  very  simply.  I  happen  to  know  that  he 
values  your  friendship." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Because  he  himself  told  me." 

"  When  did  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  When  he  came  back  from  Cornwall." 

"  I  see — then "  Linda  said  dully. 

"  He  was  very  keen  at  the  time  that  I  should 
meet  you.  Of  course,  he  did  not  know  then  you 
were  coming  to  Town,  nor  just  how,  in  the  event, 
we  should  be  brought  together." 

"  Through  Cecil.  But  that  does  not  alter  the 
fact  that,  since  then,  things  are  different.  It  is 
only  natural  that  he  should  want  to  forget  every- 
thing." 

"  I  should  say  Rodney  takes  life  too  naturally  to 
want  to  forget.  As  it  happens,  I  know  he  wants  to 
see  you." 

"It  does  not  seem  likely." 

"  He  thinks  very  highly  of  your  judgment." 

Her  judgment  ?  It  seemed  rather  a  pitiful  thing 
to  Linda.  Eyes,  a  voice,  a  dimple,  a  smile — these 
are  the  things  that  draw  men  to  a  woman.  But, 
T 


274  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

judgment !  It  seemed  to  thrust  her  harshly  still 
farther  away  from  Rodney. 

"  Listen/'  said  Edith,  as  steps  sounded  along  the 
stone  passage.  "  Rodney  is  coming." 

Rodney  coming  !  The  white-walled  room  was 
whirling  round  Linda,  whilst  in  her  ears  echoed  the 
mocking  voice  of  Cecil,  '  Of  course,  he  saw  through 
you  in  Cornwall.' 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

A   HEART  ACHES   FOR  THE   HERO 

LINDA  had  longed  for  the  night.  And  now  the  night 
had  come  she  knew  not  how  to  live  through  it.  It 
had  all  been  dreadful. 

Laughing,  talking,  pretending  to  people.  The 
Wolneys  had  had  a  dinner  party.  Montague  Craig 
had  been  there.  The  engagement  was  still  un- 
announced. To  Linda's  mind,  Cecil  was  reckless. 
It  could  not  be  long  before  everyone  knew  of  it. 
Cecil  had  been  radiantly  happy  and  had  looked 
quite  beautiful  when  Linda  did  not  compare  her 
with  the  picture  she  had  brought  from  the  little 
white  room  of  Edith.  But  that  would  not  bear 
thinking  of — not  till  she  was  alone — and  the  evening 
seemed  endless.  It  must  end  at  last,  and  she  be 
alone. 

Would  she  cry  ?  she  wondered.  It  is  said  to 
relieve  you.  It  might,  perhaps,  stop  the  feeling  of 
two  cold  hands  that  were  pressing  the  bones  of  her 
skull  together  continually. 

There  were  moments  when  she  had  a  sick  fear 
that  people  must  see  what  she  suffered — must  ask 
her  what  was  the  matter.  Instead,  oddly  enough, 
in  the  bustle  of  parting  she  heard  someone  say  to 
Cecil : 

"  I  did  not  know  your  little  friend  was  so  pretty. 
Her  eyes  are  like  sapphires." 

275 


276  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

Eyes  like  sapphires  !    What  did  it  matter  ? 

The  time  passed.  It  does,  though  God  alone  knows 
how  slowly.  At  last  she  was  alone. 

It  was  late,  and  the  house  seemed  quietly  breath- 
ing. Now  and  again  a  little  lost  wind  moaned 
through  the  key-hole  or  pulled  with  fretful  hands 
at  the  window-curtains.  Linda  had  not  undressed. 
Her  frock — it  was  the  grey  one  with  the  roses  on  it — 
showed  her  white  curving  neck  and  her  arms  :  even 
Linda,  who  steadfastly  undervalued  herself,  allowed 
that  her  arms  and  neck  were  '  quite  pretty.'  She 
looked  at  them  now,  in  the  glass.  Eyes  like  sap- 
phires !  creamy  neck  !  rounded,  tapering  arms ! 
She  would  have  admired  them  in  another.  But  for 
herself  ! — did  it  matter  ? 

She  had  not  cried.  She  felt  not  the  slightest 
inclination.  She  tried  to  pace  up  and  down,  but 
her  legs  shook,  she  felt  sickly  and  dull.  She  sat 
down  slowly  and  very  quietly.  She  had  a  feeling 
that  she  ought  to  be  noiseless.  The  cold  hands 
pressed  her  skull  harder  and  harder.  She  felt  some- 
thing would  break  in  her  brain  or  burst  on  her 
chest  where  there  was  a  feeling  of  oppression  and 
tightness.  And  all  the  while,  though  her  thoughts 
shied  away  from  Edith  Barett's  white  room  con- 
tinually, yet  continually  something  drew  them  back 
to  the  scene  of  her  humiliation. 

"  Why  did  Edith  do  it  ?  "  she  asked  aloud  moan- 
ingly.  "  It  was  cruel,  so  cruel  to  trap  me." 

She  rocked  her  head  in  her  hands.  There  were 
pains  in  it  now,  sharp,  stabbing  pains.  She  almost 
welcomed  them.  Anything  was  better  than  the 
cold,  relentless  compression. 

"If  only,"  she  moaned,  "  there  was  someone  I 


A  HEART  ACHES  FOR  THE  HERO    277 

could  tell  it  to,  someone  who  would  just  listen  and 
say  nothing.  I  could  not  bear  them  to  say  any- 
thing." 

A  clock  struck  one  melodiously.  Like  an  electric 
spark  the  sound  set  a  train  of  memory  in  motion. 

"Mother!  mother  !  "  sobbed  Linda. 

As  once  before,  she  had  found  an  outlet.  Still  in 
her  evening  frock  with  its  careless  rosebuds,  she 
sat  down  at  the  writing-table.  At  first  her  hand 
shook  so  that  the  pen  fell  out  of  her  fingers.  In  an 
aloof  sort  of  way  she  was  impressed  by  this  sign  of 
her  suffering.  She  felt  a  little  stronger  because  of  it, 
able  to  grasp  the  pen  more  firmly,  to  drive  it  quickly 
over  the  paper. 

It  was  a  cruel  thing  to  do,  and  I  am  sure  she 
did  not  mean  it.  He  was  as  abashed  as  I  was. 
When  he  came  to  the  door  he  stood,  white  and 
troubled.  When  he  spoke  conventional  words  of 
greeting  he  did  not  look  at  me.  Mother !  what 
have  I  done  that  he  should  not  look  at  me  ?  I 
loved  his  eyes  so  grey  and  honest,  strong  and 
grey  like  the  rocks  of  Cornwall. 

Mother,  I  know  really — I  knew  then  why  he 
would  not  look  at  me — Cecil  was  right.  Down 
in  Cornwall  I  did  not  know — but  he  knew  it. 
Most  men  would  have  despised  me — he  only 
pities  me 

But  to  be  pitied  ! 

I  thought  I  had  reached  the  bottom-most 
depths  when  I  knew  he  had  given  his  love  to 
Cecil. 

That  was  nothing  to  this.  At  least,  my  self- 
respect  was  left  to  me.  It  sounds  a  poor  thing  ; 


278  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

it  was  at  least  a  straw  to  cling  to.  Now,  I  have 
nothing. 

Mother,  how  do  we  live  through  things  like 
this  ?  Did  you,  I  wonder  ?  Or  did  you  meet 
suffering  with  a  meek,  white  face  and  sink  under 
it  ?  Is  it  hard  to  die,  Mother,  when  you  are  still 
young  and  your  body  full  of  warm  life  ?  Is  it 
hard  to  die  ? 

Not  so  hard,  it  cannot  be,  as  to  go  on  living. 
Mother,  I  wish  I  were  weaker — weaker  in  body, 
weaker  in  spirit — so  that  I  could  go  under.  I 
am  horribly  strong.  Unless  something  breaks  in 
my  head,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  still  go  on  living. 
It  would  not  all  be  so  dreadful  if  we  did  not  have 
to  pretend.  What  cruel  power  is  this  that  has 
settled  that,  whatever  happens,  we  must  still  go 
on  pretending  to  be  well  and  happy  ?  Did  you 
pretend,  too,  Mother  ?  Or  did  you  give  up  and 
go  under  ?  Mother,  I  want  to  try  and  tell 
you.  He  looked  white  and  cold  then.  I  did  not 
actually  see  him,  for  a  mist  had  filled  the  little 
white  room  when  he  entered,  only  I  knew  just 
how  he  was  looking. 

But  we  had  to  pretend. 

There  was  Edith  She  made  a  pretence  of 
unconcerned  cheerfulness.  Perhaps  it  was  not 
pretence  with  her  though.  She  is  happy.  I  am 
so  glad  that  in  all  this  confusion  of  suffering 
someone  is  happy.  And  Edith  deserves  to  be 
happy.  She  is  the  best  of  all  of  us— all  but  Rod- 
ney. He  is  the  finest  because  the  simplest  of  all 
of  us.  Edith  has  thought  for  herself,  striven  for 
herself.  For  others,  too,  but  for  herself  foremost. 
Rodney  is  to  himself  a  blithe,  easy  companion. 


A  HEART  ACHES  FOR  THE  HERO    279 

Self  goes  with  him,  as  with  all  of  us ;  but  he  is 
no  more  conscious  of  himself  than  of  his  shadow. 

It  is  so  hard  Rodney  should  be  the  one  to  be 
so  unhappy.  And  he  is  ! 

When  the  mist  had  cleared  and  I  dared  to 
glance  at  him,  I  could  see  the  difference  in  him. 
He  looks  years  older  than  when  we  were  in  Corn- 
wall. It  hurt  me,  because  he  was  a  boy  then. 
His  voice  has  altered,  it  has  lost  its  clear  ring 
that  I  loved  to  listen  for.  It  is  softer  now  and 
patient.  A  voice,  a  young  voice  especially,  can 
break  your  heart  with  its  patience. 

We  talked  about  many  things.  Edith  managed 
all  that  for  us.  Besides  pitying  me,  Rodney  was 
sore  about  Cecil.  It  must  have  made  it  worse, 
seeing  me  without  her. 

Something  was  said  about  Bob  Hendrey. 

"  Bob  is  one  of  the  best,"  he  said. 

And  Edith — "  How  about  Montague  Craig  ?  " 

I  wondered  that  she  should  speak  of  him. 

But  he  laughed. 

"  Monty  chose  me  and  I  chose  Bob  Hendrey. 
That's  how  friendships  are  made,"  he  told  her. 

"  And  you  are  not  jealous  of  Monty  ?  "  Edith 
asked. 

How  could  she  ? 

He  looked  at  her. 

It  was  something  that  I  could  see  him  look  so, 
though  at  another. 

And  he  answered  : 

"  Honestly  I  hope  he  will  be  happy.  He 
ought  to." 

That  stabbed.  Through  and  through  me  I 
felt  what  he  must  be  suffering.  How  could  Cecil  ? 


280  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

Are  there  many  women  so  cruel,  I  wonder  ?  You 
see,  Cecil  made  him  ask  her  that  second  time, 
she  told  me  so  herself,  and  she  was  playing  with 
him  !  At  the  time,  I  loved  her  and  thought  her 
motives  must  be  good — but  now  !  It  is  still  hard 
to  doubt,  to  condemn  Cecil.  She  has  been  so 
much  to  me,  and  just  now  I  seem  to  have  lost 
everything. 

Really,  of  course,  you  cannot  lose  what  you 
have  never  had,  and  I  see  what  a  little  fool  I  was 
ever  to  dream  that  Rodney 

Even  Cecil  wasn't  half  good  enough.  All  his 
life  he  has  been  used  to  Edith. 

At  first  it  seemed  almost  tactless  to  me  when 
she  mentioned  Montague  and  Cecil ;  it  showed, 
really,  how  much  better  she  knows  her  brother 
than  I  do  ;  for  he  talked  quite  easily,  it  seemed, 
on  the  subject. 

All  the  while  I  cowered  and  shivered.  For 
still,  he  never  looked  at  me,  he  lowered  his  eyes 
when  he  spoke  to  me,  his  voice  sounded  harsh 
and  constrained.  I  could  be  almost  glad  now 
of  his  pity,  for  I  believe  he  dislikes  me.  If  you 
pity  a  thing  you  do  get  to  dislike  it  in  time,  when 
pity  has  become  irksome. 

Well,  he  and  I  are  not  likely  to  meet  again. 

Mother  !  mother  !    Can  I  bear  it  ? 

He  spoke  so  to  me  that  my  courage  oozed  away, 
I  could  hardly  control  my  voice  to  answer  him 
with  a  word  or  two.  When  I  could,  I  answered 
him  through  Edith,  and  he  did  the  same,  till  it 
came  about  we  were  both  talking  to  Edith  and 
not  to  each  other;  there  is  a  bitter  sort  of  humour 
to  me  in  the  recollection,  or  there  would  be  had 


A  HEART  ACHES  FOR  THE  HERO    281 

there  not  been  a  ghastly  suggestion  that  he  and 
I  had  lost  our  warm  human  personality — that  we 
were  disembodied. 

I  longed  to  get  away,  but  did  not  know  how 
to ;  I  suppose  he  did  not  either.  So  we  went 
on  talking  through  Edith,  he  looking  sore  and 
aloof  and  I  with  lumps  in  my  throat  and  my  voice 
getting  colder  and  harder,  till  it  frightened  me  to 
hear  it. 

Presently  he  was  saying  that  he  had  heard 
through  someone  on  the  Committee  that  his 
Town  Hall  plans  had  a  very  good  chance  of  being 
the  ones  chosen.  Edith's  eyes  sparkled,  and  she 
looked  so  glad  and  triumphant  as  she  said,  "  Splen- 
did !  Roddy-boy,  how  splendid  !  " 

But  I  could  have  burst  out  crying  to  think 
how  much  it  might  have  meant,  and  that  now  it 
would  only  make  things  harder  for  him.  And  in 
a  strangled  sort  of  a  way  I  blurted  out : 

"  What  a  pity  !  " 

At  that  Edith  seemed  to  remember — I  suppose 
she  must  have  forgotten — the  light  died  out  of 
her  face  and  she  said  : 

"  Rodney,  what  will  you  do  about  it  ?  " 

And  he  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  turned 
away  to  the  window  and  said  : 

"  What  ought  I  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

And  then  there  was  a  dreadful  silence.  And 
after  a  bit,  still  without  looking  at  anyone,  he 
said  again  : 

"  What  ought  I  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

Rather  dreadfully  at  that  moment  I  remem- 
bered what  Edith  had  said  about — him — and  my 
judgment,  and  I  wanted  so  much  to  say,  '  Of 


AN  ABSENT  HERO 

course,  you  must  stand  by  your  father.'  In  the 
old  days  I  should  have  said  it  easily  ;  but  I  could 
not  get  the  words  out  somehow.  And  every 
second  the  silence  grew  more  terrible.  I  was 
longing,  praying,  that  Edith  would  say  something 
— but  she  did  not.  She  was  tracing  a  pattern  on 
the  table  before  her,  and  waiting  and  listening. 

I  think,  somehow,  even  then,  had  he  and  I  been 
alone  together  I  could  have  broken  down  that 
dreadful  barrier  and  spoken.  But  Edith  was 
there.  Not  that  I  was  afraid  of  Edith.  I  love 
her.  Only,  before  her  I  could  not. 

Rodney  turned  his  face  towards  us  slowly,  his 
eyes  were  lowered. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  there  are  other  things 
besides  Death  that  have  to  be  faced  in  loneliness." 

For  one  brief  moment  he  glanced  at  me.  And 
I  knew  that  he  had  looked  for  something  from 
me.  And  I  had  failed  him. 

I  love  him.    And  I  had  failed  him. 

Mother !  why  is  it  hard  to  die  when  to  live  is 
so  dreadful  ? 

He  went  away.  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever 
see  him  again.  It  is  better,  no  doubt.  But — 
Mother — I  don't  really  think  I  can  live  very  long. 
The  pain  in  my  head — at  my  heart — is  so  dreadful. 

She  finished,  turned  a  yawn  into  a  sigh.  It  re- 
appeared, a  yawn  unmistakably.  The  squares  of 
the  window  had  paled.  The  summer  dawn  was  just 
breaking. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Linda  aloud,  facing  a  fact  that 
seemed  to  her  almost  despicable,  "  I  believe  I  really 
am  sleepy." 


A  HEART  ACHES  FOR  THE  HERO    283 

She  folded  her  paper. 

"  To-morrow,"  she  went  on — "  no,  it  is  already 
to-day — will  it  be  cowardly,  I  wonder  ? — I  will  say 
Good-bye  to  all  of  it,  and  go  back  to  Aunt 
Emma." 


CHAPTER    XXX 

CANNOT  QUITE   LEAVE  OUT  THE  HERO 

As  the  '  Suffragan  Bishop,'  with  due  solemnity, 
delivered  him  into  Jeremiah  Barett's  study,  Bob 
Hendrey  was  unpleasantly  aware  that  his  hands 
were  perspiring  and  that  there  was  a  salty  taste  in 
his  mouth  such  as  he  had  known  when  he  sat  for 
his  '  General.'  He  swallowed  hard.  He  wasn't 
going  to  be  turned  down  this  time.  He  was  in  for 
something  too  well  worth  having.  At  the  same  time 
he  was  fully  aware  of  his  own  presumption.  That 
he  should  dare  face  Edith's  father  seemed  to  him 
a  thing  quite  stupendous. 

Old  Barett  had  a  book  in  his  hand.  He  did  not 
trouble  to  rise,  but  faced  the  young  man  over  his 
spectacles. 

"  Very  warm — what  ?  "  Bob  remarked  jerkily. 

"  It  has  a  way  of  being  warm  about  this  time  of 
year."  Jeremiah's  smile  robbed  the  words  of  any 
irony. 

"  I've  come " 

Jeremiah  smiled  more  broadly. 

"I've   come Bob   played   with   his   hat. 

"  S'pose  you  know — what — come  for." 

Jeremiah  grunted,  then,  turning  to  replace  his 
book  on  the  shelf,  he  stopped  to  run  his  stubbed 
finger  along  the  titles. 

284 


CANNOT  LEAVE  OUT  THE  HERO  285 

"  If  it's  Edith,"  he  said  rather  shortly,  "  you 
may  as  well  know  I  have  no  authority  over 
her." 

Bob  wriggled.  He  had  not  been  prepared  for  this 
nonchalant  attitude.  It  seemed,  in  some  obtuse 
way,  to  cast  a  slur  on  Edith.  Surely  the  man  was 
interested  in  his  own  daughter !  Bob's  face  reddened. 
His  brows,  lashes,  and  close-cropped  hair  stood  out 
whiter  than  usual. 

"  You  can't  mean — hang  it — I  mean — it's  this 

way "  He  wriggled  and  boggled,  overwhelmed 

by  a  sense  of  his  own  exceeding  insignificance. 

Jeremiah,  lolling  back  in  his  chair,  his  thumbs 
in  his  waistcoat  arm-holes,  regarded  the  young  man 
with  his  bright  little  eyes  under  their  bushy  grey 
brows  steadily. 

Like  a  small  hypnotised  animal,  Bob  Hendrey 
stared  back  at  him. 

"  As  I  say,  I've  no  authority,"  Jeremiah  said 
slowly.  "  Edith's  the  independent  sort.  What's 
more,  if  she  says  she'll  do  a  thing,  she'll  do  it.  If, 
as  I  suppose,  she's  promised  to  marry  you,  she  will 
marry  you.  I  can't  prevent  it." 

"  But — do  you — er — don't  you — want — er — to 

prevent "  The  small  animal  was  lapsing  into 

insensibility. 

Jeremiah  lowered  his  big  broad  face  nearer. 

"  Have  you  one  plausible  reason,  a  single  good 
reason,  why  I  should  want  you  for  my  son-in- 
law  ?  " 

"  No— sir— I— haven't." 

"  Come  now,  that's  better.  I'm  beginning  to  like 
you."  Jeremiah's  tone  was  genial. 

Bob,  suffering  mentally  from  pins  and  needles 


286  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

of  reviving  animation,  did  not  flinch  as  the  old  man 
laid  a  heavy  hot  hand  on  his  knee. 

"  You're  honest,  young  man,  and  that's  one  good 
reason  for- you." 

"  As  to  that,"  Bob  spluttered,  "  it  isn't  likely— 
you  wouldn't  expect — Edith's  not  the  sort — to  look 
twice  at — at  an  outsider." 

"  There  you  have  me  straight.  Edith's  as  good  a 
judge  of  character  as  anyone  going."  He  laughed 
genially.  "  We  may  as  well  get  on  and  get  the  thing 
over.  What  are  the  questions — I've  never  studied 
the  subject — you  don't  happen  to  know,  do  you  ? — 
the  sort  of  questions  a  man  asks  of  his  prospective — 
is  that  the  right  word  ? — sounds  more  like  a  mining 
claim — a  man  asks,  I  mean,  of  the  man  who 
wants  to  be  his — I  mean  the  other  chap's  son- 
in-law?  " 

Bob  shook  his  little  fair  head. 

"  Can't  say — have  had  no  experience." 

"  Nor  I  neither.  I've  nobbut  Edith,  and  so  far 
as  we've  gone  you're  the  only  one  she's  picked 
on." 

At  which  Bob's  colour  deepened. 

"  Family  now  ?  "  Jeremiah  continued.  "  For  my 
part  I'm  starting  a  family." 

"  Hendreys,"  Bob  returned  humbly,  "  Hendreys 
— been  going  on,  awful  time,  really." 

"  So  long  that  they're  getting  played  out  a  bit, 
eh?  " 

Bob  looked  into  his  hat,  it  always  annoyed  him 
that  he  took  so  small  a  size. 

"  'Fraid  we  are — I'm— er — the  last,  anyway." 

"  There's  a  lot  in  fresh  blood  though."  Jeremiah 
threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  and  grinned  like  an 


CANNOT  LEAVE  OUT  THE  HERO  287 

amiable  ogre.  "  Then  there's  position  and  so  on. 
I  don't  want  my  girl  to  go  short  of  anything.  I've 
always  talked  of  ten  thousand  " — he  smoothed  one 
of  his  wet  locks — "  and  I  don't  suppose  it  would 
break  me,  not  if  I  doubled  it." 

