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R E VIS E D E D IT IO N T H E FRONTISPIECE IS FROM A D R AWING BY VIO LET O A KLEY THE DIARY *º-º-º-º-º-mºmºmº-º. jume the First. - The Major has kept me some- what late talking over the educa- tional delinquencies of his son and heir, and he has somewhat stag- gered my reasoning powers by a stronger jorum of whisky and water than harmonises with my head. Certainly the cigar was be- yond criticism. I wonder how many of these my salary will in- clude. What with the journey, the jorum, and the hard labour of listening I grow near to gaping protractedly; but I must not I A JUNE RO MAN CE neglect my Diary. Here I am, then, Private Tutor to Charlie Ellaby. Rising twenty-four, not quite sure how many hands high, but, in plainer lingo, six feet one. Broad to boot, of a here-to-day- and-there-to-morrow temperament; with the lar' one hour, the mole the next; with a passion for sun- burn, cricket, tennis, cats, idling and music; Nature my mother, my wife and sweetheart. Would pipe in the reeds next Pan if that were the fashion of song in these times, for I practice melody in words. I put this down in my diary that those who find it when I am clean gone may impute some of my bearishnesses to the (greatly diluted) blood of Apollo that is in me. Left London (Euston) by 2 T H E FIRST DAY the five o'clock express; reached Rugby at seven. The Major's dogcart, driven by a very civil descendant of Jehu, soon bowled me to Falconhurst. The Major is of the fine men, built up well at the shoulders; has eyes that look as if they could pierce the smoke of battle; is touched with grey just above the ears and at the nape of his neck. Can tell a tale, too. Has brains. Mrs. Ellaby will emphatically do. I shall love her soon—if I have not arrived at that stage at first sight. I never saw so benign a face, and its au- tumn beauty is of the mostgracious. Alice Ellaby I have not seen. She was in her own room. Charlie, if I may judge so soon, is rather dull mentally, but he is a rare 3 A JUN E R O MANCE upstanding animal, and high-met- tled. He and I shall scour the country together. The house is old and comfortable. The lawns delight me, and there is a garden of roses that should draw Pan away from the forget-me-nots. And the birds! Charlie says there are teal, herons, wild duck and moorhens down at the lake, but nearer the house are living songs flitting from lilac to laurel, laurel to lilac. How shall a teal rival a thrush? As well might a springbok fear that the prize for elegance would be awarded to the elephant! Ralph Anderson, you have a goodly her- itage, and your lot has fallen in a fair place. - jume the Second. Rose early. Just about to view the farther fields of the Major's estate when Charlie came down. Charlie has theories on rabbits. Of course I was led captive to discussº the points of the Belgian hares, creatures which fail to interest me in any one particular. They live in an old railway Carriage from which the seats have been removed. It used to be a smoking compart- ment. From the rabbits we passed to guinea pigs, or pound pigs, as Charlie elects to call them. They only surpass Belgian hares in lack of interesting qualities. The fowls I can understand, though the par- ticular colourings, combs, spurs, J A JUNE RO MAN CE pose and pugnacity which distin- guish kind from kind are as the wilds of a Bush dialect to me. Charlie, on the other hand, is a professor in poultry. He bewilders me with the range and directness of his chicken vocabulary, and he curdles my blood with tales of in- cisions he has made into the crops of his Dorkings. Just about to pass to the pigs (now I abhor pigs, for they are not gentlemanly ani- mals) when the saviour gong an- nounces, with ferocity stored all the way from China, that breakfast is ready. Such warm greetings from the Major and his wife! No Miss Ellaby. Spent much of the morning in finding out Charlie's fund of knowledge and his capa- bilities for acquiring more. Not 6 THE SE COND DAY so dull as I anticipated. The edge of his scholarship is blunt, but not gapped. If I can teach he can learn. Spent the afternoon at tennis with my pupil. He is going to be a task for me when he has had practice. Which is capital. Tea. No Miss Ellaby. Dinner. No Miss Ellaby. This begins to be a little disappointing. Or frank or shy, With long and lovely hair? Blue of the sky To light a face that’s fair? A country rose zoith scent perchance To wake in me my first romance. Umtrave/led loze To boſom mezer ſent, May Fortune prove Thy waiting iſ all ſpent. Rumour within my heart is sweet, And Hope comes near on Jºvifter feet. 7 jume the Third. Finished the farm-yard with Charlie for guide before breakfast. My views on pigs by no means changed. The falsetto squeaks of the piglets when Charlie's testing stick prodded them were amusing. I was introduced to half the hinds about the place. The district would seem to produce a yokel of moment, unless the Major selects carefully. Among other things Charlie inducted me into the mys- teries of milking, but I fumbled the teats to little purpose, while he, arrayed in a mighty apron, compelled the snowy stream. A sculptor might make a fine group, 8 THE THIRD DAY shaping it into marble, of a scene. like this. Title, Patience. The cow deeply contemplative. The milker assiduous, pushing his head into her mottled side, drawing down into the pail the fruit of the grass in the meadow, an aid to life. How easily she gives it! And at night again she gives, just as if she were only a machine for supplying milk. I shall have more lessons in this frothy art, for it must be most pleasant to hear the warm liquid tinkle on the floor of metal; to feel your head pushed outward and again drawn in by the big breathing of the animal; to watch the dancing multitude of creamy beads rise nearer and nearer to the top of your pail. A Grad- uate so lately from Oxford milking 9 A JUNE R O MAN CE a cow ! What would Clifford of Brasenose say? My name would be no more heard at the whist tables. Upon my word I begin to be so possessed by the rural spirit that I would rather follow the plough as an occasional ama- teur than battle in a smoky room to incalculable hours in the morn- ing for odd tricks. I shall certainly end by preferring country echoes. It is wonderful what an appetite comes of this early rambling. I quite disgraced my lineage over the bacon at breakfast, and eat most unpoetically. The table I noticed at a glance was only set for four. From ten till half-past twelve my pupil and I lived with Cicero and - Euripides. Charles has the ordi- nary boyish contempt for the lyre, IO THE THIRD DAY which marks the ungrown mind. The effect on him of circumlo- cution, inversions, turnings aside from the story to moralise in lovely language, is ludicrous. Cicero even is not direct enough for him. He says he could write all that the orator thundered against Cataline on his shirt-front! I must grad- ually teach him to look out for and appreciate literary graces. But the Belgian hare runs more strong- ly in his blood than the ornaments of style. Yet the rabbit may lose its commanding position later when Charlie's faculties broaden beyond the limits of the chicken-pen and the loose-box. Didn't go down to lunch. Made a bee-line for a a dense wood that crowned some rising ground a mile or so away, II A JUNE RO MAN CE and there dreamed of yesterday and to-morrow, but more of the future than the past, and this because an unseen girl shakes my old content. I lay long on my back looking up at the odd-shaped patches of heaven that shook and changed among the unquiet branches. Alice Ellaby! Alice Ellaby | What a pretty name for . the wind to blow through the forest! A thrush could almost say it! Stream/ets to forget-me-nots Whisper zoater-melody, But there’ſ music in thy mame, Unseen Alice E//aby— Music that the streamlet’ſ lips And the branches of the tree Cannot ſend the zoi//img zoïnd, Unseen Alice E//aby. I 2 THE THIRD DAY Come and make the music grow To one love/y harmony; Be thyself the instrument, Unſeem Alice Ellaby. I walked home by the road and chanced on a pretty sight in one of the lanes. Between high hedges there met me a gentleman on a splendid black horse. Beside him, looking up at him, there walked the loveliest girl I have ever seen. I passed close to her. Many maidens have I seen but never a maid like this. The casual glance she gave me stirred me. What am I doing? Am I become a weathercock? At one part of the afternoon musing in the wood, worshipping dimly some ideal which I seem to think draws near to being realised; at another, I3 A JUNE ROMANCE shaken by a chance look that was only a tribute to the customs of curiosity. Not thus before. From a myriad beautiful eyes I have gone unscathed. Is there more than milking, rabbit-keeping, singing birds and unenslaved air in the country : Are there goddesses in the everyday garb 2 Dined in my own room. Mrs. Ellaby wishes me to when I like. No wonder the Major looks love at her. She is a dear thing. Heigh-hol I am tired of much, but most, O Diary, of you. Mother, good- night. Perhaps this will fall into your hands some day and you will know your boy was thinking of you on the third of June. I4 june the Fourth. The fear that I am become a waverer is dispelled. While I was watching a dewdrop slide from the ridge of a petal down into the heart of a white rose, I suddenly saw the girl I met in the lane yes- terday come out of the French window of the dining-room. Alice . Ellaby! Take some of the fire and firmness so apparent in the Major's face, join them with the benignancy of her mother's, add- ing that freshness God has given youth that the young, lacking the gift of experience, may not fail of attractiveness, and you have the main characteristics of this beau- I 5 A JUNE ROMANCE tiful countenance. The country certainly has one goddess at least in an everyday garb. She came toward me. Her shining slippers glanced in the grass. She wore a grey homespun dress that fell, innocent of flounces, in graceful lines sheer from her reasonable waist— not so captured and re- strained as to earn a matron's censure, nor of an undue round, but a circle in just proportion to the sweep of the hips and the out- ward curves of her gracious bosom. On her head nothing. Nothing? Nought save a cunningly careless mass of hair of a dead-leaf hue, yet with a glorious glaze of young years upon it—such a polish as the laurel wears. But her face! Her eyes are of a blue betwixt I6 THE FOURTH DAY. light and dark; fine and meek, but courageous withal; eyes that seem bathed in the mist of a tear; eyes, therefore, of a startling ten- derness. The white brow above them, possessed here and there by stray twinings of her hair, speaks of consciousness, the understand- ing of grief, and sympathy to ease it. The tiniest ripple in her nose betrays, I think, a quiet humour, and her lips—her lips they are the lips of love, having the wild red of love, the fullness of love, the soft, moist glow of love. She is midway between eighteen and nine- teen. Truly my lot has fallen in a fair place! Her way lies heaven. I must win her. As she came toward me, to introduce herself, love came before her like a wind I7 A JUNE ROMANCE and breathed upon me, within me, around me the want of her. The ideal changed into the real. Love at first sight; only two sections of humanity can laugh at it: those who have outworn romance, and those who are callow in true passion. Must I descend to the dry-as-dust details now 2 Well, the day was the usual tissue of meals, lessons, games, chats, open- air music, hoarse crows, flitting finches, deliberate herons. When the frightened teal stormed across the lake I hardly turned my mind from Alice Ellaby to them. The sun and Alice Ellaby to rule the day! Began Terence with Charlie —the Hauton Timorumenos. Rather an ominous title. Got a few hints from my pupil this afternoon in I8 T H E F O U R T H DAY the art of building hutches. Not far from us his sister was cooing to her doves. She came to view our work, and laughed mellowly at our enthusiasm. I would be a car- penter for ever if that laugh ming- led always with my life! When I am a riper scholar in planks and planes I have promised to make her a new cote for her pigeons. A kitten came across the yard and rubbed against her feet. She picked it up and stood it on her shoulder, and it bridled against her cheek. Velvet in love with velvet. Later on we three played tennis. I matched the two. She plays a good game. After dinner the Major bottled me up in his study to analyse the Evans' Gam- bit. It took me only seven moves I9 A JUN E R O MANCE to lose my queen. At ten o’clock the Major voted me out of gear, and suggested joining the ladies in the drawing-room. But Alice, very tired, her mother said, had gone bedward. Chess is a silly game—sometimes. Wrote half-a- dozen letters and constructed the skeleton of a novel. Thank God for a happy day. Amen. 2O jume the Fifth. Sunday. I have not been by any means a constant church-goer, for I do not like to shut my special praise inside four walls, but when Mrs. Ellaby asked me at breakfast whether I would walk across the fields to hear young Mr. Monk- ington, the famous and eloquent Vicar of Winehill, preach, I gladly assented. The Major says he is good and muscular, and that he talks sensibly to the labourer of his labour without ceaselessly tack- ing Swedes and partridges to God. You may see him fling a marvel- ously correct quoit on the village green in the evenings, and his 2 I A JUNE ROMANCE square-leg hit, Charlie tells me, is the talk of half a county. I walked between beautiful autumn and lovely spring—Mrs. and Miss Ellaby. Jack Strode was wont to say at Oxford that if I ever had a talent for apron-strings I had cer- tainly wrapped it in a napkin and buried it. But how shall I be honoured if these two ladies will tie me to theirs! Such a medley of lambs in the fields through which we passed One poor ewe was trotting from one part of the meadow to another, her head high in the air, uttering a prolonged lamentation, and so full of distress was it that the prodigal must have had a hard heart to resist its