MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Baroness Orczy
 
 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 BARONESS ORCZY
 
 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 BY 
 
 BARONESS ORCZY 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL." "THE NOBLE ROGUE," 
 " PETTICOAT RULE " 
 
 HODDER & STOUGHTON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
 
 Copyright, 1912, 
 By George H. Doran Company
 
 Stack 
 Annex 
 
 PP- 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I A Curious Old Bird 9 
 
 II A Kind Old Soul 22 
 
 III A Provoking Young Wife 33 
 
 IV A Meddlesome Old Busybody 42 
 
 V A Capricious Tyrant 51 
 
 VI A Wild Figure of a Girl 64 
 
 VII A Little Fury of Wrath 78 
 
 VIII A Society Lady 90 
 
 IX An Exquisite Apparition 99 
 
 X A Full-Blown Young Woman 106 
 
 XI A Much- Wronged Woman 115 
 
 XII A Jealous Man 124 
 
 XIII A Fair Temptress 130 
 
 XIV A Thief in the Night I39 
 
 XV A Beloved Sister 148 
 
 XVI An Impertinent Young Man ....... iS7 
 
 XVII A Man in Love 172 
 
 XVIII A Woman in a Rage 181 
 
 XIX An Unseemly Incident ........ 191 
 
 XX A Fairy Tale 196 
 
 XXI A Lie ' . . . .... 207 
 
 XXII A Broken Heart 216 
 
 XXIII A Stormy Petrel 227 
 
 XXIV A Hopeless Outlook 232 
 
 XXV A Sentimental Conversation 238 
 
 XXVI A Bunch of Roses 244 
 
 XXVII A Little Plan 253
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXVIII An Agreeable Surprise 261 
 
 XXIX An Awkward Situation 269 
 
 XXX An Honest Man 278 
 
 XXXI A Little Fool 287 
 
 XXXII A Stroke of Diplomacy 299 
 
 XXXIII A Sublime Conclusion 305 
 
 XXXIV A Simple Way 312
 
 MEADOWSWEET
 
 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A CURIOUS OLD BIRD 
 
 You cannot imagine what a tangle and muddle 
 reigned in Uncle Jasper's museum! If you were not 
 one of the privileged few, allowed to gaze wide-eyed 
 on the countless treasures which positively littered 
 every corner of the room — well, then, it would be no 
 use to close your eyes and think what it must have 
 looked like, because your wildest imaginings would 
 fall far short of the reality. 
 
 I went into it once when I was a tiny mite, and Uncle 
 Jasper was then very, very old; but the picture of 
 that room as I saw it then impressed me more vividly 
 than anything I have ever seen since then. 
 
 The room, you must know, was long and low, with 
 a raftered ceiling, every beam of which was black with 
 age and carved by hand. There were no two beams 
 alike, for one had a garland of oak leaves festooned 
 along it, another was decorated with trails of brier- 
 rose, another with bunches of holly berries tied to- 
 gether with true-love knots, and so on, all most beauti- 
 fully hand-carved and dating back to the time of 
 Henry VH. Then on one side of the room there was 
 a huge, deep, mullioned window with tiny panes of 
 
 9
 
 10 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 greenish glass, through which you couldn't possibly 
 see, all held together by lines of lead. The embrasure 
 of the window was panelled with oak, quite as black 
 as the beams of the ceiling, and these panels, too, were 
 beautifully carved, in lovely patterns that represented 
 folded linen, with every fold different, as you may 
 imagine, for there was nothing conventional in any 
 single portion or ornament of Uncle Jasper's museum. 
 
 Even the doors looked askew; though, of course, 
 they were made of stout oak, and never creaked when 
 you opened them. But their lines seemed to defy 
 regularity and positively to sneer at plumb-lines. 
 
 There were two doors to the room, one which gave 
 on the rest of the house — about which I must tell you 
 later — and the other which was near the embrasured 
 window and gave on a little stone porch. 
 
 Now, the best way to appreciate the view of Uncle 
 Jasper's museum was not to enter it from the house, 
 but rather from this same little stone porch which 
 faced a square yard at the back of the house — a yard 
 that might once have been a miniature farmyard, for it 
 had barns all around it — great, big barns made coal 
 black with tar and covered with heather thatch, on 
 the top of which pigeons were always sitting, and 
 beneath which I strongly suspect owls of holding their 
 midnight palavers. 
 
 They were wonderful barns these, and put to many 
 uses. One was fitted up roughly with boxes to accom- 
 modate two or three horses, if visitors came a-riding ; 
 another was used as a cowshed ; a third held the small 
 waggonette, wherein Uncle Jasper occasionally drove 
 to Canterbury, eleven miles away; and a fourth held
 
 A CURIOUS OLD BIRD ii 
 
 just all the rubbish and all the lumber that you could 
 possibly think of — bits of iron gate and all the old 
 hayrakes and the chicken coops that weren't wanted, 
 and the pea-sticks that were worth keeping, and pussy's 
 latest family that had escaped the scullery bucket, and 
 the herd of mice and rats that had evaded the vigi- 
 lance of the cat, of the owls, and of the terrier. 
 
 And then, of course, there was the barn which 
 belonged exclusively to the chickens, even though the 
 chickens did not belong exclusively to it ; for they were 
 everywhere, and made their homes in every barn round 
 the yard, and scratched up the flooring and the brick 
 foundations, and roosted in the waggonette, and gener- 
 ally did as much mischief as a colony of self-respecting 
 chickens can very well do. 
 
 Finally, there was the barn which adjoined the 
 museum, and which held all the superfluous rubbish 
 and lumber which no longer could find a place inside 
 the house. This barn — it was really a loft — had 
 no entrance from the yard, and it was raised some 
 seven or eight feet from the ground on brick pillars. 
 Its only ingress gave on the museum itself, and when 
 you stood in that room looking towards the window 
 and the yard, the door into this loft would be in the 
 end wall on your right at some height from the floor, 
 and a short flight of wooden stairs led up to it. 
 
 But, of course, you don't want to hear just now 
 about the yard, or the barn, or the chickens; your 
 concern, like mine, is of Uncle Jasper's museum, of 
 which I desire to tell you. 
 
 Well, suppose that you — instead of knocking at the 
 front door of Old Manor Farm, which, perhaps, would
 
 12 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 have been more polite, even if more bold — had skirted 
 the house, and were now standing in the yard, with the 
 barns to your right and left and also behind you, you 
 would be facing that same little stone porch of which I 
 have already told you, and no doubt you would be 
 wondering how the columns, being askew, contrived to 
 uphold the quaint architrave. 
 
 The stone was of a delicate mellow colour, a grey 
 made up of golds and greens, and in spring it was 
 covered with the pale mauve of the wistaria and in the 
 summer with the deep purple of the clematis, for these 
 two climbers joined tendrils over the porch and never 
 quarrelled, the wistaria always making way for the 
 clematis when the time came, and the clematis keeping 
 small and unobtrusive whilst the wistaria wanted 
 plenty of room. 
 
 The door under the porch gave direct on the mu- 
 seum, and if you entered it this way you had a splendid 
 view of the place. You saw the tall bookshelves op- 
 posite to you, with rows upon rows of books ; you saw 
 the wooden steps leading up to the loft on your left, 
 and all round you saw cases on the walls filled with all 
 kinds of eggs; you saw the table in the centre of the 
 room, with Uncle Jasper's wig upon its stand, and the 
 huge microscope, with its brass fittings shining like 
 gold. 
 
 Then in the dark corners at either end you saw the 
 skeleton of beasts such as you had never seen before, 
 and antlers and horns of every shape and size. I 
 could not, in fact, tell you what you did not see ; there 
 was a stuffed alligator, that hung by a chain from the 
 ceiling, and stuffed lizards, that peered at you from
 
 A CURIOUS OLD BIRD 13 
 
 every point; and I could not even begin to tell you 
 about the stuffed birds, for they were literally every- 
 v^here — on the tops of the bookcases and in cases on 
 the wall, on the tables, the chairs, and the sofas. 
 There were little birds and big birds, song birds and 
 birds of prey, British birds and tropical birds, and 
 birds from the ice regions, white birds, grey birds, red 
 birds, and birds of every tone and colour. 
 
 And, believe me, that by far the most extraordinary 
 bird in the whole museum sat in a tall-backed chair, 
 covered in large-flowered tapestry, and had name Jas- 
 per Hemingford. 
 
 I suppose it was this constant handling of birds and 
 being with birds that made Uncle Jasper look so like a 
 bald-headed stork. For all day would he sit, with 
 glue-pot and stuffing and I don't know what other im- 
 plements, turning limp, dead birds into erect, defiant- 
 looking ones, with staring eyes that were black in the 
 centre and yellow round the rims, and could be bought 
 by the thousand in a shop in London city. 
 
 Now, to get those birds into their proper position, so 
 that the bird looked straight at you without the sus- 
 picion of a squint, required a great deal of skill and of 
 precision, and Uncle Jasper would sit by the hour in 
 his high-backed chair, bone-rimmed spectacles on nose, 
 and his mouth screwed up as if he were perpetually 
 whistling. 
 
 And that is the reason, no doubt, why his face was 
 so like a bird's. 
 
 I told you that his wig always stood on a stand in 
 the very centre of the big table, as if it were presiding 
 over the assembly of glue-pots and balls of string, of
 
 14 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 metal tools and boxes of eyes, and of eggs and dusty 
 bottles that surrounded it like a crowd does a popular 
 orator. And Uncle Jasper always wore a white cotton 
 cap with a tassel to it, in order to protect his bald head 
 against the draught. Aunt Caroline always knitted 
 these caps for Uncle Jasper, as she did his white cot- 
 ton stockings, and Susan washed them when they were 
 dirty. 
 
 He invariably slipped off his coat the moment he 
 entered the museum, and put it down somewhere 
 amongst the litter, and never could find it again when 
 he wanted it later on to go to dinner in. But his 
 flowered dressing-gown was always laid ready for him 
 on the back of his chair, so he found that easily 
 enough, and put it on before settling down to work, 
 and he would always forget to tie the cord and tassels 
 round his waist, and they would trail after him when 
 he moved about in the room, and Aunt Caroline's pet 
 cat — if she happened to be in the museum — would 
 pretend that one of the tassels was a mouse, and she 
 would stalk it, and pounce upon it just when Uncle Jas- 
 per was about to mount his rickety library steps, and 
 cause him to trip, and to break one of the panes of 
 glass of his bookshelves, trying to save himself from 
 falling. 
 
 But Uncle Jasper never swore when this happened. 
 He only quoted Latin at the cat, and, as she didn't 
 understand Latin, she went on in just the same per- 
 verse way as before. 
 
 Now Susan, the country wench, whom Aunt Caro- 
 line dignified by the name of " maid," did not know 
 Latin any better than the cat, and I am quite sure that
 
 A CURIOUS OLD BIRD 15 
 
 in her own mind she thought that her master swore 
 more often and more vigorously than was consistent 
 with Christian piety. 
 
 On this same afternoon — the events of which 
 crowded in so remarkably that that memorable day 
 became the turning point in the career of several mem- 
 bers of the Hemingford family — on this same after- 
 noon, I say, which was on the 2nd of June, in the year 
 1835, Susan was sent to the museum by Mrs. Heming- 
 ford in order that she should tell the master that tea 
 was served. 
 
 Susan, whose cap was always awry, and whose feet 
 and hands appeared to have been made for somebody 
 else, and clapped on to her arms and shins by mistake, 
 invariably became very nervous and excited when she 
 had to face the stufifed birds and beasts of the museum. 
 
 " For all the world like the internals," she would 
 explain to her follower, Thomas Scrutch, the tea gro- 
 cer's son from Birchington. 
 
 And this nervous excitement caused her to be still 
 more clumsy than she usually was, her arms becoming 
 like the wings of a windmill, her hands like flappers, 
 and her feet like fire shovels, whilst her eyes, staring 
 out of her round, red face, were very like those that 
 lay in boxes on the centre table, and could be bought 
 by the thousand in a shop in London city. 
 
 She did her best at first to attract Uncle Jasper's 
 attention from the doorway. Of course, he had not 
 heard her knock, nor was he conscious of her blue 
 print dress and her cap, all awry, with its double row 
 of starched frills. 
 
 He had got some ^wful-looking, grey, stark thing in
 
 i6 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 his hands, and his bone-rimmed spectacles were mid- 
 way down his nose, and he was staring through them 
 at the nasty-looking thing which he held, and mutter- 
 ing to himself all the while. 
 
 " He give me the jumps ! " commented Susan in- 
 audibly. 
 
 " Undoubtedly — undoubtedly," murmured Uncle 
 Jasper, who was chuckling with delight, " a very fine 
 specimen indeed of the Vespertilio ferrum equinum, 
 or horseshoe bat." 
 
 " No wonder he be swearing at the horrible thing," 
 thought Susan, whose nervousness was gaining more 
 and more upon her. She was balancing herself first 
 on one huge foot, then on the other, and saying in an 
 awed whisper at intervals : 
 
 " An it please you, sir." 
 
 But, of course. Uncle Jasper took no notice of her. 
 He just was delighted with the ugly, grey thing, and 
 he cocked his head to one side and patted the thing 
 with his long, bony fingers all the time. 
 
 " Length from the nose to the tip of the tail," he 
 said meditatively, " three and a half inches to three 
 and nine-sixteenths at the most." 
 
 An it please you, sir," murmured poor Susan. 
 Undoubtedly — undoubtedly ! " — and a deep sigh 
 of satisfaction came through the screwed-up lips of 
 Uncle Jasper ; " or, as one might more appropriately 
 say, non est disputan . . ." 
 
 Now, wasn't it a pity that an elfin chance chose that 
 very second in which to make poor, nervous Susan 
 lose her equilibrium? She had danced about from one 
 foot to another for some time, and during the process 

 
 A CURIOUS OLD BIRD 17 
 
 her cap had sHpped down over her left ear, the perspira- 
 tion had fallen from her forehead to the tip of her nose, 
 where it formed one ever-increasing drop, and she was 
 shedding hairpins like a porcupine sheds his quills. 
 Otherwise she had done no mischief. 
 
 But now when Latin once more fell from her mas- 
 ter's lips she lurched forward, with arms outstretched; 
 her hands, which certainly had been made for some- 
 body much larger than herself, clutched at the nearest 
 thing to support her falling person. 
 
 That nearest thing happened to be a chair, and on 
 the chair were all kinds of funny things, including a 
 number of pale blue eggs and a box of eyes ; the chair 
 slid on the oak floor, and Susan slid after the chair, 
 until the chair and Susan encountered an obstacle and 
 could slide no more; then both were turned over to- 
 gether, whilst eggs and eyes flew with amazing rapid- 
 ity and in every possible direction along the shiny 
 floor. 
 
 All that had occurred at the very moment that Uncle 
 Jasper said the beginning of his last word of Latin, 
 and when the clatter broke in on his meditations he 
 paused before finishing his word, for the sudden noise 
 had taken his breath away. 
 
 And when he recovered both his breath and his 
 Latin it was to emit the last syllable of his interrupted 
 phrase, and that was: 
 
 ". . . dum!" 
 
 Can you wonder that Susan, who was sprawling on 
 the floor like a starfish, had only just strength enough 
 to gasp feebly: 
 
 " Yes, sir — please, sir ! "
 
 i8 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Then, of course, Uncle Jasper became aware of her 
 presence. He looked at her over the rims of his spec- 
 tacles, wondering, no doubt, why she had chosen this 
 extraordinary method of entering his room. 
 
 " Lord bless my soul, Susan," he murmured in pro- 
 found astonishment, " what are you doing there on 
 the floor?" 
 
 " I am very sorry, sir — please, sir ! " she stammered 
 as she picked herself up and began to chase the fallen 
 eggs and the rolling eyes. 
 
 " Go away," said Uncle Jasper mildly ; " go away — 
 never mind those things. Can't you see that I'm 
 busy?" 
 
 " Yes, sir . . . but please, sir ! . . ." 
 
 But already Uncle Jasper had forgotten the brief 
 incident which had distracted him from the examina- 
 tion of his beloved specimen. He readjusted his spec- 
 tacles, and once more turned his attention to the grey, 
 flabby thing in his hand. 
 
 " The upright membrane at the end of the nose," he 
 murmured, with every sigh of ecstatic delight visible 
 in his glittering eyes and his twitching mouth, " per- 
 fect — perfect in shape, just like a horseshoe." 
 
 There is a courage that is born of despair and a 
 boldness that comes of intense nervousness. Susan 
 suddenly felt both, for she had had orders from her 
 mistress not to return from her errand without bring- 
 ing the master along with her, and there he was back 
 again in the moon or somewheres paying no more heed 
 to her than if she were a bit of dirt — and he never 
 did mind dirt much. 
 
 So now she no longer muttered, she suddenly
 
 A CURIOUS OLD BIRD 19 
 
 shouted right at the top of her voice — shouted just 
 like people shout when they are very frightened. 
 
 " The mistress sent me to tell you, sir — " 
 
 Uncle Jasper heard the voice, for he looked at her 
 over the top of his spectacles ; but he looked just as if 
 he had never seen Susan before to-day. 
 
 " Lord bless my soul, Susan," he said mildly, " I 
 didn't know you were here! " 
 
 " The mistress says, sir," said Susan, still shouting, 
 for having got his attention she didn't want to lose it 
 again, " will you please come to tea? " 
 
 " Eh? " queried Uncle Jasper in his funny, absent- 
 minded way. " What ? " 
 
 " Tea, sir," yelled Susan at the top of her voice. 
 " It's getting cold, and Master Crabtree is eating all the 
 muffins ! " 
 
 " All right, all right, Susan ! " said Uncle Jasper 
 placidly. " You waste too many words, my girl ! 
 Dictum sapienti sat est. ... A word to the wise is 
 enough, Susan. And — what were you saying just 
 now, my girl ? " he asked absently. 
 