"  Please  don't — er — a  man  'ud  rather  work — 
don'tcher  know — to  keep  his — er — what  d'you 
call  'em  ?  " 

Jeremiah  chuckled. 

"  And  how  do  you  propose  to  set  about  keeping 
your — er — what  d'you  call  'em  ?  " 

"  I've  got — secretary  at  present." 

"  Your  screw  now  ?  " 

"  A  hundred." 

"  And  you  propose  to  keep  my  girl  on  the  inside 
of  a  hundred  ?  " 

"  The  gov'ner — he — one-fifty." 

"  Um — and  you  call  that  money  earned  by 
working  ?  " 

"  Come  to  think  of  it — it  isn't.  Is  it  ?  I  can 
work  though."  He  looked  round  him,  clear-eyed, 
appealingly  child-like. 

Jeremiah  felt  his  heart  grow  soft  towards 
him. 

"  Well.  As  I  take  it  Edith  means  to  have  you, 
where's  the  good  of  us  talking  ?  " 

Bob  glowed. 

"  I'll — I'll — tell  you — life  won't  be  long  enough 
— all  I'll  want  to  do  for  her." 

Jeremiah  got  up  and  laid  his  big  hand  on  the 
little  man's  shoulder. 

"  Tell  you  what,"  he  said,  "  you've  got  the  right 
stuff  hi  you." 

"  No  you  don't — not  really — do  you  ?  " 


288  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  Hullo  !  "  Jeremiah  shouted,  as  a  light  touch 
came  on  the  door-handle.  "  That  you,  '  Mamma '  ? 
Come  in.  You're  wanted.  Allow  me  to  present — 
our  future  son-in-law." 

Mrs.  Barett  pausing,  scared,  on  the  threshold — 
missed  her  cue,  murmured  something  about  '  so 
sudden.' 

"  We've  got  past  that."  Jeremiah's  fat  form 
was  shaking  with  laughter.  "  He's  asked  '  Papa '  by 
this  time." 

"And  what  has  'Papa'  answered?"  Though 
obviously  flustered,  Mrs.  Barett  managed  it 
archly. 

"  Why,  of  course, '  Bless  you  my  children  ! ' 

He  cast  aside  his  jocular  manner  and  with  a 
fatherly  light  softening  his  eyes  he  said  : 

"  And  now,  my  boy,  we  won't  keep  you.  Likely 
you'll  want  to  find  Edith  and  tell  her  she  may  have 
you ;  but,"  with  a  smile,  "  I  won't  take  any  respon- 
sibility. Stop,  though  " — as  Bob,  perspiring  grati- 
tude, made  his  way  to  the  door — "  you  won't  know 
how  to  find  Edith's  snuggery." 

"  Yes — I  do — quite  well  I  know  it,"  Bob  answered 
naively. 

"  Well,  Mamma,"  Jeremiah  said,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone,  placing  his  hands  gently  on  her  fragile 
shoulders.  "  And  what  have  you  to  say  to  your 
son-in-law  ?  " 

"  I — I  think  I  am  glad  he's  so  small."  She  spoke 
emphatically.  "  Always,  I've  a  little  bit  dreaded — 
Edith's  husband.  I  pictured  him  big — with  a 
moustache,  perhaps — and  I've  worried  myself  with 
the  thought  of  kissing  him."  She  spoke  with  an  air 
of  confession. 


CANNOT  LEAVE  OUT  THE  HERO  289 

"  Kiss  me  instead,  old  dear,  and  don't  scare 
that  little  chap,  not  at  present.  As  a  matter  of 
fact"— he  moved  towards  her  with  a  puppy-like 
gambol — "  you're  a  bit  too  young  and  too  good- 
looking  for  promiscuous  kissing — not  with  my  con- 
sent, anyhow.  And  because  I've  never  been  jealous 
yet,  it  doesn't  say  that  I  couldn't  be.  And  so  you 
approve  of  the  boy,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  do,  I  think ;  and  yet — I  wonder  what  Edith 
sees  in  him  ?  " 

Jeremiah  grew  grave. 

"  Don't  you  know,  Edith  is  one  of  those  women 
who  are  born  mothers  ?  " 

"  No,  really,  do  you  think  so  ?  I  was  always 
afraid — she's  so  clever.  When  she  was  tiny,  Ann 
said  often — perhaps  I  let  her  be  rather  familiar,  but 
bathing  the  children  together  and  so  on — Ann  used 
to  say, '  There's  Miss  Edith'll  be  an  old  maid.  You 
mark  my  words,  ma'am.' — No,  even  married — I'm 
rather  afraid — those  women  with  brains — I  don't 
know  how  it  is — but  so  often — they  have  no  chil- 
dren." 

"  How  about  my  wife,  then  ?  Didn't  I  marry  a 
clever  young  lady  ?  " 

She  beamed. 

"  But  only  moderately  clever.  And  we  had  but 
two  children." 

"  Rattling  good  ones,  both  of  them.  Awful  it 
must  be  s'pose  they  turn  out  badly." 

"  But  why " — Mrs.  Barett's  neat  little  mind 
always  returned  to  an  unfinished  subject — "  why 
did  you  call  Edith,  of  all  people,  a  born 
mother  ?  " 

"  Because  she's  never  suited  'less  she  has  some- 
u 


290  .  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

thing  to  mother.  Rodney  came  first,  then  this, 
that,  and  the  other  scheme  or  undertaking.  And 
now — and  this'll  last  her,  I'm  thinking — there  comes 
along  this  little  man,  with  the  soul  of  a  child,  or  I 
don't  know  anything." 

Mrs.  Barett  looked  perplexed,  almost  annoyed. 

"  I  don't  think,"  she  said  slowly,  "  a  child-like 
man  would  have  appealed  to  me.  It  is  only  natural 
and  right  that  a  woman  should  look  up  to  her 
husband." 

"  And  should  she  look  down  on  a  child  ?  Lord 
bless  you !  Who  was  it  said  '  of  such  is  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  '  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barett  coloured.  To  her  mind  it  was  not 
quite — say  nice — to  quote  Scripture  in  ordinary 
conversation.  But  Jeremiah  would  do  it.  Discreetly 
she  changed  the  subject. 

"  The  main  thing  is  for  dear  Edith  to  be  happy. 
She  is  a  good  girl,  and  she  ought  to  be."  As  with 
many  mothers,  the  fact  of  her  daughter's  engage- 
ment had  greatly  increased  that  daughter's  worth 
and  accentuated  her  own  affection  for  Edith.  Sud- 
denly her  kind  little  face  clouded  over. 

"  Dear,  dear,"  she  exclaimed,  "  but  all  this  will 
make  it  harder  for  Rodney.  He  doesn't  say  much, 
but  I'm  certain  the  poor  boy  is  pining." 

"Pining  —  not  he!"  Jeremiah  repudiated  the 
puling  idea  for  his  offspring.  "A  bit  off  colour, 
he  may  be,  with  the  worry  of  it.  But  he's  not 
had  a  knock-out  blow,  not  by  any  means.  It 
stands  like  this,  as  I  see  it — the  boy  made  a  big 
mistake." 

"  You  don't  mean  as  regards  his  own  feelings  for 
that  girl  Cecil." 


CANNOT  LEAVE  OUT  THE  HERO  291 

"  Not  quite  that — yet  that  in  a  way."  Jeremiah 
drew  out  a  pipe  and  set  himself  by  violent  blowing 
to  clear  the  stem.  It  seemed  a  refractory  pipe,  and 
occupied  all  his  attention.  At  all  events,  Mrs.  Barett 
could  get  nothing  more  out  of  him. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

A   GLIMPSE   INTO   THE   SHRINE   OF   THE   HERO 

ANN'S  arms  were  akimbo,  her  little  puckered  red 
face  was  as  acid  as  an  unripe  plum. 

"  What's  Miss  Edith  mean  by  it,  anyway  ?  " 
she  snapped  out  aggressively. 

Mrs.  Barett  looked  uncomfortable.  Though  not 
even  to  herself  would  she  have  acknowledged  it, 
she  was  secretly  frightened  of  Ann.  '  What  would 
Ann  say  ? '  Though,  probably,  far  from  aware  of  it, 
that  question  made  up  at  all  times  a  large  percentage 
of  the  good  lady's  thoughts,  more  especially  when 
family  events  of  importance  were  impending.  So, 
having  some  measure  of  gentle  diplomacy,  she  had 
approached  the  subject  of  Edith's  engagement  in  a 
roundabout  way,  thrusting  out  sensitive  feelers  for 
the  honey  of  Ann's  approval. 

As  that  worthy  would  have  expressed  it,  Ann 
wasn't  having  any. 

"  What,  anyhow,  does  Miss  Edith  mean  by  it  ?  " 
she  asked  again  doggedly. 

"  She  means,"  her  mistress  answered,  with  some 
show  of  spirit,  "  to  be  very  happy — and — no  doubt 
— they  will  help  one  another." 

Ann  grunted. 

"  That's  it,  is  it  ?  "  She  was  clearly  unmollified. 
292 


THE  SHRINE  OF  THE  HERO        293 

"  They  are  going  to  help  one  another,  are  they. 
Then  all  I  can  say  is  God  help  the  pair  of  them." 

"  No  doubt  He  will."  So  Mrs.  Barett  admonished 
her. 

Ann  sniffed. 

"  I  can't  say,  and  you  know  it,  m'am,  as  I  ever 
did  hold  Miss  Edith  a  beauty.  That  black  hair's 
not  to  my  taste,  and  her  colour  a  bit  high  for  a 
lady." 

"Really,  Ann!"  Mrs.  Barett — as  often — feebly 
protested. 

Ann  folded  her  arms. 

"  If  so  be  as  you  didn't  wish  me  to  say  anything, 
m'am" — Ann's  way  of  saying  ma'am  had  a  sub- 
duing effect  always  on  Mrs.  Barett — "  if  you  didn't 
wish  of  me  to  say  anything,  then  why  did  you  tell 
it  me  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  " — the  more  Mrs.  Barett  was  sub- 
dued the  more  she  stood  out  for  her  dignity — "  of 
course,  I  told  you  of  Miss  Edith's  engagement 
because,  during  long  years  of  service,  I  have  come 
to  look  on  you  " — she  was  icily  condescending— 
"  almost  as — as  a  friend  of  the  family." 

"  And  isn't  a  friend,  or  an  almost  friend,  entitled 
to  give  an  opinion  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barett  said  nothing,  her  hands  fluttered 
nervously. 

"  What  I  want  to  know  " — Ann  was  undaunted 
— "  why  is  it  ?  Haven't  we  made  Miss  Edith 
comfortable  ?  Has  she  a  single  complaint  to  bring 
against  anyone  of  us  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  Ann.  That  is,  as  far  as  I  know. 
Indeed,  I  feel  sure  not." 

"  Then  if  she's  happy  with  us — and  she  oughter 


294  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

be — pampered,  I  call  it — why  does  she  want  to  run 
off  with  the  first  little  light-haired  simpleton  as  asks 
of  her  ?  " 

Ann's  own  lashes  were  light,  a  fact  that  may  have 
subtly  increased  her  bitterness. 

"  Will  you  please  remember,  Ann,  that  Mr.' 
Hendrey  in  the  future  will  be  a  member  of  the 
family? " 

"  As  to  that,  as  you  know,  there's  room  to  slip 
between  cup  and  lip.  Look  at  Master  Rodney. 
She  wasn't  for  long  to  have  and  to  hold,  wasn't  Miss 
Wolney." 

"  That  was  all  different.  In  many  ways  quite 
different.  Miss  Edith  is  old  enough  to  know  her 
own  mind." 

"  He's  eighteen  months  and  two  days  older,  is 
Master  Rodney.  I  got  his  age  off  the  month  nurse 
when  first  I  came,  I  did.  More'n  a  bit  put  about  I 
was,  with  two  babies  and  housework  and  all,  and  you 
yourself  looking  nobbut  sickly." 

"  I  was  far  from  strong  at  the  time."  Mrs.  Barett 
appeared  to  find  a  certain  pleasure  in  the  recol- 
lection. 

"  And  where  you'd  'a  been  them  days  without 
me  doesn't  bear  thinking  of." 

"  Where,  indeed  ?  "  Mrs.  Barett  agreed  with  con- 
strained amiability. 

"  And  there  was  Master  Rodney  in  his  bit  of  a 
nightie  standing  up,  hanging  on  to  the  foot  of  his 
cot,  with  his  cheeks  like  roses " 

"  He  was  such  a  pretty  baby."  Mrs.  Barett  grew 
flushed  and  excited. 

"  — And  when  he  catched  sight  of  me,  he  took 
and  heaved  his  bottle — he'd  sucked  it  dry,  trust  him, 


THE  SHRINE  OF  THE  HERO        295 

the  rascal — he  heaved  it  at  me,  calling  out,  '  yady, 
yady  ! ' — which  perhaps  you'll  remember " 

Mrs.  Barett  did,  ecstatically. 

"  — Was  his  way  of  saying  lady.  And,  bless  him, 
he  had  my  heart,  he  did,  from  that  moment."  Ann 
lifted  her  apron  to  her  eyes  before  she  went  on, 
"  And  what  I  was  coming  to,  when  you  interrupted 

me "  When  in  a  good  humour  Ann  frequently 

forgot  that  Mrs.  Barett  was  her  mistress  ;  it  was 
only  when  she  was  '  put  out '  that  she  laid  punc- 
tilious stress  on  the  distance  between  them,  the 
frequency  or  infrequency  of  '  ma'ams '  in  her  con- 
versation being,  indeed,  of  the  nature  of  a  mental 
barometer,  indicating  the  state  of  her  atmospheric 
pressure.  "  What  I  was  coming  to — no  more  and 
no  less — was — if  Miss  Edith's  old  enough  to  know 
her  own  mind,  why  isn't  Master  Rodney,  him  being 
older  ?  " 

"  You  seem  to  forget — I  hardly  like  to  discuss  it 
with  you" — Ann  snorted  at  the  implied  suggestion 
— "  but  Master  Rodney  was  not  the  one  to  blame 
in  that  instance." 

Ann  blew  sharply  through  her  nostrils. 

"  As  though  any  woman  in  her  right  senses  would 
give  our  young  master  the  go-by  !  No,  I've  looked 
at  it  all  sides,  and  it  seems  to  me  as  he  must  have 
found  out,  some  way,  as  she  wasn't  what  he  wanted, 
or  he  just  changed  his  mind — the  best  of  men  are 
that  changeable — then  he,  being  too  much  of  a 
gentleman  to  cast  a  slur  on  a  lady " 

"  Um — um •"   Mrs.  Barett  assented. 

"  — He  took  and  arst  her,  as  you  might  say,  to 
send  in  her  resignation.  Best  so,  too,  to  my  way  of 
thinking." 


296  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

"  But,  Ann,  I  thought  you — er — approved  of  Miss 
Wolney  ? " 

"  I  said  she's  a  beautiful  lady,  and  I'm  not  going 
against  that  opinion  neither.  But  what  I  do  feel  is 
that  she'd  prove  tame  in  the  eating.  And  so,  to  my 
mind,  Master  Rodney's  just  as  well  '  shut '  of  her." 

"  Tameness  might  not  be  a  bad  thing  in  a  wife 
though."  Mrs.  Barett  was  in  front  of  her  glass, 
pegging  down  the  thin  iron-grey  plaits  that  still, 
in  old-fashioned  style,  composed  her  coiffure. 

Ann  shook  her  head. 

"  Men  soon  tire  of  mutton  and  potatoes ;  and, 
after  a  bit,  of  lamb  and  sparrowgrass.  Miss  Wolney's 
one  as  puts  all  her  goods  in  the  window." 

"Nevertheless" — Mrs.  Barett  dropped  a  hairpin, 
Ann  pounced  and  returned  it — "  nevertheless,  I 
cannot  help  seeing  that  Master  Rodney's  unhappy." 

"  Only  becos'  his  pa's  made  him  give  up  his  nice 
clean  drawing  and  go  into  that  mucky  business. 
Not  but  what,"  she  hastened  to  add  loyally, 
"  it's  a  very  good  business,  with  lots  of  money  in 
it ;  and  them  new  cars  with  the  cook  in  his  whites, 
and  the  pots  and  pans  shining  and  jingling  makes 
me  shocking  proud  when  I  sees  'em — Barett's 
Brassyshine — and  me,  as  you  might  say,  in  at  the 
beginning.  It's  all  right  for  us ;  but  Master  Rodney, 
he's  been  educated  above  pans  and  such-like.  If 
I'd  had  my  way  he'd  never  have  gone  to  Cam- 
bridge." 

"  He  says  he  is  quite  happy  down  at  the  Works." 

"He  'says.'"  Ann  accentuated  the  verb  scorn- 
fully. 

"  I  cannot  persuade  myself,  all  the  same,  that  he 
is  happy." 


THE  SHRINE  OF  THE  HERO        297 

Ann  looked  over  her  mistress's  shoulder.  Her 
reflection  was  fingering  one  of  its  front  teeth  gin- 
gerly. It  was  a  crowned  one,  Jeremiah  had  paid  for 
it.  Ann  was  intensely  proud  of  it,  but  distrustful ; 
she  fingered  it  at  intervals  to  see  whether  it  was 
loosening,  or  perhaps  only  by  habit  when  she  was 
reflecting. 

"  You  don't  think,"  she  suggested,  "  as  Master 
Rodney's  in  love  with  some  other  young  lady  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not.    Why  ever  should  you  think  so  ?  " 

Ann  assured  herself  the  tooth  betrayed  no  shadow 
of  wavering  before  she  replied : 

"There  was  a  young  lady's  portrait,  leastways, 
one  of  those  snap-shot  thingamies,  in  Master 
Rodney's  room  when  he  came  back  from  Cornwall. 
And  it  wasn't  of  Miss  Wolney,  neither.  After  he 
was  engaged,  I  missed  it.  It's  back  again  now. 
There  may  be  something  or  nothing  in  it,  just  as 
you  take  it." 

"And,  Ann  " — Mrs.  Barett's  hands  faltered  and 
fluttered — "  you  don't  know,  I  suppose,  not  that  it 
matters — whose  was  the— er — portrait  ?  " 

"  I  mentioned  no  names." 

Ann  shut  her  mouth  tightly. 

Mrs.  Barett  coloured  as  though  she  had  been 
caught  in  an  indiscretion.  Her  hair-dressing  finished 
in  silence,  she  made  an  excuse  to  send  Ann  away  on 
an  errand.  That  astute  person  saw  through  the 
device,  but  acquiesced  with  complacence.  Since 
Rodney  and  Edith  had  outgrown  the  need  for  her 
services,  Ann  had  gradually  thrust  her  mistress 
into  the  place  they  had  filled  with  their  childhood  ; 
she  humoured  Mrs.  Barett  and  at  the  same  time  she 
ruled  her. 


298  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

As  soon  as  the  stairs  had  done  answering  to  the 
quick  short  sound  of  Ann's  footsteps,  Mrs.  Barett 
crept  away  to  her  son's  bedroom.  Brassy  shine 
swallowed  him  up  at  an  early  hour  each  morning, 
so  there  was  no  fear  of  finding  Rodney  in  occu- 
pation. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  and  looked  round  her 
shyly.  To  her  gentle  soul  there  seemed  in  her  errand 
a  touch  of  dishonour.  The  photograph  left  in  his 
room  could  have  nothing  in  it  of  secret,  yet  his  - 
mother  knew,  and  was  ashamed  for  the  knowledge, 
that  she  would  not  openly  have  spoken  of  it. 

She  paused  a  moment,  but  curiosity  conquered. 
It  was  necessary  that  she  should  know  whose  was 
the  portrait  her  boy  treasured. 

Instinctively  she  went  to  a  table  at  the  bed-head. 
Some  books  were  on  it.  Yeats'  Poems,  a  pocket 
Richard  Jefferies,  the  current  number  of  Punch,  a 
ragged  Bible.  This  last  Mrs.  Barett  had  given  him 
when  he  left,  solemn-eyed,  greatly  impressed  with 
his  own  importance,  for  his  first  school.  By  the 
books  was  a  glass  with  a  single,  dark  red  rose  in  it, 
and  close  to  the  flower  the  thing  Mrs.  Barett  was 
seeking.  A  photograph-frame  containing  a  rough 
print  of  a  girl  in  a  sun-bonnet,  rowing  a  boat ;  the 
face  was  in  shadow  ;  it  was  not  at  all  a  good  photo- 
graph, but  it  probably  showed  more  to  Rodney 
than  it  did  to  his  mother,  and  she  was  able  to  recog- 
nise Linda  Ray  beneath  the  sun-bonnet.  Mrs. 
Barett  had  lifted  the  frame — it  was  a  small,  cheap 
one ;  now  she  replaced  it  carefully  at  the  same  angle. 
Then  she  stood  meek,  hands  folded,  thinking. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  her  son  had  strayed  very 
far  from  her  ;  dimly  she  realised  a  time  would  come 


THE  SHRINE  OF  THE  HERO        299 

after  all — might  it  not  be  better? — when  he  would 
have  no  need  of  her. 

She  turned  away  from  the  table,  the  rose  and  the 
photograph,  and  looked  about  her  absentmindedly. 
Then  little  by  little  her  gaze  grew  practical. 

"It  is  time,"  she  said  aloud,  "  this  room  was 
re-papered.  I  must  speak  to  '  Papa '  about  it." 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

WITH   REGRETS   FOR   THE   HERO 

"  I  HAVE  come  to  congratulate  you,"  said  Cecil. 

She  did  not  like  Edith's  white  room,  it  seemed  to 
her  cold  and  shivery.  An  impulsive  bravado  had 
urged  her  to  congratulate  Rodney's  sister.  She  was 
beginning  to  wish  she  had  not  yielded  to  it.  She 
reproached  herself  for  stupidity. 