pathetic invitation to return home to the ready milk. Perhaps the 22 T H E FIFTH DAY unregarding truant was a lamb asleep so close to the turfy path that Alice Ellaby's dress swept against its face, whereat he woke, blinked surprisedly and retreated angularly, stopping thirty yards off or so to attack another sheep, young in maternity, with his but- ting head. She, however, had mouths of her own to feed and gave but a surly greeting to the little pirate. Sights like these, chats on a score of topics, Alice's warm gloved hand and thankful glances at the stiles made the three miles to Winehill a thousand times too short. Louder and louder the bells rang out their call to prayers. Alice and I had but one hymn book between us. She sang the treble and I the bass of 23 A JUNE ROMANCE ** Our &/ey/ Redeemer ere He breathed His tender /ast farewell.” Ours was a most harmonious pew, for all the Ellabys have good voices. The Major's bass is per- haps of the overweening order somewhat, and his ponderous amens were clinchers indeed How he could roar to a regiment against the vicious quarrelling of the Mar- tinis | The theological athlete was natural in the pulpit. He stood and talked to his congre- gation in a tongue truly to be understanded of the people. His heart seemed with them. Am I beginning to be stung by the nettles of jealousy 2 I thought he looked at Alice over—much. As we walked homeward, after a very halting rendering of the War 24 T H E FIFTH DAY March of the Priests by the organ- ist, the Vicar overtook us. Alice blushed when he shook hands with her. By some master stroke of policy he drew off with her from us. Here is the first jarring note It was sure to come. But what if it come again, again, grow in intensity and finally drown the melody that is mine—poor wistful melody of a teacher of Greek. Worse and worse. At the second stile we found one waiting to be a companion for the rest of the way home. He was the horseman whom I met in the lane with Alice. There is no doubt about his intent. When he shook hands with her a look flew from his eyes that had but one translation. The Parson saw it, and a frown Sud- 25 A JUN E R O M A N CE denly perched upon his forehead. I saw it and bit my lip. O Mother, Mother, have you borne me to be disappointed of the only girl to whom my heart has humbled itself? Here is the second jarring sound. Both these men are rich, with homes almost fine enough for my whitethroat, but what have I, the brains for a boy, the hired usher? O God, between them they will plunder me ! I shall be left at the wayside for dead, with joy, love and life cudgelled out of me. I became silent, and I think Alice noticed it. A woman is swift to search out the slenderest change in the feelings of men. Being, as she is, the desire of men; living, as she does, in an atmos- phere of attempts upon her love, 26 THE FIFTH DAY her mercury responds to the slight- est accentuation of frigidity, even if the alteration be so slight that he in whom it takes place is well- nigh unaware of it. But one of these two is a rich parson, the other a wealthy squire, while I, in exchange for a few pieces of silver, am engaged to demonstrate that two and two make four. So from the first I am the last. I am sure Alice perceived my gloom, and once, God bless her, she darted back at me a radiant look. It seemed to say Cheer up. Before I had time to give her smile for smile she was again in conversa- tion with the Vicar. The rest of the day nothing but a yearning for it to be at an end. Once I passed Alice on the stairs, but we did not 27 A JUNE R O MANCE speak. O foolish silence! A kind word then had brought blue into my skies. There be three men hunting one maid. Whose wife shall she be 2 28 jume the Sixth. A night of the vilest. Only tags of sleep, and those the slaves of disquieting dreams—a mingle- ment of squires, parsons, horses, paradoxes, quoits and Alice Ellaby. The squire thundering down a mountain side on his black horse with Alice a captive—willing or unwilling?—before him. The par- son in the mouth of the gorge grimly set to spoil their flight. This stuff was no refreshment for fatigue. Up and away in the morning, actually rousing larks, rockets of music, from their grassy habitations. The sky was soon full of airs. Comfort seemed to 29 A JUNE R O MANCE descend with this sweet chorus of pipings, and as a graver feeling stole over me I repented me of my unmanageable startings aside, like a broken bow. A noble image from a noble book. joy of the firmament, on me Shake dozwn The wonder of thy melody! Something ſo fine is in thy note, Something ſo pure, that I in shame Do bear from ſhiming spaces float Rebukings of my grief and flame. My Love, unutterably fair, Imzºokes The turbulence of my despair. O charm her, Orpheus, to my mood / . And I will guard the gracious child With all of me that’s finely good, And love magnificently zoild. I must buy a pair of gaiters. When I got back, barely in time 3O T H E SIXTH DAY for breakfast, I was wet to the knees, for the long grass was heavily bedeved. Charlie and I went a-fishing in the afternoon. I refused to have anything to do with the impaling of the worms or the out-pulling of the fish. I have a large horror of snatching creatures unnecessarily from their element. Charlie toiled long and caught one fish. As this is his first capture, and as he has made a triplet of expeditions to the lake his average works out at .3. I lay in the lush grass and gloried in the beauty that everywhere sur- rounded me. I felt helped by it. The lake is narrow, but long, and it curves abundantly. At a bend in the distance I could spy two patient herons. They are fishers, 3I A JUN E R O MANCE but instinct, not idleness, urges them to pursue this calling. If a race of giants were to angle for us from the skies with spicy baits, and the spectacle were seen of a human creature, pendent from a hook, being dragged upward with all the contortions of reluctancy, what brutes we should think the giants How we should hate them How we should eye the bait ! Those among us of riper years would gather enough of guile to answer guile, but some of our giddy lads and lasses would bite, depend on it! But if expos- tulation were possible the giants would declare their occupation good sport—a pleasant change from the task of making moun- tains or banking up a volcano. 32 THE SIXTH DAY And how they would chuckle when one of us of bigger build should make a stout fight for foot- hold on the earth! So long as fishing is a mere game, and not a hard battle for bread on a surly sea, the parallel is not unjust. Charlie and I had tea in his den, and Alice came to dispense. How much blossom and light she brought with her I can never prop- erly say. I hope that grey dress of hers will never wear out. Charlie drove her away by teasing her about the squire and the vicar, and she said good-bye in lovely confusion. So much cor- respondence to gird myself to that I could not spend an hour in the drawing-room. I heard Alice go humming to bed. Her room is 33 A JUNE R O MAN CE over my study. Such a pretty music her passing skirts made! Szweet Love is in my room, My heart is his ; He teacher me to ſhare His fanctities : He pours upon my lips A lovely flow Of praise for one fair girl, Her pink, her snow. Loze, teach me more than this— That steadfastneſs Which sees in darkness ſight, Which works to press By paths of honour, til/ There comes the end When the consenting maid Grows wife and friend. 34 jume the Seventh. I can milk | How I wish the Brasenose men could see me with my head in the old cow's side It is a true pleasure this, to watch the white liquid spurting on to the bottom of the pail. I milked three cows before break- fast, and my hands, for hours afterwards, had an indescribable odour. A capital morning's work with Charlie. Euclid—the cir- cles, and some Latin prose. He is a willing boy and works like a Trojan, though every bird's call, or the flicking of the strands of loosened creeper against the win- dow pane, is for him an instant 35 A JUNE R O MANCE invitation and hard to be put aside. I have grown to love the lad, and not the less that I seem to see in him a dislike for the two men who are obviously desiring his sister. At lunch time Alice, Charlie and myself got permission from Mrs. Ellaby to make an ex- cursion to Penley Woods. We started off in high spirits. Charlie had his pockets full of hard boiled eggs, and carried a goodly hoard of bread and butter. Alice had little packets of salt and tea in hers and I was in charge of a small spirit lamp. We trusted some cottagers for water and cups. The incomparable grey dress looked more becoming than ever. We went over hedges and ditches, Alice needing little help, for she 36 T H E S E V E N T H D A Y had swung across this country before now. It was good to see her ready to jump from the top rail of a fence, and good to clasp her hand so as to steady her. The colour in her cheeks glowed a re- sponse to the breeze and the pace we travelled at, but when Charlie accidentally trod upon a toad the roses grew white with pity, and her gentle eyes swam with tears. Blessed are the merciful! We ran a race, one of 200 yards, down Colton lane. Alice, fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid, had eighty yards start because of her imped- ing skirts; Charlie had forty. He went to the winning post (for which there served the spirit-lamp and Alice's hat—the one with the bunch of violets) and deposited 37 A JUNE R O MANCE all the hard-boiled eggs on the road. I, of course, was “scratch.” The starting was difficult as Alice would not trust Charlie, Charlie would not trust me, and I would trust neither of them. At last we elected as starter an old crow that we saw come slowly sailing over the field on our right, cawing at fairly regular intervals. We posed, and agreed to sprint when next the bird spoke. Just as he came over the lane he uttered the gruffest of signals, and off we sped, Alice sending back a chime of laughter to us. Charlie was collared twenty yards from home when Alice was fully ten in front. I had no golden apples to throw her, and as a con- sequence this new Atalanta won, though not by much. Charlie 38 THE SEVENTH DAY said “by a short eye-ball,” but as he was some distance in the rear, lying full of pants and puffs on the grassy edge of the road, his verdict was received with disfavour. He gave the time as five minutes, but Alice's hurrying heart and the greater glow of her cheeks flatly contradicted this statement. We sat down in a row, bare-headed and gasping, to recover ourselves, while the eggs seemed to blink at us in the bright sunshine. At last we gathered up the fragments and proceeded, leaping the brook and pressing up the slope to the out- skirts of the wood. How sweet and cool the thousand unfashioned paths between the climbing giants of elm and oak As we trampled through the brambles, bird after 39 A JUNE R O MANCE bird, these private realms so long given over to safety and song now being trodden by invaders, re- treated with shrill cries to warn the further inhabitants of trees and bushes, outlying neighbours, mere acquaintances, or intimate friends and relations. At last we broke into a channel of lush grass, a river of green streaming along for ever so far. The growth was up to my knees. It was pretty to see the grey skirt in billows of home-spun taking endless shapes from the resisting mass of verdure, and good it was to hear the swish of our feet, a sound akin to that of the scythe. After following this bounteous strip of coolness and beauty for nearly half-a-mile the trees on our left from battalions 4O T H E S E V E N T H D A Y became single spies, and not far away over a close-cropped meadow we saw a tiny farm. This made us think of food. Charlie went off to borrow what we wanted, while Alice and I selected a com— fortable nook for our meal. This was soon done, and I, stretched out on the grass, chatted with my Love as she sat passing her hand backwards and forwards among the slender blades. It was our first quiet, our first interchange of thought, the Genesis of the book we then opened together. Now and again when I gazed at her suddenly I could almost believe that early sparklings of something tenderer than mere interest glowed in her eyes. I resented the ar- rival of Charlie with a basketful of 4 I A JUN E R O MANCE odds and ends. In their first sweet hours of Eden, Adam and Eve needed no third person. We may certainly reckon the Serpent impersonal. Our housewife made us some ravishing tea. We praised her in tortuous sentences teeming with words the most elaborate. Truly, the tea was good. Truly, I never enjoyed, a cup so much, and I think Alice believed me: when I said so gravely, jesting for the nonce being outworn, she showed a happy light in those soft eyes of hers. How capital were the eggs when we took off their great-coats, as Charlie put it! Biting through the layer of snow we came upon their kernels of gold, and when I had my little packet of salt that had ridden in 42 THE SEVENTH DAY Alice's pocket, I did not envy the select their caviare. We were three big children out there in one of God’s sacred places. Would you believe it? The snake had to come. When our laughter was at its cheeriest ring we heard the hiss of a man’s steps coming round the bend of the green river. It was the parson. Had Alice told him of our expedition? He strode up to us; said he knew of our desti- nation, had followed us in the hope of tasting Souchong in a forest. Alice gave him some in her cup! Charlie put his cap over his face, and feigned sleep. I, despite what I translated as a reproachful look from Alice, rose and waded along the stream, whistling with wry mouth God knows what air, 43 A JUN E R O MANCE to make as if I were a very king of unconcern. The walk home was like a split in the Cabinet. The parson—how these plump priests sniff out the tidbits – assumed Alice. Charlie and I, he snarling, I silent, marched grimly some fifty yards behind them. The parson stayed to dinner. When the Major suggested that we should join the ladies I deserted the small procession. Letters in my own room. I heard the thun- der of the divine’s “I fear no foe.” I fear him—more than a little. 