 " I was saying, sir — " 
 
 Uncle Jasper was staring at her in absolute blank- 
 ness, whilst in his hand he held that ugly little thing, 
 grey and flabby, with tiny claws pointing upwards and 
 limp, pointed wings. Susan, too, stared at Uncle Jas- 
 per; he sat perfectly still, and his pale, watery eyes 
 looked vacantly at her above his big spectacles. 
 
 " For all the world like one of his own mannies," 
 thought Susan, whose sudden courage had already 
 given way. The creepy feeling which always came 
 over her when she was in the museum mastered her
 
 20 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 now more strongly than ever. " I was that scared," 
 she said later on, " my poor back just opened and shut 
 when I saw that hugeous thing lying in his hand, for 
 all the world like a begum." 
 
 At the time she just threw her apron over her face, 
 and crying: 
 
 " The Lord preserve us ! " she fled incontinently 
 from the room. 
 
 Uncle Jasper gave a very deep sigh of satisfaction. 
 He put down the precious specimen with infinite gentle- 
 ness upon the table, then he rose from his chair and 
 worked his way round' the several pieces of furniture in 
 the room toward the bookshelves against the wall. 
 And all the while that he moved he muttered to himself 
 in an absent-minded kind of way: 
 
 " Strange how much time is wasted by the unedu- 
 cated in idle talk. Yet, fugit irreparabile tempus — 
 time flies never to be recalled." 
 
 He took hold of the rickety little wooden steps and 
 moved them to that position beside the bookshelves 
 which he desired, then he began slowly to mount them. 
 And all the while that he mounted his eyes travelled 
 with the quickness of vast experience over the rows of 
 books behind the glass doors. 
 
 Apparently the book that he required was on the very 
 top of the bookcase, so Uncle Jasper mounted slowly 
 and carefully until he had reached the top of the rickety 
 wooden steps. There he now sat down, and, having 
 opened one of the glass doors, he took out a ponderous 
 volume bound in calf. He crossed one lean shank over 
 the other so as to afford firm support for the book, then 
 he opened it, and his bony fingers — so like the claws of
 
 A CURIOUS OLD BIRD 21 
 
 birds — wandered lovingly over the yellow-stained 
 pages. 
 
 " Now, let me see ! " he murmured, for he had a 
 habit of talking to himself when he was engrossed in 
 his work, " Vespertilio ferrum equinum. Vesper — 
 vesper — ah, here we are ! " 
 
 And having totally forgotten all about Susan and 
 tea and his wife, he sat perched up there, very like a 
 bald-headed old stork. His long, thin nose was bent 
 over his book, his lean shanks were encased in white 
 cotton stockings, and the tassels of his dressing-gown 
 beat an uneven tattoo against the wood of the rickety 
 library steps.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A KIND OLD SOUL 
 
 One of the many fallacies invented by learned people 
 with a view to confusing the unlearned is the saying 
 that " Nature never makes a mistake." 
 
 Now no one on earth makes more mistakes than 
 Dame Nature makes up aloft, or wherever else she 
 may dwell. And I will tell you one of the greatest 
 mistakes that she ever did make, and that was that 
 she put a true mother's heart inside the ample chest 
 of Aunt Caroline and then wholly omitted — or forgot 
 — to give her children of her own to love, to cosset, 
 and to worry out of all patience. 
 
 Aunt Caroline as a mother would have been splendid. 
 Her children's faces would have been a bright red, and 
 would have shone like apples that have been polished 
 against the sleeve of a well-worn smock; their hair 
 would have been smooth and glossy, their hands white 
 and adorned with well-trimmed nails ; they would have 
 been learned in the art of making every kind of wine 
 and preserve and pickle that mind of woman can con- 
 ceive and stomach of man can digest, and totally igno- 
 rant of everything else in the world. 
 
 As an aunt. Aunt Caroline was a failure. For from 
 the moment that her sister's children were placed in her 
 charge by their dying mother they did exactly as they 
 
 22
 
 A KIND OLD SOUL 23 
 
 liked at Old Manor Farm, and twiddled Aunt Caroline 
 right round their thumbs. 
 
 To be sure Olive, the eldest, had snow-white hands 
 with beautifully shaped nails to them; but she did not 
 employ them in making cowslip wine and rhubarb pre- 
 serve : she employed them chiefly for the decking up and 
 the ornamentation of the rest of her lovely person, and 
 one of them she employed now in the wearing of the 
 golden ring which Sir Baldwin Jeffreys had placed on it 
 some three or four years ago. 
 
 Olive, from the time that she left off playing with 
 dolls — and that was very early in the history of her 
 short life — had made up her mind that she would not 
 wear out her youth and her beauty at the Old Manor 
 Farm in the company of Uncle Jasper's stuffed abom- 
 inations : and since Aunt Caroline could not afford to 
 take her up to London, where she might have made a 
 suitable match, she looked about her in Thanet itself, 
 in search of the most likely gentleman of wealth and 
 position who would prove willing and eager to ask her 
 to quit the lonely farmhouse, and to grace London 
 society in his company and his own house as his mis- 
 tress. 
 
 The most likely gentleman turned out to be Sir 
 Baldwin Jeffreys, who had a large estate near Ash ford 
 and a fine house in town. He had come down to the 
 neighbourhood of Minster-in-Thanet for some fishing 
 with his friend, Mr. Culpepper, and Mr. Culpepper — 
 to while away a fine Sunday afternoon — had driven 
 him over to have tea with Mr. and Mrs. Hemingford 
 at Old Manor Farm, and to see old Jasper Heming- 
 ford's museum, which was the pride and talk of Thanet.
 
 24 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Sir Baldwin Jeffreys sat In the oak-rafted parlour of 
 Old Manor Farm, and Miss Olive Aldmarshe handed 
 him a cup of tea. Sir Baldwin Jeffreys was five-and- 
 forty years old, but he looked thirty-five, and on that 
 afternoon he felt twenty-two. 
 
 That was more than three years ago now, and in the 
 meanwhile Lady Jeffreys had been the bright comet of 
 two London seasons, and Old Manor Farm and its 
 inhabitants had not seen her since the day when she 
 walked out of it, a radiant and beautiful bride, on the 
 arm of her middle-aged husband, and entered the smart 
 coach, with its white and scarlet liveries and heavy 
 Flemish horses, which were to convey her to her new 
 home. 
 
 And now she had arrived quite unexpectedly on this 
 very morning, and at the moment when Aunt Caroline 
 was about to carve Cousin Barnaby's third helping of 
 lamb. There had come the noise of a distant coach 
 rattling down the hill, the clatter of horses, the jingling 
 of harness, the shouts of the postilions. Aunt Caro- 
 line had just time to ejaculate : " I wonder now who 
 that might be ! " and Barnaby Crabtree to grunt in 
 response : " Nobody for us, I hope ! " when the hand- 
 some coach was seen to swing in through the narrow 
 gates, and — with a great deal more clatter and a vast 
 amount more jingling — to come to a halt before the 
 front door. 
 
 " Lord bless us all, it must be Olive ! " exclaimed 
 Aunt Caroline, as she quickly put down the pair of 
 carvers and started fiddling nervously with the strings 
 of her apron. 
 
 " That is no excuse, Caroline," remarked Barnaby
 
 A KIND OLD SOUL 25 
 
 Crabtree acidly, " for not handing me over a further 
 portion of lamb as I desired." 
 
 " No, Barnaby," said Aunt Caroline meekly. 
 
 And it was because she was then obliged to resume 
 her work of carving and to help Cousin Barnaby with 
 two slices of lamb, a roast potato, a spoonful of peas, 
 and a sprinkling of mint sauce, that she was not stand- 
 ing at the front door to receive Sir Baldwin and his 
 lady when the latter descended from her coach. 
 
 Indeed it was Olive who had arrived so unexpect- 
 edly. She had come in her coach, together with nu- 
 merous boxes, and Sir Baldwin had ridden beside the 
 coach all the way from Ashford. 
 
 Soon Olive was standing in the hall, meekly sub- 
 mitting to Aunt Caroline's embrace, whilst Uncle Jas- 
 per fussed round them both like an old hen, and Susan 
 stood in the doorway wide-eyed and open-mouthed, 
 gaping at the beautiful lady with the shot silk cloak and 
 the five huge feathers in her bonnet, until Aunt Caro- 
 line roused her from this state of semi-imbecility by 
 giving her arm a vigorous pinch and ordering her back 
 into her kitchen to put a couple more plates in the 
 Dutch oven. 
 
 In the meanwhile Sir Baldwin Jeffreys, having 
 greeted Aunt Caroline and Uncle Jasper with all the 
 courtly grace peculiar to gentlemen who live much in 
 London, gave directions to his servants and postilions 
 to stable his saddle-horse in Mr. Hemingford's stables, 
 but to return to Ashford with the coach forthwith, 
 since her ladyship would make a stay here for a few 
 days. He himself would return home that selfsame 
 evening.
 
 26 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Aunt Caroline's notions of hospitality, however, 
 would not allow her to let Sir Baldwin's servants de- 
 part without at least a good cut off that leg of lamb 
 when it presently found its way into the kitchen. So 
 for at least an hour after that coachman and pos- 
 tilions in white and scarlet graced the huge stone- 
 walled kitchen with their presence, and made Susan's 
 eyes grow larger and larger with the tales they told 
 her of the magnificent society in London of which 
 their master and mistress were the most feted leaders. 
 
 All this had occurred earlier in the day, of course, 
 for twelve o'clock was the dinner hour at Old Manor 
 Farm, and since then everyone had had a brief hour's 
 rest. Uncle Jasper had retired to his museum, where 
 he quickly forgot that he had a niece and that she had 
 arrived that day. Aunt Caroline had vainly tried to 
 keep awake whilst Sir Baldwin Jeffreys talked politely 
 on agricultural subjects ; she nodded over Jersey cows, 
 and closed her eyes over late lambs, but when the har- 
 vest of sainfoin came on the tapis she frankly lay back 
 in her chair and began to snore. 
 
 Olive in the meanwhile had found her way to the 
 room which she used to occupy when she was a girl. 
 It seemed mightily small and uncomfortable after the 
 luxuries of her house in St. James's-street, or of her 
 home near Ashford. Aunt Caroline, who had come 
 up with her, found herself vaguely apologising for 
 these discomforts, even though Olive had occupied that 
 selfsame room for fifteen years of her life. 
 
 " Try and rest now, Olive dear," she said, as she pre- 
 pared to rejoin Sir Baldwin in the little front parlour,
 
 A KIND OLD SOUL 27 
 
 " the child will be home by the time you come down 
 again." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " said Olive languidly, smothering a 
 yawn. " By the way, where is the child ? " 
 
 " On some bird's-nesting expedition," replied Aunt 
 Caroline, with a sigh ; " she is still the tomboy you used 
 to scold. I haven't seen her since breakfast time, but 
 she'll surely be home to tea." 
 
 Two hours later the little party was gathered around 
 the tea-table. Aunt Caroline's best silver teapot had 
 come out of its green baize bag for the occasion and 
 resplended above the china cups and saucers and the 
 plates full of bread and butter and home-made cakes. 
 Olive, languid and bored, was sipping her tea. Sir 
 Baldwin, looking black as thunder, was busy whacking 
 his boot with his riding-crop, and Cousin Barnaby 
 Crabtree sat in the most comfortable armchair, with 
 the dish of muffins close to his hand, and his third cup 
 of tea nearly empty. 
 
 Susan had been sent to fetch the master, but had not 
 yet returned. 
 
 " I declare," said Aunt Caroline as she put down the 
 heavy silver teapot and rose from her chair — " I de- 
 clare that that girl is nothing short of an imbecile. I 
 sent her to fetch your uncle," she added, not specially 
 addressing Olive, but because she always referred to 
 her husband as " your uncle " whoever she might be 
 talking to at the time — " I sent her to fetch your 
 uncle, and now I hear her moving about in the scullery, 
 and he'll already have forgotten all about having been 
 sent for, and all about his tea." 
 
 " Even if he comes now," said Barnaby Crabtree
 
 28 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 placidly, "the !ea will have drawn too much, and 
 there are no more muffins left. Leave him alone, 
 Caroline," he added more sternly; "he'll come when 
 he wants to, and in the meanwhile cut me a piece of 
 plum cake." 
 
 However, Aunt Caroline did not like the idea of 
 Uncle Jasper going without his tea, so, having cut the 
 desired piece of plum cake, she begged to be excused, 
 and made her way straight to the museum. 
 
 There she found Uncle Jasper sitting at the top of 
 his library steps deeply absorbed in a book. 
 
 Aunt Caroline could have smacked him, so angry 
 did she feel. 
 
 " There you go again, Jasper," she cried ; " there 
 you go, up in the clouds, and no more heeding your 
 own lawful wife than a bunch of woody carrots. Jas- 
 per," she added, seeing that indeed he took but scant 
 notice of her, " Jasper, I say ! " 
 
 And she rapped with her bunch of keys upon the 
 back of the nearest chair. 
 
 "Eh? What?" asked Uncle Jasper meekly. 
 
 " You've scared that silly minx Susan out of her 
 wits, and now your tea is getting cold, and Sir Bald- 
 win will be going directly." 
 
 " Sir Baldwin ? " queried Uncle Jasper vacantly as 
 he stared down at her like an old crow from its perch. 
 
 He had wholly forgotten who Sir Baldwin might 
 be, and vaguely wondered what this gentleman's go- 
 ing and coming had to do with the Vespertilio ferrum 
 equinum, a specimen of which — so rare in the British 
 Islands — was even now lying upon his own table. 
 
 " Jasper," ejaculated Aunt Caroline, who you must
 
 A KIND OLD SOUL 29 
 
 own had grave cause for vexation, " Jasper, you don't 
 mean to tell me that you had forgotten that Sir Bald- 
 win Jeffreys said at dinner-time that he must leave us 
 directly after tea ! " 
 
 " No, no, my dear," replied Uncle Jasper vaguely ; 
 " indeed I had not forgotten that circumstance, and 
 I am truly sorry that Sir Baldwin is going so soon." 
 
 " A very kind word, my good Hemingford," came 
 in pleasing accents from Sir Baldwin Jeffreys, who 
 had followed in Aunt Caroline's footsteps and was 
 even now standing at the door of the museum. " May 
 I enter? " he added courteously. 
 
 " Of course, of course," said Aunt Caroline. " Do 
 enter. Sir Baldwin. Jasper was asking after you." 
 
 When he was not scowling, as he had done ever 
 since his arrival, Sir Baldwin could be exceedingly 
 pleasant in his manner. He came into the room now, 
 and at Aunt Caroline's invitation sat on one of the 
 chairs that did not happen to be littered with eggs and 
 stuffed lizards. 
 
 " A very kind word indeed," he said, " and 'tis pleas- 
 ant for the parting guest when * so soon ' waits upon 
 * farewell' " 
 
 "Must you really go to-day. Sir Baldwin?" said 
 Aunt Caroline. 
 
 " Alas! madam," replied Sir Baldwin, and he sighed 
 with becoming regret, " urgent business recalls me 
 to London to-morrow, and I must sleep at Ash ford to- 
 night." 
 
 " 'Tis a short visit you have paid us," she remarked. 
 
 "I only escorted my wife down from home — and 
 now," he said, while with old-fashioned gallantry he
 
 30 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 raised Aunt Caroline's mittened hand to his Hps, " I 
 leave her in the safest and kindest of hands." 
 
 " With a membrane at the end of the nose." 
 
 This from Uncle Jasper, who, absent-minded as 
 usual, was reading aloud to himself out of his book. 
 Sir Baldwin looked startled, as well he might, seeing 
 that Uncle Jasper had but a moment ago appeared to 
 be taking part in the conversation ; but Aunt Caroline 
 remarked indignantly: 
 
 "Jasper, how can you say such a thing? I am 
 sure Olive always had a beautiful nose! " 
 
 Whereupon Sir Baldwin laughed immoderately, and 
 for the first time to-day cast off the gloom which had 
 been weighing over his spirits. 
 
 " Nay ! " Aunt Caroline went on quite placidly, for 
 she did not perceive that anything funny had been 
 said; but she was too polite to resent Sir Baldwin's 
 levity. " We are happy, of course, to have our Olive 
 back with us for awhile. 'Tis sorely we missed her 
 when you took her away from us." 
 
 Then she sighed with every appearance of deep sor- 
 row, though to be sure no one had desired a marriage 
 for Olive more earnestly than had Aunt Caroline. 
 But the good soul had always a remarkable store of 
 regrets laid down somewhere in the bottom of her 
 soul, and whenever occasion demanded she would 
 deck out one of these regrets and trot it out for the 
 benefit of the beholder; and the regret came out well 
 accompanied by sighs and decked out to look very 
 real, though in reality it only existed in Aunt Caro- 
 line's imagination. 
 
 Having duly sighed over Olive's most longed-for
 
 A KIND OLD SOUL 31 
 
 departure from Old Manor Farm, she now produced 
 yet another fond regret. 
 
 " How I wish," she said, " that her sister were more 
 like her ! " 
 
 " Is the child as much a tomboy, then, as ever ? " 
 asked Sir Baldwin kindly. 
 