On  the  mantelpiece  was  a  photograph,  the  only 
one  in  the  room.  It  was  an  enlargement,  though 
Cecil  knew  nothing  of  that,  of  the  one  Rodney  had 
given  to  Linda.  The  eyes  smiled,  but  held  a  reserve 
that  seemed  to  Cecil  reproachful.  She  turned  her 
back  to  the  fireplace. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said  to  Edith  with  the  smile  she 
knew  how  to  make  winning,  "  I  suppose  I  may 
congratulate  you." 

Edith  smiled  back  at  her. 

It  is  easy  to  be  large-minded  towards  everyone 
when  you  are  happy  ;  and  besides,  Edith  may  have 
felt  an  undercurrent  of  gratitude  towards  Cecil. 
It  is  true  that  Cecil  had  made  Rodney  unhappy, 
but  then,  it  would  have  been  so  much  worse  had 
she  made  him  happy. 

"  What,  of  course,  I  do  mean  " — Cecil  grew 
nervous  in  face  of  Edith's  serenity — "  is  that  I  con- 
gratulate Mr.  Hendrey." 

300 


WITH  REGRETS  FOR  THE  HERO    801 

"  I  honestly  hope  he  is  to  be  congratulated," 
Edith  answered,  "  but  I  suppose  " — she  fingered  a 
ring,  Bob's  ring,  a  family  one,  thin  and  dim,  but 
priceless  to  Edith — "  I  suppose  you  never  do  think 
so  little  of  yourself  as  when  you  realise  someone 
else  thinks  of  you  too  highly." 

"  As  to  that  " — Cecil  laughed  rather  constrainedly 
— "  the  more  anyone  thinks  of  me,  the  more  I  am 
pleased  with  myself.  I  just  worship  flattery." 

"  Surely  not,  when  you  know  it  is  flattery  ?  " 

"  Rather !  Not  that  I  mind  so  much  about 
flattery ;  but  I  like  to  know  people  think  enough 
about  me  to  take  the  trouble  to  flatter  me." 

"Did  Rodney  flatter  you ?  "  Edith  asked  un- 
expectedly. 

Cecil  crimsoned. 

"  Don't  answer  if  you'd  rather  not,"  Edith  told 
her. 

"  I  don't  mind,  really.  And  the  answer  is  '  yes  ' 
and  '  no.'  He  did  and  he  didn't.  It  wasn't  flattery, 
you  see,  because  he  believed  in  it.  He  thought  far 
too  much  of  me.  How  it  wearied  me  !  " 

"  That  was  it,  was  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  was  just  it."  Cecil  spoke  rapidly,  glad 
to  unburden  herself.  "  It  is  so  horrid,  isn't  it,  to  be 
thought  better  than  you  are  ?  Because,  I  mean, 
naturally,  you  have  to  try  and  live  up  to  it." 

"Isn't  that  inspiring  though  ?  " 

Cecil  looked  her  surprise. 

"  Inspiring  ?  To  some  people,  perhaps.  I  found 
it  depressing.  It  makes  you  wild  with  yourself. 
If  I'm  put  out  with  myself,  I'm  horrid  to  everyone. 
My  only  chance  is  to  be  stroked  the  right  way.  I 
love  myself  then,  and  consequently  love  everyone." 


302  AN  ABSENT   HERO 

"  I  call  that  a  fool's  paradise." 

"  What  matter,  so  long  as  it  is  paradise  to  the 
one  inside  ?  It's  those  outside  that  talk  about  fools. 
And,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  fools  are  the 
really  wise  people. 

"There  are  fools  and  fools."  Edith's  eyes  were 
smiling. 

"  Monty  calls  Bob  Hendrey  a  fool,"  Cecil  told 
her. 

"  He  would."  Edith  was  quite  untroubled. 
"  And  Bob  thinks  Monty  Craig  no  end  of  a  good 
fellow.  Bob  is  just  that  sort  of  a  fool,"  she  added. 

"He's  shown  his  jolly  good  sense  one  way," 
Cecil  said,  with  grudging  admiration ;  "  and,  of 
course,  everyone  is  wondering  what  you  see  in  him." 

"  Just  himself."    Edith's  eyes  were  laughing. 

Cecil  did  not  pursue  the  subject.  She  had  a  feeling 
she  was  on  the  edge  of  a  place  where  it  was  wise  not 
to  venture.  She  had  her  moments  of  wisdom. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  I  should  like  you  to  know 
I  am  going  to  marry  Monty." 

"  Yes  ?  I  think  you  will  be  quite  safe  with 
him." 

"  He  is  contented  with  me  as  I  am.  He  has 
to  be." 

"  And  you  with  him  ?  " 

"  He  is  safe  and  commonplace,  and  with  com- 
fortable limitations.  You  don't  mind,  do  you  ? 
You  are  so  broadminded.  Of  course,  we  don't  want 
it  known  at  present.  Monty  says  it  wouldn't  be 
decent.  He's  very  fond,  you  know,  of  Rodney. 
He  wouldn't  like  to  hurt  him.  He  was  absurdly 
sore  on  that  point.  You  don't  feel  sore  about 
Rodney,  do  you  ?  " 


WITH  REGRETS  FOR  THE  HERO    803 

"  Not  sore  exactly." 

"  Is  he ?  "  Cecil,  rising,  inadvertently  caught 

the  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  portrait.  It  was  reproach- 
ful. She  turned  away  hurriedly.  "  You  know  what 
I  mean,"  she  amended.  "  You  see,  I  was — I  still 
am — very  fond  of  Rodney." 

"  But  surely — you  can't  want  the  two  of  them  ?  " 

The  question  was  not  in  the  best  of  taste.  Cecil 
was  quite  gleeful  over  the  thought — as  coming  from 
Edith. 

"  How  stupid,"  she  said.  "  Monty  does  just  what 
I  tell  him." 

"  Is  that  his  attraction  ?  " 

"  Rather.  You'll  find  the  same  thing  with  Bob 
Hendrey." 

"  No,  I  don't,"  Edith  assured  her.  "  Bob  and  I, 
we  start  as  equals;  independent,  yet  helping  one 
another,  not  blind  to  one  another's  failings,  each 
supplying  what  in  the  other  is  lacking." 

"  And  you  call  that  being  in  love  ?  "  Cecil  asked, 
sneering. 

"  Not  at  all.    We  call  it  loving  one  another." 

"  Only  a  difference  of  words." 

"  Indeed,  no.  It  goes  deeper — to  the  very  root 
of  all  things." 

"  I  don't  care  for  deepness  and  roots.  I  prefer 
the  surface  of  things.  Nearly  everything  is  best  on 
the  surface — people  most  certainly.  I  expect  if  we 
could  see  into  each  other's  minds,  right  down  to  the 
bottom,  it  would  be  beastly.  Isn't  it  lucky  we  spend 
the  greater  part  of  our  life  in  pretending  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  we  do ;  but  I  cannot  see  it  is 
lucky." 

"  It  is  only  children  and  old  ladies  that  can  safely 


AN  ABSENT  HERO 

speak  the  truth,"  Cecil  asserted.  "And  the  children 
only  whilst  they  are  quite  little.  Of  course,  there 
are  limits  to  the  art  of  pretending.  The  balance  has 
to  be  nicely  adjusted.  There  was  an  overweight  of 
pretence  between  me  and  Rodney." 

Though  she  kept  her  face  turned  from  the  por- 
trait, she  still  seemed  to  see  it,  drawing  her  thoughts 
to  Rodney.  She  was  angered  at  it. 

She  looked  at.  Edith. 

"  You  haven't  answered  my  question.  Or  didn't 
I  ask  it  ?  Do  you  think  that  Rodney  will  be  all 
right  again  soon  ?  I  mean — is  he  desperately 
unhappy  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  I  cannot  see  far  with  Rodney ; 
perhaps,  because  I  love  him." 

"  I  thought  that  was  supposed  to  make  you  clear- 
sighted." 

"  When  you  love — I  think  a  mist  arises." 

"  Thank  Heaven,  then,  Monty  and  I  are  not 
bothered  with  it.  We  see  each  other  jolly  plainly. 
There  is  nothing  to  dread  in  our  eyes  being  opened." 
Then,  against  her  will,  drawn  back  to  that  she  tried 
to  avoid:  "  You  don't  think,  do  you,  that  Rodney 
has  any  ill-feeling  towards  me  ?  I'm  fond  of  him 
still,  in  a  way,  and  I  wouldn't  like — you  don't  think 
he  really  dislikes  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  Edith  answered  readily. 

"  Does  he  talk  ever  about  me  ?  " 

"  He  said  that  he  wished  you  all  happiness." 

Cecil  looked  disappointed.  She  would  have  been 
shocked  at  any  suggestion  of  cruelty,  yet  she  liked 
to  think  in  a  sentimental  and  not  altogether  un- 
pleasant way  that  she  had  made  Rodney  unhappy. 

"  Don't  you  get  tired  of  this  room  ?  "  she  asked 


WITH  REGRETS  FOR  THE  HERO    805 

Edith  suddenly.  "  There  is  so  little  colour.  I  like 
crowds  of  colour." 

"  When  colours  are  crowded  they  lose  all  their 
value.  I  find  the  grey  shadows  in  this  room  most 
restful." 

"  I  loathe  things  that  are  restful." 

"  Mayn't  that  be  because  as  yet  you  have  no  right 
to  them  ?  " 

"  Do  you  talk  like  that  to  Bob  Hendrey  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  talk  to  Montague  Craig  ?  " 

"  Just  as  it  happens.  But  you  are  far  too  clever 
to  let  a  conversation  '  happen.'  Why  are  you 
smiling  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  amused  at  your  conception  of 
me." 

"  Isn't  it  true  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  I  know  it  is  not  my  own  con- 
ception. Yet  either  or  neither  or  both  can  be  true. 
How  can  I  tell  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  Cecil  said  quite  earnestly,  "  I 
am  so  glad  to  find  there's  something  about  which 
you  are  not  certain  ?  I  always  have  looked  upon  you 
as  one  of  the  cocksure  people.  I  am  glad  you  are 
not  though." 

"  So  am  I.  To  be  cocksure  means  to  be  in  a  blind 
alley.  I  believe  in  going  on  learning." 

"  I  always  hated  learning.  At  school  I  mean.  I 
was  so  glad  when  I  left  to  think  that  all  was  done 
with.  Not  that  I  bothered  much.  Linda  used  to. 
I  couldn't  see  the  point  of  it.  I  used  to  say,  'Top 
or  bottom,  what  will  it  matter  a  few  years  hence '  ? 
Does  it  matter  at  all,  now,  really  ?  " 

"  And  what  did  she  answer  ?  " 

"She  used  to  be  troubled  and  say  that  we  were 
x 


306  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

sent  to  school  to  learn,  and  that,  anyhow,  it  was  our 
duty  to  try  as  hard  as  we  could.  1  always  loathed 
duty." 

"  Perhaps  only  because  someone  has  given  an 
awkward  name  to  a  thing  of  beauty." 

"  I  don't  see  that." 

"  Duty  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  so  also  is  love," 
said  Edith. 

"  Don't  you  get  tangled  up — I  suppose  you  don't, 
but  I  do — thinking  about  what  things  are,  and  what 
we  ought  to  do  and  think  about  them  ?  I  like  to  go 
on,  jolly  and  ready  for  anything.  When  I  first  knew 
him,  Rodney  was  just  the  same.  I  thought  it  would 
be  perfectly  ripping  to  stick  together  and  make  fun 
of  everything.  We  might  have  had  such  grand 
adventures." 

"  And  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  Monty  is  at  all  adventurous. 
Edith — you  don't  mind  my  calling  you  Edith  ? — 
you  can  understand  how  I  mean  it — do  you  think 
that,  after  a  bit,  he'll — I  mean  Rodney,  of  course — 
that  he'll — well — what  they  call — it's  beastly,  but 
I  don't  know  how  else  to  express  it — that  he'll  con- 
sole himself— get  fond  of  somebody  else  ?  " 

"  Men  do,  usually." 

"  But  Rodney's  not  a  '  usually  '  sort.  I'd  like  to 
think  he  would  though.  Not  yet,  but  some  time. 
I  think  I'd  prefer  it  to  be  a  stranger  ;  someone  he's 
not  met  at  present.  It's  rather  beastly  of  me,  but 
I'm  horribly  jealous — I've  always  known  it — /  don't 
pretend  to  be  perfect— but  I'd  rather,  somehow— 
it  would  make  it  harder  for  me — if  in  the  end  it 
should  turn  out  to  be  Linda " 

Edith's  face  suddenly  hardened.    For  the  moment 


WITH  REGRETS  FOR  THE  HERO    807 

there  was  a  look  in  it  of  Rodney,  or  of  her  father. 
When  she  spoke,  her  voice  had  a  deeper  note  than 
was  usual. 

"  Why  should  you  think  of  your  friend  Linda 
Ray  in  such  a  fashion  ? 

"  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  because  Rodney  once 
said  she  was  *  oddly  fascinating.'  At  the  time  I  did 
not  half  like  it.  He  knew  her,  you  see,  down  in 
Cornwall.  What  do  you  think  ?  They  met  here  the 
other  day,  didn't  they  ?  " 

By  the  careless  '  they  met  here '  Edith's  eyes 
were  opened  as  to  the  real  object  of  Cecil's  visit. 

"  Yes,  they  met  here.  Rodney  was  talking  of 
something  he  had  heard.  His  drawings  are  likely 
to  be  chosen  for  the  Scottish  contract.  He  was 
questioning  what  he  ought  to  do,  should  it  be 
offered  him."  Edith's  words  were  cold  and  re- 
strained. 

But  Cecil  broke  out,  warmly,  eagerly : 

"  Why,  of  course,  he  would  take  it,  and  hang 
Brassyshine."  Then  she  added,  with  a  sudden  pang 
of  jealousy,  "  What  has  Linda  to  say  about  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  How  odd  of  her.  Rather  rude  I  call  it,  seeing 
they  are  supposed  to  be  such  friends."  In  spite  ot 
the  venom  of  her  words,  Cecil  wore  rather  a  pleased 
expression. 

"  I  cannot  help  thinking  " — Edith  spoke  slowly 
almost  as  though  to  herself — "  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  for  some  reason  Linda  is  displeased  with 
Rodney.  She  was  so  cold,  so  constrained  in  her 
manner  towards  him." 

"  She  is  a  loyal  little  thing,  devoted  to  me." 
Cecil  was  glibly  explanatory. 


308  AN   ABSENT   HERO 

"  I  have  an  idea,  perhaps  Rodney  has  also,  that 
Linda  holds  him  to  blame  for  the  broken  engage- 
ment. If  this  is  so,  it  is  perhaps  natural  that  she 
should  take  no  interest  in  his  future  now  that  it 
does  not  affect  your  happiness." 

"  Just  like  dear  old  Linda,"  Cecil  said  warmly. 
"  I  always  have  told  her  she  thinks  a  great  deal  too 
much  of  me." 

"  You  don't  find  it  becomes  irksome  ?  " 

"  You  don't  with  a  girl.  A  girl  never  matters. 
So  Linda  showed  Rodney  she  was  a  bit  vexed  with 
him  ?  "  Cecil  was  looking  quite  radiant. 

"It  may  have  been  only  my  fancy." 

"  Hardly,  seeing  she  refused  to  rise  to  the  bait 
of  his  profession,"  she  laughed.  "I  dare  say  he'll 
get  over  that.  Still,  I  do  think  Linda  might  have 
been  outwardly  friendly." 

"  Carried  on  the  usual  round  of  pretence  ?  " 
Edith  was  pleased  to  be  scornful. 

Cecil  was  unimpressed. 

"  Yes,  carried  on  the  jolly  old  round  that  after 
all  makes  things  jog  along  cheerily.  Well,  I  really 
must  be  moving."  She  offered  a  rose-blossom  cheek. 
"  Do  you  know,  I'm  quite  sorry  that  '  after  all '  we 
are  not  going  to  be  sisters." 

"  Is  that  part  of  the  '  jolly  old  round '  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  For  once  I  am  perfectly  genuine. 
We  should  be  such  excellent  foils  for  one  another, 
dear,  shouldn't  we  ?  " 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

THE  HERO  WITHOUT  ANY   HALO 

IT  was  with  an  air  of  mild  reproach  that  the  big 
Victorian  house  received  Linda.  She  felt  it  was 
justified.  She  and  Cecil  had  not  played  the  game 
exactly.  Yet — did  it  matter  ?  For  herself,  she 
was  passing  away,  out  of  the  ken  of  the  house,  out 
of  reach  of  the  strangely  assorted,  oddly  stimulating 
family  it  sheltered ;  those  people,  that  whether  or 
no  she  acknowledged  it,  had  a  charm  for  her  just 
because  they  were  Rodney's. 

She  had  come  to  say  good-bye  to  the  Baretts,  and 
suddenly  it  seemed  a  hard  thing  she  had  undertaken. 
Yet  she  knew  it  would  be  better,  far  better  that  she 
should  go  back  to  Aunt  Emma,  away  from  all  these 
broken  reflections  of  life  among  which  during  the 
last  few  weeks  she  had,  as  it  seemed,  aimlessly 
floundered. 

She  had  a  sick  longing  to  hear  once  again  the  long 
pounding  roar  and  the  falling  hush  of  the  ocean. 
Surely  peace  waited,  or  some  workable  semblance 
of  peace,  down  in  Cornwall. 

The  blue  rep  drawing-room  of  the  Baretts  accepted 
her.  It  was  too  hospitable  to  do  otherwise,  yet 
Linda  felt  a  subtle  reproach  in  its  aspect.  The  gilt 
clock  under  the  glass  case  was  silent,  the  hydro- 
cephalous  cupid  hung  motionless.  The  room  was 

309 


310  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

silent,  close,  stagnant,  withdrawn  on  itself  re- 
servedly. Once  it  had  expanded  towards  her 
hospitably,  only  to  find  her  unworthy  of  its  pon- 
derous confidence.  It  had  taken  an  air  of  dignified 
suffering. 

"  It  is  not  my  fault.  I  could  not  help  it."  Linda 
stayed  the  words  on  her  lips. 

In  its  profound  displeasure  the  room  was  im- 
pregnable. 

Overhead  passed  stealthy  footsteps.  There  was 
movement  of  drawers  and  wardrobes.  Mrs.  Barett 
was  preparing  herself  for  callers. 

"  And  it's  only  me,"  Linda  murmured  drearily. 

It  seemed  so  unnecessary  anyone  should  trouble 
about  what  she  thought  of  them  ;  and  she  wanted 
to  get  this  thing  over,  to  say  good-bye  to  everyone 
and  to  get  back  to  Cornwall. 

The  sea-birds  would  be  dipping  and  soaring, 
falling  with  high  spirt  of  foam  into  the  blue  of  the 
water.  The  grim  grey  cliffs  would  nurse  in  their 
clefts  fallen  stars  of  flower-spangles.  The  air  would 
blow  keen  and  careless,  with  salt  and  the  scent  of 
wild  thyme  in  it.  Her  longing  to  be  there  was  over- 
powering ;  almost,  it  seemed,  that  once  in  touch  with 
the  ocean  she  would  find  herself  back  in  the  old 
uncomplicated  existence.  As  well  might  the  butter- 
fly after  long  adventurous  flight  expect  to  fold  its 
frayed  wings  again  in  the  chrysalis. 

Voices  drew  near,  a  hesitating  murmur,  with 
harsher  intervals,  from  one  of  which  broke  out 
clearly  : 

"  No,  m'am,  Mr.  Bentham  says,  plain  as  any- 
thing, Miss  Wolney's  not  with  her,  it's  only  that 
nice  little  Miss  Ray." 


THE  HERO  WITHOUT  ANY  HALO    311 

'  That  nice  little  Miss  Ray.' 

Though   the   speaker  was   probably   only   some 
confidential  servant,  Linda  felt  less  disheartened. 

Mrs.  Barett  looked  very  small  in  the  big  solemn 
doorway,  and  a  little  frightened.  She  hated  every 
sort  of  unpleasantness,  and  she  felt  the  family  con- 
nection with  the  Wolneys,  amongst  whom  she 
included  Linda,  had  been  on  the  whole  unpleasant. 
She  made  an  attempt  at  a  high  standpoint,  fluttered 
a  little,  and  fell  below  her  usual  mild  dignity.  The 
moment  was  awkward.  Linda  found  herself  wishing, 
with  more  intensity  than  she  had  hoped  ever  now 
to  attain  to,  that  she  had  not  ventured  the  visit. 
From  that  she  slipped  to  a  sick  hope  that  Mrs. 
Barett  suspected  nothing  concerning  her  personality. 
She  knew  that  the  claws  of  the  tamest  of  mothers 
can  be  unsheathed  in  defence  of  her  offspring. 
Linda  knew  herself  incapable  of  that  attitude  known 
as  '  designing ' ;  yet  '  designing  '  might  be  Mrs. 
Barett's  word  for  her.  In  spite  of  the  harsh  voice's 
remark  concerning  '  that  nice  little  Miss  Ray,'  it 
was  more  than  possible  Mrs.  Barett's  own  word  was 
'  designing.' 

"  I  have  just  come  to  say  good-bye,"  she  faltered. 

At  the  word,  Mrs.  Barett's  smile  was  turned  on 
with  a  jerk,  and  she  was  all  affability. 

"  So  your  stay  has  come  to  an  end,  and  you  are 
going  home — Cornwall,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Cornwall,"  stammered  Linda.  It  seemed  a 
desecration  to  say  it. 

"  So  pleasant  there,  the  sea  and  the  boating." 
The  photograph  in  her  son's  room  was  very  present 
with  Mrs.  Barett.  Girls  rowing  !  She  was  not  sure 
she  approved  of  it. 


312  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

There  was  a  tight  feeling  in  Linda's  throat  as  she 
murmured : 

"  Yes,  and  the  boating." 

And  then  an  awful  silence  settled  heavily  down 
between  the  pair  of  them.  By  the  intuition  of  her 
sex  each  knew  the  other  was  thinking  of  Rodney, 
each  wished  the  other  would  speak,  and  neither 
could  say  anything. 