44 jume the Eighth. O all ye soft-handed London dandies with your limp biceps, have you ever had an hour's slic- ing of mangel-wurzels in a cow- shed before breakfast? If not, come down here, strip off those lemon-kid gloves and bend to the handle. Alas for your Piccadilly poses and Rotten Row elegancies! My word, it is an exercise, with a vengeance! Charlie and I worked this morning. He put in all the monsters when I was cutting. A letter from the editor of The Flag. He wants some society verse, not too light—a judicious cross between Wordsworth and Ashby Sterrv. 45 A JUN E R O MANCE Alice brought us each a bun of her own invention at eleven o’clock. The truth not to wickedly stifle they were not altogether remotely connected with the chief peculiarity of adamant. Charlie says new Pyramids should be built of them. The Squire was at lunch. I sup- pose he thinks me an underling. He is barely civil. Latin and Greek are useful sometimes, you see. My iota of proficiency is enough to win me closer compan- ionship with Alice than falls to the squire or the parson. He squan- dered the afternoon buzzing round the candle. From my window I saw them in the rosary, walking down lanes of crimson, white and pink blossoms. . I cannot think why “Stitches,” his horse, does 46 THE EIGHTH DAY not earn a true claim to his bays by depositing this insolent fellow in a road-side brooklet. Seven thousand a year and a beautiful residence make together too glitter- ing a bait to be dangled before an inexperienced girl. I had much ado to prevent myself from throw- ing the window up and bellowing to him this afternoon. I saw him gather a rosebud and then attempt to fix it in her dress. I shall have to kick him soon, I know I shall. But Alice would not be touched. What man of the three who love her will first fasten a bloom in her bodice? Tea on the lawn. No one seemed very lively. I played the Major three games of billiards after dinner. How will this do for The Flag? - 47 A JUNE ROMANCE A& E G A& E 7". Last night some yellow letters fell From out a ſcript I found by chance; Among them was the fi/ent ghoſt, The spirit of my first romance: And in a faint &/ue enzelope A zwithered rose long /ost to dezo Bore zoitmerſ to the dashing days When love zva's large and wits were few. Yet standing there a/Z zoorn and grey The teardrops quizzered in my eyes To think of Youth’ſ unshaken front, The forehead lifted to the skies; How rough a hill my eager feet F/ung backward when apon its crest I ſaw the flutter of the lace The zoind azooke on Laura’ſ breast / Hozo thormless zvere the rose; them When fresh young eyes and lips were kind; When Cupid in our porches proved Hozo true the tale that Loze is b/ind/ 48 THE EIGHT H DAY But Red and White and Poverty Would only mate while home the May; Them came a bag of Golden Crozons And jingled Red and White away. Grown old and miggard of romance I wince not much at aught askezv, And often ask my favourite cat What else had Red and White to do? And here’ſ the bud that roſe and ſank, A crimſon island on her breast— Why should I burm it? Once again Hide, roſe, and dream. God send me reſt. 49 jume the Ninth. Began The Heritage of the Kurts in bed, and in consequence did not exactly rival the lark in the matter of early rising. Charlie caressed my door with his fist loudly and long, but I bade him be off. It was no easy task to be in time for breakfast. In God’s Way riveted my attention, but this later book promises to be even more enthral- ling. Two friends of mine lately met the author. Would I had been in their company, and we three in his! From my window at midday I saw the parson and Alice sketching down by the Avon. When the talents were ladled out 5O T H E N IN TH DAY where was I? Why did not some one call me? I could not draw a box, let alone a clump of trees where cattle go for shade. But this parson of fine abilities, but objec- tionable aims, is a king at per- , spective. Perhaps, though, I might shame him if it came to a ballad. If only I dared send Alice some betraying verses where- *!, by she might learn the tune to which my heart beats Mrs. Ellaby had a function this after- noon. There was a gathering of the county clans on her lawn. Frumps abounded. There was a great deal of young beauty, but far more young ugliness. I am not rapturously devoted to this kind of entertainment, but I did my best in the way of arranging sets 5 I A JUNE RO MANCE at tennis. A Miss Bellairs was worth trouble. She is a great friend of Alice Ellaby, and is coming soon to stay here. Such a chatterbox! Nineteen to the dozen but poorly expresses her volubility. She flies from pole to pole, men- tions icebergs in the same breath as warming-pans, begins a sentence in Austria and ends it at Samoa. Elusive, daring, radiant, she made me feel like a top subject to the whipcord. Her conversation has the saving merit of surprising one by its sudden changes of hue and intent. When a girl begins to talk about funerals how astonished a listener is to hear of the Wed- ding March a second or so later. And all so easily, too! Pleasant to-day and to-morrow and even 52 T H E N IN TH DAY the day after, but what if the habit grow greater with years? When the charm of white teeth, lovely colour, gleaming eyes, pretty move- ments of head, hands and shoul- ders are vanished away for ever, haply a house might become un- endurable. It would be as if a sweetly twittering bird of Paradise were to change into a sere and chattering parrot. Some man, I take it, will marry her. I begin to feel early pangs of sympathy with him. She asked me what I thought of Alice. My blood is not my slave. I blushed a little. I hope I am not an unmanly man, but this is one of the little curses of life which I cannot cure. The minx can read the human face. She said something about a triplet 53 A JUN E R O MANCE of Cupids. She knows. I sup- pose there will be awkward mo- ments when this fox comes into our wheat. Her tongue will be the torch. By half-past six the last of the elderly frumps was bundled into her carriage, and we compared notes—kindly, for here are warm and honest hearts. Agnes Bellairs is the squire's Cousin. Confidante, too, I make no doubt. Charlie at last appeared. Shortly after lunch he had discreetly evaporated. He had spent the afternoon in tar- ring the roof of the railway carriage and re-puttying the panes of glass. Charlie is severe on the county clans. Spent the evening reviewing six books of minor verse. None of the authors on Traill’s list. 54 jume the Tenth. Empire tottered this morning. Charlie with characteristic infelicity chose a bad moment for being something less than civil. Wanted to do arithmetic when I said Euclid. A trifle saucy. I sent him into the corner for an hour, and exacted the uttermost second. It was a wrench to punish the lad. His eyes might belong to Alice, so beautiful are they, and when they swam with that moisture so nearly related to true tears it was a fight between folly and firmness. Luckily the latter prevailed. He is not wont to disregard my mild- est imperative. He is forbidden 55 A JUNE ROMANCE to speak to me till ten o’clock to-morrow. The morning was something grim, but discipline is an element that a teacher, to teach properly, cannot be without. A tutor is not alone engaged to drum Alpha, Beta into a boy. If he is worth his salt he aids the growing animal in half a hundred ways; he exerts a cunning influence over his manners; he provides milk diet for the young brain, substitu- ting sturdier fare when the creature shows the need of stronger food; without undue insistence he digs channels for the river of his thought to run in; he fashions him, shaping for himself a standard for the pupil; and he files facets for the rough diamond. What is my duty to the Major? Just to 56 T H E T E N T H DAY guide his boy’s feet among the pitfalls of algebra? Far more than this; and first of all Charlie must understand that my decrees are irrevocable. He must trust me and my justice. His temper must be, like Tom Bowling's body, under hatches. The master loves a cheerful and obedient pupil. I must calmly but resolutely ex- plain to the boy to-morrow his duty towards his tutor. In this branch of knowledge he is a little backward. Poor Charlie | I think he tired hugely of the pattern of the wall-paper But how have I been able to linger over this triviality when so startling a piece of news waits to be recorded? About half-past four I had occasion to go into the library to verify a 57 A JUNE ROMANCE quotation. There was Alice Ella- by, pale as death, lying senseless upon the floor. Evidently she had slipped on the steps, for a heavy volume was not far from her. I think my heart really did stand still for a moment; then I was down at her side with her hand in mine. I put my ear upon her bosom (O love, why was she not awake and willing?) and lis- tened for the drum of life. I heard a soft thud, and sent out my thanks impetuously to God. I could hardly leave her to tear wildly at the bell. I heard a fierce jangle wake and squabble in the servants’ quarters, and a maid’s feet flew towards the library. Her scream startled Mrs. Ellaby. Salts, chafings, low words of love in her 58 T H E T E N T H DAY ears as her mother nursed the priceless head in her lap, began to bring the brain to work actively once more. Slowly she opened her eyes. I think she saw me first of all. We put her on a sofa. Her head ached terrifically, so we drew the blinds, put a shawl round her little feet. I was allowed this task. She thanked me. Not since first we met and love within me spake only of her have I so de- sired to whisper a tender word to her. Mrs. Ellaby turned me out. If Paradise had a door and it shut with a bitter click and remorseless snap behind the Father of Man and Mother Eve his helpmeet, lo, I, one who has come after, have inherited that pain. I could not work, I could not be still, I could 59 A JUNE R O MANCE not go out of the house. Sera- phina, the cat, exercised her bland- ishments in vain, purring to my boots; and when the poodle, Sol- omon, made as if he were only one living welcome, I had no patting hand or commending utterance for him. And yet full fifty times had I seen Solomon romp with Alice, and Seraphina, a ball of tabby plush, wink happily in her lap. Verily love has a mind, like Buck- ingham's, partitioned into many madnesses, but whatever the tor- ture, whatever the discipline, if only the love be truly great, noble, honourable, the entering in of it means cleanness to a man. How it makes us frown at the past, and promise a finer future. Here follows a simile. Often the sea 6O THE TENTH DAY drives a corpse shoreward, and, much in the same way, the mind’s tide throws up a foul thought on the strand of individual existence. Often the sea takes back its corpse, when it recedes from land, and hides it for ever in its caves. How happy should we be if the wave of thought, following on evil which contaminated our mental purity, should be strong and urgent enough to draw the vileness away in the undertow, and drown it deeper even than the dredges of con- science can reach At last Mrs. Ellaby came noiselessly out of the library. Alice had fallen asleep. We had some tea in the drawing- room. Remembering Montrose's verse I dared much. I slipped away after drinking one cup of tea 6 I A JUNE ROMANCE while Mrs. Ellaby was explaining the accident to the Major, and quietly went into the library. There she was—my joy! I stood beside the sofa and looked at her exceeding loveliness. Suddenly she woke, looked at me and gave me her hand. I bent down and told her I could not rest without coming to see if she were comfort- able. She said she was. I bade her close her eyes, and when she had obeyed left her. How few days have I been here, and how chequered have the hours been by hope and fear. Truly the garment of life, like Joseph’s coat, is one of many colours. Later on the Major and I carried Alice up to her room. Well, I have had moments that no man can steal 62 T H E T E N T H DAY from me, even if my vocation in life is only to make mistakes. When Clifford of Brasenose was especially charmed he used to say that he felt as if his soul were being shampooed. A vivid, if somewhat naughty, phrase, but, upon my word, to-night I under- stand it. Sleep well, my sweet! 63 jume the Eleventh. Nearly two weeks gone! Ah, would that Time might look back and, in so doing, be, as was Lot's wife, turned into a pillar of salt! By which I mean that Time is too nimble, and might be a jolly fellow if he would rest from his unceasing race. I would not have him par- ticularly salt, but the image will do to express my desire for him to be stationary. Day by day, Strephon, he gnaws at the splen- dour of thy thews and thy supple- ness, and hourly, Chloris, does the hue of thy cheeks lose some whit of its clearness. Could we but waylay him and rifle his pouch ! 