 " Worse, my dear Sir Baldwin," sighed Aunt Caro- 
 line — " worse ! Now look at her to-day. Off she 
 goes directly after breakfast — and only one piece of 
 bacon did she have, though I fried a bit of the streaky, 
 of which she is very fond. She'd be hungry — 
 wouldn't you think so, now ? But no ! Off she goes, 
 Heaven only knows where — all alone — without ask- 
 ing her aunt's permission or excusing herself for not 
 appearing at dinner. Not in for tea, either. You saw 
 me putting a muffin down for her by the hob. No ! 
 No dinner, no tea — and now it's nearly four o'clock, 
 and the child not home yet, and your uncle and I not 
 knowing whether she has broken her neck climbing 
 a tree or torn her stockings going through the scrub. 
 And it isn't that I don't do my best with her ; but, 
 there, she'll never be like Olive, though I do give 
 her brimstone and peppermint once a week for her 
 complexion ! Such a name, too ! Boadicea ! What- 
 ever can her poor mother have been thinking about! " 
 
 " An unusual elongation of the tail," came solemnly 
 from the top of the library steps. 
 
 And at this Sir Baldwin was seized with such an 
 uncontrollable fit of laughter that his eyes were stream- 
 ing and he was forced to hold his sides, for they 
 ached furiously. What made him laugh more than 
 anything was that Aunt Caroline was apparently under
 
 32 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 the impression that Uncle Jasper was taking part 
 wilHngly in the conversation, and that his remark was 
 a comment upon what she had said. For even now 
 when Uncle Jasper made the funny statement about 
 the elongation of the tail she retorted quite angrily: 
 
 " She was not, Jasper ! I am sure my dear sister 
 never thought of such things." 
 
 At which Sir Baldwin, fearing that he would break 
 his sides, went quickly out of the room.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A PROVOKING YOUNG WIFE 
 
 Lady Jeffreys met her husband in the square oak- 
 panelled hall, which gave directly on every portion 
 of the old house. She was coming out of the little 
 parlour on the left, having duly finished tea. 
 
 " Ah, Sir Baldwin," she said in that affected, min- 
 cing way which had grown on her in the past two 
 years, "your groom has just been round from the 
 stables ! He wanted to know at what hour you wish 
 to start, since you must return to Ashford to-night." 
 
 In a moment all Sir Baldwin's good humour had 
 vanished. He frowned, and his handsome face wore 
 an air of deep wrath and also of gloom, and anyone 
 could see that to speak politely and quietly now cost 
 him no little effort. It required no great power of 
 observation to see that a matrimonial storm was effect- 
 ually brewing — nay, it even seemed as if the storm 
 had already broken out previously, and that the halt at 
 Old Manor Farm had been but a momentary lull be- 
 tween two vigorous claps of thunder. 
 
 Olive stood in the hall, looking remarkably pert and 
 pretty. She was beautifully dressed in a gown of 
 emerald-green silk, with trimmings of black braid and 
 quaint buttons. She had a very slim waist, and the 
 elongated shape of her bodice and full gathers in the 
 skirt set off her trim figure to great advantage. 
 
 '33,
 
 34 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 She had taken off her bonnet, and her fair hair now 
 showed all round her head in a maze of innumerable 
 curls and puffs, which were richly set off by a high 
 comb of pierced tortoiseshell. No doubt she was ex- 
 cessively pretty, and so dainty, too, from the tip of her 
 dainty leather shoe and her fine white silk stockings 
 to the cluster of curls that fell each side of her small 
 oval face from the temple to the cheek, and anyone 
 who was not observant would naturally marvel how 
 any husband could scowl on such a picture. 
 
 She looked very provocative just now, with her head 
 cocked on one side like a pert robin, one hand on her 
 hip, and the other swinging an embroidered reticule by 
 its long delicate chain. 
 
 Sir Baldwin looked on her, and the scowl darkened 
 yet more deeply on his face. But he made no com- 
 ment in reply to what she had said, until Aunt Caro- 
 line's entrance into the hall recalled him to himself; 
 then he asked calmly : 
 
 " And what answer did your ladyship give to my 
 groom? " 
 
 " That you would start within half an hour," she 
 replied flippantly. 
 
 " Nay, Olive," said Aunt Caroline from under the 
 lintel of the museum door; " perhaps Sir Baldwin may 
 be persuaded to tarry with us until to-morrow at the 
 least." 
 
 " That were presumptuous on my part, Madam," 
 said Sir Baldwin, " since my wife seems so mightily 
 eager to rid herself of me." 
 
 Olive laughed lightly, but I must say that her
 
 A PROVOKING YOUNG WIFE 35 
 
 laughter sounded a little forced and devoid of true 
 mirth. 
 
 " Faith ! " she said, " with your temper at boiling 
 point, you have not been an agreeable companion." 
 
 " I intruded as little as I could on your ladyship's 
 privacy," he retorted. 
 
 . " I could have come dow^n here alone," she said. 
 " The coachman surely knows the way between Ash- 
 ford and Birchington. I had a postilion — your pres- 
 ence was unnecessary, and 'twas you forced your 
 escort on me, remember! " 
 
 " My dear Olive ! " exclaimed Aunt Caroline, who 
 was genuinely shocked. 
 
 Sir Baldwin's face had become very pale, but evi- 
 dently he was too polite to allow his temper to get the 
 better of him in the presence of his hostess. But this 
 was not to say that he would permit his wife to aim 
 her unpleasant shafts at him without meting her some 
 measure of punishment. 
 
 " As your conduct with a young jackanapes has 
 lately made your ladyship the talk of the town," he 
 said coldly, " I preferred that jou should not travel 
 alone." 
 
 " Lest my departure be construed into an elope- 
 ment," she retorted, with a show of spite, " perhaps 
 with Lieutenant Carrington on board the Dolphin — 
 or is it someone else just now? Faith, your insane 
 jealousy makes you the talk of the town!" 
 
 " Olive, I pray you," interposed Aunt Caroline, who 
 was becoming alarmed both at Olive's spiteful vehe- 
 mence and Sir Baldwin's unnatural calm, " remember 
 he is your husband ! "
 
 36 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Great Heavens, Aunt," cried Olive at the top of 
 her high-pitched voice, " v^rould that I could forget it 
 sometimes ! " 
 
 " It would be an evil day for your ladyship if you 
 were to do so ! " said Sir Baldwin, who at Olive's last 
 words had flushed to the roots of his hair, and now 
 had much ado to keep his rage under control. 
 
 He looked so wrathful just then, and his eyes shot 
 so much anger upon his wife, that instinctively the 
 flippancy of her manner died down. Her oval cheeks 
 became quite white, and, though she strove to laugh 
 again, it was obvious that she stood somewhat in awe 
 of her husband's present mood. But, like all women 
 who find pleasure in worrying and teasing a man, she 
 would not let him see for a moment that she was 
 frightened. Therefore she laughed and pouted and 
 shrugged her dainty round shoulders — did many 
 things, in fact, to hide the quivering of her lips and 
 the trembling of her hands, 
 
 "Oh, ho, ho, ho!" she exclaimed Bj little shrilly. 
 "Faith, but this is interesting! And you. Sir Bald- 
 win, grow more and more charming, every day! 
 Violence and abuse have I suffered in plenty. It is 
 threats this time, eh?" 
 
 "I never threaten," said Sir Baldwin quietly, "as 
 your ladyship- is well aware — save when I am pre- 
 pared to act — " 
 
 " The part of a coward? " she interposed quickly. 
 
 Aunt Caroline threw up her hands in horror. 
 Never in all her life had she heard a wife thus address- 
 ing her husband. She herself had oft cause to be firm
 
 A PROVOKING YOUNG WIFE 37 
 
 with Jasper, but never — oh, never ! — would she 
 dream of being anything but polite to him. 
 
 "No," Sir Baldwin said quietly; "rather the part 
 of a judge, and if necessary that of an — " 
 
 " Sir Baldwin ! " shrieked Aunt Caroline, terrified. 
 
 Olive, too, was very frightened now. No doubt 
 she knew her husband well, and knew how much de- 
 termination and vindictiveness lay behind his calm and 
 gentleman-like manner. She had teased him often 
 enough before — teased him until he lost all control 
 over himself, and had perforce to fly out of her room 
 lest his temper should induce him to do her some 
 injury. But to-day she had evidently provoked him 
 further than a mere outburst of rage, and the fact that 
 he did keep his rage so completely under control 
 proved to her that deeper determination lay in him 
 now than had ever been there before. 
 
 But, womanlike, she would not even now let him see 
 that she was afraid of him: what she did not mind 
 his seeing was that she hated him, and this she tried 
 to convey to him by a look. She drew up her grace- 
 ful figure and tossed her head defiantly, and you 
 should have seen her eyes then — narrowed until they 
 were mere slits, whilst a row of tiny white teeth buried 
 themselves in her lower lip. 
 
 "I hate you!" 
 
 She did not say it, but she looked it. Every line 
 in her face spoke of it and every movement of her 
 body proclaimed the fact, and Sir Baldwin Jeffreys, 
 being no fool, could read those lines plainly enough 
 even as she sailed past him straight up the stairs on 
 her way to her room.
 
 38 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Sir Baldwin as soon as she was out of sight seemed 
 to recover his normal balance. The scowl was still 
 there on his face, and dark thoughts must indeed have 
 been chasing one another behind that frowning brow 
 of his. But good breeding prevented his showing 
 more of his feelings now, and, moreover, he really was 
 very fond of his wife, and put all her coquetries down 
 to youth and inexperience. As a rule, when she pro- 
 voked him beyond endurance he found that an hour 
 or two away from her presence restored his equanim- 
 ity and reinflamed his ardour and admiration for her 
 beauty. 
 
 And she really could be very engaging when she 
 chose. Sir Baldwin still cherished in his heart many 
 happy recollections of her affection for him, and of 
 her pretty show of gratitude, whenever — after a 
 matrimonial tiff — he strove to console her by the 
 present of a handsome ring or some other article of 
 jewellery which she had previously coveted. Until 
 recently she had shown him quite a good deal of defer- 
 ence, never flouting him in public, as many fashionable 
 women were wont to do to their husbands ; and he 
 firmly believed that all her flirtations — and these 
 were- many — had been absolutely innocent, and 
 merely the result of childlike belief in her own 
 charms. 
 
 But Sir Baldwin was a very proud man, and fully 
 conscious of his eighty-and-forty years^ and of the 
 ridicule which is wont to assail a middle-aged husband 
 when the wife happens to be young and pretty. Dur- 
 ing the last London season gossip had been over-busy 
 with Lady Jeffreys, and this he did not like. In his
 
 A PROVOKING YOUNG WIFE 39 
 
 own estimation, the wife of Sir Baldwin Jeffreys 
 should be beyond suspicion, and for the past few 
 months now he had oft heard veiled insinuating talk 
 aimed against his wife. 
 
 The name of a certain Lieutenant Carrington, of 
 H.MS. Dolphin, had been coupled with that of Lady 
 Jeffreys. The young man was well-looking and of 
 approved family connections. He had greatly distin- 
 guished himself recently in the China seas, and on his 
 return home had been much feted in London society. 
 Sir Baldwin knew him to be an upright and honour- 
 able fellow incapable of vulgar intrigue, but Lady 
 Jeffreys had smiled on Lieutenant Carrington in a 
 manner calculated to turn the head of any unsophisti- 
 cated young man fresh from the China seas. Where- 
 upon heads began to nod and tongues to wag. 
 
 Sir Baldwin was very angry, and all through the 
 early part of the London season there were many hot 
 and bitter quarrels between himself and his lady. 
 Now the season was still at its height, and Lady Jef- 
 freys's reputation had become a rag in the hands of 
 her friends. Sir Baldwin was very wrathful, and sud- 
 denly took it upon himself to announce to his wife 
 that she must forthwith prepare to quit London, for 
 he had decided that she should spend the rest of the 
 summer at their country house near Ashford. 
 
 He had expected protestations, tears, even angry 
 refusal, at this preposterous notion of quitting London 
 the second week in June, when the season was at its 
 height and the invitations for Lady Sydney's ball and 
 tlie Duchess of Kent's reception were just out. To his 
 astonishment, Lady Jeffreys received the dictum in
 
 40> MEADOWSWEET 
 
 perfect meekness, with downcast eyes and lips slightly- 
 twitching, but otherwise in absolute submission to her 
 husband's will. All she stipulated as a reward for 
 passive obedience — and this, too, came as a humble 
 request — was that she should spend the beautiful 
 month of June in her old home in Thanet. It would 
 ease the sadness of her heart, she said, and raised a 
 lace pocket handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 Sir Baldwin Jeffreys promptly chided himself for 
 being a brute and a bully, and — given the slightest 
 encouragement — he would then and there have made 
 amends for his harshness by changing his intentions 
 and allowing his pretty, submissive wife to remain in 
 London for as long as she pleased. But, strangely 
 enough, Lady Jeffreys discouraged all attempts at 
 reconciliation, and, with what seemed to him wilful 
 obstinacy, persisted now in her desire to spend a few 
 weeks with her uncle and aunt at Old Manor Farm. 
 
 Whilst Sir Baldwin completed his arrangements 
 with regard to the care of his London house whilst 
 her ladyship would be away, Olive remained perfectly 
 charming, even-tempered and gentle. During three 
 days Sir Baldwin Jeffreys felt himself once more a 
 happy man. Every cloud on the horizon of his matri- 
 monial heaven seemed to have been dissipated as if by 
 magic, and he realised that in this simple-hearted coun- 
 try girl he had absolutely found an ideal mate, and 
 that it was his harshness and jealous temper alone that 
 had warped her exquisite disposition. 
 
 On the fourth day, when every preparation was 
 complete and the caretaker and his family were duly 
 installed in the house in St. James's-street, Lady Jef-
 
 A PROVOKING YOUNG WIFE 41 
 
 freys suddenly changed her tune. Meekness, submis- 
 sion, and gentleness seemed to have vanished with her 
 boxes, which had been sent on by the luggage chaise. 
 Once more she became the capricious, exacting woman 
 who in the past three years had well-nigh broken Sir 
 Baldwin Jeffreys's heart and certainly soured his dis- 
 position. She told him very plainly what her feelings 
 were towards him, and these certainly were anything 
 but kindly; she derided him for his jealousy, upbraided 
 him for his harshness, scorned him for his approach- 
 ing middle age, and finally called him a fool for hav- 
 ing been so easily gulled into the belief that she would 
 ever become the submissive slave of an abominable 
 tyrant. 
 
 She posed as a martyr to his brutality, and finally 
 entered her coach with wrath expressed in every line 
 of her figure and triumph blazing — unseen by him — 
 in her eyes. 
 
 Thus they travelled to Ashford — she alone in the 
 coach, he riding silently by its side. Thus they spent 
 one night in their beautiful country house without 
 exchanging one single word of friendship. She 
 closed her door on him and refused to respond to 
 every overture of peace, until his remorse changed 
 once more to wrath, and he brought her silently to 
 Old Manor Farm, nursing his wrongs and vaguely 
 thinking of revenge.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A MEDDLESOME OLD BUSYBODY 
 
 It was a whole hour since tea-time, and Boadicea 
 had not yet returned from her birds'-nesting expedi- 
 tion. Sir Baldwin Jeffreys would have liked to have 
 seen her ere he left Old Manor Farm, because he was 
 very fond of the child and was really sorry for her, 
 though in a measure she had a very happy home, for 
 Aunt Caroline, despite her habit of perpetual scolding, 
 was a warm-hearted, kind, and generous woman ; 
 nevertheless, the girl's life must of necessity be a very 
 lonely one. There were but few neighbours round 
 Old Manor Farm, and practically no young people of 
 Boadicea's age to consort with her, and since the mar- 
 riage of her sister there was no doubt that she must 
 have led a very isolated life. 
 
 It was therefore with deep regret that Sir Baldwin 
 found himself forced to start his return journey with- 
 out having embraced little Boadicea, but the hour was 
 getting late if he desired to reach Ash ford before 
 evening. He had dispatched the coach homewards 
 earlier in the day, and now he asked that his horse 
 might be brought round forthwith. 
 
 To Aunt Caroline's hospitable entreaties that he 
 should stay at least until the morrow he opposed a 
 steady refusal. The brief scene which he had just 
 
 42
 
 A MEDDLESOME OLD BUSYBODY 43 
 
 had with his wife had told him plainly how wide for 
 the moment was the matrimonial breach, and that 
 nothing but absence could tighten the bonds of affec- 
 tion which were threatening to snap. 
 
 Old Manor Farm, though commodious and soundly- 
 built, was none too roomy. If Sir Baldwin now 
 elected to stay, he would perforce be thrown greatly 
 in his wife's company- — not to say intimacy — and 
 he believed that in her present highly irritable mood 
 and his own sense of wrong both he and she might be 
 tempted to say things which would render the breach 
 irreparable. 
 
 Olive had retired to her room after the violent pas- 
 sage of arms in the hall. Sir Baldwin could entertain 
 no hope that she would come down again before his 
 departure in order to bid him farewell. 
 
 But Aunt Caroline fussed round him, garrulous and 
 kindly as usual, offering him various kinds of refresh- 
 ment, despite the fact that he had not yet had time to 
 digest his tea, and incidentally inventing a hundred 
 apologies for Olive's conduct, which in her own heart 
 she felt had been very blameworthy indeed. 
 
 Just when Sir Baldwin was leaving, his horse being 
 at the door with Topcoat — the outdoor man — at his 
 head, Bamaby Crabtree came up those few steps which 
 lead from the hall to the dining-room and kitchen of 
 Old Manor Farm. He had spent the last half-hour 
 in polishing off the muffins and tea which had been 
 set aside on the hob for Boadicea when she returned. 
 
 Barnaby Crabtree was very dyspeptic, which ail- 
 ment made his complexion muddy and the whites of 
 his eyes yellow, but It did not make him thin. He
 
 44 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 was a huge, fat man, with a big bald head, round the 
 base of which sparse hair of a faded sandy colour 
 made an uneven fringe from ear to ear. 
 
