Halcyone

Chapter 10

When Halcyone was nearly nineteen and had grown into a rare and radiant

maiden, the like of whom it would be difficult to find, an event

happened which was of the greatest excitement and importance to the

neighborhood. Wendover, which had been shut up for twenty years, was

reported to have been taken for a term by a very rich widow--or

_divorce_--from America it was believed, and it was going to be

sumptuously done up and would be filled with guests. Mr. Miller took

pains to find out every detail from the Long Man at Applewood, and so

was full of information at his monthly repast with the old ladies. Mrs.

Vincent Cricklander was the new tenant's name. The Long Man had himself

taken her over the place when she first came down to look at it, and his

report was that she was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen, and

with an eye to business that could not be beaten. He held her in vast

respect.

Then Mr. Miller coughed; he had now come to the point of his discourse

which made him nervous.

For he had learned beyond the possibility of any doubt that Mrs.

Cricklander was, alas! not a lonely widow but had been divorced--only a

year or two ago. She had divorced her husband--not he her--he hastened

to add, and then coughed again and got very red.

"When we were young," Miss La Sarthe remarked severely, "our Mamma would

never have allowed us to know any divorced person--and, indeed, our good

Queen Victoria would never have received one at her Court. We cannot

possibly call, Roberta."

Poor Miss Roberta's face fell. She had been secretly much elated by the

thoughts of a neighbor, and to have all her hopes thus nipped in the bud

was painful. She had heard (from Hester again, it is to be feared!) that

Mrs. Cricklander's maid, who was a cousin of the baker in Applewood, and

who had originally instigated her discovery of Wendover, had said that

her lady knew all the greatest people in England--lords and duchesses by

the dozen, and even an archbishop! Surely that was respectable enough.

But Miss La Sarthe, while again deploring the source of her sister's

information, was firm. Ideas might have changed, but _they_ had not.

Since the last time they had curtsied to the beloved late Queen, in

about 1879, she believed new rules had been made, but the La Sarthe had

nothing to do with such things!

Halcyone caught Miss Roberta's piteous, subdued eye, and smiled a

tender, kind smile. With years her understanding of her ancient aunts

had grown. They were no longer rather contemptible, narrow-minded elders

in her eyes, but filled her with a pitiful and gentle respect. Their

courage under adversity, their firm self-control, and the force which

made them live up to their idea of the fitness of things, appealed to

her strongly. She had John Derringham's quality of detached

consideration, and appreciated her old relatives as exquisite relics of

the past, as well as her own kith and kin.

"In America, divorce is not considered the heinous crime it was once in

England," Mr. Carlyon said. "Perhaps this lady may have been greatly

sinned against and deserves all our pity and regard."

But Miss La Sarthe remained obdurate. The point was not as to who was in

the right, she explained, but that certain conventions, laid down by one

whose memory was revered, had been outraged, and she could never permit

her sister or Halcyone to have any intercourse with the tenant of

Wendover Park!

The preparations for the new arrival went on apace all the autumn and

winter. Armies of workpeople were reported to be in possession, and

whole train-loads of splendid French furniture were known to have

arrived at Applewood, to augment the antique and time-worn pieces which

were Wendover's own.

Miss Le Sarthe sent for the Long Man. Things had been rather better of

late, and no more precious belongings had been forced to be parted with.

An investment which had been valueless for years now began to produce

some interest which was a great comfort, for Miss La Sarthe was now

seventy-nine and Miss Roberta seventy-six.

The orders that the agent received were precise. The gate between

Wendover and La Sarthe Chase which had been closed for over a hundred

years was to be boarded up, and their side of the haw-haw which for

nearly a mile divided the two parks was to be deepened and cleared out,

and the spikes mended in any places where the ground might have seemed

to have fallen in sufficiently, or the irons to have become broken

enough to make the passage easy.

This would be unnecessary, Mr. Martin (the Long Man) told her. The

haw-haw was still as perfect as ever and a wonder of concealed traps for

the unwary, but the gate should be seen to at once.

Thus La Sarthe Chase was armed fully against Wendover, when, about

Easter, Mrs. Cricklander decided she would come down and bring a few

friends. It was with a sudden violent beating of the heart that Halcyone

learned casually from Mr. Carlyon that John Derringham would be of their

number.

The aunts took in the _Morning Post_, but until she was eighteen they

had rigorously forbidden Halcyone's perusal of it. Newspapers, except

one or two periodicals, were not fit for young ladies' reading until

they were grown up, they felt. However, their niece, having now come to

years of discretion, sometimes had the pleasure of reading John

Derringham's speeches and thrilled with joy over his felicitous daring

and caustic wit. The Government could not last much longer, but he at

least, as far as he could, would keep it full of vigor until the end.

She knew, therefore, that the last sitting before the Easter recess had

been a storm of words sharp as sword-thrusts--it was before the days of

the language of Billingsgate and the behavior of roughs. There were

quite a number of gentlemen still in the House of Commons, who often

behaved as such.