64 THE E LEVENTH DAY Here's one would lurk on the heath, masked; but just as Fortune is a cockatrice on whose den it is unsafe to play, so we cannot tinker with Time. He is sans peur, though not, perchance, sans re- proche. And this is all the time for Time. Found Mrs. Ellaby at five this morning bearing some dainty to Alice, who had passed a good night and was beginning to resent the coddling. As I thought, she had slipped when reaching down the big book. Made joyful by this intelligence about her well- being, I sang across the meadows to Easton Revel, and on my way back gathered a handful of wild roses for Alice, some of the fresh morning clinging to them in the shape of dewdrops. These went 65 A JUN E R O MANCE up to her on the breakfast tray with my compliments. Compli- ments It seems a poor word, but perhaps my love will remember that the remotest star is the largest light. At about eleven, when Charlie was writing an essay on “A year in a hedge’s life,” I went downstairs hoping to find the patient. There was a wealth of sunshine, and out on the lawn with rugs and cushions in abun- dance, and a vasty red umbrella over her, she lay. Her hands were clasped behind her head wherefore the lines of her bust were beauti- fully accentuated. A glittering slipper ventured from under her skirt just audaciously enough to reveal the clocks on her hose. Because I came from the house I 66 T H E E L E V E N T H D A Y saw her before she saw me, but she heard my footstep, and looked round. I bent to shake hands with her. She was better. Some- how I had few words. My tongue would not fashion them. It seemed so fair a thing not to be gazing on the stilly, blanched face that had wrenched my heart in the library. But perhaps my silence was a language. It often is, as it were, a lover's patois. By the rule of contraries, if the garrulous man were dumb he might be interesting, and if a mute could speak he would probably be worth listen- ing to. So doubtless my speech- lessness set this child’s mind a-wondering. After a common- place or twain I returned to Charlie, and I felt that, if never 67 A JUNE ROMANCE before, now I had roused a deep interest in Alice's heart. (The unsaid word that hovers on the lips is often easier to understand than the clearest utterance.) I wish, though, she had been wear- ing one of the wild roses. Some servant had spread exaggerations in the village, for we had endless messages of condolence, not to speak of grapes and flowers from the parson and the squire. Which was like sending lava to Vesuvius. Surely she must have preferred the roses taken from Nature's breast in the dewy morning by my hand to those gathered by gardeners in obedience to their masters' orders. I wonder what the plague the Major's sentiments are concerning the marrying of his daughter. He 68 THE ELEVENTH DAY is so much in love with his wife that all the rest slides. We had the chess board in the drawing- room after lunch, and Alice and I played him a consultation game. We had some pretty debates over . the capers of the knights and the sidlings of the bishops. She was lying on the sofa and I had a chair by her side. Once when we were at the height of an argument about a pawn I saw the Major and Mrs. Ellaby (who was darning a pair of my socks) exchange amused glances. Of course Alice pre- vailed. God forgive me if I ever, even in play, crossed her innocent whims. At last we thundered down on the Major's king, and after buffeting the monarch accord- ing to the most approved republi- 69 A JUNE ROMANCE can method, cornered him beyond redemption, whereat those blue eyes danced delightedly, and I was rated for my hostility to her cun- ning. At tea-time Miss Bellairs arrived, rustling into the room in a shower of syllables, a hand for me, a kiss for Mrs. Ellaby’s cheek, and a long hug for Alice. Verbal fireworks began, rockets of exclamation, squibs of interjection, and Catherine wheels of gossip till the foundations of the round world seemed to tremble. And the display was accompanied by a ripple of such musical laughter that I could forgive the rattlepate for its harmony alone. She soon had us all broadly smiling, such was the infection of her spirits, and the Major, a prominent victim of the 7O T H E E L E V E N T H DAY epidemic, guffawed as Polyphemus might have done in his lighter moods. I am quite in the girl's power. She gave such a wickedly meaning look, as much as to say she knew my secret and had me in the palm of her hand! At dinner-time she kept up a fund of anecdote about the eccentricities of Lady Lorlacton (a famous frump, local and of importance) whom she described as unreason- ably, intolerantly and viciously virtuous. Charlie worships her. She is an amateur in rabbits. We had a little music, but Alice would not sing. Miss Bellairs executed song after song almost as rapidly as she spoke. She is a handsome creature, and has a neck that might almost match Alice's. The ladies 71 A JUN E R O MAN CE went to bed early, but at this minute I can hear a brook of con- versation gurgling overhead. Miss Bellairs is in Alice’s room. 72 jume the Twelfth. Sunday. I rode off early in the morning so as to be in time for breakfast at Hestern Vicarage, twenty miles away. My old Col- lege chum, Frank Harleigh, has the living. It was good to grasp his hand again. We revelled in recollections and roared over the foibles of some of the Freshmen. How the matchless 'Varsity life seemed to come back and envelop us in that little room which was a cross between a gymnasium and a theological repository. A boxing- glove half covered a copy of the New Version. Harleigh is of the Church Militant, and a good job 73 A JUNE RO MANCE too! A healthy village calls for a healthy priest. What is the use of a suckling curate who wears a comforter on Midsummer day? In the course of dinner Harleigh administered a knock-down blow to me. He is in very deep (amo- rous) water. The needed nymph is Agnes Bellairs. I had to tell him as much as I could of all she had said since she came to Falcon- hurst. I might easily relieve Atlas for half an hour, but such a task as Harleigh imposed tried me greatly. He says she can be as quiet as a mouse, when she likes. Aye, there's the rub—when she likes! But does she like, and will she like? O Harleigh, my son, you ought to be included in Mr. Fisher Unwin’s Adventure Series! Night 74 THE T W E L FTH DAY brought further madness. Har- leigh insisted on riding home with me, just to see Agnes Bellairs’ lighted window-pane! Love wots not of horseflesh Perchance I now have a petard with which to hoist Miss Bellairs. Who knows? 75 june the Thirteenth. There were many long pauses in our conversation last night as we rode towards Falconhurst, and gradually these verses jingled to- gether in my head. I forgot to scribble them on the day to which they belong, but this is not a matter of moment. * Zºvere good!y gain to kiss my love, To ſee/ her arms about me; To think her days were colour/ess If they were spent zvithout me; To know my abſence waſ a pain (How base it seems!) were goodly gain. ’ Tºwere rarely sweet against my heart To feel her bosom swelling; To dream at might that ſhe had come In ſplendour to my dwelling; 76 T H E THIRT E E N T H DAY To listem for her flying feet In bracken haunts were rarely ſweet. But moſtly good, beyond her kiss, Beyond her eyes of beauty, Beyond her shape’s magnificence, Her coming zviſely duty, The trembling /ips, the downcast face, The reve/ andermeath her /ace/ Milked two cows and hammered away at the pigeon-cote before breakfast. Agnes Bellairs and Charlie were deep in rabbits, and their jargon of Patagonians and Oar-lops was Dutch to me. When I got into the breakfast-room Alice was there alone, putting sugar into some of the cups. The day began in merriment, for Miss Bellairs outsparkled herself. A very interesting bout of work with my pupil. I cut lunch, so that by 77 A JUNE ROMANCE writing while the others fed I might be free in the afternoon. When I went downstairs at three o'clock I heard Alice singing. I was mean enough to listen outside the door for a while; then I entered the room. She stopped immediately and made as if she would rise from the music—stool, but as I said that I should go if she stirred she remained where she was. After a little coaxing she consented to sing to me. I played the ac- companiment. It is enough to say that her voice suits her. It is a true contralto, deep, round, womanly. It gave me great pleasure, and I told her so. “I am so glad you like my voice,” she said. “It is too bad of you to have 78 THE THIRT E E N T H DAY cheated me so long,” I answered; “here is nearly half my time at Falconhurst gone.” “Are you really only here for a month P” “Only a fortnight now.” “What a shame!” “Do you honestly think so 2° “Yes, I do; Charlie, Mother and Father, the cows, cats and dogs, and Miss Bellairs will all miss you shockingly.” “It is a long list, Miss Ellaby, but incomplete; I should like in- formation about another member of this household.” “I shall miss you, too,” she said, not deigning, as so many would have done, to pretend igno- rance of my meaning. - “I am glad of that,” I said, “I 79 A JUN E R O MAN CE would rather be missed by all than some, and—” “Perhaps you will come at Christmas P” “Perhaps.” There was a short silence. Stand- ing by my side she put her hand on the keyboard and executed a tinkling run. I looked up at her beauty. “Mr. Anderson,” she said, Sud- denly turning a little more toward me, “I have never thanked you for the wild roses.” “Nor I you for accepting them. They were not so gorgeous as those from the Vicarage and the Grange. I feared they had suffered by comparison with their aristo- cratic cousins.” “Not a whit; they brought the 8O T H E THIRT E E N T H DAY country right into my room; the others spoke of prim beds and syringes that wash away the insects from the buds, not to mention gardeners. But only angels and fairies, so they told me when I was a child, tend the wild flowers.” “What a charming saying!” “Perhaps a true one — who knows But if I was grateful for the roses how much more am I in your debt for all you did when you found me in the library I can never repay, but I can thank you.” “You can repay me a thousand- fold, Miss Ellaby, before afternoon tea.” Her speedy fingers flashed in a run to the highest note of the piano. 8I A JUN E R O MA NCE “How 2 º’ she asked. “Five hundred-fold now by sing- ing me Schumann's Frauenliebe und Leben. I will tell you what the second instalment is afterwards.” “Will you play it?” “Yes.” She sang it gloriously, throwing into her rendering an amount of expression that quite belied her young years. “I have given Caesar,” she said, “what is Caesar’s. What more does he demand 2 ° “Only that you should go at once and put on your grey home- spun dress.” A blush grew in her cheeks, and she turned toward the window, touching the notes softly with her left hand. There was a pause. 82 T H E THIRT E E N TH DAY “Do you like it so much then?” she queried. “The most in the world.” “Really *" “Really.” “I did not know that you were an expert in dresses.” & “Nor am I, but that one I love. When it is worn out you must buy another to match it stitch for Stitch.” “That is not in the bond. Whatsoever is I will fulfil. Sing - me ‘Across the Far Blue Hills, Marie.’ Let me play it.” Whilst I was declaiming the last page Mrs. Ellaby came in with her basket of work. She was the advance guard of tea, which was to be early. Alice slipped away, but soon re-appeared, dressed 83 A JUNE ROMANCE as I would have her. She was still rather flushed. The colour in her cheeks was a tribute to her maidenhood. I think she felt that there had been a great sweeping away of barriers between her soul and mine, and felt half yielding, half fearful, as if she had lost one of her thousand sacred purities. Man is most god-like when he forgets himself, and woman most angelic when she remembers her sex. You may take this as a gen- eral maxim. What does it matter that I am comparatively poor? For some natures a pound is al more useful inheritance than a million. Fie on your Midases For all capital give me hope, and I will carve Alice's name high up upon Life's mountain. I frightened 84 T H E THIRT E E N T H DAY the fawn apparently, for her maid brought the news to the dinner table that her head ached. She did not come down later, so I played billiards with the Major. The finger of Fate is in a great many pies; I wonder what is being prepared for me to-night. I sup- pose it is a great rule in the arith- metic of youth that if love is taken from life the remainder is death; but, honestly, if I fail to win Alice I shall have no force to roll on my wheel of existence. 85 jume the Fourteenth. Rain, rain, rain. Such a dull day Charlie could do only mis- takenly. Alice was quiet. Mrs. Ellaby plied her diligent needle, and the Major read some Bret Harte aloud. Even Miss Bellairs was conquered by the downpour. I reviewed “Brambles,” a book of poems, for The Flag. I shall write out one of the lyrics here. It spoke clearly to me. The throſt/e and the dazon Together come That ſight and music may Invade my home , - And wakefulness begins In Laura’s hand; ; 86 T H E F O U R T E E N T H DAY Upon her pillows stir Thoſe glozving ſtrands That /ure me ti// I kiſs Her dreamy eyes To win her back from sleep To Paradise. 