 He had very few teeth in his mouth, which caused 
 his jaw to look loose and flabby, and the colour of his 
 eyes was of a nondescript yellowish grey. He was 
 invariably dressed in loose, ill-fitting clothes, with 
 long trousers that reached midway down his shins, 
 disclosing four inches of pink and white striped cotton 
 socks, and half the day he went about with carpet 
 slippers on his feet and with a napkin tied round his 
 neck like a bib. 
 
 Sir Baldwin, who had not previous to this day been 
 acquainted with him, thought him the most extraordi- 
 nary-looking man he had ever seen. During dinner, 
 however. Aunt Caroline had so monopolised his atten- 
 tion that he had not paid much heed to Mr. Crabtree, 
 who, on the other hand, was far too deeply engrossed 
 in the business of eating and drinking to bestow any 
 attention on Sir Baldwin. 
 
 Thus, meeting in the hall, and with Sir Baldwin just 
 on the point of departure, even Barnaby Crabtree — 
 ill-mannered though he was — could not help but 
 pause a moment in order to bid him farewell. 
 
 " You are wise," he said blandly, " to make an early 
 start ; horse exercise is exceedingly unwholesome after 
 a heavy meal." 
 
 " Oh, as to that," remarked Sir Baldwin, " I would 
 gladly have ridden after supper had the distance been 
 less great or the moon at its full ! As it is, and with 
 so much thunder in the air, I must make for Ashford 
 before nightfall."
 
 A MEDDLESOME OLD BUSYBODY 45 
 
 "And you are not taking your wife away with 
 you?" 
 
 " Certainly not ! " interposed Aunt Caroline. " Sir 
 Baldwin, I am happy to say, has brought our dear 
 Olive down here for a lengthy stay." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Cousin Barnaby ; *' I am sorry to hear 
 that." 
 
 " Sorry! " ejaculated Aunt Caroline in great indig- 
 nation. " Well, really, Cousin Barnaby ! . . ." 
 
 And, despite his sorrowful mood, Sir Baldwin 
 himself could not help but smile at the man's im- 
 pudence. 
 
 " Females in a household are a greatly disturbing 
 element, Caroline," rejoined Mr. Crabtree, quite un- 
 perturbed, " and it is a strange and regrettable fact 
 that, though I came here solely for peace — for this 
 place is otherwise neither amusing nor exhilarating — 
 I have been troubled on one and the same day with 
 the two things I have always tried to avoid." 
 
 "And what may these two things be, sir?" asked 
 Sir Baldwin politely. 
 
 " Females and sailors," said Mr. Crabtree curtly. 
 
 "Sailors?" 
 
 " Aye ! Females and sailors, sir, are equally objec- 
 tionable, and, like headache and biliousness, you sel- 
 dom get one without the other." 
 
 " Sailors ? " reiterated Sir Baldwin, who, indeed, 
 now seemed gravely disturbed. The frown on his 
 brow had deepened, and his eyes travelled restlessly 
 and as if suspiciously from one face to the other. 
 
 " Will you kindly explain, sir? " he said courteously, 
 trying his best to appear calm.
 
 46 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 With her usual garrulousness Aunt Caroline quickly 
 interposed. 
 
 " Nay, nay, Sir Baldwin," said she ; " I pray you 
 take no heed of Cousin Barnaby. . . . His bark, as 
 the saying is, is more vicious than his bite . . ." 
 
 "Oh, is it?" muttered Cousin Barnaby. 
 
 " He is as pleased as we all are that our dear Olive 
 will stay with us for awhile." 
 
 "Oh, ami?" 
 
 " But he has been a little upset since yesterday, 
 when H.M.S. Dolphin put into Ramsgate Harbour." 
 
 "The Dolphin!" exclaimed Sir Baldwin, and for 
 the first time to-day his good manners deserted him, 
 and he swore a very ugly oath, which greatly dis- 
 tressed Aunt Caroline, for she could not understand its 
 cause, though she did know that fashionable gentle- 
 men in London had a vv'ay of swearing at all times, 
 in and out of season. She supposed that as he was 
 gesticulating somewhat vigorously with his riding- 
 crop he must have struck his ankle with it ; and every- 
 body knows how painful such a blow can be. 
 
 However, she thought it would be more polite to 
 pretend not to have heard the vigorous expletive at all, 
 so she rejoined quite placidly : 
 
 " Yes, the Dolphin. Some of her officers are lodg- 
 ing in the town ; they came ashore yesterday." 
 
 " And demoralised the entire female population of 
 Thanet," concluded Mr. Crabtree acidly. 
 
 " As for me," said she, " I am pining to see the son 
 of my old friend Mamie Carrington." 
 
 This time Sir Baldwin did not swear, but had Aunt 
 Caroline not been so absorbed in her own conversa-
 
 A MEDDLESOME OLD BUSYBODY 47 
 
 tion she would have been startled by the expression 
 on his face. His eyes nearly disappeared under the 
 frown, and his lips were set so tightly that they formed 
 just one narrow dark streak above his chin. 
 
 " You must remember Mamie Carrington, Sir Bald- 
 win," continued Aunt Caroline volubly. " She was 
 Mary Janet Calverston, you know — such a pretty girl 
 — and she made a splendid match. Squire Carring- 
 ton is the richest man in Lincolnshire, so they say, and 
 they have an only son. Jack, who is a lieutenant on the 
 Dolphin now. When last I saw him he was a baby 
 in long clothes, and — But what is the matter, Sir 
 Baldwin?" she said, the tone of her voice suddenly 
 changing, for she had caught sight of the wrathful 
 expression in his face. " You seem upset." 
 
 " Oh, it's nothing, nothing! " he said, trying to mas- 
 ter himself and to speak quietly. "I — I must speak 
 with my wife." 
 
 He made a movement as if desiring to go upstairs 
 to his wife's room, and Aunt Caroline intercepted him, 
 saying hurriedly: 
 
 " Let me go and tell her, and do you sit down 
 awhile, Sir Baldwin. I declare, you seem to be trem- 
 bling all over. I'll go and tell Olive." 
 
 But now it was he who detained her, placing his 
 hand on her arm. 
 
 " I thank you," he said. " That is — I pray you do 
 not go. V\\ not disturb her now — not just at this 
 moment. I — " 
 
 He paused a moment, and then resumed quite 
 calmly : 
 
 '' Dear Mrs, Hemingford, you have been so kind,
 
 48 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 and your kindness renders me presumptuous. I 
 think that, in effect, the heat has been rather too much 
 for me. I was in the saddle some hours under the 
 glare of the midday sun. I think, if you would allow 
 me, I would like to change my mind and stay until I 
 can get home in the cool of the evening." 
 
 " Change your mind, Sir Baldwin, by all means ! " 
 exclaimed Aunt Carolinej who was highly delighted, 
 and in the simplicity of her heart never thought of con- 
 necting Sir Baldwin's caprice with his curious be- 
 haviour of a moment ago. " Glad indeed am I to 
 have the pleasure of your company a little longer! " 
 
 " Positively idiotic ! " was Cousin Barnaby's mut- 
 tered comment. 
 
 " Won't you," she added, " change your mind yet 
 further and stay the night?" 
 
 " No, no ! " said he more cheerily. " Thank you a 
 thousand times! And, if I may, I will just tell your 
 man to put up my horse again until after supper. 
 What time will that be, dear Mrs. Hemingford? " 
 
 " Half-past six, Sir Baldwin, if quite convenient to 
 you." 
 
 " Then, if you will allow me, I will order my horse 
 for half-past seven o'clock. It will be a beautiful 
 bright night, and I can reach Ashford, even with a 
 good long rest at Canterbury, well before midnight." 
 
 He seemed to have quite regained his composure, 
 and Aunt Caroline — than whom there was not a less 
 observant person — never noticed that the angry flush 
 still lingered in his cheeks and that the frown had, if 
 anything, deepened on his brow. 
 
 Barnaby Crabtree, much disappointed that at least
 
 A MEDDLESOME OLD BUSYBODY 49 
 
 one of the unwelcome visitors would not be going just 
 yet, had unceremoniously walked upstairs in the direc- 
 tion of his room. 
 
 Sir Baldwin Jeffreys went to the door and gave Top- 
 coat half a sovereign, telling him to bring the horse 
 round again at half -past seven. He had a burning de- 
 sire in his heart to speak yet once more with his wife. 
 He wanted to assure himself that her submission when 
 leaving London had not been a clever mask to hide her 
 duplicity and her wilfulness. He could not imagine 
 that she had prearranged this journey to Thanet with 
 a view to meeting young Carrington clandestinely. 
 
 In his heart of hearts he believed her to be incapable 
 of such a vulgar intrigue, but he wished to speak with 
 her, just once again, in order to make sure. 
 
 At the same time, he did not wish to meet her now 
 in the first flush of his anger and whilst jealous sus- 
 picions were tearing at his heart, and might cause him 
 to say things which he afterwards would regret. His 
 friend, Mr. Culpepper, was for the moment in residence 
 at the Abbey, distant just over two miles from Old 
 Manor Farm. Sir Baldwin in his mind decided that 
 the best thing he could do would be to walk down and 
 visit his friend, and then to return in about two hours' 
 time, sobered from his anger and his temper quite cool. 
 
 He expressed his wish to Aunt Caroline, who, feel- 
 ing reassured as to his health, gave him directions how 
 to take short cuts through certain fields the sooner to 
 reach the Abbey. 
 
 Then she nodded pleasantly to him from the door- 
 step, assured him that she would in the meanwhile 
 explain to Olive that he had decided to tarry until the
 
 50 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 cool hours of the evening, and finally, when he walked 
 away in the direction of Minster, she waved him a 
 last adieu, and then carefully closed the front door. 
 
 After which she went in search of her darning 
 basket.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A CAPRICIOUS TYRANT 
 
 It still wanted an hour or two before supper-time, 
 and still Boadicea was from home. 
 
 Aunt Caroline, feeling a little anxious, but not al- 
 lowing herself to appear so, or her anxiety to interfere 
 with the usual arrangements of the day, had gone — 
 as was her wont — to worry Uncle Jasper in his study. 
 
 She always did this between tea-time and supper, 
 because, supper being a cold meal at Old Manor Farm, 
 she always got it ready earlier in the day, and had 
 therefore plenty of leisure between the hours of four 
 o'clock and 6 130. Having nothing more important to 
 do at that hour, she invariably took her darning basket 
 up to the museum, and sat there darning socks and 
 plaguing Uncle Jasper with countless interruptions, 
 just when he was most deeply immersed in his books. 
 
 She worried him with every subject she could possi- 
 bly think of: Susan's misdeeds and Boadicea's edu- 
 cation, and lately it had been Cousin Barnaby's selfish- 
 ness and greed. 
 
 We must, however, do Aunt Caroline the justice to 
 say that she did not greatly upset Uncle Jasper. Her 
 talk was so garrulous and so constant that after the 
 first few minutes he paid no more heed to it ; he could 
 go on reading perched upon his library steps whilst 
 her voice went droning on from below. 
 
 51
 
 52 AlEADOWSWEET 
 
 " You, Jasper, have got to put your foot down ! " 
 
 She had made this remark once or twice before this 
 afternoon whilst she sat darning Cousin Barnaby's 
 pink and white striped socks; but Uncle Jasper, still 
 absorbed in his reading, did not look up from his book. 
 She took up her large cutting-out scissors and banged 
 the metal gluepot persistently with it, until Uncle 
 Jasper was bound to notice her. 
 
 " Yes, yes, my dear," he said gently. " What is 
 it?" 
 
 " You must put your foot down ! " she reiterated 
 very slowly, accentuating every syllable as she spoke. 
 And Uncle Jasper, who always perched cross-legged 
 on the library steps, quickly uncrossed his legs and 
 put his right foot meekly down beside the left. 
 
 In doing so he lost his balance, and his book slid off 
 his thin knees right down on to the floor with a great 
 clatter and the raising of a cloud of dust. 
 
 Uncle Jasper quietly came down the steps, picked 
 up his book, and once more mounted up to his perch, 
 whilst Aunt Caroline went on vigorously darning a 
 white stocking, not for a moment thinking of assist- 
 ing poor Uncle Jasper, and talking volubly at him all 
 the time. 
 
 " Barnaby Crabtree," she said, " has fastened on us 
 like a hungry leech. Lord, how that man eats ! Three 
 large cups of tea this afternoon, and tea at six shillings 
 a pound! I tell ye, Jasper, that if he does not leave 
 this house soon you will have to carry me out of it 
 in my coffin. . . , The best bedroom, too . . . and 
 five weeks to-day since he came. . . . But now that 
 Olive has come to stay with us," she added, more
 
 A CAPRICIOUS TYRANT 53 
 
 loudly and impressively, " Barnaby has got to go ! " 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said Uncle Jasper, who had not 
 the remotest idea what his worthy wife was talking 
 about. 
 
 Promptly did Aunt Caroline bring up one of her 
 most regretful sighs. 
 
 " What I have had to endure in life," she said, 
 " through marrying a man who spends his days on the 
 top of a ladder, no other woman can possibly know. 
 If I had only married Ebenezer Toogood, who wanted 
 me at the same time as you did, Jasper, I shouldn't 
 have had the whole of an entire household upon my 
 shoulders, for Ebenezer did have other thoughts be- 
 sides beetles and lizards. . . . And now," she went on 
 with her usual irrelevance, " here's Barnaby Crabtree, 
 whom you asked to come for three days and who has 
 been here five weeks ! " 
 
 The idea of Uncle Jasper asking anybody to stay 
 anywhere or to do anything except leave him alone 
 was distinctly humorous, but Aunt Caroline abhorred 
 humour when household matters were being talked 
 about — so she ignored it sedulously. 
 
 " But," she said, " I have quite made up my mind. 
 Barnaby has got to go. . . . not to-day, because it is 
 too late to order a chaise, though I doubt not but Sir 
 Baldwin is so polite he would allow the old toad to 
 travel in his coach. . . . No, no ; I had forgotten — 
 Sir Baldwin's coach has left already. . . . But no 
 matter. To-morrow I can order Hickmott's trap to 
 take Barnaby as far as Dover, and from there he can 
 journey by stage coach to London. I'll pack all his
 
 54 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 things — glad shall I be to be rid of him, and — " 
 
 But here Aunt Caroline's flow of eloquence was in- 
 terrupted, not by Uncle Jasper, who never interrupted 
 anybody, nor yet by Olive, who was still in the dumps 
 up in her room, but by no other person than Barnaby 
 Crabtree himself, whose stentorian voice was heard 
 ringing from end to end of the house. 
 
 " I won't have it! " he shouted from the top of the 
 stairs, and he could then be heard coming down them 
 as fast as his fat legs would carry his fat body. " I 
 won't have it, I tell you ! . . . Cousin Caroline ! . . . 
 Cousin Caroline ! " he shouted still more loudly. 
 " Where in thunder are you ? " 
 
 Aunt Caroline hastily put down her darning; I do 
 believe that her hands were trembling, and that her 
 round face had become very white. Uncle Jasper 
 even had been startled by all that shouting, and, as 
 usual when he was startled, he dropped the book which 
 he had been reading, and then meekly ran down the 
 library steps to fetch it. 
 
 He got the book, and was about to remount the steps 
 again with it when Aunt Caroline simply darted across 
 the room, heedless of eggs and stuffed lizards, 
 that flew about in all directions as her voluminous 
 bombazene skirt knocked them down off tables and 
 chairs. 
 
 Just as Uncle Jasper put his foot on the fifth step 
 of his ladder she caught him by his white-stockinged 
 ankle and held on to it with all her might. 
 
 " Jasper," she whispered eagerly, " Jasper, come 
 down — now is the time to put your foot down ! " 
 
 But Uncle Jasper, with the strength of the weak and
 
 A CAPRICIOUS TYRANT 55 
 
 the courage of intense terror, gave a vigorous jerk with 
 his leg. His shabby buckled shoe remained in Aunt 
 Caroline's hand, and he scrambled helter-skelter up the 
 steps and once more perched himself on the very top, 
 for all the world like a frightened crow. 
 
 Before Aunt Caroline could say another word the 
 door of the museum was kicked open by a heavy foot 
 and Barnaby Crabtree stood upon the threshold. 
 
 *' Caroline," he shouted as he entered the room and 
 marched across it with a short, shuffling stride, " have 
 you sworn to be the death of me? Have you and 
 Jasper entered into a conspiracy to murder me ? I ask 
 because if this goes on much longer you will have to 
 carry me out of this house in my coffin." 
 
 He now turned and faced Aunt Caroline, wrath ex- 
 pressed in every line of his wide, flat face. She was 
 standing at the foot of the library steps, still holding 
 Uncle Jasper's buckled shoe in her hand. She would 
 not have owned it to herself for worlds, but as a point 
 of fact her heart was beating furiously and her knees 
 were shaking under her. She was so mightily afraid 
 of Barnaby Crabtree. 
 
 With the buckled shoe she tapped Uncle Jasper's 
 legs, making him very fidgety and uncomfortable. He 
 very nearly lost his balance, and twice his knuckles 
 caught a rap from the shoe when he was rubbing his 
 shins. 
 
 Barnaby Crabtree certainly looked very formidable. 
 He was so very fat and big and seemed to take up 
 such a lot of room, and he had a way of rolling his 
 pale-coloured, fishlike eyes which gave his countenance 
 a very weird expression.
 
 56 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Uncle Jasper gave a timid little cough as a prelimi- 
 nary to more lengthy speech. I suppose that he had 
 suddenly made up his mind to this, because all the 
 while that he was silent Aunt Caroline kept on rap- 
 ping his shins with the shoe. And his shins were 
 getting very sore. 
 
 " We should be very sorry, Barnaby," he said, 
 " to . . . hem ... if we were to lose you . . . 
 hem. . . . Amicum perdere est . . ." 
 