Those wonderful forces which Halcyone culled from all nature, and

especially the night, gave her a serenity over the most moving events,

and when the sudden beating of her heart was over, she waited calmly for

the moment when she should see John Derringham again.

Mr. Carlyon took in the _Graphic_ as well as his _Quarterly Review_ and

the _Nineteenth Century_, and it was her only medium for guessing even

what the outside world looked like, but from it she was quite aware that

a beard was a most unusual thing for a young modern man of the world,

and that John Derringham for that reason must always be distinguished

from his fellows. Carpenters and hedgers and ditchers wore them, and

nondescript young fellows she remembered seeing when she went into

Upminster with her aunts; but these excursions had been discontinued now

for the past five years, so the villagers of Sarthe-under-Crum and the

denizens of the rather larger Applewood were the only human beings she

ever saw.

The party at Wendover were to arrive on the Thursday before Good

Friday--Priscilla had told her that--and it was just possible that some

of them might be in church.

The aunts now drove a low basket shay which had been their pride in the

sixties, but which for countless years, until the investment began to

pay, they had been unable to keep a pair of ponies for. Now, however,

the shay was unearthed from the moldy coach-house and for the past year

two very old and quiet specimens of Shetland had been found for them by

Mr. Martin and they were able to drive to church every Sunday in state,

William sitting up behind, holding the reins between his mistresses,

while Miss La Sarthe flourished a small whip whose delicate handle was

studded with minute turquoises. From it dangled a ring which she could

slip on her finger over her one-buttoned slate-colored glove, and so

feel certain of not dropping this treasure. Halcyone always walked.

On Good Friday there was not a sight of the Wendover party in church,

and Halcyone went back by the orchard house to look in at Cheiron, who

had had a cold in the last few days.

Stretched in the armchair she found John Derringham.

The brisk walk in the fresh spring air had brought some faint color to

her pale cheeks, her soft hair was wound about her head with becoming

simplicity, and she wore an ordinary suit which could not disguise her

beautiful slender limbs, so long and thin, a veritable Artemis in her

chaste perfection of balance and proportion.

Halcyone could pass in any crowd and perhaps no one would ever notice

her and her mouse-like coloring, but once your eye was arrested, then,

like looking at some rare bit of delicate enamel, you began to perceive

undreamed-of graces which soothed the sight until you were filled with

the consciousness of an exquisite beauty as intangible as her other

charm--distinction. An infinite serenity was in her atmosphere, a

promise of all pure and tender things in her great soft eyes. The

mystery and freshness of the night seemed always to hang about her. Her

ways were noiseless--the most creaking door appeared to forget its

irritating habit when under her touch. Thus it was that John Derringham,

smoking a cigar, never even glanced up until a voice of extreme

cultivation and softness said gently:

"Good morning. And how are you?"

Then he bounded from his chair, startled a little, and held out his

hand.

"My old friend, Miss Halcyone, the Priestess of Truth!" he exclaimed,

"as I am alive!"

She smiled serenely while they shook hands, and sat down demurely by the

Professor's side.

"I thought you would have been translated to Olympus long ago," the

visitor said. "Have you honored this ordinary earth and our friend

Cheiron's cave, ever since?"

"Ever since!"

"There can be nothing left for you to learn. Master, it is you and I

whom she could teach," he laughed.

"How do you know all this?" asked Halcyone quietly, while her eyes

smiled at his raillery. "Do I look such an old-fashioned blue-stocking,

then?"

"You look perfectly sweet," and John Derringham's expressive eyes

confirmed what he said.

"Enough, enough, John. Halcyone is quite unaccustomed to gallants from

the world like you," the Professor growled. "If you pay her compliments

she won't believe you can really make a speech."

So Mr. Derringham laughed and continued his interrupted conversation. He

seemed in good humor with all the world. He was going to stay at

Wendover for the whole of Easter week. Mrs. Cricklander had an amusing

party of luminaries of both sides--she was the most perfect hostess and

had a remarkable talent for collecting the right people.

"She is quite the best-read woman I have ever met, Master," John

Derringham said. "You must let me bring her over here one day to see

you--you would delight in her wit and beauty. She does not leave you a

dull moment."

"Yes, bring her," the Professor returned between the puffs at his long

pipe. "I have never met any of these new hothouse roses grafted upon

briar roots. I should like to study how the system has worked."

"Quite admirably, as you will see. I do not know any Englishwomen who

are to compare to such Americans in brilliancy and fascination."

Over Halcyone, in spite of her serenity, there crept a feeling of cold.

She did not then analyze why, and, as was her habit when anything began

to distress her, she looked out of the window, whether it were night or

day. She always did this, and when her eyes saw Nature in any of her

moods, calm returned to her.

"She will simply revel in La Sarthe Chase when she sees it," Mr.

Derringham went on, now addressing Halcyone. "She is a past-mistress in

knowledge of the dates of things. You are going to have the most

delicious neighbor, Miss Halcyone, and in learning, a foeman worthy of

your steel."