87 jume the Fifteenth. It was still placidly pouring when I got up this morning. I put on old clothes and went out. I like to be out in the rain, especially if the wind dashes it in my face. On my return Mrs. Ellaby caught me as I went drip- ping upstairs. I was handsomely rated, sent to bed to get warm, and promised a bowl of soup. A hard dose of work with Charlie. This wicked weather has a gruesome effect upon his mathematics. After lunch, at which meal the two com- mon guests were present, a fire was lit in the drawing-room. The parson and squire, Agnes Bellairs 88 T H E FIFT E E N T H DAY and Alice, began to sing four-part songs. I knew the men wished me at Jericho, or for the matter of that, Zoar, so I declined the task of playing the accompaniments. The Major gradually edged me into the window-seat and learnedly lectured on Swedes. I am an easy prey, for I cannot contradict a single assertion about any of the coarser vegetables. I can criticise a dish of green peas with any chef that ever stuffed a duck or bran- dished a rolling-pin. I know, too, the points of asparagus. The quartet party had a giggling time of it; and the Major had so run me to earth that I could not see Alice, not even in a mirror Mrs. Ellaby does not often do a thing that stirs hostility in me, but when 89 A JUNE R O MANCE at a pause in the music she looked up from her sewing to ask these two oglers to stay to dinner I blamed her largely. Suddenly Charlie appeared on the lawn with a football, and was promptly warned off by the Major with a shout that brought the songsters up short. How good the tea was The squire took Alice off to the billiard ro, m to teach her how to “screw,” and Agnes Bel- lairs came over to me. She began one of her wordy flights, and when the rest were otherwise occupied she told me that her cousin was going to propose to Alice; in fact, that was why he had taken her into the billiard room. And I had to sit there helpless! It is hard to remember that all is not had 90 T H E FIFT E E N T H DAY for the asking. At last I could bear it no longer and left the room. As I went along the passage Alice fluttered out of the library as white as a sheet, to have recourse to an old comparison. Thank God, there was no look of joy in her eyes | Wretch that I was not to think of the squire's pain In the abundance of my delight I went out for a long walk, missing dinner. Now there seems only one heart between Alice and my- self. 9I jume the Sixteenth. Had an early hour of carpenter- ing. Alice's pigeons will be hand- somely housed. The ordinary morning followed, breakfast, Latin, Greek and figures. At twelve o'clock we four young folk played tennis, Miss Bellairs and I against the son and daughter of the es- tablishment. It was a tight fight. Alice is astonishingly active and graceful, praise which also should be extended to Miss Bellairs. I do so like to hear the rustle of a girl’s dress as she speeds to meet a short ball ! Alice was very silent. I wonder if she thought the second half of my payment an 92 THE SIXTEENTH DAY impudent extortion ? A not very happy afternoon, though it should have been, for we had a pleasant little picnic down in the copse, where we lighted a fire, and made some quite surprising tea, which the Major said nearly blew the roof of his head off. We had dock leaves for plates. Hard boiled eggs and sardines were our mainstays, but Alice had made us some capital sandwiches from pot- ted chicken. She would not look at me. Found a note from the parson in my room begging me to make up a rubber at his place. Why not? Thought I to myself, there is something more than milk and honey in my Canaan to-day, something less seductive than these dainties. Perhaps if I look not 93 A JUN E R O MANCE on the land again till the morrow only the sweet will remain. After dinner I excused myself from an invitation to music, stating my gambling intention. When I turned round to shake hands with Alice she was gone. But in the hall I met her. Few nights remained to be spent with her and I was going to lower myself by specu- lating on the pips of cards ! I commended Monkington and the odd trick very cordially to the deuce. “You are going to play whist?” she asked. “Even so.” “Not for money, I hope.” She looked straight into my eyes. “Certainly not.” I had never played for love before. What 94. T H E SIXT E E N T H DAY would the men say Never mind, if they did not like it they must painfully lump it. “Don’t be hideously late. Good- night, Mr. Anderson.” “Good-night, Miss Ellaby.” The parson heard my step on the gravel, and came out of a French window to meet me. In the room were the squire and a friend of his, one Ellis. We cut. The squire and I against Monk- ington and Ellis. “Shilling points and five shil- lings on the rub, as per usual P” said the squire. “Will that suit you, Anderson?” the parson said. “Thanks, I do not play for money,” I quietly answered. “Not what?” cried the squire, 95 A JUN E R O MAN CE “my dear Sir, this is not a nur- sery.” - “Nor am I a baby,” I replied. “I know my whim and I serve it. You can pay or receive double, if you wish.” “I want no advice—” began my partner. “Now then, squire,” said Monk- ington resolutely, “let the matter drop. It’s my house, and no man shall hurt his conscience in it. Either pay and receive double, or Anderson and I will play merely for the pleasure of the game.” - “I’ll take you and Ellis both on,” growled the squire. “Your lead, Ellis.” We had bad cards from the first. After two rubbers we cut again, and again the squire and I 96 T H E SIXT E E N T H DAY were paired. Still the honours poured into our adversaries' hands, they established “double ruffs,” they brought in their long suits, they won two more “bumpers.” Again we cut. I turned up a queen, my partner a king ! As we were. Treble, treble, and the rub against us was almost imme- diately announced. At last we were blessed with a goodly show of trumps and strength in the plain suits. The squire revoked! Innocently enough I said: “It was a pity to waste our only chance.” The squire had just gathered up our tricks. “And what the devil has it to do with you, School- master?” he said. “Not much, perhaps, as I am 97 A JUNE R O MANCE only your partner, but I like to see good whist.” “Perhaps you like good cards, too P” “Certainly.” “Then take them,” he shouted, and flung fully half a pack into my face | I sprang to my feet in a whirl- wind of passion. The parson saw hell and hate in my eyes, and flung his arms round me. “Loose me,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “Hardly Squire, you had bet- ter apologise instantly.” “Apologise ! Apologise to an usher who fingers grapes, the bloom of which is too good for his betters | Did you say—apolo- 98 T H E SIXT E E N T H DAY gise: My God how are posi- tions upside down nowadays!” “Loose me, Monkington,” I said. “He has made me think of something that throttles my anger. I will not desecrate the house of a priest. Sir "-I turned to the squire—“Sir, excuse me if I break up the rubber.” With this I strode out on to the lawn. Monk- ington followed. “He has been refused by Alice Ellaby,” he said, “and he believes you are at the bottom of it. This and the luck devoured him. An- derson, I cannot say enough to express my sorrow that you should have been insulted here. Perhaps your own best side might be blurred for a while if you failed to win the lass you wanted.” 99 A JUN E R O MANCE “Perhaps.” “Anderson, I believe you love Alice Ellaby dearly?” “Monkington, I do.” “I have loved her from a slip of a girl, fifteen years old, and I have waited for her growth,” he said. “She has been my Ultima Thule. I have watched the bud unfold—and bend toward a foreign sun.” “Parson | ?’ “Have you told Alice of your love P’’ “No, not a word.” “Wait yet a little while, then. Surely my turn should come be- fore yours.” “Certainly.” “Shall it P '’ “It shall.” IOO T H E SIXT E E N T H DAY We shook hands with a grasp that would have befitted giants of old, and I walked homeward. The sting of the flying cards was still on my forehead. Alice, my sweet, your influence poured peace round me to-night. IOI jume the Seventeenth. I woke early. I seemed still to feel the sting of the flying cards upon my forehead and cheeks and lips. I had a tremendous head- ache, and though I got out of bed I reeled about like a very Noah. Pain hammered at my temples a nail of agony sharp enough to awake a Sisera. My eyes clouded. I had but scant time to lie down again. I heard the gong; I heard Charlie go into my study at ten o'clock. I called him, and bade him fetch his mother. Mrs. Ellaby came in all haste, and surrounded me with her womanly help. How cool her hand upon my throbbing I O2 THE SEVENTEENTH DAY temples She purred over me as if I were of her own blood, dark- ened the room, and made arrange- ments to sit with me. I lay all day broken by the thrusting pain. IO3 jume the Eighteenth. The night was like a fiery fur- nace, but Mrs. Ellaby made it tolerable by ice for which she had telegraphed. Dawn lightened the blind. I asked that the window might be open, and when the morning air filled the room I felt stir in me a power of recovery. At last I slept. When I woke my eyes settled first upon Mrs. Ellaby’s beautiful face bending over me. She stroked my fore- head soothingly. “Are you better P’’ “Much.” “That is good. Perhaps if you lie still for a few hours you will IO4 T H E E IG HT E E N T H D A Y be able to get up in the afternoon. The young folk are dreadfully anxious about you.” “How Sweet of them l’’ “Shall I read to you?” “Please.” “What would you like?” “Some of William Barnes’ poems.” At lunch time I was free of the aching, but I felt useless of limb and only too glad to be undis- turbed by thoughts of dressing. As there was a piano in the next room, the girls came up and sang to me. Alice made me a strong cup of tea. I remember little else, for I sank into a profound sleep, so Mrs. Ellaby told me, soon afterwards. IO5 June the Nineteenth. Woke feeling much better. Got up about half-past ten, but did not think it well to bustle off to Church. Alice and Charlie came into my study for a moment to ask how I was. They both looked radiant. I promised to stroll to meet them on their homeward way, but owing to an unanswered pyramid of letters which I found on my table I could not go. Went down to lunch, but my tyrannical nurse would not allow me to sit at meat with them. I was made comfortable in an arm- chair, and there eat some of what goes in the family by the name of IO6 THE NINETEENTH DAY “Mother's Good Soup.” I was allowed afterwards one glass of port, but when the Major at- tempted to beguile me with a . cigar, his wife reproached him so prettily that he withdrew the bait. After lunch I was reduced to a harmony in sloth and rugs. Mrs. Ellaby made me so snug on the lawn that I envied no Moslem in Paradise either his ease or his Houri. English beauty at its most fragrant outblossoms the Oriental. Hugely content, charmed by the comfort, bewitched by the carols that rang in the trees, I fell off to sleep. When I woke I found a tumbled hoard of roses glowing near my hand on the rug The air about me was sweet with their scent. Alice and Charlie had IO7 A JUNE R O MAN CE plucked them for me. There I lay and bronzed. The day was glorious with two lights—the sun itself and Love. Alice in the blue—Alice in the breeze—Alice in the thrushes’ trilling. She and Agnes Bellairs came and spake a few words: when they saw I was awake. Mrs. Ellaby brought me some strong tea, but though I felt well enough to match Achilles at his angriest I was badgered into remaining utterly quiet. IO8 jume the Twentieth. Woke a little past six feeling as well as ever I did in my life. Went out and polished off the pigeon-cote in double quick time. Every one very cordial at break- fast. Mrs. Ellaby would insist on blaming herself for my headache, declaring that something she gave me for dinner must have been the cause of it. I knew, though, that it was the effect of restrained pas- sion and high excitement. Did the usual dose of work with Charlie, much against his father's and mother's wishes. When Mrs. Ellaby gets a victim under her thumb, and has settled down to a IO9 A JUNE ROMANCE riotous course of tender solicitude and beef-tea, her rule over the patient is with difficulty ended. She is a born nurse, having not only the soft, firm, clever hands that are so needful, but also a re- markable fund of loving-kindness to guide them. Instinctively she seems to probe one’s wants. After lunch we lounged on the lawn while the Major read to us The Outcasts of Poker Flat. And there are some people who despise Amer- ican authors Alice shed a few tears, and even Miss Bellairs took on a grave look. The Major reads well. He realises the scene, and is there with the characters. He also read Tennessee's Partner. The last page of this story brings a - bigger lump into my throat than I I IO T H E T W E N TIE TH D A Y should like to have measured. Dear Mrs. Ellaby fairly sobbed over her stockings. I should like to have kissed her. The Major did. Tea on the lawn, under a sky as blue as Alice's eyes. After- wards the two girls and I went for a stroll along the lake, and I told them the history of my winter stay in South Africa; chatter of ostrich farms and gold mines. Dinner and music to follow—the best dessert imaginable. Mrs. Ellaby bullied me into lying on the sofa, and put a cup of tea on a chair by my side. As well might Hercules have gone to bed for a knat-bite. However, both she and Alice said I was to be obedient, so I surrendered. Luckily I could see my Love at the piano, III A JUNE R O M ANCE her throat swelling with those great contralto notes which stir me so. How she sang ! Per- haps it was to keep me contented. Once, while Miss Bellairs was playing a whimsical game of Grieg, Alice came over and asked if I was cosy. I said I only wanted a game of chess to make me wholly spoiled. Would she play But how about my head—perhaps it would renew the pain? I was sure it would do nothing of the kind, so she fetched the board and the men, and there I watched her beauty as she pondered answers to my careless cunning. What are gambits to this girl’s face? II 2 jume the Twenty-first. In the Arena of Brains no more salutary thing can befall a man than to meet his match. The discipline is stern, but not of the most adamant. If aught can make a man appraise himself at a far- thing, surely it is being uncertainly in love. The adverb is ill placed —I mean that the love is sure and tireless, but the reception and fostering of it in the desired girl's heart problematical. Whenever shall I have a note from Monk- ington? I wonder, wonder, wonder if she will accept him He is a fine fellow. Nature would wring her hands if asked to mould a II.3 A JUNE R O M A NCE finer. To aid him there is not only his manliness and undisputed goodness of heart, but also the fact that he is in Holy Orders. Parsons should always be handi- capped. Women think that as wives of clergymen they will have so many chances of furthering the Good Samaritan’s work. Some- how I have felt all day that my love is not prospering. Alice is shy and silent. The grass wants sun, the sky wants stars, and my arms want this beautiful child. I Cannot spare her for Monkington. Poor chap ! If he loses her it will break him. And if I fail P The deluge Early this morning Alice came round to the dominion of the pets, and I formally pre- sented to her the captive of my II.4. T H E 'I' W E N TY - FIRST DAY plane and of my chisel — the pigeon-cote. She was delighted with it. At breakfast Miss Bel- lairs suddenly exclaimed over the reading of a letter, and turned first crimson, then white. Harleigh has shot his shaft evidently, and if appearances go for anything, if a girl who is a whirlwind of sparkle and adjectives looks up smiling through tears and begs her hostess to pardon her, but, the fact is, very pleasant news of an unhoped-for character surprised her into an ejaculation, that tor- turer of horses has hit the gold ! We shall have Harleigh over here struggling under a mass of language before many hours are dead, or my name is not Ralph Anderson. I am not among the Prophets, but II 5 A JUNE R O MANCE I will venture on this much fore- telling. After