 " Don't quote that abominable Latin, Jasper ! " 
 thundered Barnaby in deafening tones. " Do you 
 want to see me go into hysterics? " 
 
 "God forbid, Barnaby!" ejaculated Uncle Jasper 
 meekly. *' That would indeed be a horrible sight." 
 
 "But what's the matter now, Cousin Barnaby?" 
 asked Aunt Caroline, with sudden resolution. 
 
 "What's the matter, ma'am?" retorted Mr. Crab- 
 tree. " Everything's the matter. Noise and bustle, 
 ma'am. Why did I come here, pray ? " 
 
 " Ego cogito," sighed Uncle Jasper, " I am wonder- 
 ing." 
 
 " I came here for peace and quiet," continued 
 Cousin Barnaby sternly, " and now that young per- 
 son whose cap is always awry tells me that I am to be 
 turned out of my room for your niece." 
 
 " Susan told you rightly. Cousin Barnaby," said 
 Caroline, who was striving to look dignified, and ill- 
 succeeding, poor dear, seeing that she was fidgetting 
 nervously with Uncle Jasper's leg in one hand and his 
 shoe in the other. " The room is wanted for my 
 niece, Lady Jeffreys, who will make a stay here for a 
 few days."
 
 A CAPRICIOUS TYRANT 57 
 
 " A few days — a few days, ma'am ? And who 
 asked her, pray? " 
 
 " My niece comes when she likes, Cousin Barnaby. 
 She asked herself this time." 
 
 " Dux femina facti . . ." murmured Uncle Jasper 
 feebly. 
 
 " Don't do that, Jasper," roared Mr. Crabtree, " you 
 give me the gripes." 
 
 " Dandelion roots chopped up fine," suggested Aunt 
 Caroline, " with a dash of sweet oil . . ." 
 
 " Ugh ! don't come round doctoring me, ma'am. . . . 
 I tell you that all I want is peace. ... I find your 
 niece a disturbing person. . . . The sooner she goes 
 the better I shall like it. . . . And you can tell her so 
 if you like. ... I don't care. I came here for peace. 
 Tell that to your niece, ma'am — and peace at all costs 
 must I have." 
 
 He went over to the sofa, and before you could 
 guess what was his purpose he had calmly swept all 
 the specimens on to the floor, and they rolled off and 
 scattered about in all directions, whilst two eggs were 
 smashed into little pieces. In a moment Uncle Jasper 
 had dropped his book and was running helter-skelter 
 down the library steps. 
 
 " Heavens, Barnaby," he ejaculated, " a valuable 
 pair of eggs! . . , Owl's eggs!" 
 
 He was down on his knees, poor dear, trying to 
 rescue the scattered specimens and examining the 
 damage done to his precious eggs. But Barnaby 
 Crabtree sat himself down placidly upon the sofa. 
 
 " Then," he said coolly, " I ask you, Jasper, in the
 
 58 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 name of commonsense, is a begad sofa the proper 
 place for owl's eggs ? " 
 
 " Put your foot down, Jasper," whispered Aunt 
 Caroline close to Uncle Jasper's ear. " Now is your 
 time." 
 
 " Yes, my dear," replied he. 
 
 He was then lying flat down on the floor trying to 
 arrive at a pair of blown frogs that had slid along the 
 polished floor to an impossible spot under some heavy 
 piece of furniture, right out of his reach. It was of 
 course difficult for him in that position to put his foot 
 down, seeing that both his feet, one shod and the 
 other only encased in white cotton stocking, were 
 quivering in mid-air, the length of his shins from the 
 floor. 
 
 " Don't go fidgetting round me like that, Jasper," 
 said Barnaby Crabtree irritably. " Can't you leave 
 those things alone ? " 
 
 " I am only collecting the scattered remains, Barn- 
 aby," said Uncle Jasper, struggling back to a more 
 convenient position, " disjecta membra. . . ." 
 " Don't do that," thundered Mr. Crabtree. 
 " No, Barnaby." 
 
 And with this last meek little saying, Uncle Jasper 
 finally relinquished all hope of being able to put his 
 foot down, and I must say that Aunt Caroline made 
 no grave effort in that direction either. At the back 
 of her mind there lingered the thought that Barnaby 
 Crabtree was "not strong"— such a favourite ex- 
 pression on the tongue of a motherly woman who has 
 not a large family on whom to bestow the superfluous 
 abundance of her kind heart.
 
 A CAPRICIOUS TYRANT 59 
 
 Barnaby Crabtree had given Aunt Caroline so much 
 trouble in the past five weeks that he had spent in the 
 house, she had dosed him so persistently, and — as 
 she thought — so successfully, with her home-made 
 medicaments, that she took a great interest in his gen- 
 eral health, and, believe me, she would greatly have 
 missed him if he had suddenly made up his mind 
 to go. 
 
 Therefore to-day, as on all previous days, Mr. 
 Crabtree was left the master of the situation, and of 
 the household. Aunt Caroline had been rendered 
 anxious by the state of his health, which verged on 
 apoplexy every time that he lost his temper, and Uncle 
 Jasper had retreated to his perch, tired of strife, of 
 noise, and of distractions, which took his mind away 
 from the pleasing realms of romance where owls and 
 bats reign supreme and frogs and lizards are of para- 
 mount importance. Cousin Barnaby lay back on the 
 sofa, crossed his hands over his protruding middle, 
 and gave a sigh of satisfaction. 
 
 " Where is that noisy young female," he said after 
 awhile, when Aunt Caroline, having given up all 
 thoughts of further strife, had quietly resumed her 
 darning, " whose name sounds like a cold in the 
 head?" 
 
 "Boadicea?" suggested Aunt Caroline. 
 
 " Now I ask you in the name of commonsense," in- 
 terposed Barnaby irritably, " is that a proper name for 
 a self-respecting young female ? " 
 
 " She can't help her name, poor darling," protested 
 Aunt Caroline. 
 
 " She can help spending half her day gyrating on
 
 6o MEADOWSWEET 
 
 tree-tops and displaying various portions of her person 
 which usually are kept from view." 
 
 You may. well imagine how shocked was Aunt 
 Caroline at such language. Her work fell into her 
 lap, and for a moment was quite speechless, after 
 which she merely gasped : 
 
 "Really, Barnaby!" 
 
 Then she picked up her work again, and for awhile 
 she plied her needle in silence. But, as we all know, 
 silence was not one of Aunt Caroline's most favoured 
 virtues. Drawing her needle in and out, she became 
 tired of saying nothing, and even Cousin Barnaby 's 
 conversation seemed under the circumstance preferable 
 to no conversation at all. 
 
 " In the poultry yard," she remarked, " Boadicea is 
 my right hand." 
 
 " A hand," he grunted, " that would be all the bet- 
 ter for an occasional wash, ma'am." 
 
 Now, though Aunt Caroline devoted a considerable 
 portion of the day in scolding and admonishing her 
 niece, she could not bear anyone else to criticise either 
 Olive or Boadicea, and now she was very indignant 
 and said hotly: 
 
 " Barnaby, you are insulting the child — aye, and 
 you insult me too, seeing that I have brought her up 
 and still see to her hands and complexion. It's bad 
 enough that you should eat the muffins which I had 
 set aside for the poor child's tea, and now you must 
 be adding insult to injury." 
 
 " Flagitio additis damnum ! " murmured Uncle Jas- 
 per to the accompaniment of a short, weary sigh. 
 
 " Profane language now," shouted Cousin Barnaby,
 
 A CAPRICIOUS TYRANT 6i 
 
 who seemed very exasperated. " I cannot endure 
 profane language." 
 
 And he who swore, morning, noon, and night! 
 
 " It was Latin, Barnaby," protested Uncle Jasper 
 mildly. 
 
 " Then if you can't swear in English, Jasper, you'd 
 best leave it alone." 
 
 Then he turned his attention once more to Aunt 
 Caroline. 
 
 " There are a few other items, Caroline," he began, 
 and I can assure you that this time his voice was quite 
 unctuous, like that of a man who has infinite patience 
 under most trying ills, " to which I may call your 
 attention at a more fitting opportunity. For instance, 
 the presence of an animated fly in the raspberry jam 
 this morning, a condiment altogether distasteful in a 
 preserve, and one that no self-respecting housewife 
 should tolerate for a moment." 
 
 " We can't always help the flies getting into sweet 
 things this time of year, Cousin Barnaby," she re- 
 marked meekly, " and I try to keep all jam and fruit 
 well covered. It was you, if you remember, who left 
 the raspberry jam uncovered after you had helped 
 yourself at breakfast." 
 
 " It was not I who put the fly into it subsequently. 
 But let that pass. I am not one to complain, and all I 
 want is peace. We'll let the fly pass, Caroline, but 
 there is another item to which I think your attention 
 should be called, and that is the presence of a parcel 
 of kittens underneath my bed. Now, even your own 
 fault-finding and criticising disposition could not tax 
 me with being the cause of the increase in your cat's
 
 62 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 family, nor yet with persuading her to deposit that 
 increase under my bed." 
 
 " Poor pussy ! she looks upon your room, Cousin 
 Barnaby, as her special stronghold. The dogs never 
 go In there, and she feels that her little family is 
 safe." 
 
 " Well ! I have had the little family swept up into a 
 basket and ordered Susan to deliver them over to Top- 
 coat, with strict injunctions to drown the lot." 
 
 " You haven't done that, Barnaby ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I have, and if Topcoat knows his business 
 the drowning will have been effectually done by now." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 When Aunt Caroline was speechless it meant that 
 she was very indignant indeed. She was quite speech- 
 less now, even though a few words did appear to be 
 struggling upwards, out of her heart, and perished in 
 the attempt. She collected all the socks and stockings 
 into her basket, put down her needle and her thimble, 
 and, still unable to speak, she flounced out of the room, 
 to find Susan and Topcoat — Topcoat was the out- 
 door man, the one who swept the gutters, and kept the 
 yard tidy, and attended to the horse and the wag- 
 gonette. 
 
 If Topcoat had drowned the entire family of kit- 
 tens without asking Aunt Caroline's permission and 
 merely at the bidding of Barnaby Crabtree, well then 
 Topcoat should be told that he was no longer a serv- 
 ant of Mr. Hemlngford, and that the sooner he and 
 his wife packed up their belongings and engaged them- 
 selves as servants to Mr. Crabtree the better pleased 
 would Mrs. Hemlngford be.
 
 A CAPRICIOUS TYRANT 63 
 
 But then Topcoat had not drowned the entire family 
 of kittens. 
 
 Still he got his scolding just the same : it would 
 serve for another time, when he would be sure to 
 deserve it.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A WILD FIGURE OF A GIRL 
 
 When Aunt Caroline sailed indignantly out of the 
 room Cousin Barnaby was not in the least disturbed. 
 He may, perhaps, have been slightly vexed at her thus 
 quitting him summarily when he had at least two more 
 grievances to put before her — such as the noise which 
 her guinea-fowls made in the early morning, a noise 
 not unlike that of a blunt saw going through knotty 
 wood, and which prevented his enjoying the quietude 
 of early morning sleep. 
 
 " But," he remarked placidly, after the door had 
 closed upon Aunt Caroline, " I am not a man who 
 often complains. I came here for peace — and all 
 that I want is peace." 
 
 Uncle Jasper was now once more deeply absorbed 
 in his book and wholly unconscious of everything that 
 went on around him. Barnaby Crabtree, though he 
 greatly objected to self-absorption in anybody — see- 
 ing that people who were self-absorbed could not at- 
 tend to him — knew that it was no use trying to drag 
 Jasper's absent mind away from his books. 
 
 The afternoon, too, had turned very close. There 
 certainly was thunder in the air, for Barnaby had a 
 slight headache and a disturbed stomach, and he 
 always knew that there was thunder in the air when 
 he had a disturbed stomach. 
 
 64
 
 A WILD FIGURE OF A GIRL '65 
 
 He proceeded now to untie his neckcloth, and from 
 his pocket he took a large, many-coloured bandana 
 handkerchief. He shook it out and then spread it 
 over his head, and finally folded his hands in front of 
 him. 
 
 •* Half an hour," he murmured behind the folds of 
 the handkerchief. " I will compose myself. I trust 
 that Caroline will have the good sense not to come and 
 disturb me again about those damnable kittens. 
 Females are so unreasonable where increases in fami- 
 lies are concerned." 
 
 He went on muttering like this for quite a consider- 
 able time, but Uncle Jasper, of course, was quite un- 
 conscious of him and of his mutterings. He went on 
 reading, and Cousin Barnaby sought refreshment in 
 a little sleep. 
 
 The whole house became quite still, lulled into 
 drowsiness by the closeness of the atmosphere. In 
 the museum only Cousin Barnaby's snores were heard 
 or the droning of blue-bottles against the small win- 
 dow-panes, and at regular intervals the flutter of paper 
 when Uncle Jasper turned over a leaf of his book. 
 
 Suddenly this quietude was disturbed. From the 
 yard there came the sound of a man's voice, raised 
 angrily and insistently. 
 
 Cousin Barnaby awoke, and from behind his hand- 
 kerchief he asked with great indignation: 
 
 "What in thunder is that?" 
 
 Then, as he received no reply to his peremptory 
 question — which, by the way, he repeated at least 
 twice — he tore the handkerchief from his face and 
 shouted at the top of his voice :
 
 66 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 "Jasper! Did you hear me ask what in thunder 
 was that disturbing noise?" 
 
 " I heard nothing, Barnaby," said Uncle Jasper. 
 
 "Nothing? Am I deaf, Jasper, or am I a begad 
 idiot?" 
 
 " Ego cogito ! " murmured Uncle Jasper, " I am 
 wondering." 
 
 But outside the voice had become even more loud 
 and more peremptory. It was a man's voice • — seem- 
 ingly a young man's voice — and certainly it meant to 
 make itself heard and its owner to be obeyed. 
 
 " Do I or do I not hear a most disturbing noise? " 
 queried Cousin Barnaby triumphantly. 
 
 Uncle Jasper felt very worried and very nervous. 
 He hated such interruptions, which, fortunately, were 
 very rare at Old Manor Farm, and hated them still 
 more when they came from the yard, for this gener- 
 ally meant that presently somebody would be knock- 
 ing at the door of the museum, and probably would 
 want to come in. It was therefore specially distress- 
 ing at this moment to hear that tiresome voice outside 
 saying peremptorily: 
 
 " I tell you, man, that I must speak with Mr. Hem- 
 ingf ord at once ! " 
 
 Fortunately Aunt Caroline, who had been adminis- 
 tering the above-mentioned scolding to Topcoat, had 
 lingered for awhile in the yard, examining the chickens 
 and also the cart shed, and other places where untidi- 
 ness might find a home, and a reproof be needed, 
 which she might just as well administer since she was 
 on the spot. 
 
 She it was' now who came forward, and it was to
 
 A WILD FIGURE OF A GIRL 6y 
 
 Her apparently that the voice of the unknown young 
 man now addressed himself. 
 
 " I beg ten thousand pardons, ma'am," it was heard 
 to say agitatedly, " for this seeming intrusion, but a 
 young girl's life is in peril. I ran here to get imme- 
 diate assistance, but your man seemed not to under- 
 stand." 
 
 "Good heavens! " Aunt Caroline was heard to ex- 
 claim. " What is it ? Do come in, I beg, sir — just 
 under the porch — yes, that's it ! The door is on the 
 latch. Mr. Hemingford is there." 
 
 And the next moment a young man stepped hur- 
 riedly into the room. Of course. Uncle Jasper 
 dropped his book — he always did when he was dis- 
 turbed — and equally, of course, Cousin Barnaby 
 grunted with dissatisfaction. 
 
 Aunt Caroline had bustled in after the young man, 
 administering a final scolding from the porch to Top- 
 coat for having parleyed so long with a gentleman 
 who evidently was in a great hurry. 
 
 The young man in the meanwhile had saluted Uncle 
 Jasper and Barnaby Crabtree. Apparently he was 
 very excited, for his good-looking face was flushed and 
 he did not trouble to speak the polite words which the 
 usages of society would demand of a stranger who 
 was thus making intrusion in another gentleman's 
 house. At once he began talking volubly, and paying 
 no attention to Mr. Crabtree, who had muttered 
 audibly : 
 
 " This man is a begad fool ! " 
 
 " Sir, Madam," said the stranger excitedly, " I beg 
 of you both to pardon my unwelcome appearance here.
 
 68 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Let me tell you what happened : I was walking along 
 the lane, having come up from Minster and being on 
 my way to Ramsgate, and just as I was going past 
 your gates a young girl darted right across the road 
 in front of me. She was so quick and so nimble on 
 her feet that I followed her movements with much in- 
 terest. Suddenly, even before I realised what she was 
 doing, she climbed like a cat up an old elm tree, and 
 thence on to the sloping roof of a barn which abuts 
 on this house. The roof is a thatched one, and its 
 angle very acute. She may lose her footing any 
 moment, and — •'* 
 
 Even as he spoke, and before the next word escaped 
 his lips, there was a terrific crash, followed by the 
 noise of broken glass, all of which appeared to pro- 
 ceed from the loft at the end of the museum. The 
 young man's face became pale with fright and Aunt 
 Caroline gave one wild scream. 
 
 " The child ! " and fell back, half fainting, against 
 the back of the sofa, to which she clung now with 
 one trembling hand, whilst with the other she picked 
 up the corner of her apron and fanned herself with it 
 vigorously. 
 
 Cousin Barnaby in the meanwhile had lost his bal- 
 ance; the impact of Aunt Caroline's body against the 
 sofa had caused him to roll off it, like a big indiarub- 
 ber ball, on to the floor. 
 
 Everyone was dumbfounded, and even Uncle Jas- 
 per realised that there was something wrong, for he 
 ran very quickly down the library steps and stopped 
 short at the bottom, his pointed knees shaking one 
 against the other.
 