Cheiron was heard to chuckle wickedly, and when his former Oxford pupil

asked him with mild humor the reason of his inappropriate mirth, he

answered dryly:

"She is never likely to see the inside of the park even. Queen Victoria

did not receive divorced persons, and the Misses La Sarthe, in

consequence, cannot either. You will have to bring her here by the road,

John!"

Halcyone winced a little. She disliked this conversation; it was not as

_fine_ as she liked to think were the methods of both the men who were

carrying it on.

John Derringham reddened up to his temples, where there were a few

streaks of gray in his dark hair which added to the distinction of his

finely cut, rather ascetic face. The short, well-trimmed beard was very

becoming, Halcyone thought, and gave him a look of great masculinity and

strength. His hawk's eyes were shadowed, as though he sat up very late

at night; which indeed he did. For John Derringham, at this period of

his life, burnt the candle at both ends and in the middle, too, if it

could add to the pleasure or benefit of his calculated career, mapped

out for himself by himself.

A sensation almost of wrath rose in his breast at his old master's

words. These ignorant country people, to dare to criticise his

glittering golden pheasant, whom he was very nearly making up his mind

to take for a wife! This aspect of the case, that even these unimportant

old ladies could question the position of his choice, galled him. He had

spent up to the last penny of his diminished income in his years of

man's estate, and Derringham was mortgaged to its furthest acre--and a

gentleman must live--and with his brilliant political future expanding

before him, lack of means must not be allowed to stand in his way. He

would give this woman in gratified ambition as much or more than she

would give him in wealth, so it would be an equal bargain and benefit

them both. And, above all, he was more than half in love with her, and

could get quite a large share of pleasure out of the affair as well. He

had been too busy to trouble much over women as a s*x since he had left

the University--except in the way he had once described to his old

master, regarding them as flowers in a garden--mere pleasures for sight

and touch, and experiencing ephemeral passions which left no mark. But

women either feared or adored him; and this woman, the desired of a host

of his friends, had singled him out for her especial favors. It had

amused him the whole of the last season; he had defied her efforts to

chain him to her chariot wheels, and in the winter she had gone to

Egypt, and had only just returned. But the charm was growing, and he

felt he would allow himself to be caught in her net.

"Mrs. Cricklander would be very much amused could she hear this verdict

of the county," he said with a certain tone in his voice which did not

escape Halcyone. "In London we do not occupy ourselves with such

unimportant things--but I dare say she will get over it. And now I

really must be going back. May I walk with you through the park, Miss

Halcyone, if you are going, too? I am sure there must be an opening

somewhere, as the two places touch."

"Yes, there is just one," Halcyone said. "The haw-haw runs the whole

way, and it is impossible to pass, except in the one spot, and I believe

no one knows of it but myself. There are a few bricks loose, and I used

to take them out and put them back when I wanted to get into

Wendover--long ago."

"Then it will be an adventure; come," he said, and Halcyone rose.

"Only if you will not give away my secret. Promise you will not tell

anyone else," she bargained.

"Oh! I promise," and John Derringham jumped up--his movements were

always quick and decided and full of nervous force. "I will bring my

hostess to see you on Monday or Tuesday, Master," he announced, as he

said good-by. "And prepare yourself to fall at her feet like all the

rest of us--Merlin and Vivien, you know. It will be a just punishment

for your scathing remarks."

When they were outside in the garden Halcyone spoke not a word. The beds

were a glory of spring bulbs, and every bud on the trees was bursting

with its promise of coming leaf. Glad, chirruping bird-notes called to

one another, and a couple of partridges ran across the lawn.

John Derringham took in the lines of Halcyone's graceful person as she

walked ahead. She had that same dignity of movement from the hips which

the Nik of Samothrace seems to be advancing with as you come up the

steps of the Louvre.

How tall she had grown! She must be at least five feet nine or ten. But

why would she not speak?

He overawed her here in the daylight, and she felt silent and oppressed.

"Whereabouts is our tree that we sat in when I was young and you were

old?" he asked, after they had got through the gap in the hedge. A

little gate had been put in the last years to keep out the increasing

herd of deer.

"It is over there by the copse," she said shyly. "The lower branch fell

last winter, and it makes a delightful seat. One is not obliged to climb

into the tree now. See: Demetrius helped me to drag it close, and we

nailed on these two arms," and she pointed to a giant oak not far from

them, which John Derringham pretended to recognize.

He tried his best to get her to talk to him, but some cloud of timid

aloofness on her part seemed to hang between them, and very soon below

the copse they came to the one vulnerable part in all the haw-haw's

length. She showed him how to take the bricks out and where to place his

feet, and pointed out how secluded from any eye the place was. Then, as

he climbed down and then up again, and looked across at her from

Wendover lands, she said a sedate good-by, and turning, went on among

the thickly growing saplings of the copse and, never looking back, was

soon out of sight.

John Derringham watched her disappear with a strange feeling of ruffled

disquietude in his heart.