Mrs.  Barett  sat  rigid,  her  pale  eyes  staring. 
Linda  glanced  restlessly  round  the  great  room. 
The  blue  rep  was  self-satisfied,  unresponsive ;  the 
dangling  yellow  tassels  on  the  silly  sofa  bolsters 
annoyed  her.  Then,  with  a  sudden  stab  of  the  heart, 
she  saw  Mrs.  Barett  was  crying. 

"  Don't — please,  don't,"  she  entreated. 

"  It — I  don't  know  why "    From  long  force 

of  habit  Mr?  Barett  fumbled  helplessly  where 
her  pocket  was  not.  Two  tears  had  fallen  on 
the  mauve  silk  of  her  dressmaker's  latest  crea- 
tion ;  through  the  next  two  she  looked  about 
helplessly  for  the  vanity-bag  that  ought  to  be 
somewhere. 

Awkwardly,  almost  guiltily,  Linda  offered  her 
handkerchief.  With  a  wan  smile  Mrs.  Barett  took 
it,  murmuring :  - 

"  And  it's  all  so  stupid." 

The  truth  of  the  words  smote  Linda  with  sudden 
heartiness.  It  was  all  so  stupid — this  doing  without 
pockets,  making  apologies  for  the  god-sent  relief  of 
tears ;  the  whole  round  of  pretence.  It  was  all  so 
stupid. 

She  took  Mrs.  Barett's  hands  in  hers,  they  must 
have  been  pretty  once — before  years  of  rough  work 
had  spoilt  them. 


THE  HERO  WITHOUT  ANY  HALO    313 

"  Don't  cry,  dear,"  she  said  gently  ;  "  I  mean, 
do  cry,  if  it  makes  you  feel  better." 

Mrs.  Barett  sniffed,  and  her  thin  bosom  rose  and 
fell  under  the  mauve  gown  spasmodically. 

"  My  dear,  you  are  understanding.  You  are  not 
hard,  like  Edith." 

"  Edith  is  not  hard,"  Linda  started  out  warmly, 
but  tailed  away  into,  "  is  she  ?  " 

"  She  can't  understand."  Mrs.  Barett  was  sob- 
bing and  sniffing,  and  already  Linda's  handkerchief 
was  a  tiny  wet  ball  of  unpleasantness.  "  All  her 
life  has  been  pleasant.  Easy-sailing,  though  you 
might  not  think  it,  makes  people  hard.  What  they 
have  not  felt  themselves  they  are  annoyed  with 
others  for  feeling.  So  far  for  Edith  it  has  all  been 
easy-sailing." 

"  You  don't  grudge  her  that  ?  "  Linda  questioned. 

"  No,  love ;  in  a  way  it  has  been  my  own  doing. 
We  deny  ourselves — no  one  but  a  mother  knows  how 
we  deny  ourselves  for  our  children.  And  we  think, 
I  suppose,  they  will  develop  self-denial  automati- 
cally by  suggestion.  Edith  has  a  great  deal  to  learn, 
and,  as  likely  as  not,  she  never  will  learn  it." 

"  But  she  is  so  clever." 

"  To  be  clever  is  not  to  know,  only  to  be  capable 
of  knowing.  Just  as  to  be  lovable  is  not  necessarily 
to  be  loved — or,  how  about  my  poor  Rodney  ?  My 
dear,  any  woman  ought  to  go  down  on  her  knees  and 
thank  God  for  the  mere  chance  of  loving  him.  And 

then — see  how  Cecil "  She  choked.  "  She  is 

your  friend  though — I  will  say  nothing  against  her." 

Almost  fiercely  Mrs.  Barett  applied  the  useless 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes  and  nostrils.  It  seemed 
as  she  did  so  that  a  wall  of  ice  formed  between 


314  AN   ABSENT  HERO 

Linda  and  Rodney's  mother.  She  felt  awkward, 
unseemly,  kneeling  down  as  she  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  solemn  rep  furniture. 

More  plainly  than  before  she  noted  the  stubbed 
nails  and  work-hardened  creases  of  the  fluttering 
hands  she  had  just  been  caressing. 

'  The  worst  of  it  is  " — Mrs.  Barett  pressed  both 
of  her  palms  tightly  over  the  handkerchief — "  I  feel 
it  is  all  our  fault — '  Papa's '  fault,  that  is — all  this  has 
happened.  It  was  not  the  right  moment — I  see 
that  so  clearly — to  claim  the  poor  boy  for  the  busi- 
ness. It  should  have  been  sooner  or  a  bit  later. 
Before  his  engagement,  or  not  till  after  the  marriage. 
I  do  see — I  can  see — I  trust  I  am  not  narrow-minded 
— that  the  position  was  a  hard  one  for  Cecil  Wolney. 
Still — I  do  think — had  she  been  a  true  woman — that 
she  might  have  risen  above  it." 

"  She  would  " — the  words  were  forced  out  from 
Linda — "  she  would — if  only  she  had  loved  him." 

Mrs.  Barett  looked  at  her  surprised,  reproachful. 

"  You  don't  think — you  don't  really  mean — that 
she  did  not  love  him." 

Linda  reddened. 

"  She  wanted  to  sacrifice  him  to  herself,"  she  said 
thickly. 

Mrs.  Barett  sat  rigid,  staring,  rolling  the  wet 
handkerchief  more  and  more  tightly.  At  last  she 
said — her  lips  were  twitching  : 

"  I  am  afraid  sacrifice  has  gone  out  of  fashion. 
Time  was  when  women  sought  it.  And  now  Edith 
tells  me  that  a  woman,  no  more  than  a  man,  has  a 
right  to  sacrifice  her  individuality." 

"  Not  to  ennoble  it  ?  "  cried  Linda  with  sudden 
insight 


THE  HERO  WITHOUT  ANY  HALO    315 

Mrs.  Barett  shook  her  head  sadly. 

'*  In  my  day  it  was  all  so  much  simpler.  We  all 
fell  in  love  so  readily.  A  little  thing  was  enough, 
our  steps  at  a  dance  went  together,  or  his  whiskers 
it  might  be,  or  just  because  he  said  he  loved  you. 
There  was  no  chance  of  really  knowing  him  till  you 
were  engaged  to  him  ;  and  not  very  much  then  for 
those  who  observed  the  proprieties.  And  then  you 
were  married " 

"  How  dreadful !  "  said  Linda. 

"  Not  at  all,  dear.  It  had  to  be  faced.  Like  the 
plunge  of  sea-bathing." 

"  And  then  after ?  "  Linda's  eyes  had  dark- 
ened. 

"  You  came  up  blinded  and  a  little  bit  breathless 
and  then  settled  down  to  the  unalterable." 

"Did  they  always  ?  " 

"  Almost  always."  Mrs.  Barett  tightened  her 
thin  little  lips.  Young  girls  should  not  ask  too  many 
questions. 

Linda  thought  for  a  minute,  then  she  said  : 

"  I  think  I  rather  wish  I  had  lived  then." 

It  all  seemed  so  much  easier.  The  little  fluttering 
admiration.  No  heart  could  really  be  wrung  about 
a  man's  dancing  steps  or  his  whiskers— the  momen- 
tary plunge — all  the  others  had  taken  it ! — then  the 
mild  soporific  existence  amongst  highly  respectable 
Victorian  surroundings. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  think  it  was  better." 

"  Believe  me,  it  was  love." 

Mrs.  Barett  began  to  spread  the  moist  handker- 
chief out  on  her  knee ;  she  was  feeling  almost  cheer- 
ful. After  all  the  thorny  discomfort  of  Edith's 
tenacious  opinions  it  was  something  to  have  found 


316  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

someone  in  this  new  generation  sufficiently  clear- 
eyed  to  recognise  the  obvious  truth  that  the  bygone 
days  were  better* 

"  Nowadays,"  she  went  on  didactically,  "  young 
girls  give  far  too  much  to  the  men  ;  they  write  to 
them,  not  to  one  only,  but  many  :  they  exchange 
photographs ;  go  about  without  chaperons ;  borrow 
books  which  no  one  of  experience  has  a  chance  of 
supervising ;  talk  of  the  most  impossible  things 
quite  freely.  It  is  really  no  wonder  the  percentage 
of  marriages  is  rapidly  declining.  The  old  ways — 
our  ways — were  far  better.  They  knew  so  little  of 
us  that " — she  smiled  archly — "  they  thought  we 
were  angels." 

"  Yet,"  Linda  stated,  "  the  reason  Cecil  broke  off 
with — your  son — was  because  he  thought  too  well 
of  her." 

Mrs.  Barett's  jaw  dropped. 

"  I  can't  understand — no,  dear — you  must  be 
mistaken — no  girl  could  possibly " 

"  Cecil  did,"  Linda  assured  her. 

Mrs.  Barett  drew  herself  up  with  faded  dignity. 

"  Then  I  can  only  say  I  am  glad  my  son  escaped 
an  alliance  with  anyone  so — unnatural." 

Linda  was  fumbling  for  a  suitable  explanation, 
one  that  could  enter  the  very  small  aperture  in 
the  wall  Mrs.  Barett  had  laboriously  erected  in 
front  of  her  mind  during  long  years  of  unintelligent 
routine,  when  there  came  a  not  unwelcome  inter- 
ruption. 

The  handle  of  the  door  excited  itself  in  a  way 
quite  foreign  to  its  gilt-bordered  propriety,  there 
was  a  heavy  fiat-hand  thump  on  the  mahogany  panel, 
and  a  voice  cried  : 


THE  HERO  WITHOUT  ANY  HALO    817 

"  Hullo !  you  there, '  Mamma '  ?  Is  it  private,  or 
may  I  come  in  ?  I've  got  news  for  you." 

Almost  at  once  appeared  Jeremiah's  flushed  face 
and  shining  dark  eyes. 

"  So  it's  you,  little  lady."  His  welcome  to  Linda 
was  evidently  genuine.  "  Just  in  time  you  are  to 
share  our  pleasure."  A  telegram  was  in  his  hand. 

Mrs.  Barett  glanced  at  it  apprehensively.  In  her 
day,  when  things  moved  more  slowly,  a  flimsy  brown 
envelope  was  usually  the  presage  of  death  or 
disaster.  Like  a  big,  jolly  boy,  Jeremiah  waved  it 
at  her. 

"  Rodney's  done  it  this  time,"  he  fairly  bellowed. 
"  Got  the  job — knocked  all  the  others  into  a  cocked- 
hat — our  Rodney,  Hundred-thousand  pound  job, 
and  all " 

"  And  how  much  goes  to  the  architect  ?  "  Mrs. 
Barett  was  immediately  practical. 

"That  I  can't  say" — Jeremiah  smoothed  his 
grey  locks  complacently — "  a  good  bit,  I  dare  say, 
seeing  there'd  be  no  job  at  all  without  him.  I  just 
dropped  into  the  Club  with  this,  it  didn't  take  me 
more'n  the  inside  of  a  minute,  and  the  chaps  there 
say  Rod's  a  made  man  right  enough  now,  A  big 
job  like  this  straight  away'll  make  him.  Little 
Rodney,  'Mamma/  that  I've  smacked  and  I've 
tickled " 

At  which  his  '  spouse  '  looked  at  him  admonish- 
ingly  with  a  side  glance  in  Linda's  direction. 

Jeremiah  laughed  jollily. 

"  Bless  you, '  Mamma,'  lasses  nowadays  are  not  so 
dashed  particular.  Shows  their  sense,  too,  bless 
'em."  His  laughter  rose  to  a  roar.  "  Hang  it  all !  " 
he  burst  out,  "  I  take  it  young  madam  won't  be 


318  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

so  cock-a-hoop  now  that  she  gave  the  go-by  to 
our  Rodney.  What  have  you  got  to  say,  little 
lady?  " 

He  handed  the  '  wire  '  to  Linda. 

She  was  glad  of  the  momentary  pause  afforded 
her  whilst  she  read  it.  The  immediate  result  of  this 
thing  seemed  to  set  Rodney  farther  than  ever  away 
from  her.  She  was  glad  for  him,  very,  very  glad 
for  him — and  yet — it  was  foolish  of  her,  she  knew 
it — yet  women,  some  women,  will  always  create  out 
of  the  man  they  love — perhaps  all  the  more  if  he 
be  not  for  them — a  hero.  Rodney,  giving  up  the 
work  he  loved,  taking  his  coat  off,  going  to  the  help 
of  his  father,  expanded  heroically.  But  a  successful 

architect,  congratulated,  monied !  She  folded 

the  paper  in  silence. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  old  Barett  expectantly. 

In  the  continued  silence  Linda  felt  that  the  solemn 
self-centred  room  with  all  its  florid  contents,  and  in 
especial  the  mute  clock,  with  ponderous  interest 
awaited  her  answer. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  Jeremiah's  bright  ones  and 
asked  slowly : 

"  \Vhat  does — your  son  say  about  it  ?  " 

"  Very  little,  I'm  bound  to  say — very  little."  The 
old  man  fingered  his  side-lock.  "He  was  at  the 
Works — muck  up  to  his  eyes,  he  was.  So  I  read  it 
out  to  him.  '  What  ho  ?  '  I  asked  him.  '  Right, 
Dad,  that'll  wait,'  he  answered.  '  I  can't  leave  my 
first  boiling  of  Brassyshine.'  Lord  !  didn't  I  fair 
love  the  lad  for  it.  A  hundred-thousand  pound  con- 
tract and  he  never  turns  a  hair,  only — '  I  can't  spoil 
my  first  boiling  of  Brassyshine.' '  He  laughed  out 
uproariously. 


THE  HERO  WITHOUT  ANY  HALO     319 

His  wife  did  not  echo  his  mirth ;  she  looked 
startled,  timorous  ;  she  spoke  shrilly  : 

"  You  don't  mean — you  can't  mean — that  he'll 
throw  up  this  chance — the  chance  of  a  lifetime 
What  did  he  say  about  it  ?  " 

"  I've  told  you  just  what  he  said."  The  old  man 
had  sobered ;  quite  unnecessarily  he  was  fitting  the 
paper  into  its  brown  envelope ;  suddenly,  he 
turned  his  bright  eyes  on  Linda. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  he'll  do  about  it  ?  " 

Linda  paled,  but  she  forced  the  words  out  bravely. 

"  He  will  stand  by  you  and  Brassyshine." 

"  Shake,"  said  the  old  man,  extending  a  hairy 
paw. 

As  they  shook,  his  bright  dark  eyes  looked  deep 
into  her  velvety  blue  ones. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jeremiah,  "  that's  just  what  he's 
game  for — Rodney."  Then  he  laughed.  "  After  all, 
though,  mine's  the  last  word  in  the  matter." 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

IN   WHICH   THE    HERO   ALL   BUT  ENTERS 

THE  window  was  open  wide ;  through  it  came  the 
breath  of  the  heather,  the  scent  of  thyme,  and  the 
cool,  dank  touch  of  the  ocean.  Linda  filled  her 
lungs  ecstatically.  This  was  the  Life-spark,  the 
spirit,  the  soul  of  the  homeland. 

A  blackbird  fluted  loudly.  Hush — hush — droned 
the  sea  at  the  cliff-foot.  The  blackbird,  undaunted, 
fluted  again ;  his  mate  answered — a  flurried  feminine 
note  ;  from  above,  a  lark's  song  was  throbbing. 
The  mist  of  the  past  night  was  only  now  clearing ; 
bright  drops  hung  yet  on  the  crimson  buds  of  the 
tree-fuchsias  and  the  stiff  foliage  of  purple  veronica 
all  bent  one  way  by  the  constant  push  of  the  sea- 
wind.  Above  the  crimson  and  purple  was  the  vast 
stretch  of  ocean,  vividly  blue  with  long  streaks  of 
green,  and  purple  shadows  and  silver  gleams  in  it, 
and  the  clear  blue  sky  over  it.  A  crude  scheme  of 
colour  it  was,  but  Linda's  heart  leapt  to  it.  It  was 
Cornwall,  harsh,  acute,  yet  with  something  appeal- 
ing, like  the  unending  scream  of  the  sea-birds ;  and 
yet  something  satisfying  as  the  never  -  ceasing 
hush — hush  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  of  granite.  The 
morning  was  early  still,  and  the  sun  glittered  on 
everything. 

Linda  came  away  from  the  window.  After  the 
320 


THE  HERO  ALL  BUT  ENTERS       321 

big,  handsome  guest-chamber  she  had  used  at  the 
Wolneys/  the  little  home-room  seemed  oddly  cramped 
and  low-ceilinged ;  but  dear  with  the  exquisite 
dearness  of  the  familiar  few  who  understand  us  and 
with  whom  there  is  no  need  of  pretending.  A  yellow 
sun-ray  stretched  across  the  white  window-sill ;  a 
faint  green  light  danced  on  the  ceiling. 

Linda  opened  her  locked  writing-case  and  drew 
out  some  papers.  As  she  touched  them  her  fingers 
trembled,  yet  she  smiled  as  you  do  over  flowers 
pressed  between  the  leaves  of  a  book,  sometimes. 

"  How  blind  I  was,"  she  said  softly. 

On  the  first  paper  was  a  date  two  days  old,  the 
night  of  her  arrival  in  Cornwall.  She  began  to  read 
what  was  written : 

It  is  all  over  now — over  and  buried.  I  must  go 
back,  as  mourners  do  after  the  funeral,  to  take 
up  life  again  as  far  as  it  is  possible.  They  are 
better  off,  though,  than  I  am  ;  for  they  may 
think,  perhaps  talk  in  whispers,  of  their  buried 
dear  one.  I  must  not  talk,  may  not  even  think 
of  That  I  have  buried.  Only  to  you,  Mother — to 
you  this  once.  And  then  I  promise  I  will  be  good 
and  so  patient. 

There  is  Aunt  Emma.  She  seems  older,  some- 
how, much  older  than  I  thought  she  was ;  hum- 
drum and  rather  stupid.  She  was  pleased,  in  a 
mild  sort  of  way,  to  see  me  ;  but  she  has  got  on 
very  well  without  me.  I  must  try  and  make 
myself  of  more  use  to  her,  so  that  in  time  she  will 
need  me.  I  want  so  much  to  be  needed.  That 
sounds  selfish.  I  think  when  you  are  broken  and 
sad  you  are  apt  to  be  selfish.  I  will  fight  against  it . 


822  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

Aunt  Emma  said  London  had  not  agreed  with 
me.  '  It  is  the  ghost  of  the  Linda  we  sent  them.' 
She  said  it  quite  cheerfully,  as  though  it  were 
of  little  consequence.  I  was  silly  enough  to  be 
glad  that  I  showed  the  marks  of  my  suffering. 
It  may  shorten  things  for  me. 

But  I  don't  want  to  make  poor  Aunt  Emma 
unhappy.  I  want  to  cheer  her — not  but  what 
she  is  always  cheerful. 

How  do  older  people  manage  it  ?  Have  they 
not  suffered,  or  have  they  left  it  behind  them  as 
you  do  measles  or  chicken-pox  ? 

Later,  Aunt  Emma  had  been  laughing  over 
the  things  I  was  telling  her,  and  she  said,  as  she 
wiped  her  glasses  : 

'  Bless  the  child,  she  was  always  a  bit  of  quick- 
silver ;  but  she's  come  back  better  company 
than  ever.' 

It  is  nice  to  know  I  can  cheer  Aunt  Emma. 
Not  that,  as  I  say,  she  needs  it  at  present.  She 
is  so  jolly  and  energetic,  and  takes  so  much 
interest  in  everything.  Only  by  and  by,  when  she 
gets  older  and  has  rheumatism  or  something,  she 
may  want  cheering.  I  suppose  you  have  to  be 
patient  even  for  the  chance  of  cheering  some- 
one. 

It  seems  so  far  off  now,  London  and  all  of  it. 
I  don't  feel  quite  sure  whether  it  is  all  true  or 
whether  I  dreamt  it.  I  wish,  how  I  wish,  I  could 
wake  up  from  it,  and  find  myself  back  at  Rodney's 
last  night  in  Cornwall,  the  night  I  cried — little 
silly — because  I  thought  I  knew  what  it  was  to 
be  unhappy. 

I  must  leave  all  that  now.    It  is  the  new  life  I 


THE  HERO  ALL  BUT  ENTERS       828 

must  face.  The  new  life  that  is  only  the  old  with 
all  the  zest  gone  out  of  it. 

I  am  ready  for  it.  It  will  be  something  to  do, 
setting  my  face  forward,  forgetting — no,  not  for- 
getting, but  preventing  myself  looking  into  the 
closed  pages  of  the  past.  There  will  be  books  to 
read.  I  wonder,  do  the  dear  people  who  write  them 
realise  how  much  they  help  us  in  our  forgetting  ? 

There  is  the  garden  —  Aunt  Emma  does  so 
much  in  it,  and  I  am  sure  she  is  too  stout  for  the 
stooping — I  shall  be  able  to  find  occupation — 
work  of  all  sorts  in  plenty. 

Mother  dear,  you  won't  have  to  grieve  over  me. 

Cecil  and  Montague  came  with  me  to  the  station. 
I  really  think  they  are  happy  together ;  he  is 
fond  of  her  hi  a  quiet,  sensible  way,  and  she 
teases  him,  and  he  seems  to  like  it. 

They  came  to  the  station  with  me,  but  had  to 
leave  early  because  of  some  Charity  Concert.  So 
they  saw  me  into  a  through  carriage  and  Montague 
piled  the  opposite  seat  with  papers  and  chocolates, 
and  fruit  and  flowers  from  the  stall  on  the  plat- 
form. Cecil  will  have  a  generous  husband.  As 
they  went  off  Cecil  waved,  he  lifted  his  hat.  And 
I  went  out  of  their  life  altogether. 

I  felt  like  some  old-time  sailor — '  marooned,' 
didn't  they  call  it  ? — on  a  desert  island.  All  the 
noise  and  bustle  of  the  station  seemed  dim  and 
unreal  about  me.  In  all  my  life  never  have  I  felt 
quite  so  lonely.  And  yet  I  was  glad  of  the  peace. 
It  seemed  I  had  got  to  the  end  of  all  suffering. 
Lonely  and  peaceful  I  was — as  the  dead  are — 
when  we  leave  them. 