 A WILD FIGURE OF A GIRi: 69 
 
 After the crash there had been an ominous, silence 
 in the loft, and the young stranger, who was the first 
 to regain his presence of mind, had, with a curt 
 " Allow me ! " made his way to the wooden stairs that 
 led up to it, when a girl's voice suddenly rang out, 
 triumphant and clear: 
 
 " Got you ! — got you ! Shoo ! — shoo ! Go away ! 
 Mine ! — mine ! Got him ! Go away ! '' 
 
 The next moment the door of the loft was thrown 
 violently open, and a young girl's form appeared for 
 one second on the top of the rickety wooden steps. 
 She was dressed in something white that fluttered 
 round her legs owing to the draught from behind. 
 Her head was bare, but a wealth of brown hair flew 
 all around it in a tangled mass of waves and curls. 
 She was looking at something above and behind her, 
 and in her two hands clasped in front of her she 
 seemed to be holding something which she was en- 
 deavouring to protect. Only for one instant did she 
 stand there, white and wild, like a woodland fairy; 
 the next she had striven to run down the steps, had 
 missed her footing, and come tumbling down the 
 rickety flight, landing on the floor with feet out- 
 stretched, hair dishevelled, one shoe flying halfway 
 across the room, and a piece of her skirt remaining 
 fastened to a protruding nail on the steps. 
 
 " God help us all I " shrieked Aunt Caroline ; " the 
 child has killed herself!" 
 
 As if to belie these words then and there, the young 
 girl burst into a prolonged fit of laughter. 
 
 She laughed and laughed until every dark oak beam 
 shook with the echo of that whole-hearted mirth.
 
 70 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Bless all your hearts ! I am not killed ! " she said, as 
 soon as she was able to speak, which was not for some 
 time, as laughter took away her breath. " How 
 scared you all look — and there's Cousin Barnaby go- 
 ing to have a fit ! " 
 
 And truly Cousin Barnaby did present a most piti- 
 able spectacle. He had been scared out of his wits 
 after being roused from placid slumbers, and his yel- 
 .lowish complexion was blotched with purple, whilst 
 his pale-coloured eyes seemed to be starting out of his 
 head. 
 
 " And I who came here for peace ! " he said, as he 
 groaned aloud, and looked with unmitigated disgust 
 at the wild, dishevelled figure still sitting with out- 
 stretched legs and shoeless feet on the floor. 
 
 "The fright you gave us, Boadicea! " sighed Aunt 
 Caroline, who had not yet recovered her evenness of 
 mind. 
 
 " The bumps I gave myself ! " retorted the young 
 girl, still laughing. " By George, but I do feel sore ! " 
 
 She picked herself up rather slowly, and holding one 
 hand to her hip, which, indeed, must have ached con- 
 siderably. She looked a little wide-eyed and pale, 
 though she would not admit that she was hurt, and in 
 the other hand she still held against her breast that 
 which she seemed desirous to protect. 
 
 As the stranger stood back toward the door, she had 
 not yet seen him; but he was watching her with con- 
 siderable amusement, for, indeed, she looked a wild 
 figure of a girl with her brown hair flying in all direc- 
 tions, her skirt torn, and her stockings full of holes. 
 
 Indeed, now that she was standing up, she pre-
 
 A WILD FIGURE OF A GIRL 71 
 
 sented rather a woebegone appearance. Her face Was 
 scratched and smeared with black and her hands were 
 covered with grey dust. 
 
 " But where have you been ? " exclaimed Aunt Caro- 
 line, with as much sternness as she could command. 
 
 *' I'll tell you," began the girl, talking excitedly and 
 volubly, and turning deliberately to Uncle Jasper. 
 " You remember, Uncle, that short-eared owl you and 
 I saw on the top of Farmer Upchin's barn an evening 
 or two ago ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " said Uncle Jasper, whose wrinkled, 
 birdlike face had lighted up at mention of the memor- 
 able event. " Yes, yes ! The Strix brachyotus, or 
 short-eared owl." 
 
 " Well," she continued eagerly, " now I knew there 
 must be a nest of them somewhere. I thought you 
 would like the eggs." 
 
 "Yes, yes!-" 
 
 " So I got them ; but, by George, I did have a tear • 
 round I " 
 
 " A tear round ! " groaned Cousin Barnaby. 
 " Look at her stockings ! " 
 
 " My dear child ! " exclaimed Aunt Caroline, horri- 
 fied. 
 
 But Miss Boadicea, wholly unconcerned, looked 
 down calmly on her shapely feet and ankles encased 
 in coarse cotton stockings, through which her great; 
 toe peeped out unblushingly. 
 
 " Ever seen a great toe before. Cousin Barnaby?" 
 she said, as she suddenly held up her foot right under 
 Mr. Crabtree's nose. 
 
 " Don't do that ! " he shouted, for Indeed he was
 
 
 >j2 MEADOWSWEEX 
 
 yery furious, &nd we must admit that He had every 
 cause to be exceedingly vexed, since he had come to 
 Old Manor Farm for peace, and this June afternoon 
 had been the scene of quite a number of disturbances. 
 
 "But the eggs, child?" said Uncle Jasper, with 
 quite a show of eagerness and impatience; " have you 
 got the eggs ? " 
 
 " Hm — hm ! " nodded Boadicea in response. " I 
 climbed on to Upchin's barn after Mother Owl. She 
 flew off. I scrambled down and then on to the pop- 
 lars after her. But, Uncle Jasper, where do you think 
 the nest was ? " 
 
 Well, my dear?" 
 
 In our loft — just under the thatch by the sky- 
 light! Oh, I had a scramble for it, I can tell you! 
 The thatch was so slippery after all this dry weather. 
 I slid now up, now down. Scratched my knees, too ! 
 I tell you. Mother Owl was furious. She knew I was 
 after her nest. But I got it at last — when, bang! I 
 slid down again — this time on to the skylight, and 
 through I went with a crash ! " 
 
 She was quite breathless, for she had talked very 
 fast, undisturbed by Cousin Barnaby's groans of dis- 
 gust and Aunt Caroline's exclamations of horror. 
 Now she paused a moment, and her face assumed an 
 expression of pride and of triumph. 
 
 " But I've got the eggs for you. Uncle Jasper," she 
 said. 
 
 And she looked down upon the precious thing which 
 she was still holding to her breast. Suddenly as she 
 looked the expression of triumph fled from her face, 
 a look of dismay spread all over it.
 
 A WILD FIGURE OF A GIRi: 73 
 
 " Yes, child, the eggs ? " said Uncle Jasper ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 A tangled bundle of brickdust and mortar, of twigs 
 and dried grass, together with fragments of some- 
 thing white and a yellowish liquid, fell in a heap; on 
 the floor. 
 
 " They are smashed ! " she exclaimed, as her eyes 
 filled with tears and her arm dropped down to her 
 side. 
 
 " Scrambled eggs ! " remarked Cousin Barnaby 
 placidly. 
 
 He really did enjoy her disappointment. 
 
 " Smashed? " cried Uncle Jasper in a piping treble, 
 for he was truly horrified at the awful calamity; " no, 
 no, child, not smashed ? " 
 
 And while Boadicea nodded ruefully he was down 
 on his knees turning over the remains of the destroyed 
 nest, trying to find some fragment at least large 
 enough to preserve. 
 
 " No, not smashed," remarked Cousin Barnaby, 
 who knew how to be sarcastic ; " eggs are usually much 
 improved by being hurled six feet through a skylight." 
 
 " I am so sorry, Uncle ! " murmured Boadicea. 
 
 She looked so conscience-stricken and with it all so 
 quaint and funny in her torn skirt and stockings that 
 the young stranger — who hitherto had politely kept 
 in the background — betrayed his presence now by a 
 loud and genuine outburst of laughter. 
 
 Boadicea quickly looked round, and, seeing him 
 thus laughing whilst trying to regain his composure 
 under her stern eye, she gazed on him for awhile in 
 mute astonishment. Then she said curtly :
 
 74 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 At her words everyone Seemed suddenly to become 
 aware of the stranger. Aunt Caroline, very flustered, 
 hastily smoothed down her apron and put her hands 
 to her head to see if her cap were on straight. 
 
 " Indeed, child," she said, " your wild mischief 
 makes us forget our manners." 
 
 She turned to the young man, and bobbed him an 
 old-fashioned curtsey. 
 
 "Sir? . . ." she said, half interrogatively. 
 
 " Lieutenant Carrington, of H.MS. Dolphin/' he 
 replied, standing very upright and giving Aunt Caro- 
 line a real naval salute, " at your service, Madam ! " 
 
 " Lieutenant Carrington ! " exclaimed Aunt Caro- 
 line. " Not Mamie Carrington's son ? Mamie who 
 was Mary Janet Culverston?" 
 
 " My dear mother," said the young man. 
 
 " Mamie's son ! — Mamie's son ! " reiterated Aunt 
 Caroline, as with scant ceremony she placed her podgy 
 hands on the young lieutenant's shoulders and drew 
 him down until she could plant a kiss on both his 
 cheeks. " Right welcome you are, sir, for your dear 
 mother's sake! She'll have told you about me, I 
 know. Caroline Pettigrew I was before I married 
 Jasper Hemingf ord. Mamie's son, to be sure ! Why, 
 you were a mere lad when I saw you last at Crack- 
 mansthorpe. My 1 how you have grown since then ! 
 
 " And this is Mr. Hemingford," she continued with 
 eager volubility, and waved one hand toward Uncle 
 Jasper and the other toward the young man. " Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington, Jasper, of H.M.S. Dolphin; my 
 friend Mamie Carrington's son. You remember her;
 
 A WILD FIGURE OF A GIRL 75 
 
 she was one of my bridesmaids. And you remember 
 Mr. Hemingford, I am sure, Lieutenant Carrington." 
 
 "Jack you must call me, Mrs. Hemingford, 
 please ! " said he. 
 
 " Then Jack it shall be ! " rejoined she, blushing 
 with pleasure. " You remember Uncle Jasper, don't 
 you?" 
 
 "Remember Uncle Jasper? Why, of course I 
 do!" 
 
 And he shook Uncle Jasper cordially and very vig- 
 orously by the hand, whilst Uncle Jasper, rather 
 absent, and certainly vague as to who the young man 
 was and Who was Mamie Carrington, murmured pleas- 
 ing " How de do's ? " and declared how well he re- 
 membered. 
 
 " By gad ! " said Lieutenant Carrington gaily, " I 
 remember this museum perfectly now. Though I 
 only was brought here once in my nurse's arms, 
 I thought it then the most wonderful spot on earth — 
 in fact, it was my idea of heaven in those days." 
 
 " It is my idea of a rubbish heap now," grunted 
 Cousin Barnaby, who thought it was fully time some- 
 one paid attention to himself. 
 
 "And this," said Aunt Caroline, politely turning 
 toward him, " is our cousin, Barnaby Crabtree, who 
 is paying us a short visit." 
 
 " Your servant, sir ! " said the lieutenant. 
 
 " And now," continued Aunt Caroline, " I hope 
 that you find yourself quite at home, sir." 
 
 " You are too kind, Mrs. Hemingford," said he. 
 
 " I don't know where you lodge, sir — I mean 
 Jack," said she.
 
 76 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " On board the Dolphin, Madam." 
 
 " At any rate, then, I hope that you will give us the 
 pleasure of sharing our homely supper with us to- 
 night." 
 
 " I'll be greatly honoured, Mrs. Hemingford," said 
 he, making her an elegant bow. 
 
 " Then you'll excuse me, sir — I mean Jack — I'll 
 tell my niece Lady Jeffreys that you are here." 
 
 She had made this remark quite casually, having 
 for the moment forgotten that Boadicea had been 
 absent all the day, and knew nothing of her sister's 
 arrival; and she was calmly sailing toward the door 
 when the young girl was after her like a whirlwind, 
 
 "Olive!" she cried, "Olive here, Aunt? Where 
 is she? When did she come? Why didn't you tell 
 me she was here? Where is she? I'll go tell her! " 
 
 And she made impetuously for the door. But Aunt 
 Caroline restrained her, putting on her most stern and 
 most commanding manner. 
 
 " No, no, child ; not just now," she Said. " Olive h 
 dressing, I think, and you know that she always hated 
 being disturbed whilst she was so engaged. And I 
 should hate her to see you in this state, too ; she looks 
 so lovely herself — and you, child, you look a perfect 
 
 savage." 
 
 " I have always maintained that she is a begad sav- 
 age," grunted Cousin Barnaby, who had no love for 
 little Boadicea. 
 
 The child hung her head now, looking very penitent. 
 Her sister Olive was the great love of her lonely life. 
 She had a passionate admiration for the dainty and 
 exquisite sister, who had gone out of her life, even at
 
 A WILD FIGURE OF A GIRL ^y^ 
 
 the time that she herself was emerging out of girl- 
 hood. Just for the moment she felt ashamed of her 
 torn clothes and ragged stockings, and would have 
 liked to hide herself somewhere, so that Olive should 
 not see her until she was more tidy. 
 
 " Wait a moment here," said Aunt Caroline, " and 
 I'll see where Olive is. If she is in her room dress- 
 ing, as I think she may be, you can slip quietly up- 
 stairs and smooth your hair and change your dress, 
 so that you may look your best when she first sees 
 you. Don't cry now, that's silly!" she added in a 
 very low whisper, as she saw that Boadicea was on the 
 verge of tears. " Lieutenant Carrington is looking at 
 you." 
 
 " Caroline," came in reproachful accents from 
 Cousin Barnaby, " are you forgetting that this is the 
 hour for my glass of bitters? I shall have no appe- 
 tite for supper if you neglect me like this. Not that 
 I ever complain; but really I don't see why the pres- 
 ence of a stranger should thus make you forget your 
 most elementary duties to me."' 
 
 " Oh, come along, then. Cousin Barnaby ! " said 
 Aunt Caroline with some impatience. " I had for- 
 gotten you, it's true; but Susan will have put the 
 bitters on the parlour table. Come along, then — 
 and you, child, wait just five minutes, and then make 
 no noise as you slip upstairs." 
 
 After which Aunt Caroline, with a final " I pray 
 you to excuse me, sir — I mean Jack/' went out of 
 th^ room, followed by Cousin Barnaby.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A LITTLE FURY OF WRATH 
 
 'Aunt Caroline's high-pitched tones and Cousin 
 Barnaby's loud-voiced grumbhngs were heard dying 
 away across the oak-panelled hall and then in the small 
 parlour which lay on the left. 
 
 In the museum where a little while ago there had 
 been so much noise, so much bustle and also such loud 
 laughter, there now reigned absolute silence. 
 
 Uncle Jasper, quite happy that for the moment 
 neither his wife nor his Cousin Barnaby were likely 
 to disturb him, had incontinently clambered up hisi 
 favourite perch, and crossing one lean leg over the 
 other, he had propped up his book on his bent knee 
 and was once more absorbed in the wonders of 
 science. 
 
 Boadicea — when Aunt Caroline and Cousin Barn- 
 aby had gone — remained standing beside the door, 
 with her back to the rest of the room, which, you will 
 say, was not polite, seeing that Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton was there and he a guest in the house. But I 
 think that for the moment Boadicea had forgotten his 
 presence. She was thinking only of Olive and of the 
 joy that would come to her presently, when she could 
 embrace the dear beautiful sister, and hear from her 
 all about her triumphs in London society, and admire 
 
 78
 
 A LITTLE FURY OF WRATH 79 
 
 all her lovely "dresses, and her jewels of which the wife 
 of Sir Baldwin Jeffreys had, of course, a good 
 number. 
 
 Boadicea was only thinking of Olive, and straining 
 her ears to hear Aunt Caroline's footsteps going up- 
 stairs, and the opening and closing of a door, which 
 would be the signal for her to make her escape, and to 
 creep to her room, there to wash her face and hands 
 and generally make herself look less like a savage, 
 and more pleasing to Olive. 
 
 " Can't I get you a chair ? " 
 
 Boadicea turned round very sharply : her mind was 
 so full of Olive that she was quite startled when she 
 found herself face to face with a young gentleman, 
 whom she hardly knew, and who was smiling at her 
 now in an amused kind of way which she did not like 
 at all. It was he who had offered to get her a chair, 
 and now he said quite kindly : 
 
 "You must be so tired after your prowess just 
 now, and I have an idea that you must have hurt 
 yourself when you fell down those stairs." 
 
 " I am not hurt," she said curtly. 
 
 " Perhaps only bruised," he went on, still smiling. 
 "By gad! I thought you'd have killed yourself when 
 you jumped from that elm on to a sloping roof. 
 Scrums, little one, it was a jump, eh? " 
 
 She looked straight at him then, for his tone did not 
 seem so sarcastic as before: and as she looked, she 
 encountered a pair of grey eyes which twinkled with 
 merriment, as well as with intense good-nature, and 
 also with boyish enthusiasm at the recollection of her 
 feat.
 
 8o MEADOWSWEET 
 
 (f 
 
 I suppose I did give you a fright," she said. 
 
 He nodded in response : and suddenly for no reason 
 whatever, she felt her blood rushing up to her cheeks 
 causing them to glow with heat. She was very angry 
 with herself for this, and still more so for the feeling 
 of shyness which suddenly possessed her. However, 
 she was not going to let this young man see that she 
 was shy, nor think that her blushing cheeks had any- 
 thing to do with the twinkling look in his eyes. 
 
 " I saw you," she said as curtly as before, " from 
 the elm. I could see that you were scared." 
 
 " I would have climbed the elm after you," he re- 
 joined, " but you were as agile as a cat, and I feared 
 that I would do more harm than good." 
 
 He talked to her lightly and gaily as one does to a 
 child, and his grey eyes travelled from time to time 
 over her torn frock and her dusty hands, and after 
 they had done so they again rested on her face, and 
 she then felt that the blush in her cheeks deepened 
 because the twinkle in his eyes became more pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 " I suppose that you think me a savage, too," she 
 said defiantly. 
 