lunch, after tea, after dinner even, Miss Bellairs cheated me out of Alice. With her arm round Alice's waist she walked her up and down the great lawn, talking, talking, talking. Harleigh's graces, I suppose. Con- found his perfections. They are deadly offensive. I sang several songs for Mrs. Ellaby, and then came upstairs to write a criticism on Ronald Short's new book of poems, Starlight Dreams. The man has facility and felicity, but his preface proves a vanity that wants singeing; for which operation I was in the vein. Well, Diary mine, we must part. But first a song for Alice. II 6 T H E T W E N TY - FIRST DAY Sleep, deareſt, ſleep. The birds are ſtil/, The leafy harps are hushed Upon the hill. O in green dreamland valleys deep, Where dwell; the rose of promise, sleep. Sleep, deareſt, ſleep. And dream of me As I, if might be kind, Shal/ dream of thee. O lips that virgin days must keep, Sweet marriage comes to you in ſleep. I 17 jume the Twenty-second. Went for an early walk to and through Penley Woods. It is marvellous how many spiders have a connection with both sides of the paths by means of their almost in- visible ropes' Big game was among their machinations this morning. I should be sorry to say what number of silky lines I broke through with my face. O but the forest was sweet to breathe in 1 Nature in a thousand guises was wide awake and working. Rabbits without number, sending up quite a shower of dewdrops in their haste, whipped across the path. Bird-mothers stirred upon I IS T H E T W E N TY – S E COND DAY their young and piped a disquieted utterance—the prelude to flight. Pigeons fluttered out of the high branches, and as they heavily flapped over the spires of the trees unseen rooks cawed portentously, as if they would say “Bah! we know you are there; you can’t see us, bah but we see you, bah! bah bah!” I ate a breakfast that was a disgrace to a lover. My appetite was so keen that I began to sus- pect my passion was insincere. As the fair heavens would shape it, Alice and Miss Bellairs were having their meal upstairs. Still discussing Harleigh's miraculous doings and sayings, I presume; or else hovering uncertain between silk and satin. A terrific catas- trophe occurred in the railway I IQ A JUNE RO MANCE carriage in the course of the night. Three Belgian hares gave up the ghost. Charlie says they did it on purpose to annoy him, and he refuses them decent burial. He and I sat on the corpses after breakfast and had no difficulty in bringing in a verdict of death owing to a lack of mental balance. I prevailed on Charlie to give them a stately funeral. We in- terred them under a big rhododen- dron tree by the summer house. Finished the Cataline orations. Excellent invective. About half- past three the Paragon arrived alone on a double tricycle. This was a delicately suggestive arrival. Evidently he intended to ride about with Agnes Bellairs. I went forth and reasoned with him. A I 20 T H E T W E N TY – S E CON D DAY pretty instance of Cupid chiding love. Harleigh is badly bitten in many places. He told me there was a double tricycle somewhere about belonging to the Major, and suggested that Alice and I should join Miss Bellairs and himself in a ride at night, after dinner. He is an abandoned pirate. I thought the proposition over, and it grew goodly to muse on. I asked Mrs. Ellaby whether there was anything outrageous in the plan. She laughed, and said we were not in Eaton Square. She could trust us all. Alice seemed charmed with the idea, so we arranged to start at nine o'clock and ride away from home for an hour, then return. Charlie wanted to come on his pneumatic, but this we would not I 2 I A JUN E R O M A N CE allow. He had been a bold man who thus would have violated the laws of proportion. Such a jolly dinner. Everyone (save Charlie, who had a mourning band round his right sleeve in memory of the defunct Belgian hares) was in high spirits. I must say that Harleigh and Agnes Bellairs looked as if they had been steeped in happi- ness. How refining is true love! A light most lovely to see flooded the girl's face, her manner was toned down, there was another atmosphere around her. As for dear old Frank, he sat there like a placid duck who not yet has heard dismal tales of sage and onions. After dinner Harleigh and I tumbled into knickerbockers and college blazers (for Harleigh had I 22 THE Twenty-secon D DAY brought a little luggage on his machine) and the girls went in search of their oldest dresses. Charlie oiled the machines and lit the lamps, and we were soon whizzing down the drive. We went Penley way. The night was not of the serenest, and the moon was in a wry mood, so we saw little of her. Perhaps Diana (she's something of a puritan) disap- proved of our proceedings. There were grim banks of clouds about, and the wind sounded in the trees suspiciously. But Harleigh would not regard the weather. He was out and away with his love, and cared no jot for natural or artificial barometers. In another thing he of fended. He would not keep a little ahead or a little behind us. Nothing I 23 A JUNE ROMANCE would do for him but to pedal completely out of sight. We did not mind this much, but as we were not sure what turnings his fantasy would induce him to take, we travelled in a fine air of mystery. The blackbirds and thrushes were staggered by the noise of the tricycle, for they fled screaming down the lanes in front of our lamp. Alice worked nobly. I was able to feast my eyes on her profile. We chatted of this and that, of that and this. Suddenly her dress caught in one of the treadles. We stopped almost in- stantly, for we were crawling up a very steep hill between tall hedges, and were just where the road swerves pronouncedly to the right. I was stooping to dis- I 24 THE TWENTY-SE COND DAY entangle Alice's skirt when there was a rattle, a shout, a scream, and Harleigh and Miss Bellairs came crashing into us at the rate of twenty miles an hour ! Some- thing smote me in the back and drove me against Alice, my head striking fearfully upon her shoul- der. There was a mass of metal and humanity lying in the road. Our machine dragged backward into the hedge, I with my arm round Alice, who was nearly driven off the saddle and could not regain her perpendicular be- cause of my awkward position. However we soon extricated our- selves, and ran to the others. By the aid of our lamp we could see that Harleigh was badly cut about the head, and though not I 25 A JUNE R O MANCE utterly stunned was so dazed that he was heavily content to lie where his luck had cast him. Miss Bellairs seemed unhurt, and it turned out that she was only in a faint. She soon came to, and with a little coaxing, some shaking and stentorian bawling, Frank sat up in the road and asked me what I was howling for. This was a good sign. Five minutes later he was sitting on the bank, submit- ting to the ministrations of the two girls. Meanwhile I reviewed the machines. One of them was a worse corpse than any of the Belgian hares. Spokes lay about the road like Titanic hairpins. The tricycle that had been charged was also vitally damaged. Alice and I dragged the remnants a little I 26 T H E T W E N TY – S E CONI) DAY way up the hill where was a gate by a haystack. There we deposited all that was left of them. By this time the lovers, somewhat less exuberant, were recovered, and ready to walk home. We sent them on ahead, to be sure of them. At this felicitous moment it began to rain The moisture, for all my knowledge, might have gathered in tropic skies, but it fell here in hearty English fashion. Alice had on but a thin dress, and just a flimsy silk wrap round her neck. As soon as we came under a roadside tree, I stopped and took off my coat. “Whatever are you doing, Mr. Anderson?” said Alice. “You are going to have my I27 A JUNE R O MANCE “sweater’ on. You will be drenched. You must have my coat also.” “And you will walk home in that flannel shirt P. Thanks, but I am a human being.” “I have been soaked to the skin again and again on the river. I am of the hardy Norsemen, and shall take no hurt. But you— there, we won’t argue. Let me pop this over your head.” “No.” “Yes.” “I shall hate myself.” “To make up for that I shall like you very much. Come, Miss Ellaby.” “How obstinate men are l’ she laughed. “Well, if I must, I must.” In a moment I had put the I 28 THE TW E N TY-SEC O N D DAY “sweater” over her head, pulled it down, and helped her on with the “blazer.” - “What a fright,” she said. “That's not for your decision.” The rain slashed our faces; the burly wind blew against us wicked- ly, using Alice's dress to drive her back, so I gave her my arm for help! How it poured And how I enjoyed it! If Monkington had only spoken and failed, could any lover ever have desired a more telling hour for the betrayal of his heart? When we got home we were bundled off ignomin- iously to bed. What with dosing us all there with hot port wine and washing Harleigh's wounds, Mrs. Ellaby had a revelling time of it. I2O - jume the Twenty-third. Woke none the worse for my wetting, and lay idly for some time thinking of Alice breasting the storm in my “sweater ’’ and “blazer.” Found a letter calling me to London. The editorship of The Flag is vacant, and I have a healthy chance of being ap- pointed. Saw some of those in authority. Had satisfactory in- terviews. A position like this would make me bolder in ap- proaching the Major with regard to my love for his daughter. There is no doubt, I think, that interest will secure me the chair. London seemed to choke me I3O T H E T W E N TY - THIRD DAY after the clean country, and I found myself expecting some rush of bird-song every minute as I walked down Fleet Street. But linnets and redstarts and wrens in Paternoster Row would be the death of several people. Why, if a pigeon chances to sit on a house- top enough gaping men and women to be the population of a pro- vincial town stand and stare for ever so long | Some audacious sparrows, pirating the roads, Unirped insolently, but this was all my reminder of the lyric lanes round Falconhurst. And the women of London | Where was a shape and a complexion to match that of sweet Alice? Where lips so ripely fresh? Where a pose, a speed so full of revelations of I 3I A JUNE R O MANCE Diana's self? O if I had only met her at some busy turning! Another day spent away from the blue of her eyes! So few remain — so few remain. I wondered fully ten thousand times whether Monkington had been to ask Alice his question. At last I started home again. Reached the station at eleven. Walked. The Major alone was up. After a cigar I went out for a short stroll — to look at Alice's window. There is no harm in this. You see, I did not goad a horse forty miles for such an end. I shall report Harleigh to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ani- mals. Read Pippa Passes in bed. It is iron and honey. I32 jume the Twenty-fourth. The dewdrops had not shrunk an iota from their fullest when I stepped out upon the lawn this morning, and the lark was but a little way above the earth. But Charlie was before me. Every morning now he approaches the railway carriage gingerly, fearing to find more corpses. But the mortality does not continue. I saw the bones, so to speak, of the tricycles in the yard. That scor- pion Harleigh ought to pay for both. He might have hurt Alice fearfully. He is worse than the cholera. When I went in to breakfast I found that arrange- * > → * J. J. A JUNE R O MANCE ments had been made for a picnic to Pendlehurst Park. We were to start at twelve. We were blessed with sunshine, and sun- shine is the corner-stone, as it were, of picnics. Charlie swept away on his bicycle to see if the parson could join us. The pace that boy stamps out of his machine would have made Jehu's cheek blanch. He was soon back, having secured the Church. Surely there are opportunities for amorous disclosures at a picnic If Monkington does not do his uttermost to-day I shall give him notice that I intend to revoke our covenant. Only seven days more, and then the Major and Charlie journey to Switzerland. How is my heart to bear the constant fret? I34 T H E T W E N TY - F O U R T H DAY I covet Alice. Will anyone ever understand how much? For her I would desolate another Troy; for her I would pluck forbidden fruits. The towers of Troy again might fall, And I a thieving Paris flee, If, spinning in her spacious hall, Helen were Alice Ellaby. The theft I’d dare / But O, how good To find her virgin and unkissed— To knozo there’s honour in the blood That makes a tideway at her wrist/ Our start was a fussy matter, what with the restless horses, the hampers and the distribution of seats. Charlie elected to use his pneumatic. As Harleigh had pul— verized his tricycle, and as he seemed disinclined to drive Fire- fly, either Monkington or myself I 35 A JUN E R O MANCE had to convey Alice to the scene of salad. I thought Monkington might propose on the way, and either ruin my day or his, so I very determinedly took possession of the reins, and said the parson should have charge of Miss Ellaby in the evening. This appeared to cause no dissent, so the Major and his wife, Harleigh (the destroyer of property and the scourge of horseflesh) and Agnes Bellairs, with the parson to represent Prov- idence, boarded the wagonette, and bowled off with the cold chickens. Alice and I followed, not too close. I did not require the forerunner's dust. Moreover, the further away we were from the vanguard of souls and salad the more Alice seemed to belong to 136 THE TWENTY-FourTH DAY me. The flush of excitement gave her cheeks a peachy glow, and she looked up at me when I spoke to her with shy rapid glances, just long enough to betray the blue of those dear eyes. She had on the homespun. No dress in the world like that. It was hal- lowed to me from the first moment I saw the country goddess walk over the lawn toward me. “You have my dress on,” I said. “I am as fond of it as you. There goes that foolish boy into the hedge Trying to ride with- out touching the handles in this narrow lane!” “A goose in the nettles.’ “A donkey in the quick. I hope he is not hurt.” y I37 A JUNE ROMANCE “Not he His lives out-num- ber those of the cat. See, he has mounted again.” “Dear boy,” she said. “With all his wild-wing ways he is the light of the house.” “Yes ; the world could bear up against a few more of his brand.” “It could indeed. Did you hear that he took Seraphina with him on the bicycle to the Vicarage after breakfast P” “I wish she were asleep in your lap now.” “What is the date P” she sud- denly asked. “The twenty-third. Why?” “And you leave us on the thirtieth P” “You have spoken. Has the I38 THE TWENTY-FOURTH DAY time of my stay seemed so long, Miss Ellaby?” She turned her head and looked across the grassland on our left. What a wretch I felt for having asked that question. “There’s Pendlehurst Park '' “That was a rude question of mine,” I broke out; “forgive me, Miss Ellaby. I would not part at cross purposes for all of sweet and desirable this globe contains !” “There is nothing to forgive l’” She winced when I spoke of parting ! Cupid, my lad, do you hear that She winced when I spoke of parting! Are you sure you heard, Love? Are you sure ? We soon reached the others, who were stationed under a clump of splendid trees. We unloaded I39 A JUN E R O MANCE the goodies; then the Major and Charlie drove the vehicles up to the stables of the house. . While Mrs. Ellaby, Alice and I were all down on our knees spreading the cloth, I saw fall, not far from my hand, a tear. Alice sprang to her feet and turned away. My poor little child ! And I could not kiss her into smiles | We had chosen a level piece of land. The trees stood widely apart, so when Charlie returned he amused himself and us by riding in and - out among the trunks. Nothing would do but he must, as he called it, circumnavigate the lunch. To Our disgust he miscalculated matters and ended by falling into a gooseberry pie, which one of his elbows scattered far and wide. As I4O THE TWENTY-FOURTH DAY he smote his funny-bone on the bottom of the dish, there was a certain amount of rough poetic justice meted out to the culprit. O the hard-boiled eggs | There are two corner-stones necessary for a picnic—sunshine and hard-boiled eggs. What can I say of the chickens, the ham, the tarts? Had not Mrs. Ellaby directed their con- struction and cooking? Of the sandwiches it is enough to chron- icle this only—Alice made them. Charlie said they were composed of potted buffalo, and called them all manner of names—Death in disguise—the Undertaker's friend —Funerals for the million—Apo- plexy made easy, and so on. He also hit on the happy idea of var- nishing his shoes with the salad I4 I A JUNE R O MANCE dressing. The Major had been bullied into bringing a volume of tales with him, and we lay in the warm shade as he read How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar. Dick Bullen, I couple you with Hercules, for the transport of those toys was also a mighty labour ! After this we looked over the house, a mansion full of pictures and art treasures. Oak, china, old silver to make the tenth commandment an impossibility. I immediately deleted it from my Decalogue. Then we rambled in the woods, fluttering the birds, piercing the innermost glades, threading the green tangles, calling to one another till the wood- pigeons must have mourned for the desecration of their homes— , I42 T H E T W E N TY - F O U R T H DAY beeches that had been in their families for centuries. I wonder how many times I freed the home- spun gown from the delaying claw of a thorn? Thus in the forest we roamed till the Major's whistle warned us to assemble for the start home. This time the par- son drove Alice. They reached Falconhurst before us. I found Monkington in the hall. I asked him for news with my eyes. He came up to me and shook hands. “Good-night, Anderson,” he said, “I think the bird is for your wrist. Deserve her.” I43 jume the Twenty-fifth. A tremendous educational strug- gle this morning. Charlie be- gan Cicero at half-past six and we continued aiming at the tar- get of knowledge till break- fast time. As the door of my study was ajar, Seraphina paid me an early visit, purring, in an arch of velvet, against my legs. As I walked round and round the table she lovingly pursued, till, wearied by Latin Prose, or re- membering the finer attractions of her mistress, she evacuated my room. The last I saw of her was a waving tail, doubtless a feline benediction. Not long after I I44 THE TWENTY - FIFTH DAY heard Alice go downstairs, herself purring to Seraphina. Did this early work so as to be free for London. Caught the nine o'clock train. Euston at eleven; Hamp- stead and home a little before twelve, the mission the confession of my love to Mother. I found her in her quiet garden, diligent in wool. When she looked up and saw me half-way across the grass- plot she uttered a little cry of joy, dropped her lap's medley of hues, and opened her arms to fling them round my neck. Dear Mother She kissed me—her only child, and looked in my face intently, as she always does to find, I think, the likeness to my father. “This is delightful, Ralph But, my dear, you are thin. I fear the I45 A JUNE R O MANCE air of Warwickshire does not suit you. I am glad your month is nearly at an end.” “But I am not, Mother; and I have come to tell you why.” I sat down on the grass, and put my head upon her knee. I thought that her hand shook somewhat as she stroked my hair. She divined the news. There was a silence that seemed to last for very long. “Well, dear?” “Mother,” I said, words coming at last with a rush, “if it is good for a man to have had a glance into Paradise—to have found his only possible Eve—then I am greatly fortunate. It is much that Alice is exceedingly lovely to look upon ; it is more that a heart full of care for the poor, honour for the right, I46 THE TW E N TY - FIFTH DAY prayer to her God, beats in her breast. Oh, Mother, you would never tire of watching her! Father once spoke of you as you were when first your paths met. You were like Alice. Happy father and son 1 '' Mother bent forward and kissed my forehead. “This is wonderful news, Ralph. Alice is, of course, the Miss Ellaby of your letters P’’ “Yes, mother dear.” “It is plain that you love her—” “To the end.” “But does she give like for like P’’ “I do not know. Sometimes in the blue heavens of her eyes I think I see the star of love flash for a moment; sometimes she will I47 A JUNE ROMANCE not look my way, she will barely speak one kind word.” “I think she loves you !” “MOther | ?’ “An easy familiarity, a stretch of sky always innocent of cloud, and I would not prophesy; but the signs you name, Ralph, teach a woman much. But why have you delayed to ask her?” “It is so short a time since I went to Falconhurst; there have been rivals in the road ; and, lastly, I wanted first to ask your con- sent.” “God bless you, Ralph You have it from a full and hoping heart. Now tell me more, much of Alice, not in the grand language of love but in sober Saxon. Tell me her whims, her ways, her I48 T H E T W E N TY - FIFTH DAY wants, her tastes, her ambitions, just as if she were no more to you than a friend. Tell me all this while I knit. Can you ?” “I will try,” I said. Then I spake with sweet reasonableness, and sketched for mother in that dreamy old garden the character of my Warwickshire Goddess. I did not forget her doves, Sera- phina, her homespun dress, the comfort in her notes, the strangely incommunicable atmosphere about her; and as I spoke I heard the click of the needles above my head. It was long before I ceased this record, and after lunch I took up the tale again. At last it was time to speed back to Alice. Mother sobbed a little as she embraced me. Her only boy had I49 - A JUNE ROMANCE admitted love for another woman into his heart. A mother always feels this. I caught the five o'clock at Euston. How slow the express was What a crushing comment on our vaunted progress that it takes a train sixty minutes to overcome sixty miles! However, we were punctual at Rugby. A surprise of the sweetest awaited me there. Alice and Charlie were waiting for me on the platform They had walked into the town to buy some new tennis balls, and thinking that I might return by the fast train (fast! how is the world the prey of misnomers () came to the station. So we walked home in the fresh June evening together. It was greatly good after the strenuous exertions of I5O THE TWENTY-FIFTH DAY the engine to match Alice's step in the cool of the lanes or across the meads where the placid cows munched and munched and munched. I5I jume the Twenty-sixth. Sunday. We all walked to Church together. To the Major a thunderbolt descended from the blue. Saying that I had a matter of moment for his hearing, I de- tached him from the main body. It was not an exactly easy task, but I thought it best valiantly to attack it, so in one breath I told the Major that I loved Alice, and asked him for his consent. The Major was visibly staggered. He said, “God bless my soul!” “Mother,” he cried to Mrs. Ellaby. She turned round, and he crooked an imperative fore- finger. She waited till we caught I 52 T H E T W E N TY-SIXTH DAY her up, and then the Major said, “Now then, Anderson, open fire l’’ So I opened fire. I told them of the sudden invasion of my heart; how the first vague dis- quiet had ripened into a love that was now my life; how I had waited till the squire and the parson had both spoken; how I had been to my mother and made all plain to her. “Well, Old Lady,” said the Major, “what's the verdict?” “It makes me very glad.” “Does it? Then, by Jupiter, it makes me very glad also l’’ “Mr. Anderson—but we are nearly at the Church ; we will walk home together and then finish the conversation.” How my heart leaped! And Mrs. Ellaby I53 A JUNE RO MAN CE —dear kind creature—contrived to let me sit next Alice Monk- ington came quickly out after service. He gave me a grasp of the hand that made me wince. He is a man. He walked a part of the way toward Falconhurst with Charlie and Alice. Mrs. Ellaby, the Major and I arranged various matters; first and fore- most, the coming down of Mother to learn Alice and love her. I told them how I stood as regards money and prospects, and the Major said he did not want a son- in-law with gold to jingle in his pockets, but a man possessing his wealth in the shape of moral valour—a man truly deserving, first of God’s love, then of a good woman's. I54 THE TWENTY-SIXTH DAY “I wish June had not contained three proposals of marriage to Alice,” said Mrs. Ellaby, “but I suppose it would be cruel to ask you to wait?” “It would, rather.” “Oh, it won’t spoil the little girl,” interposed the Major; “nothing would spoil Alice, would it, Anderson?” “Absolutely nothing.” “But Alice is somewhat wild and shy just now.” “She is not so fleet of foot but Anderson will catch her, not so re- served but that she can utter a monosyllable. One of two short ones will suffice, I suppose, Ander- son P’’ “Only one of the two you mean, though.” I55 A JUN E R O MANCE “Mr. Anderson,” said Alice’s mother, “we—I have thought this might come. I will say more. I hoped you would feel a need for Alice. I am not afraid to say that I loved you very soon after you came. I earnestly hope Alice's heart is with you.” “Amen,” said the Major. “But you must not take the light of the house from us too soon.” “I think the engagement should be at least a year long.” “Certainly, Mrs. Ellaby. But this is a counting of unhatched chickens, I fear.” “Let me have none of your downcast moods, Anderson,” cried the Major cheerily, “go at the girl as our red coats went up Alma Hill. If you shilly-shally round I 56 THE TW E N TY-SIXTH DAY the outworks it will serve you right if the foe slips out at the rear. Take an old soldier's ad- vice—at the double !” “Love will make a method for the moment,” said Mrs. Ellaby. “Your braggart who is going to bounce into a girl’s heart usually ends by crawling through a hole on all fours. I assure you, Mr. Anderson, that the man who is now giving you such valiant—” “A traitor in the camp,” mut- tered the Major, “but one I could not shoot.” “I am disarmed,” laughed his wife. “Mr. Anderson, do you not think it would be nice if your mother were to come before you speak to Alice Why not follow yourself quickly on the heels of I 57 A JUNE ROMANCE the invitation I am going to write this evening—you could go up by the nine o'clock again—and bring Mrs. Anderson back with you by the express * * “Scale the battlements and bolt with the Baroness,” said the Major. “I could take Charlie before breakfast.” “Is this a time to think of Charles when Love is at the door? Let the boy loose among his rab- bits.” So we arranged it in this way. By this time we had reached the Falconhurst lawns, and were met by Miss Bellairs, who had not ac- companied us to Church, in a hurricane of vocatives. The rest of the day has been free of inci- I 58 THE TWENTY-SIXTH DAY dents, and I have been as an eater of poppies, drugged with bliss, for once or twice Alice spoke softly and looked tenderly upon me. Poor Paris, to have been mated with such a fright as Helen The Venus of Milo | What is it in comparison with this country maid A toy I59 June the Twenty-seventh. Very pleasant of the Major to propose that Latin should yield pride of place to love, but I pre- ferred to fulfil my obligation. Charlie and I spent two early hours over some exceedingly de- vious sums. A hurried breakfast. A general handshaking of the warmest—the country grip has heart in it. Dreamed all the way to London, building castles. Never were such towering and delicate. turrets Never looked a knight and his lady from such battle- ments over so fair a sea of grass and wood Do I come under the reproach meant to warn those who build on sand 2 A puff of I6o T H E T W E N TY-S E V E N T H DAY wind and the beach is a heap of bricks. Found Mother packing ! She was greatly stirred by the con- tents of Mrs. Ellaby’s letter. She would not show it me, saying that I was vain enough already. Which is a libel. I followed her from room to room, still harping on Alice. If Mother asked my opin- ion of some new brand of soap I managed to tinge my answer with Alice. It would not suit her skin —it would not do this, or be that, or