It  was  just  then  I  saw  him  coming.    I  suppose 


324  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

he  happened  to  be  on  the  station  and  met  Cecil 
and  Montague,  and  they  must  have  told  him — 
happy  people  are  thoughtless — where  I  was — 
that  I  was  going. 

We  don't  stir  the  dead  up  to  life  again,  Mother ; 
we  leave  them. 

He  came  and  spoke  to  me.  I  answered  natur- 
ally. It  was  just  possible,  quite  on  the  surface. 
And  I  longed  for  the  train  to  start — longed  that 
it  would  stay — stay  for  ever — that  I  might  stand 
there  for  ever  with  the  keen  sharp  cut  of  the  know- 
ledge that  I  was  looking  my  last  on  Rodney. 

I  don't  think  I  really  was  looking  at  him ;  he 
did  not  look  at  me,  I  know  that  much.  I  wish  I 
knew  how  I  have  offended  him.  Or  has  someone 
said  something  ?  Or  is  it,  as  I  thought  once  before, 
that  he  has  surprised  my  secret  ? 

I  don't  believe  that  I  mind  much  really  even  if 
he  has  done  so.  It  is  only  convention  makes  a 
woman  look  on  her  love  as  a  thing  to  be  hidden 
whilst  a  man  wears  his  proudly.  I  am  proud  that 
I  love  him. 

I  love  him,  Mother  !  nothing  can  take  that  from 
me.  To  love — that  is  the  great  thing,  isn't  it  ? 
Nothing  else  matters.  You  knew  that.  That  is 
why  you  lived  so  short  a  time  after  my  father 
that  I  have  no  recollection  of  either  of  you. 

Mother,  I  don't  think  there  is  any  need  to  pity 
you.  You  loved  and  were  loved.  I  am  content 
with  less.  I  am  not  to  be  pitied,  no  one  must  pity 
me,  because  I  love  Rodney. 

Surely  that  ought  to  be  enough  for  any  woman. 

Why  isn't  it  ? 

As  we  were  talking  I  saw  him  glance  at  the 


THE  HERO  ALL  BUT  ENTERS       325 

things  on  the  seat  opposite.  They  seemed  so 
lavish  and  unusable  and  unnecessary.  And  he 
said,  '  Is  there  anything ?  ' 

I  laughed — I  could,  actually — it  struck  me  as 
rather  wonderful.  But  oh  !  how  I  wished  Mon- 
tague had  given  me  nothing  so  that  I  might  have 
asked — I  should  have  treasured  even  a  newspaper. 

He  took  my  hand  just  as  the  train  started. 

I  expect  he  was  just  as  glad  as  I  was — only  I 
wasn't  glad,  really — that  it  was  over. 

His  lips  moved,  he  was  saying  something.  But 
at  that  very  moment  an  engine  on  the  other  side 
of  the  platform  let  off  steam  with  a  roar  that  was 
deafening. 

I  could  not  hear  what  he  said.  I  tried  hard  to 
do  lip-reading,  and  thought  I  recognised  the  word 
'  Cornwall.'  Very  likely  I  was  mistaken,  or  if  not, 
it  was  no  doubt  some  commonplace  about  a  safe 
journey.  Yet  I  should  have  liked  to  have  heard  it. 
It  was  mine,  and  the  noise  took  it.  The  last  thing 
he  said  to  me ;  and  now  I  shall  never  know  it. 

He  held  my  hand  a  moment  after  the  train  had 
started  and  looked  up  at  me.  There  was  something 
in  his  eyes — pity  ?  reproach  ?  what  was  it  ? 

I  do  not  know.    Never  shall  now. 

Mother,  I  do  mean  to  be  brave.  Life  can't  be 
utterly  dreary  if  you  spend  it  on  others. 

There  is  Aunt  Emma — Mother !  how  can  I 
bear  it  ? 

Linda  read  through  the  close,  even  writing  to  the 
end,  then  her  lips  trembled  into  a  smile. 

"  Mother,"  she  said  aloud,  "  your  poor  little  fool 
of  a  daughter  !  " 


326  AN  ABSENT  HERO 

Then  she  sat  down,  and  still  smiling  slightly, 
dipped  a  pen,  drew  the  paper  nearer,  and  began  to 
write.  As  she  wrote  she  was  conscious  of  the  lark's 
throbbing  song,  of  the  blackbird's  homely  fluting, 
the  scream  of  the  gulls,  and  the  low  hush — hush  of 
the  ocean.  It  was  life  calling,  and  her  heart  an- 
swered. 

Mother,  dear  Mother — it  was  all  a  mistake ; 
did  you  know  it  ? 

How  can  I  tell  you  ? 

It  is  simple  enough,  yet  so  very  wonderful. 

From  the  very  first  moment  he  loved  me. 

And  he  thought  honour  bound  him  to  Cecil. 

And  that  accounts  for  the  second  time,  when 
she  met  him. 

I've  no  need  to  say  more.    Does  it  matter  ? 

I  have  those  last  words  of  his  now.  Only  they 
are  not  the  last  by  any  means.  He  said  : 

'Don't  be  surprised  if  you  see  me  in  Corn- 
wall.' 

He  says  I  looked  at  him  so  blankly,  he  almost 
despaired  of  me. 

It  was  all  that  horrid  engine. 

He  thought  I  had  not  forgiven  him  about  Cecil. 
He  almost  made  up  his  mind  to  emigrate. 

But  the  very  next  day,  yesterday,  only  yester- 
day, and  it  seems  ages  ago  already,  he  came  down 
to  Cornwall. 

It  was  a  most  glorious  evening. 

I  shall  never — and  he  says  so  too — forget  the 
sunset. 

She  stopped,  put  down  her  pen,  and  ran  to  the 


THE  HERO  ALL  BUT  ENTERS       827 

window.  She  thrust  her  head  out,  and  the  sun 
caught  her  and  kissed  her. 

"  I  did  not  expect  you  so  early,"  she  called  out. 
"  I'm  coming.  I  won't  be  half  a  minute." 

A  low,  happy  laugh  came  up  out  of  the  garden. 


THE   END 


WILLIAM   BRENDON   AND  SON,  LTD. 
PRINTERS..    PLYMOUTH 


A  Catalogue  of  Books 

published  by 

Mills  &  Boon  Ltd. 

49  RUPERT  STREET,  LONDON.  W. 

(Close  to  Piccadilly  Circus  Tube  Station.) 

Telephone:  929  Regent.        Telegrams:  "Millsator,  Piccy,  London." 
Cablegrams:  "Millsator,  London." 

T^HIS  Catalogue  is  divided   into   two  sections :    the 
JL      first  (pages  i-n)  contains  the  most  recent  books 
and  announcements,  and  the  second  (pages  12-32) 
contains  the  books  previously  published,  and  Educa- 
tional books. 

Colonial  Editions  are  issued  of  all  Mills  &  Boon's 
Novels,  and  of  most  of  their  books  of  General  Literature. 
In  the  case  of  forthcoming  books  the  approximate  prices 
at  which  they  will  be  published  are  given.  These  may 
be  altered  before  publication. 


SPRING  ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

Eight  Years  in  Germany. 

By  I.  A.  R.  WYLIE,  Author  of  "My  German  Year." 
With  1 6  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     IDS.  6d.  net. 

"  Eight  Years  in  Germany  "  is  a  delightful  book  of 
impressions  by  the  author  of  "  My  German  Year,"  a 
book  which  on  its  appearance  four  years  ago  charmed 
every  one  with  its  brightness  and  vivacity  and  which 
has  been  one  of  the  most  successful  volumes  on  Germany 
yet  published.  The  fact  that  "  My  German  Year  "  was 
so  well  received,  and  has  been  so  popular,  has  induced 
the  author  to  write  an  entirely  new  book  on  German 
life,  which  it  is  hoped  will  form  some  contribution  to- 
wards a  better  understanding  between  us  and  our 
friendly  rivals. 


a  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

The  Philippines. 

By  the  HON.  DEAN  C.  WORCESTER,  Secretary  of  the 
Interior,  Philippine  Insular  Government,  1901-1913, 
Author  of  "  The  Philippine  Islands  and  Their  People," 
Two  vols.  With  128  full-page  Illustrations.  305.  net. 

This  new  book  may  be  justly  described  as  the  only 
really  valuable,  up-to-date,  and  authoritative  work 
on  the  Philippine  Islands. 

To  bring  home  the  truth  as  to  the  situation  in  the 
Philippines  is  the  primary  object  of  this  book,  which  will 
answer  more  questions  on  the  subject  than  any  other. 

There  is  no  greater  authority  on  these  insular  pos- 
sessions than  Mr.  Worcester,  who,  as  early  as  1887,  and 
again  in  1890,  was  a  prominent  member  of  scientific 
expeditions  to  the  Islands  ;  from  1899  to  1901  was  a 
member  of  the  U.S.  Philippine  Commission  ;  since  1901 
has  been  Secretary  of  the  Interior  to  the  Insular  Govern- 
ment, and  who  in  1899  published  "  The  Philippine 
Islands  and  Their  People,"  a  record  of  personal  observa- 
tion and  experience,  with  a  short  summary  of  the  more 
important  facts  in  the  history  of  the  Archipelago,  which 
has  ever  since  been  the  acknowledged  standard  work  of 
information  concerning  the  Islands. 

In  Mr.  Worcester's  valuable  new  work,  past  and  present 
conditions  are  minutely  reviewed  with  regard  for  strict 
accuracy  of  statement.  The  author's  position  giving 
him  free  access  to  all  the  Government  records,  much  of 
the  information  thus  made  available  has  never  before 
been  made  public.  With  practically  unlimited  material 
on  which  to  draw  in  the  way  of  illustrations,  very  fine 
and  rare  photographs  intimately  related  with  the  text 
emphasise  the  lessons  which  they  are  respectively  in- 
tended to  teach. 

The  result  is  a  work  of  the  greatest  importance  as  well 
as  of  the  greatest  interest  to  all  concerned  as  to  the 
future  possibilities  of  the  Philippines  and  as  to  the 
course  the  United  States  Government  should  pursue 
'n  the  interest  of  the  several  peoples  of  the  Islands. 


*•  Spring  Announcements  3 

In  Cheyne  Walk  and  Thereabout. 

By  REGINALD  BLUNT,  Author  of  "  Paradise  Row." 
With  22  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 

To  say  that  Cheyne  Walk  is  the  most  interesting, 
historic,  and  delightful  street  in  all  England  might  strike 
a  stranger  to  Chelsea  as  rather  an  extravagant  claim, 
yet  these  pages  go  far  to  support  it. 

Amongst  its  successive  denizens  were  Sir  Thomas 
More,  Henry  VIII.,  Princess  Elizabeth,  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
Katherine  Parr,  Burleigh,  Paulet,  Howard  of  Effingham, 
the  first  and  second  Dukes  of  Buckingham,  Whitelocke 
and  Lisle,  Steele,  Swift,  Attenbury,  Sloane,  Zinzendorf, 
Turner,  Maclise,  the  Brunels,  Mrs.  Gaskell,  Rossetti, 
Holman  Hunt,  Whistler  ;  whilst  the  fine  old  Physic 
Garden,  the  famous  Chelsea  China  Factory,  and  the 
homes  of  Addison,  Smollett,  Leigh  Hunt,  and  Thomas 
Carlyle  were  all  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  Walk. 

The  greater  lights  in  this  remarkable  constellation 
have  of  course  had  chroniclers  enough,  and  Mr.  Blunt 
has  drawn  attention  in  these  pages  to  some  of  the  less- 
known  places  and  people  of  Cheyne  Walk  and  its  im- 
mediate neighbourhood.  He  tells  the  histories  of 
Don  Saltero's  Tavern  and  Dominiceti's  Baths,  of  the 
Physic  Garden  and  three  interesting  people  associated 
with  it,  and  of  the  China  Factory ;  of  the  two  Neilds, 
James  the  prison  philanthropist  and  John  Camden  his 
very  eccentric  son  ;  of  that  incorrigible  virtuoso  Mr. 
Jennings  of  Lindsey  Row, of  Mary  Astell.the  seventeenth- 
century  pioneer  of  women's  rights,  of  Sir  Hans  Sloane 
and  his  honest  steward,  and  of  Mrs.  Carlyle 's  delightful 
correspondence  with  her  housemaid — stories  each  and 
all  of  them  full  of  individual  interest,  but  gaining  an 
added  attraction  from  their  common  association  with 
one  riverside  village  Walk.  The  book  is  illustrated 
from  scarce  old  photographs  and  prints. 


4  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

Margherita  of  Savoy. 

By  SIGNORA  ZAMPINI  SALAZAR.  With  a  Preface 
by  RICHARD  BAGOT.  Illustrated.  Demy  8vo.  105.  6d. 
net. 

In  the  present  volu  me  the  part  played  by  Margherita 
di  Savoia  in  encouraging  every  legitimate  and  practical 
effort  to  enlarge  the  sphere  of  feminine  action  in  her 
country,  and  to  employ  feminine  influence  as  an  intel- 
lectual and  civilising  influence  instead  of  confining  it 
entirely  within  the  walls  of  palaces  and  cottages,  is 
largely  dwelt  upon.  The  attitude  of  Queen  Margherita 
towards  all  questions  relating  to  what  may  be  termed 
the  traditional  disabilities  of  woman  as  a  factor  in  the 
national  life  and  national  progress  is  described  by 
Signora  Zampini  Salazar  both  accurately  and  faithfully. 
The  Signora  Salazar  is  the  writer  of  a  large  number  of 
works  dealing  with  almost  every  question  connected 
with  the  amazing  progress  made  by  her  country  in  the 
comparatively  short  period  since  it  emancipated  itself 
from  foreign  dominion  and  from  the  political  and  social 
intrigues  of  a  great  internal  power  having  the  spiritual 
influences  of  the  centuries  behind  it,  which,  for  many 
years,  was  the  bitter  opponent  to  that  "emancipation  : 
while  on  numerous  occasions  she  has  lectured  on  such 
subjects  both  in  England  and  in  the  United  States. 


Forty  Years  in  Brazil. 


By  FRANK  BENNETT.     With  24  Illustrations.     Demy 
8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 

"  Forty  Years  in  Brazil  "  is  a  simple  and  interesting 
narrative  of  an  Englishman's  life  in  a  country  which, 
when  the  author  arrived  in  it,  was  practically  unknown 
and  uninhabited  by  Englishmen.  During  the  forty 
years  spent  in  this  delightful  country,  Mr.  Frank  Bennett 
kept  a  record  of  his  doings  and  adventures  which  will 
be  read  with  the  greatest  interest  by  every  one  who 
admires  the  adventurous  spirit. 


Spring  Announcements  5 

The  Hero  of  Brittany:    Armand  de 
Chateaubriand.     Correspondent  of  the  Princes 

between  France  and  England,  1768 — 1809. 

By  E.  HERPIN.  Translated  by  MRS.  COLQUHOUN 
GRANT.  With  8  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo.  los.  6d.  net. 

The  subject  of  this  memoir  was  the  cousin  of  the 
famous  French  author  Ren6  de  Chateaubriand,  and  it 
presents  a  very  pathetic  and  faithful  picture  of  Brittany 
during  and  after  the  great  Revolution.  The  opening 
pages  of  the  book  describe  St.  Malo  in  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century  and  give  an  account  of  the  corsair 
shipowners  who  traded  from  there,  most  of  them  men  of 
noble  families.  From  this  stock  the  Chateaubriands 
descended.  He  was  educated  at  the  College  at  Dinan, 
and  was  a  fine  sportsman  and  served  with  Conde's  Army, 
but  elected  the  sea  for  his  career. 

A  strong  royalist  from  family  tradition,  as  well  as 
from  inclination,  his  whole  life  when  he  came  to  man- 
hood was  devoted  to  the  father  Monarchy.  He  spent 
his  days  crossing  and  recrossing  the  Channel,  often  in 
great  peril,  for  the  purpose  of  embarking  the  escaping 
emigrants  and  bringing  back  such  men  as  were  assist- 
ing the  return  of  the  Bourbon  princes.  The  description 
of  these  voyages,  the  dangers  by  land  and  sea,  are 
graphically  described.  Religion  played  a  great  part 
in  the  movement  in  these  anti-clerical  days,  and  the 
account  of  the  celebrated  "  Messe  en  Mer  "  is  here  told. 

Roman  Memories  in  the  Landscape  seen 
from  Capri. 

Narrated  by  THOMAS  SPENCER  JEROME.  Illus- 
trated by  MORGAN  HEISKELL.  Demy  8vo.  ;s.  6d. 
net. 

To  make  the  great  historical  suggestiveness  which  the 
country  around  and  near  the  Bay  of  Naples  possesses  for 
the  cultivated  observer  assume  a  more  distinct  form  in 
the  consciousness  of  visitors  to  these  shores,  is  the  pur- 
pose of  this  book.  It  begins  with  the  old  myths  and  con- 
tinues down  through  the  surprisingly  large  number  of 


6  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

Roman  events  associated  with  this  district  to  the  end 
of  classical  times  (476  A.D.),  keeping  the  local  episodes 
in  their  due  relation  to  the  general  current  of  ancient 
history  by  giving  an  outline  thereof,  which  makes  it  of 
value  as  a  general  sketch  of  Roman  affairs. 

The  narrative  is  not  in  the  form  of  a  text -book,  though 
it  contains  all  the  details  needed  by  a  reader  not  especially 
familiar  with  Roman  history.  It  includes  a  statement  of 
the  early  myths  and  the  later  historic  fictions  which 
modern  critical  scholarship  has  justly  discredited. 

Rambles  in  Rome. 

By  G.  E.  TROUTBECK,  Author  of  "  Rambles  in  Flor- 
ence." With  8  Illustrations  in  Colour  by  ROSE  Mc- 
ANDREW  and  33  from  Photographs.  Crown  8vo.  6s. 

Mental  Nursing 

By  E.  S.  LE  PELLEY,  of  Camberwell  House,  London. 
Crown  8vo.  2s.  6d.  net. 

Letters  to  Children  about  Drawing, 
Painting,  and  Something  More. 

By  JOHN  MEADE.     Crown  8vo.     zs.  6d.  net. 
A  charming  book  which  will  fulfil  a  long-felt  want. 

How  to  Treat  by  Suggestion :  with  and 
without  Hypnosis 

By  EDWIN  L.  ASH,  M.D.  Lond.     Crown  8vo.     is.  net. 
A    Note-book    for    Practitioners,    giving    tabulated 
directions  of  over  ten   practical  methods  of  Psycho- 
therapeutics.     Includes  full  account  of  the  combined 
Psycho-electrical  Method. 

The  Pocket  Asquith. 

By  E.  E.  MORTON.  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth,  zs.  net;  Paper, 
is.  net. 

An  anthology  from  the  works  and  speeches  of  the 
Prime  Minister. 

(Uniform  with   "  The  Pocket  Gladstone  "  and   "  The 
Pocket  Disraeli.") 


Educational  Books  7 

EDUCATIONAL    BOOKS. 

Applied  Mechanics  and  Heat  Engines. 

First  Year's  Course. 

By  ALFRED  COULSON,  B.A.  (Lond.),  M.Sc.  (Leeds 
and  Viet.).  Crown  8vo.  is.  6d.  [Union  Series. 

First  School  Botany. 

By  E.  M.  GODDARD,  B.Sc.,  Science  Mistress,  Girls' 
Secondary  School,  Colchester.  With  207  Diagrams. 
Crown  8vo.  2s.  [Union  Series. 

Examples  and  Test  Papers  in  Algebra. 

By  W.  J.  WALKER,  M.A.,  Senior  Mathematical  Master, 
County  School,  Wrexham,  late  Scholar  of  Balliol  College, 
Oxford.  In  2  Parts.  Crown  8vo.  With  answers,  is.  6d. 
each.  Without  answers,  is.  3^.  each.  [Union  Series. 

Bug  Jargal. 

By  VICTOR  HUGO.  Edited  by  R.  R.  N.  BARON,  M.A., 
French  Master,  Cheltenham  Grammar  School.  Crown  8vo. 
2s.  [Direct  Method  French  Texts. 

A  Reform  First  German  Book. 

By  J.  S.  WALTERS,  PH.D.,  Modern  Language  Master 
at  Wilson's  Grammar  School,  Camberwell.  With  5 
Pictures  in  Colour  and  i  in  Monotone.  Crown  8vo.  35.  net. 

Poetry  for  Boys. 

By  S.  MAXWELL,  M.A.,  LL.B.,  Headmaster  of  Manor 
House  School,  Clapham  Common.     Crown  8vo.     is.  6d. 
A  new  collection  of  poems  for  boys'  schools. 

Francis  Chantrey :   Donkey  Boy  and  Sculptor. 

By  HAROLD  ARMITAGE,  Author  of  "  Sorrelsykes." 
Illustrated.     Crown  8vo.     is. 
A  reader  for  upper  standards. 

Introductory  Practical  Mathematics  for 
Elementary  Schools. 

By  W.  E.  HARRISON,  A.R.C.S.,  Principal  of  the 
Technical  School,  Handsworth,  Birmingham.  Crown  8vo. 
6d.  net.  [Union  Series. 

Notes  on  St.   Matthew's  Gospel. 

By  the  REV.  C.  R.  GILBERT,  M.A.,  Rector  of  Seagrave, 
formerly  Headmaster  of  King  Henry  VIII.  School,  Coven- 
try. Crown  8vo.  6d.  net.  [Union  Series. 


8  Mills  A  Boon's  Catalogue 

MILLS  &  BOON'S 
SPRING  AND  EARLY     v 
SUMMER  FICTION. 

Crown  8vo.     6s.  each. 

The  Valley  of  the  Moon.  [Fourth  Edition. 

By  JACK  LONDON,  Author  of  "  Smoke  Bellew,"  "  A 
Son  of  the  Sun,"  etc. 

Times. — "  Delightfully  absorbing." 
Taller. — "  A  book  to  read  many,  many  times." 
Observer. — "  One  of  the  finest  novels  in  its  own  way." 
Punch. — "  London  at  his  delightful  best." 

A  Novel  of  great  distinction. 

Sarah    Eden.  [Third  Edition. 