 ** I think that you are a very foolhardy and very 
 naughty child," he replied, and just for a moment 
 merriment died out of his face, and it looked earnest, 
 whilst his voice sounded quite stern, 
 
 " I am not a child," she retorted. 
 
 "What else?" 
 
 " Miss Aldmarshe," said she, trying to look very 
 dignified. 
 
 But at this earnestness fled quickly from his face,
 
 A LITTLE FURY OF WRATH 8i 
 
 and back came the merry smile round the clean-shaved 
 lips, and that amused twinkle in the grey eyes. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said politely. 
 
 " Or Miss Boadicea," she conceded. 
 
 *' Queen of ancient Britain! " 
 
 And he made her a deep bow, in the old-fashioned 
 style, putting out his hand that she might rest hers 
 upon it. She was about to do so, when looking down 
 upon her hand — already extended toward him — she 
 saw that it was very dirty, and covered with the con- 
 tents of an owl's egg. 
 
 "Wants washing — ^eh, your majesty?" he re- 
 marked with that irritating pleasing humour of his, 
 when he saw her look of dismay, and the quick with- 
 drawal of the grimy little hand. 
 
 This time she felt an angry flush rising to the very 
 roots of her hair. 
 
 " Well ! " she said sullenly, " I suppose that a sav- 
 age — even a Queen — would have sticky hands some- 
 times." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," he replied. 
 
 " I dare say," she continued with what she felt and 
 meant to be biting sarcasm, " I dare say that the 
 young ladies whom you know in London have beauti- 
 ful white hands." 
 
 " Well, usually! " he admitted. 
 
 " And you like to take their hands — their beautiful 
 white hands," she said, whilst in spite of herself her 
 voice shook, and there was a silly, uncomfortable little 
 lump in her throat, she would have given worlds to be 
 able to swallow, " and would be ashamed to take the 
 hand of a — of a savage ! "
 
 B2 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " By gad ! " he exclaimed, " but you are a funny 
 child — I! ashamed to take your little sticky hands? 
 — not I — give me both of them — there — at once." 
 
 And he held out his hands, and looked on her with 
 great kindliness : he was very fond of children and of 
 young animals, and this quaint girl seemed a happy 
 blend of both : and just now her obvious timidity, that 
 first beginning of self-consciousness which only comes 
 when the child has become a woman, rendered her ex- 
 cessively winning and charrning to look at. 
 
 Having imprisoned both her small, sticky hands in 
 his own strong ones, he drew her to him with a quick, 
 masterful gesture, and in a jovial, brotherly way kissed 
 her heartily on both cheeks. 
 
 To his astonishment, she became as red as a poppy 
 and then equally suddenly all the blood seemed to 
 leave her cheeks, and she looked frail and pale: and 
 then heavy tears gathered in her eyes. 
 
 " How dare you? " she said almost viciously, whilst 
 with all her might she tried to free her hands from his 
 grasp. " How dare you ? " 
 
 " I don't know how I dare," he rejoined gaily 
 laughing, much amused at her indignation and at her 
 futile efforts to rid herself of him, " but so bold am I 
 that I'll dare again." 
 
 And again he kissed her, despite her struggles : but 
 now her head was bent because of the effort which she 
 made, and thinking to kiss her cheeks his lips en- 
 countered her soft, round neck. 
 
 *' How dare you? " she cried again and again, "let 
 me go ! let me go ! — I hate you ! " 
 
 But men are such curious beings. In the best of
 
 A LITTLE FURY OF WRATH 83 
 
 them there Is always something of the tyrant, and 3. 
 great deal of the Turkish pasha. Lieutenant Car- 
 rington had no compunction whatever in thus teasing 
 this child. She was only a child, and a tomboy, too, 
 whom he had seen climbing trees and sloping roofs 
 just like a cat, and he liked to hold her now, while she 
 struggled, just in the same way as he would imprison 
 a kitten that pleased him, and wanted to get away 
 from him. 
 
 The more she struggled, the more gaily did he 
 laugh, the more she showered her hatred on him, the 
 more determined was he to snatch yet another kiss — 
 to punish her because she was so silly and shy, and 
 would not receive his brotherly kiss in the spirit in 
 which he meant her to receive it. 
 
 And whilst they were struggling like this, he laugh- 
 ing, she almost in tears, the door flew open and beauti- 
 ful Olive Jeffreys entered the room. 
 
 For a moment she stood quite still, and I assure you 
 that just then her expression of face was anything but 
 pleasant. There was a deep furrow between her 
 brows, and as was habitual with her when she was 
 vexed, she was worrying her under lip with her teeth. 
 
 But her general appearance was very beautiful, for 
 she had exchanged her emerald silk gown for one en- 
 tirely composed of shot silk in colour like an iridescent 
 pearl, neither mauve nor rose, nor grey, but partaking 
 of all these delicate tints, and with a satin stripe of 
 pale golden yellow running down the delicate fabric, 
 and tiny bunches of pink rosebuds with their leaves 
 scattered here and there. 
 
 Filmy lace veiled the edge of the bodfce and blended
 
 84 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 in exquisite harmony with the tender flesh tones of her 
 bosom. Round her neck she wore three rows of per- 
 fectly matched pearls, and in her ears she had long 
 earrings of beautiful gold work set with pearls. 
 
 So charming an apparition was she that in a mo- 
 ment both Miss Aldmarshe and Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton mutely and tacitly called a cessation of hostilities.' 
 He dropped her wrists, and she gave a quick exclama- 
 tion of delight. 
 
 [But already Lady Jeffreys's high-pitched voice had 
 resounded across the museum. 
 
 " Fie, Lieutenant Jack," she said reprovingly, " I 
 pray you leave the child alone! See! she looks of- 
 fended like a bedraggled chicken. And you will be 
 disturbing the entire household by making her howl." 
 
 She advanced into the room with her pretty, minc- 
 ing step, toying with her lace fan as she walked, and 
 anon she stood before the two young people who I 
 must say were looking somewhat shamefaced. 
 
 Boadicea, still as red as a poppy, hung her head 
 down heartily ashamed thus to appear after all before 
 the beautiful sister, having wholly forgotten Aunt 
 Caroline's stern admonition. 
 
 Olive gave the glowing cheeks a kindly, patronising 
 tap with her fan. 
 
 " There, there, child," she said with a light laugh, 
 " do not look so scared. Lieutenant Carrington was 
 only trying to frighten you — he really does not care 
 to kiss little girls — or even to look at them — eh, 
 Jack?" 
 
 And she turned fully towards Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton, standing — quite accidentally I have no doubt — •
 
 A LITTLE FURY OF WRATH 85 
 
 quite dose to her sister, her daintily bedecked person 
 in charming contrast to Boadicea's tattered appear- 
 ance, her beringed and well-trimmed hands looking 
 almost fairylike beside the grimy, sun-tanned ones of 
 the younger girl. 
 
 No doubt Lieutenant Carrington realised the, enor- 
 mity of his offence, the sin which his eyes had com- 
 mitted by resting if only in brotherly kindness and 
 gentle irony on any woman, save the most beautiful 
 amongst all. The tone of familiarity with which 
 Lady Jeffreys addressed him, showed that she was 
 well-acquainted with him, and now he turned quite 
 away from Boadicea and bowed with consummate gal- 
 lantry to the beautiful lady, just as he would to the 
 Queen, if she happened to be present. 
 
 She gave him the tips of her fingers to kiss, and this 
 he did, having previously said most politely : 
 
 " When the sun appears, all lesser stars must neces- 
 sarily pale." 
 
 Certainly the lesser star — if by that appellation he 
 meant Boadicea — had paled very considerably. The 
 child now looked white and sullen, and her eyes 
 watched every elegant movement of Lieutenant Car- 
 rington, and every expression of his face with a glow- 
 ering, wrathful look. How differently did he behave 
 when Olive was present, how courteous was his man- 
 ner, how delicate his speech ! He seemed quite a dif- 
 ferent man to the easy-mannered, boyish fellow -of a 
 while ago, with his laughing eyes and sarcastic lips. 
 
 " There, little one," said Olive, whose melting 
 glance had duly rewarded Lieutenant Carrington for 
 his gallantry, " what did I tell you. He was only^
 
 86 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 teasing you — as he would have teased a kitten — 
 without any ill-intention. Come ! " she added, seeing 
 that Boadicea still hung her head, " let me see you 
 smile. Have you forgotten, child, that twelve months 
 have gone by since last you saw me in London ? Are 
 you then not pleased to see me? " 
 
 But at this appeal Boadicea's sulkiness vanished, she 
 threw her arms with loving impetuosity round the 
 dainty fonn of her fair sister. 
 
 " Pleased ? " she exclaimed, " Pleased ? Why, 
 Olive, I have been nearly crazy with joy, since I heard 
 that ygu were here." 
 
 Her cheeks were once more aflame, for with this 
 child who had never been taught to restrain the dis- 
 play of her feelings, the blood came and went in her 
 cheeks, just as emotion carried her away or left her 
 cold. Olive had great difficulty in extricating herself 
 from the violent embrace and in rescuing her delicate 
 coloured gown from the affectionate pattings of eager, 
 grimy hands. 
 
 " Child ! child ! " she cried somewhat crossly, for 
 she hated the harmony of her attire to be disarranged, 
 " not so fast, and not so furiously. I am convinced 
 of the depth of your affection, but that is no reason 
 why you should crush my gown. It cost me over 
 thirty guineas last week, and now your dirty hands 
 will ruin it in a trice." 
 
 In a moment Boadicea's enthusiasm cooled down. 
 Her arms dropped away from her sister's shoulders, 
 and she looked down ruefully at her grimy hands. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Olive," she murmured. 
 
 " There! " said Olive impatiently, " do go and clean
 
 A LITTLE FURY OF WRATH 87 
 
 yourself, child. You look like a little savage still, 
 despite your growing years, and I must say that you 
 still seem to behave like one. Does she not, Captain 
 Jack?" 
 
 " No, no," he said in an absent, bored kind of way, 
 as if the subject had no interest for him. " Miss — 
 er — Miss Boadicea Aldmarshe was seriously trying 
 just now to behave like a young lady." 
 
 " Behave like a young lady," retorted the young- 
 girl, with a wealth of scorn expressed in the quiet 
 tremor of her voice, "Behave like a young lady? 
 Not I ! I hate your simpering, affected, odious young 
 ladies with white hands and chicken livers. I can 
 ride an unbroken colt — -can they?" she continued, 
 gradually working herself up to a passion of con- 
 tempt and of wrath, her voice quivering, sobs gather- 
 ing in her throat and tears in her eyes. " I can sit on 
 a bucker, saddleless and bridleless, and not lose my 
 seat — ■ can they ? I can handle a gun, and a spade 
 and a rake, I can run a mile without losing my breath 
 ■ — can they? can they? I ask you! Can they rise 
 with the lark, and plunge into the sea and swim half 
 way to France? I can. But no doubt you admire 
 their silly, mincing ways, their ' Oh's ' and their 
 *Ah's' and their 'Fies'sM Well, I do notl I do 
 not! I do not! I would not be like them. No! 
 not for all the gowns that cost thirty guineas and for 
 all the soft speeches and hand-kissings the popinjays 
 of Pall Mall can give them! " 
 
 Her voice now was almost choked with tears of rage 
 and shame that had gathered to her eyes. Lieutenant 
 Carrington stood quite speechless! never had he
 
 88 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 heard such a torrent of passionate wrath flowing from 
 a woman's lips. Olive, too, while the child spoke was 
 silent with amazement. And now when Boadicea 
 paused either from want of breath or because her 
 emotion was really choking her, all that Lady Jef- 
 freys could say was a mild admonitory, 
 
 "Child! child!" 
 
 In a moment Boadicea's arms were round her sis- 
 ter's neck. 
 
 "Forgive me, Olive," she pleaded through her 
 tears, "Olive, dear, darling, my beautiful Olive? you 
 iare different to anybody else, quite different, and I 
 love you ! I love you ! I love you I " 
 
 Then she kissed Olive passionately, and the next 
 second had run quickly to the door. Here, however, 
 she turned, just as her hand was on the latch, and 
 faced Lieutenant Carrington, who was still standing 
 amazed, and supremely uncomfortable as many men 
 appear when women are in tears. 
 
 She looked him straight in the face, her eyes 
 glowing, her cheeks aflame, her lips red and moist: a 
 most veritable little fury of wrath, 
 
 " But I hate him! " she said. 
 
 Then she opened the door, and flounced out of the 
 room, banging the door to behind her, so that Uncle 
 Jasper started from his absorption and looked down 
 in alarm from his perch. 
 
 " Lord bless my soul, what was that ? " he queried 
 vaguely. 
 
 . " Nothing, Uncle, nothing," replied Olive, " a little 
 childish tantrum, that is all. Lieutenant Jack," she 
 added, once more turning to the young man a serene
 
 A LITTLE FURY OF WRATH 89 
 
 and smiling face, "won't you sit awhile? We can 
 have a pleasant talk before supper, and Uncle Jasper 
 need not disturb us." 
 
 And as a matter of fact Uncle Jasper, after the 
 momentary interruption, had once more busied him- 
 self in his book, and was taking no notice of anything 
 that might be going on.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A SOCIETY LADY 
 
 " There," said Lady Jeffreys, as she disposed her 
 graceful person to its best advantage upon the sofa, 
 and gave the cushions an inviting Httle pat, " come 
 and sit beside me, Jack. You fooHsh boy," she added, 
 seeing a quick bkish mount to his cheeks, " it is 
 quite proper. We are both guests in my aunt's 
 house, and there's dear Uncle Jasper playing goose- 
 berry." 
 
 She frowned a little as she spoke, for Lieutenant 
 Carrington did not appear to be so eager to sit beside 
 her as she w^ould have w^ished, not even though she 
 cocked her head on one side, like a pretty bird, and 
 beamed an invitation at him through her shining blue 
 eyes. 
 
 It would have been very Ill-manilered not to re- 
 spond. Lieutenant Carrington, trained in the best 
 school of good breeding, could not at this juncture do 
 less than bow gallantly and take his seat beside the 
 fair temptress on the sofa. But he was obviously ill 
 at ease, as young men are apt to be when a beautiful 
 woman is kind and has a desire to be entertained. 
 
 Lieutenant Carrington was racking his brain to find 
 an opening for polite conversation. 
 
 " Your sister is a curious child," he said at last, 
 thinking to; find si, topic of unusual interest. 
 
 90
 
 A SOCIETY LADY 91 
 
 "Oh!" said Olive with a pout that became her 
 pretty mouth remarkably well, " she is only the un- 
 civilised product of barbaric surroundings. What can 
 you expect from education that has been confined 
 within the boundaries of Thanet?" 
 
 Then, as he made no comment, she said archly : 
 
 " Jack ! you have forgotten to say that you are 
 pleased to see me." 
 
 " Does so obvious a fact need stating? " he asked 
 gallantly. 
 
 She gave him her hand, murmuring, " Flatterer ! " 
 and rewarded him for his gallant speech by a look 
 through the veil of her eyelashes; a look which her 
 admirers had oft told her was irresistible. 
 
 But Lieutenant Carrington having kissed the hand 
 and withstood the look, appeared quite calm when he 
 said: 
 
 " You have not yet told me what brings the beau- 
 tiful Lady Jeffreys out of London in the height of 
 the season." 
 
 " Did you wish to know ? " she asked. 
 
 "Of course," replied he. 
 
 " Why," said she, " it was in order to see you. 
 Jack." 
 
 " Your ladyship is pleased to jest." 
 
 "Do you doubt it then?" 
 
 "Oh!" he said, with a slight shrug of his broad 
 shoulders. 
 
 A look of tenderness crept into her eyes. 
 
 " You know that I am in earnest. Jack." 
 
 " I entreat you, Lady Jeffreys," he pleaded, point- 
 ing to Uncle Jasper.
 
 92 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 But she shrugged her shoulders and laughed. 
 
 " Oh ! " said she, " he heeds nothing but his Latin 
 and his beetles. Why have you become so cautious, 
 Jack?" she added more seriously, "Why did you 
 leave London so suddenly?" 
 
 " I had to rejoin my ship. ... I — " 
 
 " Your leave does not expire for another month —> 
 your own sister told me this in London. Why won't 
 you speak the truth ? " 
 
 " I have told you the truth, Lady Jeffreys," he said, 
 " before I left town." 
 
 " I thought that you cared for me. Jack," she 
 sighed. 
 
 Now we all know that to play the part of a Joseph 
 in commonplace, every day life, is not a pleasing task 
 for any young man ; and when the lady is very beau- 
 tiful and very young and the man is chivalrous, it 
 becomes indeed a very invidious one. Lieutenant 
 Carrington would at this moment I believe have given 
 up half his fortune to be safely back in his bunk on 
 board the Dolphin. The harmless ballroom flirtation 
 into which he had drifted quite unconsciously in Lon- 
 don was threatening to assume proportions of which 
 he had never dreamed and which almost frightened 
 him. It is a fact that some of the bravest men have 
 been cowards where women are concerned. 
 
 Lieutenant Carrington had distinguished himself by 
 conspicuous bravery in the China seas, and yet now he 
 felt an insane desire to take to his heels, and to run 
 away as hard as he could go. For a moment the wild 
 thought came into his brain to shout at the top of his 
 yoice and thus attract Uncle Jasper's attention, who
 
 'A SOCIETY LADY 93 
 
 indeed was a most inefficient gooseberry, but I think 
 you will agree that this would have been most unchiv- 
 alrous behaviour, altogether unfitting a sailor and a 
 gentleman. 
 