something else. And Mother bore it all, meekly folding her silk dresses while she listened to my rhapsodies. This love is a devouring flame. It eats up per- sons, politics, inventions, litera- ture, clothes, cricket. It is the night and the day in one. It is a I61 A JUNE ROMANCE wildbird in the morning, and circles round and round the lover. Noon comes in her slippers of silence, but the bird is still present. Even- ing pursues her sister Noon into the mountains of gold in the west; the dark drives day before it, but love the bird is not driven from its rounds of flight. It is not seen, but the noise of the pas- sion of its wings is heard. We lunched, and then I walked over the heath till I found a nook to hide me in. Then I lay on my back, stared into the wells of space that were revealed by the scattered clouds, and built another story on to my especial castle. I would have a home a few miles out of London, near enough to the wilds for inspiration in my song, I62 THE TWENTY-SEVENTH DAY close enough to town for my daily work there. It would not do to cheat my country Goddess of birds and the lowly wayside blooms. And Alice should possess this home as its Queen and my wife. Wife Listen to that, angels in the blue ! I would leave her at the gate in the morning with a good-bye kiss, and in the afternoon find her there again with her lips pursed up ready to break in love on mine. So we would go into the small palace (for the only difference between it and a real palace would be that the real palace would not contain Alice) and make ready to spend an evening happily. There must be some work of course, but for a little while before the quill and I63 A JUNE R O MANCE ink-pot Alice would perch on my knee and tell me half a hundred household plans, devices in cre- tonne—mysteries of muslin—auda- cious enterprises in plush. So I mused, till it was time to stride home and conduct mother to Euston. We caught the train, chatted all the way down to Rugby (I became a male Miss Bellairs), and chatted, too, as my fancy most desired. The Major was at the station with all the pomp of two splendid horses and a shining carriage. When we arrived at Falconhurst we had a great wel- come. It was easy to see that the two Mothers would go arm-in- arm. Alice and Charlie had hidden themselves. However, dinner revealed them. To be I64 THE TWENTY-SEVENTH DAY among warm hearts quite warmed Mother, and a little colour shyly crept into her cheeks as if ashamed of being somewhat tardy. She looked ten years younger. Bless her | Find me the man who owes himself to a dearer woman than Mother Alice sat next her. I saw that my choice was approved, for Mother beamed when she spoke to the girl at her side. In the drawing-room afterwards we all circled round Mother and made much of her. Music and chess were quite forgotten. Even Charlie, perched on a hassock, was con- tented to sit at her feet. At last the ladies all went upstairs to- gether. Then the Major and I took to billiards, attaching ourselves to the ends of two long cigars. I65 jume the Twenty-eighth. The fever of my heart made me but a spendthrift in the matter of sleep. Repose only flirted with my eyes, and far too young was the morning when I utterly woke. Jumped out of bed and peeped from my window. Night was not yet delivered of Dawn, but there was the faintest herald-glow in the east, the child of a child. So I lay down again, and here is the song that grew — An opal, intricafe/y hued, One instant holds the prisoned moon, Then changes as the marze/’s viewed. The star/it singer in the bush One moment gives the magic gush, The golden transport, them the haſh/ I66 THE TWENTY-EIGHTH DAY If bird and opa/ tha; amite From premises of ſweet and bright To teach a logic for deſight, How ſhal/ I chide if Love muſt go From ſudden froſt to ſudden g/ozo, Then wayzvardly again to ſnow P After work I walked over to the village. Met Alice riding. Dispossessed her groom of his horse and rode with her towards the woods. I made a plan in my heart to tell her of my biting need as soon as we were among the trees, but we were overtaken by a Miss Laston and the gentle- man to whom she is engaged. I suppose I am to endure a Pur- gatory of being balked. John Denton, the lover, is a monosyl- labic man. It would pleasure the devotees of contrast were he to 167 A JUN E R O MANCE marry Miss Bellairs. It would be like wedding a torrent to a tomb. The girls made music in front of us, but Denton and I could not, even roughly, mate it. I made sixteen remarks which he answered in sixteen words, so I gave up the arduous task. We had to hurry home for lunch, and the chance went by. The goader of horses has again arrived. Mean- time the souls of Easton Revel quietly languish. Here is an amorous parson—a fitting follower of Herrick’s lyre. The afternoon was barren of opportunities, and just before dinner, when she was in the library, things still went crossly, for Mother sent for me to her room. However, my hopes still lived, for was there not the I68 T H E T W E N TY - EIGH TH DAY possibility of strolling up and down the lawn after dinner? But the girls were in high spirits and made the Paragon, Charlie and me play at hide and seek. Not once could I find Alice Out on thee, Cupid, for a sorry match- maker | I had deemed thee a nimbler lad! In the language of the Elizabethans permit me to say, Go tol 169 jume the Twenty-ninth. The Crusaders used to swear some very creditable oaths; they also called to witness a whole bead- roll of saints. As I dressed this morning I lumped the oaths and the saints together and vowed that the day should not die with- out I found a definite joy or grief. But how to stalk the deer P Alice, I truly believe, suspects me and the sudden coming of my Mother; she is up and away at a word, shy and wild. I do not want to ask her love in the library or any other room ; brick walls and a white-washed ceiling must not serve as our boundaries at such a I 7o THE TWENTY - NIN TH DAY moment—rather the sky and the forest. Thus I reflected. Break- fast duly came. Alice kissed Mother. She little knew how the son was plotting to earn so sweet al gift Work as usual. As Switzerland draws nearer, Charlie does his duty to Cicero nobly. He seems determined that I should find no fault for the rest of his time under my educational wing. I made an end of toil on the stroke of twelve. Where was Miss Alice? Jones, one of the gardener's boys, did not know. Where was Miss Alice P Bidwell, the gardener himself, did not know. She had been gathering a great bunch of roses, but that was two hours ago. I spied Miss Bellairs and Harleigh by the lilacs. - I7I A JUNE R O MANCE Where was Miss Ellaby Alice She had taken some flowers to Mrs. Travers. Why, that was the name of the woman who lived on the Upland Farm just beyond Penley Wood, was it not? Yes. Off I went at a gait likely to shake any exponent of fair heel-and- toe work | Perhaps I should meet her in the green channel where we had once been so happy —till the parson came. When I was out of sight of the house I went after Alice at the double, as the Major had advised, much fearing that my tongue would be less speedy than my legs. At last I strode down the long lane of verdure. My eyes pierced the thin belt of trees. Was it she Yes! She was coming from the I 72 THE Tw ENTY. NINTH DAY homestead so as to flow into the woodland road. I halted at a bend. Alas! Alas, for the Alma Hill method | The mad thunder- ing of my heart was a pain. I heard Alice's feet make the brittle undergrowth crackle; this noise stopped, and there succeeded the hissing sound peculiar to steps in long grass. I moved forward, rounded the bend, and at the same matchless moment God showed her me and me her | The rustle of the homespun ceased, and Alice uttered a little cry of surprise. “You here P’’ she asked. “I came to meet you,” I said; “and I have found you where most I wished to.” “In Penley Cathedral.” I73 A JUNE RO MAN CE “On holy ground.” “Are you really not going far- ther on P” “I want to walk back with you, but we need not start for a few minutes. I love to see you here, framed by a hundred shades of green.” She did not speak, but looked at me questioningly. She took off the pretty country cap she was wearing, and walked a few paces forward. A shaft of sunshine fell on her lovely head. Meantime my galloping heart grew bolder. “Stay a little, Miss Alice,” I said. “Ought we not to be moving? We shall be late for lunch, and Mother will be anxious.” “I think not. She will know I74 T H E T W E N TY - N IN T H DAY that I have found you. You are not afraid to be under my care. You surely do not dislike my com- pany ” She darted a sorrowful look at me, but did not speak. Cupid was pointing me out a path. “I know,” I continued, “that I am only an usher—only an hire- ling who happens to know a smattering of classics, but it would be ungenerous, Miss El- laby, to despise me because of this. Feelings do not gradually diminish on the way from Eaton Square to Whitechapel. There are hearts in the East End, and we poor men—” She turned round on me, her cheeks invaded by indignant blood. “There should be a common- I 75 A JUNE R O M A NCE wealth of brains,” she said. “Why should poverty, comparative only in your case, give you the right to sneer at me? Accuse me of theft, of forgery, of even worse crimes, Mr. Anderson, if you will, but never of meanness so pitiful as that you have hinted at! When have I shown signs of such base- ness P God has never so much deserted me. Are you, a poet, a scholar and a gentleman, igno- rant of your Burns 2 What does the divine Ploughman (I would have followed him across the fur- rows had I loved him () teach us 2 ‘The rank is the guinea stamp, the man’s the gold.” Oh, that you should have lived in the same house for a month and misjudged me so utterly 1” 176 THE TWENTY - NIN TH DAY “I have not done so,” I an- swered. - “Indeed you have ” “Then you shall teach me better.” “I When There are so few hours left for your tuition.” “There’s a lifetime, Miss Ellaby —Alice—little child, there's a lifetime. Do not hide your face, for it is my sun Do not tremble, for you are the rock on which I would build my joy! Listen. I came out here into the forest to win you, and as I came I looked up into the sky, asking God to spare me you, for I love you ! Here with the blue of the heavens and the strength of the trees for witnesses, I reveal my heart to you. Oh it has ached for this 177 A JUNE RO MANCE moment Alice, Alice—” I took her hands and forced them from her face—“Alice?” She trembled still, but she did not seek to free her hands. “Alice, speak | There is a life- time, Alice, is there not * * “I am not worthy to teach you.” “Dearest, will you come to me and try " “Yes.” It was an hour later when Alice and I passed by the open windows of the dining-room. They were just leaving the table, and filed out On the lawn. “Is it an unconditional sur- render?” asked the Major, seeing joy. On our faces. “Rather, a mutual arrange- ment,” I said. 178 THE TW ENTY - NIN TH DAY Alice ran to her mother, and sobbed on her shoulder. Such a handshaking ensued I kissed Mrs. Ellaby, and in my blindness as nearly as possible treated Miss Bellairs in the same way. The rest of the day is a dream too sweet to tell. 179 jume the Thirtieth. Charlie had the impudence to belabour my door before six o'clock in the morning and ask for a holi- day—because I was going to marry “Young Alice”! These be Radi- cal times | He disturbed me deep in a revel of surmise about the new life that was to come when a year was dead, but nevertheless I granted his request, whereat he whooped away to his Belgian hares. I lay in profound bliss till the Chinese gong grated, discord- ant, through the house. There was a rosebud on my plate, and Alice was in hiding behind the door, so she saw me kiss it. For this treachery she paid a price. 18O THE THIRTIETH DAY After breakfast Alice and I took Mrs. Travers a basket of goodies. Never shall I forget this last day of June. How the sun shone, and how the company of birds piped us on our way ! When we came to the bend where I had made so sweet an ambush against Alice's heart, we halted and looked in each other’s eyes. A moment more and the basket of goodies was in the grass, Alice's pretty cap was on the ground, and she was in my arms Then we went hand in hand to Mrs. Travers, and told her she was to grow ever so strong again for our sakes, for we were engaged, and this was our earliest visit. Home again through the wood, the treetops seeming to hold up the sky above 181 A JUNE ROMANCE us. Alice has promised to order three or four dresses to match the grey homespun which she wore when I wooed and won her. I told her that on no consideration would I have uttered my love yes- terday had she been otherwise robed. And she would not believe me ! How saucy your modern maids are We passed Frank and his sweetheart in the lane, and pretended not to see them. After lunch Alice came into my study and insisted on reading all my un- published poems. This is intoler- able. She stole some of them, which is worse. While she was there a note of congratulation came from Monkington. He is of the men who bear great hearts through the world. While we were deep 182 THE THIRTIE TH DAY in verses Mother peeped into the room, smiled, and went away. She told me yesterday that nowhere could I have found her a daughter to appeal more to her love. Alice and I gave Miss Bellairs and Har- leigh such a thrashing at tennis | Seraphina came out on the lawn and chased the balls madly, till at last she became so entangled in the net that we had to deliver her. A musical evening—chess—content —a good-night kiss on the stairs. No serpent should persuade me to eat apples while I had Alice's heart to press against my own As I pen these words July floods over England. June is gone with all her hours, but the memory of her must last while I have power to think. 183 PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY AND SONS COMPANY AT THE LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL. -«…ººº ！:） （№ș**ķ*** a！！！s, ? №}} ¿ ≡ §. ~）;? ș,?????） ! ſº...--saeºſ? 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