By  E.  S.  STEVENS,  Author  of  "  The  Veil,"  "  The  Moun- 
tain of  God,"  "  The  Lure,"  etc.,  etc. 

"  Sarah  Eden  "  is  a  study  of  a  not  entirely  normal 
temperament,  but  a  temperament  which  frequently 
leaves  a  mark  on  the  thought  of  its  contemporaries. 
Many  such  characters  as  Sarah  Eden  have  been  described 
either  as  saints,  lunatics,  or  fanatics,  and  are  seldom 
presented  as  human  beings.  The  book  is  full  of  the 
drama  of  conflict  and  the  colour  of  the  East. 

The  Temple  of  Dawn. 

By  I.  A.  R.  WYLIE,  Author  of  "  The  Red  Mirage." 

Gay  Morning. 

By  J.  E.  BUCKROSE,  Author  of  "  Down  Our  Street." 

Cophetua'ft    Son.  [Second  Edition. 

By  JOAN  SUTHERLAND,   Author  of  "The  Hidden 
Road." 

Mallory's  Tryst. 

By    MRS.    PHILIP    CHAMPION    DE    CRESPIGNY. 
Author  of  "  The  Five  of  Spades." 


Spring  and  Early  Summer  Fiction  9 

Little  Faithful 

By  BEULAH  MARIE  DIX. 

The    Relations.  [New  Edition. 

By   MRS.    BAILLIE    REYNOLDS,    Author    of    "The 
Silence  Broken." 

His  Great  Adventure. 

By  ROBERT  HERRICK,  Author  of  "One  Woman's 
Life." 

One  Man  Returns. 

By  HAROLD  SPENDER,  Author  of  "  The  Call  of  the 
Siren." 

The  Music  Makers. 

By  LOUISE  MACK,  Author  of  "  Attraction." 

Grizel  Married. 

By  MRS.  G.  DE  HORNE   VAIZEY,  Author  of  "An 
Unknown  Lover." 

The  Pride  of  the  Fancy. 

By  GEORGE  EDGAR,  Author  of  "  The  Blue  Bird's  Eye." 

Burnt  Flax. 

By  MRS.  H.  H.  PENROSE,  Author  of  "  The  Brat." 

Lady  Sylvia's  Impostor. 

By  THOMAS   COBB,   Author  of  "  A   Marriage  of  In- 
convenience." 

The   Web   of   Life.  [New  Edition. 

By  ROBERT  HERRICK. 

The  Lonely  Plough 

By  CONSTANCE  HOLME,  Author  of  "Crump  Folk 
going  Home." 

Entertaining  Jane 

By    MILLICENT    HEATHCOTE,    Author    of    "Eve, 
Spinster." 

* 


io  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

Breadandbutterflies. 

By  DION  CLAYTON  CALTHROP,  Author  of  "  Every- 
body's  Secret." 

Her  Last  Appearance. 

By  A.  NUGENT  ROBERTSON. 

Playground 

By  the  Author  of  "  Mastering  Flame." 

The  Tracy  Tubbses.     35.  6d. 

By  JESSIE  POPE,  the  well-known  Punch  writer. 

John  Ward,  M.D. 

By  ARTHUR  HOOLEY. 

The  Progress  of  Prudence. 

By  W.  F.  HEWER. 

The  Magic  Tale  of  Harvanger  and  Yolande. 

By  G.  P.  BAKER. 

The  Plunderer. 

By  ROY  NORTON,  Author  of  "  The  Garden  of  Fate." 

Kicks  and  Ha'pence. 

By  HENRY  STAGE,  Author  of  "  The  Adventures  of 
Count  O'Connor." 

Shop  Girls  :  A  Novel  with  a  Purpose. 

By  ARTHUR  APPLIN.  Author  of  "  The  Woman  Who,' 
"  The  Girl  who  Saved  His  Honour." 

Happy  Ever  After. 

By  R.  ALLATINI. 

An  Absent  Hero. 

By  MRS.  FRED  REYNOLDS,  Author  of  "  A  Quaker 
Wooing." 


Shilling  Cloth  Library  n 

MILLS  &  BOON'S 
SHILLING   CLOTH   LIBRARY. 

With  most  attractive  Wrappers. 
Is.  net  each  volume  (postage  3d.) 

Mills  &  Boon  have  started  publishing  a  new  series  of  cloth 
books  entirely  re-set  in  new  type  and  printed  on  the  best  paper.  The 
volumes  include  Novels  and  General  Literature  by  the  finest  writers  of 
the  day.  In  a  number  of  cases  the  books  will  be  published  for  the  first 
time,  two  of  these  being  by  the  American  "Kipling" — Jack  London — 
and  published  exclusively  in  this  library,  never  having  before  been  issued 
in  Great  Britain  and  the  Colonies.  The  first  volumes  will  be  : 

South  Sea  Tales.  By  JACK  LONDON. 

When  God  Laughs.  By  JACK  LONDON. 

Love  in  a  Little  Town.  By  j.  E.  BUCKROSE. 

The  Room  in  the  Tower.  By  E.  F.  BENSON. 

The  Road.      (Entirely  New.)  By  JACK  LONDON. 

The  House  of  Pride.     (Entirely  New.) 

By  JACK  LONDON. 

A  Son  of  the  Sun.  By  JACK  LONDON. 

Down  OUr  Street,      ("The  Yorkshire  Classic.") 

By  J.  E.  BUCKROSE. 

Twenty-Four  Years  of  Cricket    By  A.  A.  LILLEY. 
The  Hidden  Road.  By  JOAN  SUTHERLAND. 

Sporting  Stories.  By  THORMANBY. 

Daily  Express. — "The  best  collection  of  anecdotes  of  this  generation." 

Smoke  Bellew.  By  JACK  LONDON. 

Because  of  Jane.  By  j.  E.  BUCKROSE. 

Guinea  Gold.  By  BEATRICE  GRIMSHAW. 

The  Man  from  Nowhere.        By  VICTOR  BRIDGES. 
The  Red  Mirage.  By  I.  A.  R.  WYLIE. 

The  Valiants  of  Virginia. 

By  HALLIE  ERMINIE  RIVES. 

New  volumes  will  follow  at  regular  intervals.  Mills  &  Boon  believe 
many  of  these  books  will  be  eagerly  bought,  and  they  are  confident 
that  the  great  British  reading  public  will  with  alacrity  purchase  J.  E. 
Buckrose's  Masterpieces,  now  issued  in  cheap  form  for  the  first  time. 
Mills  &  Boon  publish  exclusively  for  Jack  London,  whose  books  need 
no  praise  or  advertising,  for  they  sell  in  thousands  wherever  the 
English  language  is  spoken. 


12  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

BOOKS    PREVIOUSLY    PUBLISHED 

GENERAL    LITERATURE 

These  Books  are  arranged  la  order  of  price. 

England  v.  Australia.    By  p.  F.  WARNER,    with  51 

Illustrations,  Autograph  Edition,  limited  to  50  copies,  on 
hand-made  paper.  Crown  4to.  2i5.net.  Popular  Edition, 
demy  8vo,  75.  6d.  net. 

Sporting  Life. — "  The  book  is  one  that  every  cricketer  should 
possess." 

The  English  Court  in  Exile  :  James  II.  at 
St.  Germain.  By  MARION  and  EDWIN  SHARPE 

GREW.     With  1 6  Illustrations.     155.  net. 
Spectator. — "  Should  certainly  be  read  by  all  students  of  the 
revolution;  an  exceedingly  interesting  and  readable  book." 

The  Court  of  William  III.  By  EDWIN  and  MARION 

SHARPE  GREW.  With  16  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo. 
155.  net. 

Morning  Post. — "  Done  with  fairness  and  thoroughness.  .  .  . 
The  book  has  many  conspicuous  merits." 

From  Halifax  to  Vancouver.     By  B.  PULLEN- 

BURRY.    With  40  Illustrations.    Demy  8vo.    125.  6d.  net, 
Daily    Chronicle. — "  Well   written,    well   arranged,    full   and 
complete." 

The  Cruise  of   the  Snark.   By  JACK  LONDON. 

With  119  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 
Scotsman. — "  Makes  a  fresh  and  strong  appeal  to  all  those  who 
love  high  adventure  and  good  literature." 
Daily  Telegraph. — "  Capital  reading." 

What  I  Know.  Reminiscences  of  Five  Years' 
Personal  Attendance  upon  his  late  Majesty 
King  Edward  VII.  By  c.  w.  STAMPER.  With  a 

Portrait  in  Colour,  never  before  published,  by  OLIVE 
SNELL.  Third  Edition.  Demy  8vo.  los.  6d.  net. 

The  Times. — "  What  would  the  historian  not  give  for  such  a 
book  about  Queen  Elizabeth  or  Louis  Quatorze  ?  .  .  .  adds  some- 
thing to  history." 

Daily  Telegraph. — "  Whoever  reads  this  book  will  feel  himself 
brought  into  contact  with  a  warm  and  generous  nature,  of  which 
the  radiation  still  lives." 


General  Literature  13 

Two  Years  with  the  Natives  in  the 
Western  Pacific.    By  DR.  FELIX  SPEISER.    with  40 

Illustrations.    Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 

Illustrated  Sporting  and  Dramatic  News. — "  A  really  valuable 
book  of  travel." 

Daily  Mail. — "  Delightful,  fresh,  and  vivid." 

The  Story  of  the  British  Navy.    By  E.  KEBLE 

CHATTERTON.      With  a  Frontispiece  in  Colour  and  50 
Illustrations  from  Photographs.     Demy  8vo.     IDS.  6d.  net. 
Naval  and  Military  Record. — "  Contains  practically  every- 
thing which  the  average  individual  wishes  to  know." 

Royal   Love-Letters :    A   Batch    of    Human 

Documents.  Collected  and  Edited  by  E.  KEBLE 
CHATTERTON,  With  12  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo. 
IDS.  6d.  net. 

The  Wonderful  Weald  and  the  Quest  of  the 
Crock  of  Gold.    By  ARTHUR  BECKETT,  Author 

of  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Downs."     With  20  Illustrations  in 

Colour  and  43  Initials  by  ERNEST  MARILLIER.     Demy 

8vo.    los.  6d.  net.    Popular  Edition,  Large  Crown  8vo,  6s. 

Daily  Telegraph. — "  A  charmingly  discursive,  gossipy  volume." 

Forty  Years  of  a  Sportsman's  Life.     By  SIR 

CLAUDE  CHAMPION  DE  CRESPIGNY,  Bart.     With  18 
Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net.     Popular  Edition, 
Large  Crown  8vo,  6s. 
Sporting  Life. — "  More  enthralling  than  the  most  romantic  novel.' ' 

Sixty-Eight  Years  on  the  Stage.  By  Mrs.  CHARLES 

CALVERT.      With  a  Photogravure  and   17   Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net.     Popular  Edition,  Large  Crown 
8vo,  6s. 
Morning  Post. — "  Agreeable  and  amusing." 

Forty  Years  of  Song.    By  EMMA  ALBANI.    with  a 

Frontispiece  in  Photogravure  and  16  Illustrations.  Demy 
8vo.  i  os.  6d.  net. 

Westminster  Gazette. — "  A  very  readable  account  of  a  very 
remarkable  career." 

My  Cosmopolitan  Year.  By  the  Author  of  "Mastering 
Flame"  and  "  Ashes  of  Incense."  With  24  Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.  zos.  6d.  net. 

Times. — "  Here  we  have  the  fresh  and  breezy  comments  of 
one  who  has  '  seen  the  cities  and  known  the  minds  of  many  men.' " 
Athenaum. — "  Brightly  written,  admirably  illustrated,  should 
become  a  favourite  with  observant  travellers." 


14  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

My  Parisian  Year.    By  MAUDE  ANNESLEY.    with 

1 6     Illustrations    from    photographs    and     i    in    colour. 
Demy   8vo.      Second   Edition.     IDS.  6d.  net. 
Pall  Mall  Gazette. — "  The  '  joie  de  vivre  '  radiates  from  its 
pages  .  .  .  never  dull  or  commonplace." 

My  Italian  Year.    By  RICHARD  BAGOT.    with  25 

Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     Second  Edition.     los.  6d.  net. 
Observer. — "  '  My    Italian  Year  '    will    tell  the   reader    more 
about  the  real  present-day  go-ahead  Italy  than  any  other  book 
that  has  come  to  our  notice." 

My  Sudan  Year.    By  E.  s.  STEVENS,  Author  of  "The 

Veil,"  "The  Lure,"  etc.  With  40  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo. 
105.  6d.  net. 

Standard. — "  Gives    many    delightful    little    pictures    of    the 
people,  their  manners  and  customs,  and  much  that  is  attractive." 

My  German  Year.    By  I.  A.  R.  WYLIE,  Author  of 

"  The  Rajah's  People."  With  2  Illustrations  in  Colour  and 
1 8  from  Photographs.  Demy  8vo.  Second  Edition- 
i  os.  6d.  net. 

Evening  Standard. — "  Should  be  read  by  every  household." 
Westminster  Gazette. — "  A  wise,  well-informed,  and  very  read- 
able book." 

My  Russian  Year.    By  ROTHAY  REYNOLDS,    with 

28  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo.  Second  Edition.  105.  6d.  net. 
Times. — "  Full  of  anecdote,  sometimes  indeed  of  gossip, 
but  it  is  first-hand  anecdote  and  the  characteristic  gossip  which 
comes  to  the  ears  of  a  man  who  has  lived  in  the  country  and 
understood  its  people.  .  .  .  Mr.  Reynolds  has  succeeded  in 
drawing  a  truthful  and  impartial  picture  of  the  ordinary  Russian." 

My  Irish  Year.    By  PADRAIC  COLUM.   withiaFuiL- 

page  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     105.  6d.  net, 

Turkey  and  the  Turks.  By  z.  D.  FERRIMAN,  Author 

of  "  Home  Life  in  Hellas."  With  16  Illustrations.  Demy 
8vo.  IDS.  6d.  net. 

The  Life  and  Times  of  Arabella  Stuart.    By 

M.  LEFUSE.    With  12  Illustrations.   DemySvo.    105.  6rf. 
net. 

Globe. — "  An  extraordinarily  interesting  book." 
Pall  Mall  Gazette. — "  A   vivid   picture   of  a  remarkable  and 
unhappy  woman  and  of  the  times  in  which  she  lived,  loved,  and 
suffered." 


General  Literature  15 

The  Man  Who  Saved  Austria  :  The  Life  and 
Times  of  Baron  Jellacic.     By  M.  HARTLEY, 

Author  of  "A  Sereshan."  With  18  Illustrations  and  a 
Map.  Demy  8vo.  IDS.  6d.  net. 

Bookman. — "  A    capital    account  of    the  life  and   times  of 
Jellacic.     Exceedingly  readable." 

A  Mystic  on  the  Prussian  Throne  :  Frederick- 
William    II.     By  GILBERT  STANHOPE.      With  12 
Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     IDS.  6d.  net. 
Morning  Post. — "  We  congratulate  Mr.  Stanhope  on  a  very 

genuine  piece  of  work." 

From  a  Punjaub  Pomegranate  Grove.   By  c.  a 

DYSON.     With    14    Illustrations.     Demy   8vo.    IDS.  6d. 
net. 

Evening  Standard. — "  So  pleasant    and    picturesque    is   Miss 
Dyson's  style  that  we  would  gladly  welcome  a  second  volume." 
World. — "  A   very   cheerful   and   fresh   series   of   pictures   of 
Indian  life." 

The  Parson's  Pleasance.   By  p.  H.  DITCHFIELD, 

M.A.,  F.S.A.,  F.R.S.L.,  F.R.Hist.S.,  Author  of  "  The  Old- 
time  Parson,"  etc.  With  27  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo. 
i  os.  6d.  net. 

Daily  Telegraph. — "  All  lovers  of  the  leisurely  essay  will  here 
find  a  book  after  their  own  hearts." 

Memories  and  Adventures.  By  MADAME  HERITTE- 

VIARDOT.     With  20  Illustrations.    Demy  8vo.     xos.  6d. 

net. 

Daily    Telegraph. — "  Full   of   the    deepest   interest    for   both 
laymen  and  musicians." 

Sheffield  Daily  Telegraph. — "  A  mine  of  amusing  anecdote." 

Wagner   at    Home.      Fully  translated  from  the  French 
of  Judith  Gautier  by  EFFIE  DUNREITH  MASSIE.    With 
9  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     105.  6d.  net. 
Taller. — "  The  whole  book  is  very  interesting  indeed." 

Yvette    Guilbert :    Struggles    and   Victories. 

By  YVETTE  GUILBERT  and  HAROLD  SIMPSON.    Pro- 
fusely illustrated  with  Caricatures,  Portraits,  Facsimiles  of 
Letters,  etc.     Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 
Daily  Telegraph. — "  The  volume  is  a  real  delight  all  through." 


1 6  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

A  Century  of  Great  Actors  (1750—1850). 

By  CECIL  FERARD  ARMSTRONG,  Author  of  "The 
Dramatic  Author's  Companion,"  etc.  With  16  Illustra- 
tions. Demy  8vo.  105.  6d.  net. 

Standard. — "  An    interesting    series    of    pithy    biographies — 
concise  and  entertaining." 

A  Century  of  Famous  Actresses  (1750-1850). 

By  HAROLD   SIMPSON,  Author  of  "Yvette  Guilbert." 

"A    Century    of    Ballads,"    etc.,    and    MRS.    CHARLES 

BRAUN.    With  18  Illustrations.    Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 

Illustrated  London  News, — "  We  have  seen  no  book  of  bygone 

actors  giving  a  better  idea  of  their  acting." 

A  Century  of  Ballads  (1810—1910),  Their 
Composers  and  Singers.  By  HAROLD  SIMPSON. 

With  49  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo,  los.  6d.  net.  Popular 
Edition,  Large  Crown  8vo,  6s. 

A  Motor  Tour    in    Belgium   and   Germany. 

By  TOM  R.  XENIER.    With  40  Illustrations  from  Photo- 
graphs, and  a  Map.     Demy  8vo.     los.  6d.  net. 
Daily  Chronicle. — "  Mr.  Xenier  is  what  one  might  call  a  per- 
sonal traveller,  a  man  who  has  the  gift  of  observation,  the  eye 
for  a  humorous  situation  and  the  knack  of  putting  what  he 
has  to  say  into  readable  words." 

Home  Life  in  Hellas  :  Greece  and  the  Greeks. 

By  Z.  DUCKETT  FERRIMAN.  With  19  Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.  8s.  net. 

Involution.  By  LORD  ERNEST  HAMILTON.  Demy  8v0. 

75.  6d.  net. 

Daily    Graphic. — "  Extremely    interesting,    an    honest    and 
lofty  endeavour  to  seek  the  truth." 

Twenty-four  Years  of  Cricket.    By  ARTHUR  A. 

LILLEY.  With  a  Portrait  in  Photogravure  and  32  Illus- 
trations. Demy  8vo.  7s.6ii.net.  PopularEdition.is.net. 

Tramps   through    Tyrol.    By  F.  w.  STODDARD 

("Dolomite").  With  20  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo.  Second 
Edition.  75.  6d.  net. 

The  Beaufort  Hunting  Diary.    By  H.  STUART 

MENZIES.  With  an  Introduction  by  the  DUKE  OF 
BEAUFORT.  Size  13^x8^.  Cloth,  75.  6d.  net;  half 
morocco,  los.  6d.  net. 

Morning  Post. — "  The  thanks  of  many  a  hunting  man  will 
have  been  earned  by  Mr.  Stuart  Menzies." 


General  Literature  17 

British  Mountain  Climbs.    By  GEORGE  D.  ABRA- 
HAM, Author  of  "The  Complete  Mountaineer."     With  iS 
Illustrations    and     21     Outline     Drawings.      Pocket    size. 
Leather,  js.  6d.  net ;  Cloth,  55.  net. 
Sportsman. — "  Eminently  a  practical  manual." 

Swiss  Mountain  Climbs.  By  GEORGE  D.ABRAHAM. 

With    24    Illustrations    and    22    Outline  Drawings  of  the 
principal  peaks   and  their  routes.     Pocket  size.     Leather, 
75.  6d.  net ;  Cloth,  55.  net. 
Country  Life. — "  As  essential  as  good  climbing  boots." 

A  Queen's  Knight :  The  Life  of  Count  Axe! 
de  Fersen.    By  MILDRED  CARNEGY,  Author   of 

"Kings   and  Queens  of   France."     With    12   Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.     ?s.  6d.  net. 

Liverpool  Courier. — "  Far  greater  than  that  of  the  ordinary 
novel  is  the  interest  in  the  story  of  his  life  as  told  in  this  book." 

St.  Clare  and  her  Order  :  A  Story  of  Seven 
Centuries.  By  THE  AUTHOR  OF  «•  THE  ENCLOSED 

NUN."     With  20  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     75.  6d.  net. 
Catholic  Times. — "  Fills  a  gap  in  our  religious  literature," 

Home  Life  in  Ireland.    By  ROBERT  LYND.  with 

1 8  Illustrations.     Third  and  Popular  Edition,  with  a  New 
Preface.     Crown  8vo.     6s. 

Spectator. — "  An  entertaining  and  informing  book,  the  work 
of  a  close  and  interested  observer." 

The  Town  of  Morality :  or,  The  Narrative  of 
One  who  Lived  Here  for  a  Time.    By  c.  H.  R. 

Second  Edition.     Crown  8vo.     65. 

Daily  Graphic. — "  In  short  C.  H.  R.  has  written  a  new  '  Pil- 
grim's Progress,'  a  passionate,  a  profound  and  stirring  satire 
on  the  self-satisfied  morality  of  Church  and  of  Chapel." 

Shakespeare  to  Shaw.    By  CECIL  FERARD  ARM- 
STRONG, Author  of  "  The  Dramatic  Author's  Companion." 
Crown  8vo.   •  6s. 
Athenceum. — "The   method    adopted   by   the   author   is   the 

separate    examination   of    every   play    of    his    subjects,   with 

criticism  of  the  qualities  of  each." 

Unposted  Letters.     Crown  8vo.    6s. 

Daily  Express. — "  Full  of  tender  memories.  There  is  some- 
thing about  them  peculiarly  touching  and  very  human." 


i8  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

The    Romance  of   the  Oxford  Colleges.     By 

FRANCIS  GRIBBLE.     With  a  Photogravure  and  16  Full- 
page     Illustrations.     Second     Edition.     Crown     8vo.     6s. 
Popular  Edition,  with  12  Illustrations,  2s.  6d.  net. 
Westminster  Gazette. — "  Does  not  contain  a  dull  page." 

The  Romance  of  the    Cambridge   Colleges. 

By  FRANCIS  GRIBBLE.     With  16  Illustrations.     Crown 

8vo.     65. 

Times. — "  May  be  cordially  recommended." 
Truth. — "  The  history  of  the  colleges  in  a  bright  and  readable 
form  with  an  abundance  of  anecdotes." 
Aberdeen  Free  Press. — "  Not  a  dull  page." 

The   Romance   of   the    Men   of   Devon.     By 

FRANCIS  GRIBBLE,  Author  of  "The  Romance  of  the 
Oxford  Colleges,"  etc.  With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece 
and  16  Illustrations.  Crown  8vo.  6s. 

Out  of  the  Ivory  Palaces.  By  p.  H.  DITCHFIELD, 

M.A.,    F.S.A.,    F.R.S.L.,    F.R.Hist.S.,    Author    of    "  The 
Parson's  Pleasance."    With  1 2  Illustrations.    Crown  8vo.    6s. 
Globe. — "  The  author  gives  much  curious  and  out-of-the-way 
information  in  these  very  readable  pages." 

The  Bolster  Book.      A  Book  for  the  Bedside. 

By  HARRY  GRAHAM,  Author  of  "  Deportmental  Ditties." 
With    an    illustrated    cover    by    LEWIS    BAUMER.     Third 
Edition.     Crown  8vo.     6s. 
Daily  Graphic. — "  Most  refreshingly  and  delightfully  funny." 

The  Petticoat  Commando :  or,  Boer  Women 
in  Secret  Service.  By  JOHANNA  BRANDT,  with 

13  Illustrations  and  a  Map.  Second  Edition.  Crown  8vo. 
6s. 

Letters  of  a  Modern  Golfer  to  his  Grandfather. 

Arranged  by  HENRY  LEACH.     Crown  8vo.     6s. 
Outlook. — "  A  book  in  which  the  human  interest  is  as  marked 
as  the  practical  instruction." 

The  Zoo  Conversation  Book  (Hughie's  First 

Visit).     By   EDMUND   SELOUS,    Author   of    "Tommy 
Smith's  Animals."     With  12  Full-page  Illustrations  by  J.  A. 
SHEPHERD      Crown  8vo.     55.  net.     School  Edition,   is. 
The  animals  dealt  with  are :    the  beaver,  lion,  tiger,  Indian 
elephant,  African  rhinoceros,  hippopotamus,  giraffe,  grizzly  bear, 
polar  bear,  bison,  crocodile  and  alligator,  python,  cobra,  kan- 
garoo, ostrich. 


General  Literature  ig 

The  Zoo  Conversation  Book  (Hughie's  Second 

Visit).  By  EDMUND  SELOUS,  Author  of  "Tommy 
Smith's  Animals."  With  12  Full-page  Illustrations  by  J.  A. 
SHEPHERD.  Crown  8vo.  55.  net. 

The  animals  dealt  with  are  :  the  wapiti,  sloth  bear,  hyaena, 
puma,  jaguar,  wolf,  pinniped,  baby  sea-elephant,  emu,  wild  boar, 
springbuck,  hunting  dog,  wolverine. 

Westminster  Gazette. — "  Hughie's  second  visit  is  even  more 
crowded  with  fun  and  good  entertainment  than  was  the  first." 

The  Motorist's  Pocket  Tip  Book.  By  GEOFFREY 

OSBORN.  With  13  Full-page  Illustrations.  Fcap.  8vo. 
Leather.  55.  net. 

Scottish  Field. — "  Contains  in  the  clearest,  most  condensed, 
and  most  practical  form  just  the  information  one  wants." 

The  Golfer  s  Pocket  Tip  Book.    By  G.  D  FOX, 

part-Author  of  "The  Six  Handicap  Golfer's  Companion." 
Fully    Illustrated.      Pott   8vo.      Leather.      55.  net. 
Harry  Vardon  says: — "  It  is  a  very  handy  little  book." 

Stories    from    Italian    History    Re-told    for 
Children.    By  G.  E.  TROUTBECK,  Author  of  "  The 

Children's  Story  of  Westminster  Abbey."     With  22  Illus- 
trations from  Photographs.     Crown  8vo.     55.  net. 
Taller. — "  These  stories  are  so  vivid  and  so  interesting  that 
they  should  be  in  every  schoolroom." 

The  Children's  Story  of  Westminster  Abbey. 

By  G.  E.  TROUTBECK,  Author  of  "  Westminster  Abbey  " 
(Little  Guides).  With  4  Photogravure  Plates,  and  21  Illus- 
trations from  Photographs.  Crown  8vo.  55.  net.  Popular 
Edition,  is.  net.  School  Edition,  is. 

Egypt  as   We   Knew   It.     By  E.  L.  BUTCHER, 

Author  of  "The  Story  of  the  Church  of  Egypt."     With  16 
Illustrations.     Crown  8vo.     55.  net. 
Spectator. — "  Most  entertaining  and  not  a  little  instructive." 

The  German  Spy  System  in  France.    Translated 

from  the  French  of  PAUL  LANOIR.    Crown  8vo.     55.  net. 

Canned  Classics,  and  Other  Verses.   By  HARRY 

GRAHAM,  Author  of  "  Deportmental  Ditties,"  "The  Bolster 
Book,"  etc.,  etc.  Profusely  Illustrated  by  LEWIS  BAUMER. 
Crown  4to,  35.  6d.  net.  Also  Fcap.  8vo,  35.  6d.  net. 


20  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

Deportmental  Ditties.    By  HARRY  GRAHAM. 

tusely  Illustrated  by  LEWIS  BAUMER.     Third  Edition. 

Fcap.  8vo.     35.  6d.  aet. 

Daily  Graphic. — "  Harry  Graham  certainly  has  the  knack." 
Daily  Chronicle. — "  All  clever,  generally  flippant,  invariably 
amusing." 

Queery  Leary  Nonsense.    Being  a  LEAR  Nonsense 

Book,  with  a  long  Introduction  and  Notes  by  the  EARL 
.  OF  CROMER,  and  edited   by  LADY  STRACHIE.     Con- 
taining Edward  Lear's  Coloured  Bird   Book.    With  about 
50  Illustrations.     Crown  4to.     35.  6d.  net. 
Daily  Telegraph. — "  A  book  full  of  fascinating  absurdity,  and 
the  true  spirit  of  the  King  of  Nonsense." 

Founded   on    Fiction.    By  LADY  SYBIL  GRANT. 

With  50  Illustrations,  and  a  Cover  Design  by  GEORGE 

MORROW.     Crown  4to.    35.  6d.  net. 
T.  P.'s  Weekly. — "  A  book  of  chuckles." 

Daily  Chronicle. — "  The  vivacious  offspring  of  a  witty  mind." 
Times. — "  Mr.  Morrow's  pictures  fit  the  verses  like  a  glove." 

Ships  and  Sealing  Wax.     By  HANSARD  WATT. 

With  40   Illustrations  by  L.  R.  BRIGHTWELL.     Crown 
4to.     35.  6d.  net. 

Daily  Mail. — "  Very  clever  and  amusing,  the  humour  enhanced 
by  quaint  illustrations." 

Nerves  and  the  Nervous.    By  EDWIN  L.  ASH, 

M.D.  (Lond.).    New  Edition.    Crown  8vo.    Cloth,  35.  6d.  net. 

Daily  Express. — "  One  of  the  most  refreshing  books  published 

for  some  time.     Dr.  Ash  not  only  probes  into  exactly  what  one 

feels  when  one  is  nervous  or  worried,  but  the  treatment  is  so 

free  from  fads  that  it  does  even  an  unnervy  person  good." 

Child-Nurture.  By  HONNOR  MORTEN,  Author  of "  The 

Nursery  Nurse's  Companion,"  "  The  Nurse's  Dictionary." 

With  a  Frontispiece  in  Photogravure.     Cr.  8vo.     35. 6d.  net. 

Standard. — "  Admirably  practical — full  of  useful  knowledge." 

Through  the  Loopholes  of  Retreat.  By  HAN- 
SARD WATT.  With  a  Portrait  of  COWPER  in  Photogravure. 
Fcap.  8vo.  35.  6d.  net. 

Kings  and  Queens  of  France.  A  Concise 
History  of  France.  By  MILDRED  CARNEGY. 

With  a  Preface  by  the  BISHOP  OF  HEREFORD.    With  a  Map 
and  4  Full-page  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo.     35.  6d. 


General  Literature  21 

Club  Bridge.  By  ARCHIBALD  DUNN,  Author  of "  Bridge 

and  How  to  Play  it."     Crown  8vo.    Popular  Edition,  35.  net, 
Evening  Standard. — "  This  is,  in  fact,  '  THE  BOOK.'  " 

Royal  Spade  Auction  Bridge.    By  ARCHIBALD 

DUNN.     Second  Edition.     Crown  8vo.     2s.  6d.  net. 

A   Manual   for   Nurses.    By  SYDNEY  WELHAM, 

M.R.C.S.    (late   Resident    Medical    Officer,    Charing    Cross 
Hospital).     With  Diagrams.     Crown  8vo.     2s.  6d.  net. 
British    Medical    Journal. — "  A    useful    reference    work    for 
nurses  both  early  and  late  in  their  career." 

Peter  Pan  :  The  Fairy  Story  of  the  Play.    By  G.  D. 

DRENNAN.  With  a  Photogravure  of  Miss  PAULINE  CHASE 
as  Peter  Pan.  Fcap.  8vo.  Leather,  2s.  6d.  net.  Popular 
Edition,  Paper,  6d.  School  Reader  Edition,  with  an  intro- 
duction by  A.  R.  PICKLES,  M.A.  Cloth,  6d. 

The   Italians   of   To-day.    By  RICHARD  BAGOT, 

Author  of  "  My  Italian  Year."  Crown  8vo.  Third  Edition. 
2s.  6d.  net. 

Scotsman. — "  Shows  the  same  intimate  knowledge  of  Italian 
life  and  character  as  '  My  Italian  Year.'  " 

Mental  Self-Help.    By  EDWIN  L.  ASH,  M.D.  (Lond.), 

Assistant  Physician  Italian  Hospital,  London  ;  Physician 
for  Nervous  Diseases  to  the  Kensington  and  Fulham  General 
Hospital.  Author  of  "  Nerves  and  the  Nervous."  Crown  8vo. 
25.  6d.  net. 

Athenceum. — "A   lucid   little   book.     His   style   is   clear   and 
convincing." 

The  Lear  Coloured  Bird  Book  for  Children. 

By  EDWARD  LEAR.  With  a  Foreword  by  J.  ST.  LOE 
STRACHEY.  2s.  6d.  net. 

An   Actor's    Hamlet.     With  full  notes  by  LOUIS  CAL- 

VERT.     Crown  8vo.     2s.  6d.  net. 
Daily  Chronicle. — "  Full  of  illuminating  insight." 

First  Steps  tO  Golf.    By  G.  S.  BROWN.     With  94  Illus- 
trations by  G.  P.  ABRAHAM,  F.R.P.S.,  and  9  Diagrams. 
Crown  8vo.     2s.  6d.  net. 
Daily  Graphic. — "  A  most  lucid  guide  for  the  benefit  of  the 

beginner." 

The  Enclosed  Nun.     Fcap.  8vo.     New  Edition.     Cloth, 
2s.  6d.  net ;  Paper,  15.  net. 


22  Mills  &  Boon's  Catalogue 

A  Little  Girl's    Gardening    Book.    By  SELINA 

RANDOLPH.     Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  2s.  6d.  net;    Paper, 

is.  net. 

Aberdeen  Free  Press. — "A  first-rate  book." 
Manchester  Courier. — "  All  children  love  gardens.     This  book 
will  make  them  genuine  gardeners." 

A  Little  Girl's  Cookery  Book.    By  c.  F.  BENTON 

and  MARY  F.  HODGE.     Crown  8vo.     2s.  6d.  net.     Paper, 
is.  net. 
Evening  Standard. — "  Well  suited  to  all  unextravagant  cooks." 

The  Garden  of  Song.  Edited  by  HAROLD  SIMPSON. 

Fcap.  8vo.     2s.  6d.  net. 

The  Pocket  Gladstone :  Selections  from  the 
Writings  and  Speeches  of  William  Ewart 

Gladstone.  Compiled  by  J.  AUBREY  REES,  with  an 
Introduction  by  the  Rt.  Hon.  Sir  ALGERNON  WEST,  P.C., 
G.C.B.  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth,  2s.  net.  Paper,  is.  net. 

The  Pocket  Disraeli.    By  j.  B.  LINDENBAUM,  M.A. 

(Uniform  with  "  The  Pocket  Gladstone.")  Fcap.  8vo. 
Cloth,  2s.  net ;  Paper,  is.  net. 

Santa-Ciaus :  The  Kinemacolour  Fairy  Play. 

By  HAROLD  SIMPSON.  With  34  Illustrations.  Crown 
4to.  is.  net. 

The  New  Theology.  (Sixteenth  Thousand.}  By  the 
REV.  R.  J.  CAMPBELL,  M.A.  Fully  revised  and  with  a 
New  Preface.  Crown  8vo.  is.  net. 

Votes  for  Women.     A  Play  in  Three  Acts.    By 

ELIZABETH  ROBINS.     Crown  8vo.     15. 

About  Baby.  By  FRANCIS  TWEDDELL,  M.D.,  Alumnus 

Bellevue  Hospital,  New  York,  and  W.  BARKLEY,  M.B., 
B.CH.  (Southfields).  With  an  Introduction  by  the  Matron 
of  the  Hospital  for  Sick  Children,  Great  Ormond  Street. 
Crown  8vo.  is.  net. 

Hearth  and  Home. — "  A  most  comprehensive    guide   to   the 
correct  bringing  up  of  a  child  from  birth." 

Can't    Waiters  ;      or   How    You    Waste    Your    Energies. 

By  EDWIN  L.  ASH,  M.D.  LOND.,  Author  of  "  Nerves 
and  the  Nervous,"  "  Mental  Self-Help."  Cr.  8vo.  is. 
net. 


MILLS  &  BOON'S 

RAMBLES  SERIES 

"  So  auspiciously  inaugurated  with  Miss  Wylie's  and  Mrs. 
Gostling's  volumes." — Liverpool  Courier. 

"  They  teem  with  interesting  information  about  people  and 
places." — Standard. 

Rambles     Around     French     Chateaux.       By 

FRANCES  M.  GOSTLING,  Author  of  "The  Bretons 
at  Home."  With  5  Illustrations  in  Colour,  33  from 
Photographs,  and  a  Map.  Crown  8vo.  6s. 

Rambles    in   the    Black   Forest.      By  i.  A.  R. 

WYLIE,  Author  of  "My  German  Year."  With  5 
Illustrations  in  Colour  and  24  from  Photographs, 
Crown  8vo.  6s. 

Rambles    in    Norway.      By  HAROLD  SIMPSON, 

With  8  Illustrations  in  Colour  and  32  from  Photographs, 
Crown  8vo.  65. 

Rambles  with  an  American  in  Great  Britain. 

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24 


MILLS  &  BOON'S 

FICTION  LIST 


Crown  8vo.     6s.  each. 


Happy  Ever  After 

All  Awry  ....          2nd  Edition 

Nights  and  Day*         ..... 

The  Sphinx  in  the  Labyrinth     . 

Eve — Spinster    ...... 

Mastering  Flame        .         .          4th  Edition 
Ashes  of  Incense       .         .          2nd  Edition 
Middlegrouncl    ...... 

The  Magic  Tale  of  Harvanger  and  Yolande 
Orpheus  in  Mayf  air  .         .          2nd  Edition 
Two  Men  and  Gwenda      .... 

The  Palace  of  Logs    ..... 

Cardillac   ....  5th  Edition 

The  Sword  Maker     .         .          3rd  Edition 

The  Story  of  Joan  Greencroft . 

Golden  Vanity  ...... 

The  Room  in  the  Tower    .          2nd  Edition 
The  Glen  .         .         .         . 

The  Silver  Medallion          .... 

The  Man  from  Nowhere  .          3rd  Edition 
Gay  Morning     ...... 

Because  of  Jane        .         .          2nd  Edition 
The  Browns       .         .         .    .3rd  Edition 

A  Bachelor's  Comedy        .  3rd  Edition 

A  Golden  Straw         .         .          2nd  Edition 
The  Pilgrimage  of  a  Fool  •          2nd  Edition 
Down  Our  Street       .         .         .  6th  Edition 
Love  in  a  Little  Town        .  4th  Edition 

With  Drums  Unmuffled   .... 

Breadandbutterflies  ..... 

Render  unto  Caesar  ..... 

The  Bill-Toppers 

Miss  King's  Profession      .          ,          .          ,  • 
Cato's  Daughter         ...  ^ 

The  Keeper  of  the  Secret          .         . 

25 


R.  Allatini. 

Maude  Annesley. 

Maude  Annesley. 

Maude  Annesley. 

Anon. 

Anon. 

Anon. 

Anon. 

G.  P.  Baker. 

Maurice  Baring. 

M.  Barnes-Grundy. 

Robert  Barr. 

Robert  Barr. 

Robert  Barr. 

A.  N.  Bax. 

Maisie  Bennett. 

E.  F.  Benson. 

Mary  Stuart  Boyd. 

Percy  J.  Brebner. 

Victor  Bridges. 

J.  E.  Buckrose. 

J.  E.  Buckrose. 

J.  E.  Buckrose. 

J.  E.  Buckrose. 

J.  E.  Buckrose. 

J.  E.  Buckrose. 

J.  E.  Buckrose. 

J.  E.  Buckrose. 

L.  A.  Burgess. 

Dion  Clayton  Calthrop. 

Mrs.  Vere  Campbell. 

Andre  Castaigne. 

E.  M.  Channon. 

E.  M.  Channon. 

E.  M.  Channon. 


MILLS    &    BOON'S   FICTION   LIST— continued 


His  First  Offence       .         .          2nd  Edition 
The  Prodigal  Father  '."      .  4th  Edition 

Lady  Sylvia's  Impostor     .... 

The  Transformation  of  Timothy 

The  Voice  of  Bethia  .... 

A  Marriage  of  Inconvenience   . 
Enter  Bridget     .         .    .  :    .  2nd  Edition 

The  Anger  of  Olivia.          .  2nd  Edition 

Mr.  Burnside's  Responsibility    . 
Margaret  Rutland       ..... 

Phillida      .         .  7*f       - 

The  Choice  of  Theodora    .... 

Patience  Tabernacle  .... 

Penelope's  Doors        ..... 

A  Plain  Woman's  Portrait  .          . 

In  Search  of  Each  Other 
The  Thornbush  near  the  Door  .          . 
Blue  Grey  Magic        ..... 

A  Wardour  Street  Idyll     .... 

Arrows  from  the  Dark       .... 

Maliory's  Tryst  ...... 

The  Five  of  Spades    ..... 

The  Valley  of  Achor          .... 

The  Mark 

Fame         ....          3rd  Edition 

Within  the  Law  ;       -.* 

Rebecca  Drew  ...... 

Likeness    . 

The  Education  of  Jacqueline      3rd  Edition 

Elisabeth  Davenay     .          .          3rd  Edition 

Children  of  the  Cloven  Hoof     . 

Our  Lady  of  the  Leopards 

The  Pride  of  the  Fancy     .... 

The  Red  Colonel  .  .  2nd  Edition 
Swift  Nick  of  the  York  Road  2nd  Edition 
The  Blue  Bird's-Eye  .  3rd  Edition 

Piet  of  Italy        .          .          .          ... 

The  Battle 

My  Lady  Wentworth          .... 

The  Swimmer  ...... 

A  Tropical  Tangle    .         .          2nd  Edition 

The  Leech ;. 

Sons  of  State     .  .... 

The  Enemy  of  Woman      .  3rd  Edition 

Mary  .....  4th  Edition 
The  Needlewoman  ..... 
The  Love  Story  of  a  Mormon  . 
Guinea  Gold  .  .  .  2nd  Edition 
When  the  Red  God«  Call .  3rd  Edition 
Brummell  Again  .  .  . 


J.  Storer  Clouston. 

J.  Storer  Clouston. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Thomas  Cobb. 

Sophie  Cole. 

Sophie  Cole. 

Sophie  Cole. 

Sophie  Cole. 

Sophie  Cole. 

Sophie  Cole. 

Sophie  Cole. 

Sophie  Cole. 
Mrs.  P.  Ch.  de  Crespigny* 
Mrs. P.  Ch.de  Crespigny. 
Mrs.  P.  Ch.  de  Crespigny. 
Mrs.  P.  Ch.  de  Crespigny. 

B.  M.  Croker. 

Dana  and  Forest. 

Edith  Dart. 

Edith  Dart. 

Claire  de  Pratz. 

Claire  de  Pratz. 

Albert  Dorrington. 

Albert  Dorrington. 

George  Edgar. 

George  Edgar. 

George  Edgar. 

George  Edgar. 

Dorothea  Fairbridge. 

Claude  Farrere. 

Allan  Fea. 

Louise  Gerard. 

Louise  Gerard. 

Mrs.  Harold  E.  Gorst 

Winifred  Graham. 

Winifred  Graham. 

Winifred  Graham. 

Winifred  Graham. 

Winifred  Graham. 

Beatrice  Grimshaw. 

Beatrice  Grimshaw. 

Cosmo  Hamilton. 


MILLS  &  BOON'S  FICTION  LIST—  continued 


Edward  Racedale's  Will    . 

A  Sereshan         ...... 

His  Great  Adventure         .... 

The  Web  of  Life 

One  Woman's  Life   .         .          2nd  Edition 

The  Progress  of  Prudence 

Crump  Folk  Going  Home 

By  Force  of  Circumstances 

John  Ward,  M.D.      .  . 

Margot  Munro  ...... 

No.  19  .         .         .         2nd  Edition 

Captain  Sentimental ..... 

Pollyooly  .         .         .         .          2nd  Edition 

Arsene  Lupin    ...... 

The  Enlightenment  of  Ermyn    . 

The  Adolescence  of  Aubrey 

Jehanne  of  the  Golden  Lips        3rd  Edition 

The  Written  Law       ..... 

The  Confessions  of  Arsene  Lupin 

813 2nd  Edition 

The  Frontier       ...... 

The  Phantom  of  the  Opera 

The  Valley  of  the  Moon    .  4th  Edition 

South  Sea  Tales         ..... 

Smoke  Bellew  .         .         .  4th  Edition 

A  Son  of  the  Sun      .         .          3rd  Edition 
When  God  Laughs    .         .          2nd  Edition 
The  Music  Makers    ..... 

The  Marriage  of  Edward 

Attraction          ...... 

Outlaw's  Luck  ...... 

Through  the  Window        .         . 
Bound  Together        .         .          2nd  Edition 
Men  and  Dreams        .         .          2nd  Edition 
The  Last  Lord  Avanley      .... 

The  Yoke  of  Silence.    5s.. 

The  Prince          ...... 

The  Cost   ....          2nd  Edition 

Wilsam      ....          2nd  Edition 

Mary  up  at  Gaffries  .          .  4th  Edition 

Ripe  Corn          .         .         .          2nd  Edition 
Calico  Jack        .         .         .          3rd  Edition 
The  Sins  of  the  Children  .          2nd  Edition 
The  Socialist  Countess       .          2nd  Edition 
The  Ealing  Miracle    ... 
Guppy  Guyson  .  ... 

With  Poison  and  Sword    .         .  . 

Harm's  Way       .... 

The  Plunderer  .... 

Stories  without  Tear*         .         2nd  Edition 


Mark  Hardy. 
M.  Hartley. 
Robert  Herrick. 
Robert  Herrick. 
Robert  Herrick. 
W.  F.  Hewer. 
Constance  Holme, 
Gordon  Holmes. 
Arthur  Hooley. 
M.  E.  Hughes. 
Edgar  Jepson. 
Edgar  Jepson. 
Edgar  Jepson. 
Jepson  and  Leblanc. 
Harry  Jermyn. 
Harry  Jermyn. 
F.  G.   Knowles- Foster. 
F.  G.  Knowles- Foster. 
Maurice  Leblanc. 
Maurice  Leblanc. 
Maurice  Leblanc. 
Gaston  Leroux. 
Jack  London. 
Jack  London. 
Jack  London. 
Jack  London. 
Jack  London. 
Louise  Mack. 
Louise  Mack. 
Louise  Mack. 
Dorothea  Mackellar. 
Mary  E.  Mann. 
Mary  E.  Mann. 
Mary  E.  Mann. 
Gerald  Maxwell. 
Amy  McLaren. 
Thomas  Metcalfe. 
L.  G.  Moberly. 
S.  C.  Nethersole. 
S.  C.  Nethersole. 
S.  C.  Nethersole. 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte. 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte. 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte. 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte. 
W.  M.  O'Kane. 
W.  M.  O'Kane. 
Lloyd  Osbourne. 
Roy  Norton. 
Barry  Pain. 


MILLS   &   BOON'S   FICTION   LIST- continued 


The  Adventures  of  Captain  Jack,  3rd  Edit. 
The  Summer  Book  ..... 
Lily  Magic  ...... 

Phyllida  Flouts  Me 

An  Englishman  ..... 

At  Lavender  Cottage          .... 

Burnt  Flax 

The  Brat  .  

The  Tracy  Tubbses.     3s.  6d.     . 

The  Stairway  of  Honour  .          2nd  Edition 

The  Relations    ...... 

The  Swashbuckler     ..... 

The  Silence  Broken  .         .          2nd  Edition 
The  Queen's  Hand    .         .          2nd  Edition 
Nigel  Ferrard    .         .         .          2nd  Edition 
An  Absent  Hero        ..... 

The  Gondola     ...... 

The  Valiants  of  Virginia  .          2nd  Edition 
Her  Last  Appearance        .... 

Force  Majeure  ...... 

The  Sea-Lion     .  .          2nd  Edition 

Mr.  Sheringham  and  Others 

Odd  Come  Shorts      .         .          2nd  Edition 

Isabel 

One  Man  Returns  ..... 
The  Call  of  the  Siren  .  2nd  Edition 
Kicks  and  Ha'pence  .... 

Sarah  Eden  .  .  .  3rd  Edition 
The  Long  Engagement  .  3rd  Edition 

The  Veil 7th  Edition 

The  Mountain  of  God  .  .4th  Edition 
The  Lure  ....  3rd  Edition 
The  Earthen  Drum  .  .  2nd  Edition 
Tales  of  the  Open  Hazard 
Cophetua's  Son  .  .  2nd  Edition 
The  Hidden  Road  .  .  3rd  Edition 

HolbornHill 

Written  in  the  Rain  ..... 

Stormlight  ...... 

The  Girl  with  the  Blue  Eyes      . 

The  Woman  who  Forgot  .... 

The  First  Law   .         .         .          2nd  Edition 

The  Cheat 

Body  and  Soul  .         .         .          2nd  Edition 

A  Creature  of  Circumstance 

The  Island  of  Souls  ..... 

Royal  Lovers     ...... 

Grizel  Married  ...... 

The  Adventures  of  Billie  Belshaw  .  . 
An  Unknown  Lover  .... 


Max  Pembertoo. 
Max  Pemberton. 
Mary  L.  Pendered. 
Mary  L.  Pendered. 
Mary  L.  Pendered. 
Mary  L.  Pendered. 
Mrs.  H.  H.  Penrose. 
Mrs.  H.  H,  Penrose. 
Jessie  Pope. 
Maud  Stepney  Rawson 
Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Mrs.  Fred  Reynolds. 
Rothay  Reynolds. 
Hallie  Erminie  Rives. 
A.  Nugent  Robertson. 
Patrick  Rushden. 
Patrick  Rushden. 
Mrs.  Alfred  Sidgwick. 
Mrs.  Alfred  Sidgwick. 
Dorothy  V.  H.  Smith. 
Harold  Spender. 
Harold  Spender. 
Henry  Stace. 
E.  S.  Stevens. 
E.  S.  Stevens. 
E.  S.  Stevens. 
E.  S.  Stevens. 
E.  S.  Stevens. 
E.  S.  Stevens. 
Halliwe!!  Sutcliffe. 
Joan  Sutherland. 
Joan  Sutherland. 
Christian  Tearle. 
John  Trevena. 
Lady  Troubridge. 
Lady  Troubridge. 
Lady  Troubridge 
Lady  Troubridge. 
Lady  Troubridge. 
Lady  Troubridge. 
Lady  Troubridge. 
M.  Urquhart. 
Helene  Vacaresco. 
Mrs.  G.  de  H.  Vaizey. 
Mrs.  G.  de  H.  Vaizey. 
Mrs.  G.  de  H.  Vaizey. 


MILLS  &   BOON'S  FICTION  LIST— continued 


Sport  of  God*  .         .         .          3rd  Edition 
The  Lizard         ...... 

The  Two  Faces.          ..... 

First  Love ....... 

The  Girl  from  His  Town  .... 

Mr.  Perrin  and  Mr.  Traill.  2nd  Edition 

The  Prelude  to  Adventure          2nd  Edition 
The  Unknown  Woman      .... 

Toddie       ....          3rd  Edition 

If  s  and  Ans        ...... 

The  Captain's  Daughter    .... 

Margaret  and  the  Doctor 

Tess  of  Ithaca    ...... 

An  Averted  Marriage         .  2nd  Edition 

The  Wind  among  the  Barley      2nd  Edition 
Memoirs  of  a  Buccaneer  .... 

The  Friendly  Enemy          .... 

The  Prince  and  Betty         .... 

The  Honourable  Derek      .... 

The  Court  of  the  Gentiles 

Ruth  of  the  Rowldrich       .... 

The  Red  Mirage         .          .  4th  Edition 

The  Daughter  of  Brahma  5th  Edition 

The  Rajah's  People  .          .          .  8th  Edition 
Dividing  Waters         .         .          ,4th  Edition 
In  Different  Keys       .         . 
A  Blot  on  the  Scutcheon   .  2nd  Edition 

For  Church  and  Chieftain . 


H.  Vaughan-Sawyer. 
H.  Vaughan-Sawyer. 
Marie  van  Vorst. 
Marie  van  Vorst. 
Marie  van  Vorst. 
Hugh  Walpole. 
Hugh  Walpole. 
Anne  Warwick. 
Gilbert  Watson. 
H.  B.  Marriott  Watson 
Helen  H.  Watson. 
Mrs.  Ranyard  West. 
Grace  Miller  White. 
Percy  White. 
M.  P.  Willcocks. 
Robert  Williams. 
T.  P.  Cameron  Wilson. 
P.  G.  Wodehouse. 
R.  A.  Wood-Seys. 
Mrs.  Stanley  Wrench. 
Mrs.  Stanley  Wrench. 
I.  A.  R.  Wylie. 
I.  A.  R.  Wylie. 
I.  A.  R.  Wylie. 
I.  A.  R.  Wylie. 
I.  A.  R.  Wylie. 
May  Wynne. 
May  Wynne. 


MILLS  8  BOON'S  SIXPENNY  NOVELS 


Picture  Covers.  Demy  8Vo. 

Calico  Jack 

The  Sins  of  the  Children  . 

The  Adventures  of  Captain  Jack       . 

A  Golden  Straw 


6d. 

Horace  W.  C.  Newte. 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte. 
Max  Pemberton. 
J.  E.  Buckrose. 


The  Pilgrimage  of  a  Fool.         .         .          .  J.  E.  Buckrose. 

Fame B.  M.  Croker. 

The  End  and  the  Beginning       ...  Cosmo  Hamilton. 

The  Quaker  Girl        .....  Harold  Simpson. 

The  Education  of  Jacqueline    ...  Claire  de  Pratz. 

The  Silence  Broken  .....  Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 


MILLS  8  BOON'S  SHILLING  NOVELS 


Crown  8 to. 


Picture  Covers. 
THE  MOUNTAIN  OF  GOD 
THE  VEIL 

THE  DAUGHTER  OF  BRAHMA 
THE  RAJAH'S  PEOPLE 
DIVIDING  WATERS 
DOWN  OUR  STREET 
ASHES  OF  INCENSE 
EVE— SPINSTER 
FOLLYOOLY 
WHEN  GOD  LAUGHS 
SWiFT  NICK  OF  THE  YORK  ROAD 
THE  BLUE  BIRD'S-EYE 
WHEN  THE  RED  GODS  CALL 
JOHN  CAVE 
LIFE 

THE  WOMAN  WHO  1 

THE  GIRL  WHO  SAVED  HIS  HONOUR 

SONS  OF  STATE 

THE  LOVE  STORY  OF  A  MORMON 

THE  NEEDLEWOMAN 

THE  ENEMY  OF  WOMAN 

MA  BY 

HIS  FIRST  OFFENCE 

THE  PEER'S  PROGRESS 

THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

TALES  OF  KING  FIDO 

THE  SQUARE  MILE 

THE  SOCIALIST  COUNTESS 

THE  SINS  OF  THE  CHILDREN 

CALICO  JACK 

THE  LONELY  LOVERS 

arotected  Girl 


SPARROWS  :  The  Story  of  an  Unprotected  G 

LENA  SWALLOW  :  A  Sister  to  "  Sparrows 

LIVING  PICTURES 

THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  ARSENE  LUPIN 

THE  FRONTIER 

813  (A  New  Arsene  Lupin  Adventure) 

CARDILLAC 

THE  CHEAT 

THE  WOMAN  WHO  FORGOT 

BODY  AND  SOUL 

CUMNER'S  SON 

SANTA  GLAUS  (The  Fairy  Story  of  the  Play) 

•THE  MARRIAGE  MARKET 

•THE  DOLLAR  PRINCESS 

*THEVCOUNT  OF  LUXEMBOURG 

"ARSENE  LUPIN 

•D'ARCY  OF  THE  GUARDS 

"THE  BILL-TOPPERS 

THE  PRELUDE  TO  ADVENTURE 

MR.  PERRIN  AND  MR.  TRATLL 

BEWARE  OF  THE  DOG 

FOR  CHURCH  AND  CHIEFTAIN 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  CAPTAIN  JACK 

THE  END  AND  THE  BEGINNING 

WEE  MACGREEGOR 

THE  BOLSTER  BOOK 

THE  DIARY  OF  A  BABY 
PROOFS  BEFORE  PULPING 
RENDER  UNTO  C.2E8AR 


Is.  net. 

E.  S.  Stevens 
E.  S.  Stevens 
I.  A.  R.  Wylie 
I.  A.  R.  Wylie 
I.  A.  R.  Wylie 
J.  E.  Buckrose 

The  Author  of  "  Mastering  Flame" 
Anon. 

Edgar  Jepson 
Jack  London 
George  Edgar 
George  Edgar 
Beatrice  Grimshaw 
W.  B.  Trites 
W.  B.  Trites 
Arthur  Applin 
Arthur  Applin 
Winifred  Graham 
Winifred  Graham 
Winifred  Graham 
Winifred  Graham 
Winifred  Graham 
J.  Storer  Clouston 
J.  Storer  Clouston 

}.  Storer  Clouston 
.  Storer  Clouston 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte 
Horace  W.  C.  Newte 
Maurice  Leblanc 
Maurice  Leblanc 
Maurice  Leblanc 
Robert  Barr 
Lady  Troubridge 
Lady  Troubridge 
Lady  Troubridge 
Gilbert  Parker 
Harold  Simpson 
Harold  Simpson 
Harold  Simpson 
Harold  Simpson 

Edgar  Jepson  and  Maurice  Leblanc 
L.  E.  Shipman 
Andre  Castaigne 
Hugh  Walpole 
Hugh  Walpole 
Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds 
May  Wynne 
Max  Pemberton 
Cosmo  Hamilton 
J.J.  B. 

Harry  Graham 
Barry  Pain 
Barry  Pain 
Mrs.  Vere  Campbell 
Helen  H.  Watson 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  DAUGHTER 

THE  LADY  CALPHURNIA  ROYAL  Dorrington  and  Stephens 

THOMAS  HENRY  W.  Pett  Ridge 

•The  Novel  of  the  Play. 

30 


EDUCATIONAL  BOOKS 

Full  particulars  of  these  may  be  obtained  from  MILLS  &•  BOON,  LTD., 
49,  Rupert  St.,  London,  W.  Heads  of  Schools  are  invited  to  write  for 
specimen  copies  of  books  likely  to  prove  suitable  for  Introduction  as  class  books. 

ENGLISH  TEXTS 

As  You  Like  It      Edited  by  C.  R.  Gilbert,  M.A.     With  Notes.     Is. 
Henry  V.     Edited  by  C.  R.  Gilbert,  M.A.      Is.     Plain  text,  6d.  net 
The  Tempest.     Edited  by  Frank  Jones,  B.A.     Is.     Plain  text,  6d.  net. 
Maxwell's  Poetry  for  Boys.     Is.  6d. 

FRENCH 

Baron's  Exercises  in  French  Free  Composition.      Is.  6d. 

Bar  re  re's  Elementary  French  Course.      Is. 

Barrere's  Intermediate  French  Course.     2s. 

Barrere's  Precis  of  Comparative  French  Grammar.     3s.  6d. 

Barrere's  Recits  Militaires.     3s. 

Barrere's  Short  Passages  for  French  Composition.     2s.  6d. 

Bossut's  French  Word  Book.      Is. 

Bossut's  French  Phrase  Book.     6d.  net. 

Delille's  Beginner's  Own  French  Book.     2s. 

Shrive's  First  French  Unseen  Book.     6d.  net. 

Shrive's  Second  French  Unseen  Book.      1  s.  net. 

DIRECT   METHOD   FRENCH   TEXTS 

Edited  by  R.  R.  N.  BARON,  M.A.,  Cheltenham  Grammar  School. 
Claretie's  Pierrille.     Is.  6d. 
Daudet's  La  Belle  Nivernaise.     Is.  6cl. 
Merimee's  Tamango  and  Jose  Maria  le  Brigand.     Is. 
Hugo's  Bug  Jargal.     2s. 

MODERN    FRENCH    AUTHORS 

With  Introductions,  Notes,  Exercises  for  Retranslation,  Vocabularies,  etc. 
Balzac. — Ursule  Mirouet.     Without  vocabulary,  2s. 
Daudet. — La  Belle  Nivernaise.    With  vocabulary,  1  s.  6d.    Without,  1  s. 
Greville. — Le  Moulin  Frappier.    With  vocabulary,  2s.    Without,  1  s.  6d. 
de  Nerval. — La  Main  Enchantee.     With  vocabulary,  1  s. 
Toudouze. — Madame  Lambelle.     Without  vocabulary,  2s. 

GEOGRAPHY 

Wetherill's  New  Preliminary  Geography.     Is.  6d. 
Bird's  School  Geography.     2s.  6d. 

GERMAN    GRAMMARS    AND    READERS 

Walters'  Reform  First  German  Book.     With  5  Coloured  Illustra- 
tions by  Holzel.     3s.  net. 


Advanced  German  Grammar.     3s.  6d. 
Elementary  German  Course.     2s. 
Advanced  German  Course.     Is.  6d. 
Elementary  German  Reader.      1  s.  6d. 
Advanced  German  Reader.     3s. 


By  FRANZ  LANGE, 

Ph.D.,  late  Professor  of 

German  at  the  Royal 

Military  Academy, 

Woolwich, 


EDUCATIONAL  BOOKS— continued 
MODERN    GERMAN    AUTHORS 

With  Introductions,  Notes,  Vocabularies,  Exercises  for  Retramlation,  etc. 
Auerbach. — Selections  from  Schwarzwalder  Dorfgeschichten. 

With  vocabulary,  2s.     Without  vocabulary,  1$.  6d. 

Bechstein. — Ausgewahlte  Marchen.  With  vocab.  Is.  6d.  Without,  Is. 
Benedix. — Doktor  Wespe.     With  vocabulary,  2s.     Without,  Is.  6d. 
Ebers. — Eine  Frage.     Without  vocabulary,  2s. 
Freytag. — Die  Journalisten.     Without  vocabulary,  2s. 
Freytagy — Soil  und  Haben.     Without  vocabulary,  2s. 
German  Epic  Tales.     Without  vocabulary,  2s. 

Heyse. — Hans  Lange.     With  vocabulary,  2s.     Without  vocab.,  Is.  6d. 
Hoffmann. — Meister  Martin.     Without  vocabulary,  1  s.  6d. 
Hoffmann. — Schiller's  Jugendjahre.     Without  vocabulary,  Is.  6d. 
Moser. — Der  Bibliothekar.     With  vocabulary,  2s.     Without,  1  s.  6cL 
Scheffel's  Selections  from  Ekkehard.     Without  vocabulary,  2s. 
Wildenbruch. — Ein    Opfer    des    Berufs    and    Mein    Onkel    aus 

Pommern.     With  vocabulary,  2s.     Without  vocabulary,  Is.  6d. 
LATIN 

Ball's  Latin  Extracts  for  Sight  Translation.     Is. 
Williamson's  First  Latin  Unseen  Book.     6d.  net. 
Williamson's  Second  Latin  Unseen  Book.     Is.  net 
MATHEMATICS 

Boon's  Preparatory  Arithmetic.     Is.     Answers,  with  hints,  6d.  net. 
Boon's  Arithmetic  for  Schools  and  Colleges.      With  answers,  4s. 

Without  answers,  3s.  6d.     Answers  only,  6d.  net. 
Coulson's  Applied  Mechanics  and  Heat  Engines.      Is.  6d. 
Deakin's  New  School  Geometry.    2s.  6d.    Part  I,  Is.  ;  Part  II,  Is.  6d. 
Deakin's  Rural  Ant'  metic.    With  answers,  Is.  6d.    Without  ans.,  It. 
Deakin's  Household  Accounts.     With  or  without  answers.     6d.  net. 
Harrison's  Practical  Mathematics.  With  answers,  1  s.  6d.  Without,  1  s.  3d. 
Harrison's  Practical  Mathematics  for  Elementary  Schools.  6d.  net. 
Stainer's  Graphs  in  Arithmetic,  Algebra,  and  Trigonometry.  2s.  6d. 
Walker's  Examples  and  Test  Papers  in  Algebra.     In  2  parts,  each 

with  answers,  Is.  6d.     Without  Answers,  Is.  3d. 
READERS 

Peter  Pan  :  The  Fairy  Story  of  the  Play.     Illustrated.     6d. 
Francis  Chantry  :  Milkboy  and  Sculptor.     Illustrated.     Is. 
Selous'  The  Zoo  Conversation  Book.     Illustrated.     Is. 
Troutbeck's  Story  of  Westminster  Abbey.     Illustrated.     Is. 
SCIENCE 

Goddard's  First  School  Botany.     With  207  diagrams.     2s.  6d. 
Hood's  Problems  in  Practical  Chemistry.    With  22  Illustrations.    5s. 
Oldham's  First  School  Chemistry.     With  71  Illustrations.     2s.  6d. 
Oldham's  Elementary  Quantitative  Analysis.  With  1 1  diagrams.  ls.6d. 
Bucknell's  Practical  Course  in  First  Year  Physics.      Is. 
Morris'  Experimental  Mechanics  and  Physics.    Illustrated.     Is.  6d. 

SCRIPTURE 
Gilbert's  Notes  on  St.  Matthew's  Gospel.     6d.  net. 


tlmtU,  Waucm  «   FiiKy.  Ld.,  London  and  Aylaburg— 14/1913. 


BRENT  ANO'S, 

>ksellers  &  Stationers, 

,  Avenue  de  1'Opera, 

PARIS. 


UTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACUTY 


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