 So when Lady Jeffreys said languishingly, " I 
 thought that you cared for me, Jack," all that he could 
 think of to say in reply was : 
 
 " It is because I feared that I might soon do so, 
 Lady Jeffreys, that I came away." 
 
 ** To run away — like a coward ! " she pleaded, 
 " It does not seem like you." 
 
 " There are certain dangers which it were cowardly 
 to court," he protested, 
 
 " Love is not a danger," she urged, " love is happi- 
 
 ness," 
 
 Poor Jack Carrington felt that the air was getting 
 sultry. He would now have given his very next 
 chance of promotion for the chance of running away, 
 and quite a good deal for permission to open the win- 
 dow. Never had he felt so completely at a disad- 
 vantage. Perspiration was running down his back, 
 and his hair felt as if it had been fastened with gum 
 arable to his temples. 
 
 But Olive appeared quite cool; her skin was like 
 ivory, and her cheeks had only a sufficiency of colour 
 in them to make her eyes seem brighter by contrast, 
 and her lips more red. 
 
 " You will come back to town with me, Jack ! " she 
 pleaded. 
 
 " Impossible, Lady Jeffreys," he said earnestly. 
 
 *'Jack!" 
 
 " No."
 
 94 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 There was a slight pause, during which OHve 
 thought it best to sigh, and to produce a tiny bit of 
 cambric edged with dainty lace. 
 
 "Then," she murmured, and up went the bit of 
 cambric to the brightest possible pair of blue eyes, 
 " it is all — at an end ? " 
 
 "If what had no beginning," he rejoined gently, 
 ** can be said to have an end." 
 
 She looked at him over the diminutive pocket- 
 handkerchief, and for the next few seconds appeared 
 to be studying him very closely. She saw a young 
 and good-looking face, with kindly grey eyes that 
 seemed more accustomed to twinkle than to look stern, 
 she also saw a well-cut mouth with lips firmly pressed 
 together, and a strong jaw which showed no sign of 
 a yielding disposition. 
 
 All this she took in with a scrutinising glance of 
 her bright eyes, even though they were veiled with 
 tears. It is wonderful how much a woman can ob- 
 serve through tears, and no doubt Olive saw every- 
 thing that she wished to see, or rather everything 
 which she would rather not have seen just now. 
 
 And then a very curious thing happened. But a 
 few seconds ago there had sat upon the sofa an ex- 
 quisitely beautiful woman with tear-dimmed eyes and 
 a mellow voice half -choked by tender emotions, and 
 the poignancy of regrets. Suddenly that woman was 
 changed as if by the touch of a magician's wand, and 
 Jack Carrington saw still sitting beside him a very 
 handsome woman of the world, with stern, impassive 
 face, and eyes darkened by an angry frown. 
 
 The voice too had changed. It was hard and tren-
 
 A SOCIETY LADY 95 
 
 chant now ; and the languishing manner had gone, giv- 
 ing place to the collected and calm demeanour of a 
 society lady who has just cause to rebuke an insolent 
 admirer. 
 
 " But my letters ! " said this same society lady in 
 a harsh voice. 
 
 " Your letters . . ." stammered Jack Carrington. 
 He was greatly bewildered at this sudden change for 
 he was a young man and had had little or no experience 
 of the curious ways of women. 
 
 " Yes ! " she said impatiently, *' my letters ! I 
 wrote to you often, and often injudiciously. I be- 
 lieved in your honour and poured out my heart some- 
 times in my epistles to you. Yours in response were 
 very brief and cold. I see now, alas ! how foolish and 
 trusting I was; how cold and callous you were. 
 There's enough matter in my letters to destroy the rep- 
 utation of a duchess. Have you kept them? " 
 
 " Indeed," he stammered, still feeling very dazed 
 and bewildered and vaguely wondering how much of 
 this interesting conversation came to the ears of Uncle 
 Jasper. " I may have kept a few." 
 
 " A few ! " she exclaimed. " Hark ! at the vanity 
 of the man! A woman pours out the secrets of her 
 heart to him in some impassioned letters, and he 
 calmly keeps a few ! " 
 
 " I swear to you, Lady Jeffreys," said Jack Car- 
 rington, who now felt sincerely sorry for her, " that 
 those which I have kept — so presumptuously I own — 
 shall be destroyed this very night." 
 
 " Pshaw! a man's vow to a woman! " she retorted. 
 " I'll not believe you."
 
 96 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " But, Lady Jeffreys . . ." he protested. 
 
 " Unless I have my letters in my own hands, I'll 
 never again know a moment's peace." 
 
 " Then I'll place them in your hands myself." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " Too late. I must leave for town at break of day," 
 she asserted unblushingly. " You could not present 
 yourself in this house at such an early hour." 
 
 " Then I will send them to you by a trusted messen- 
 ger." 
 
 " That they may fall into wrong hands ! " 
 
 " Then what can I do ? " he cried in genuine dis- 
 tress. 
 
 "Think! think!" she urged. 
 
 " Let me fetch them now and bring them back. I 
 am lodging in Ramsgate, I could be back in less than 
 two hours." 
 
 " Impossible. Supper will be served in a few mo- 
 ments ; what excuse could you make for thus running 
 away? " 
 
 " Then what can I do ? " he reiterated again In com- 
 plete despair. 
 
 She waited a moment, watching him with narrowed 
 eyes, that certainly held no tears. Then suddenly she 
 leaned forward, with an eager and bright look, and 
 placed her hand upon his sleeve. 
 
 "Listen, Jack," she said, speaking low and fast. 
 "I shall not know a moment's peace until those let- 
 ters of mine are back in my hands. So this is what 
 I think would be best. To-night, after supper, leave 
 as early as you can with convenience and politeness.
 
 
 A SOCIETY LADY 97 
 
 but be careful to leave something behind — your man- 
 tle or your gloves. Then go back to your lodgings, 
 fetch all my letters, and bring them to me." 
 
 " But, Lady Jeffreys . . ." he protested. 
 
 " Tush, man," she said, " it's quite simple. You 
 can walk to Ramsgate in an hour, can't you? " 
 In less — for I would run all the way." 
 A quarter of an hour to get my letters, and order 
 a horse to be saddled — you can do that? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 "And half an hour for the return journey," she 
 concluded eagerly. " You would not be gone two 
 hours, and Uncle Jasper never goes to bed before ten. 
 If you will leave here soon after seven — you can 
 easily find a pretext — your duty — or — or some im- 
 portant letters to write. ,When you return you will 
 find me sitting in this room with Uncle Jasper for 
 gooseberry. I will watch for you, and if you rap at 
 the back door I will open it — Uncle Jasper will ask 
 no questions, and if he does there wall be your mantle 
 left behind to account for your return. By to-mor- 
 row morning he will have forgotten all about you — 
 so you see how simple it all is." 
 
 It certainly did sound very simple, and though at 
 the bottom of his heart Jack Carrington strongly dis- 
 approved of the adventure, he could not think of any 
 serious objection to make to it, nor of any strong ex- 
 cuse for refusing to obey Lady Jeffreys's commands. 
 Inwardly he was cursing himself for having been so 
 foolish as to keep those silly letters, which were noth- 
 ing but the senseless ebullitions of a self-willed and 
 headstrong woman. He was indeed being severely
 
 98 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 punished for the harmless ballroom flirtation into 
 which he had allowed himself to drift without thought 
 of consequences. To him the whole thing had meant 
 nothing but momentary amusement, and a certain sat- 
 isfaction to masculine vanity, whilst she of course 
 seemed to have forgotten how quickly a woman's rep- 
 utation becomes the prey of the envious gossip- 
 mongers. Would to God that she felt that she could 
 trust him; he was only too ready to destroy the let- 
 ters, if only she would allow him to do so quietly in 
 his own lodgings. But to this simple course she ap- 
 parently would not give her consent. She now 
 refused to trust him whom she had already so com- 
 pletely trusted. Perhaps she thought that he had 
 acted dishonourably towards her — perhaps — oh ! the 
 awful thought — he had acted dishonourably, and was 
 not worthy of a woman's trust. 
 
 You see that Lieutenant Carrington's meditations, 
 whilst Olive urged her plan on him, were none too 
 pleasant. A vague feeling of remorse weakened his 
 will, and broke down the last barrier of resistance. 
 
 " Jack," she pleaded finally, seeing plainly that at 
 last he was ready to give way, " I must trust to your 
 honour in this. You won't deceive me again." 
 
 " Lady Jeffreys . . ." he stammered helplessly. 
 You will do as I ask you, Jack? " 
 I have no option, Lady Jeffreys." 
 To-night, then, at about half -past nine, I will be 
 here with Uncle Jasper. You will see the light in the 
 window. You'll not fail to come. Jack. Promise 
 me!" 
 
 And he promised. 
 
 {{ 
 
 it
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 AN EXQUISITE APPARITION* 
 
 Xt last the victory had remained with Olive Jef- 
 freys. But she was far too clever a woman to press 
 it further home. Jack Carrington was one of those 
 men whose promises always seem binding on them- 
 selves, whatever might betide. 
 
 She gave a short sigh of satisfaction and leaned 
 back against the cushions of the sofa. She re- 
 arranged the folds of her gown with a careless hand 
 and so settled down for ordinary conversation. 
 
 To begin with she told Lieutenant Carrington that 
 Sir Baldwin Jeffreys had elected to ride home only 
 in the cool of the evening. Aunt Caroline had told 
 her awhile ago of Sir Baldwin's changed intentions, 
 and that he had gone to Minster to spend an hour or 
 two before supper with Mr. Culpepper who was-a very 
 old friend. She was talking quite coolly, even 
 though she could see that Lieutenant Carrington had 
 frowned and flushed. No doubt the thought of meet- 
 ing Sir Baldwin at supper to-night was not a pleasant 
 one. But to the capricious, self-willed woman the 
 announcement had not been altogether unwelcome. 
 Excitement and intrigues were as the breath of her 
 body to her, and she was not at all displeased when 
 the thought crossed her mind that Sir Baldwin's 
 
 99
 
 100 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 changed intentions might have been coincident with 
 his hearing casually that the Dolphin lay at anchor 
 in Ramsgate Harbour. 
 
 She was never averse to exciting his jealousy, 
 which in a way seemed a homage rendered by him 
 to her powers of fascination, and though at times she 
 was a little afraid of him, yet she knew herself to 
 be far too cautious and too clever to place herself 
 thoroughly in the wrong before him when violence on 
 his part might have been justified. 
 
 The thought that Sir Baldwin would be riding away 
 to-night with the full knowledge that despite his 
 machinations and his tyranny, she would still be 
 thrown in the society of Jack Carrington, caused her 
 infinite amusement; and if he further changed his in- 
 tentions and did elect to spend the night at Old Manor 
 Farm, she still meant so to manipulate the threads of 
 her intrigue, that they would never enmesh her, but 
 leave her triumphant, and happy in her role of an in- 
 nocent and much maligned woman. 
 
 How she would manage all that, she did not at 
 present know, but the thought of supper with Sir 
 Baldwin sitting opposite to her and Jack Carrington 
 by her side was distinctly exhilarating. 
 
 She heard her husband's heavy footsteps in the 
 hall, a few moments after a loud toned bell had pro- 
 claimed the fact tliat supper was about to be served. 
 Lady Jeffreys, satisfied that the young man seemed 
 duly disturbed in his mind, began talking calmly about 
 the weather and of the London season, and Lieutenant 
 Carrington gave reply as best he could. 
 
 Soon Aunt Caroline came in, fussy and garrulous as
 
 AN EXQUISITE APPARITION loi 
 
 usual, dressed in her best puce silk and with a new 
 lace cap on her head. 
 
 Sir Baldwin Jeffreys entered the room five minutes 
 later. He was perfectly calm and self-possessed, and 
 Olive had not even the satisfaction of seeing a look of 
 jealous wrath in his eyes. He did not appear at all 
 surprised at seeing Jack — perhaps Aunt Caroline or 
 even Susan had told him that Lieutenant Carrington 
 was here. Be that as it may, he bowed most politely 
 if somewhat stiffly to the young man, and then ad- 
 dressed himself quite pleasantly to his wife, 
 
 Barnaby Crabtree's entrance, however, soon caused 
 a diversion. He came in, grumbling as usual. 
 
 " Nothing so bad for the digestion, Caroline, as un- 
 punctuality. . . . That wench of yours must be given 
 a month's wages in lieu of notice if she does not 
 learn to dish up to time." 
 
 Even before Aunt Caroline could enter her habitual 
 meek protest, Susan, with her cap awry as usual, and 
 her hands and feet very much in the way, came to the 
 door and announced loudly : 
 
 " I've dished up, ma'am ! " 
 
 Whereupon she appeared to have been scared by 
 her own voice, for she fled back across the hall as if 
 she had been shot out of a gun. 
 
 *' Ten minutes late ! " was Mr. Crabtree's parting 
 shot at the flying Susan. 
 
 " I hope. Sir Baldwin, that you will excuse a very 
 simple supper," said Aunt Caroline, whose cap was 
 beginning to emulate Susan's in its gyrations down the 
 slope of her head, " and you too, sir — I mean Jack; 
 we are only country folk."
 
 102 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Don't make excuses to Sir Baldwin, Kunt," said 
 Olive lightly, " since he must make a start soon after 
 supper he will be glad of a simple menu." 
 
 Aunt Caroline now went up fussing to Uncle Jaspef , 
 mounting half-way up the steps, and shaking him vig- 
 orously by the leg. 
 
 ** Jasper! Jasper!" she ishouted. "Lord bless us 
 all, he'd starve up there first, before he took any 
 notice. Jasper! Jasper! we are all waiting." 
 
 " Waiting," said Uncle Jasper blandly, *' oh, don't 
 wait, Caroline, I've often told you not to wait tea 
 for me." 
 
 " The man is a begad idiot," muttered Cousin Bar- 
 naby. 
 
 " It's not tea, Jasper," said Aunt Caroline, impa- 
 tiently, " it's supper — supper, and you've had no tea. 
 Do please lead the way with Lady Jeffreys, sir — I 
 mean. Jack, and you, too. Sir Baldwin, I pray you 
 walk to the dining-room. I'll get your uncle down 
 from his perch presently and bring him along with 
 me. . . . But Where's Boadicea?" she added, notic- 
 ing for the first time that the child was absent. 
 
 " Are we going to have supper to-night, Caroline,'* 
 interposed Mr. Crabtree, " or are we not ? " 
 
 " Of course we are, Cousin Barnaby," retorted she, 
 "but I must know why Boadicea isn't down yet — ■ 
 I hope she didn't hurt herself falling this afternoon." 
 
 " Tush, Aunt," said Olive lightly, " the child was 
 shy. She's not used to strangers; she'll slip down- 
 stairs presently when we are all seated." 
 
 But this idea found no favour with Aunt Caroline. 
 The traditions of Old Manor Farm demanded that
 
 AN EXQUISITE APPARITION 103 
 
 everyone should assemble in the museum before the 
 principal meals of the day, and file in from there all to- 
 gether into the dining-room. 
 
 Therefore she now went to the door and called 
 loudly at the top of her voice: 
 
 " Boadicea, child — are you coming? " 
 
 And from upstairs came the young girl's voice in 
 response : 
 
 " At once, Aunt Caroline." 
 
 There was a patter of light feet on the polished oak 
 staircase and a minute later the door of the museum 
 was thrown open and Boadicea entered the room. 
 
 When I say that Boadicea entered the room I must 
 admit at once that no one there present recognised at 
 first who it was that was standing there in the door- 
 way, framed by the heavy dark oak, and with the 
 vague dark background of the hall behind like some 
 picture of Sir Thomas Lawrence. 
 
 Anything more unlike the tattered, hoydenish appa- 
 rition which Boadicea usually presented could not well 
 be imagined. No wonder that Aunt Caroline and 
 Olive, Lieutenant Carrington, and even Sir Baldwin, 
 stared upon her quite speechless with wonder. 
 
 She had donned a high-waisted silk dress in colour 
 like the ripe fruit of the lime, in cut somewhat old- 
 fashioned, suggestive of the time when Boadicea's 
 mother clasped her youngest baby girl to her heart. 
 She had dressed her soft brown hair in a multitude of 
 puffs and curls, which fell all round her young face, 
 and were held up at the back of her head with a tall 
 comb of filigree gold. On her feet she had a pair of 
 transparent silk stockings and tiny bronze shoes with
 
 104 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 fcross-strapS over the ankles. A soft ficHu of muslin 
 was crossed over her shoulders, and she had lace mit- 
 tens on her hands. A bunch of pale blush roses nes- 
 tled in her bosom, and a delicate blush suffused her 
 cheeks. 
 
 She was as pretty and dainty an apparition as the 
 fusty old museum had ever seen. The exquisite youth 
 and girlishness which exhaled like fragrant flowers 
 from her whole personality fascinated every beholder, 
 save, perhaps, Olive, Lady Jeffreys, whose complexion 
 had had to stand the wear and tear of two London 
 seasons. 
 
 But Boadicea appeared quite unconscious of the 
 sensation which she had caused. With mincing steps 
 she advanced further into the room, toying with her 
 fan and casting languishing glances on everyone 
 around. 
 
 "Supper?" she said in a slow drawly tone to 
 which her fresh clear voice seemed not altogether at- 
 tuned, " Supper? Lud! I had forgotten — I am sure 
 I could not eat a morsel — these hot days play havoc 
 with one's appetite. Ah! Sir Baldwin Jeffreys! 
 This is an unexpected pleasure. Glad will I be to hear 
 the latest news from town. Cousin Barnaby, please 
 lead the way — you, no doubt, are dying of hunger." 
 
 Then she turned with a smile and a simper to Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington and holding out her hand she said : 
 
 " Shall we follow, Lieutenant Carrington?" 
 
 And he, smiling and bowing, and with a wealth of 
 amusement dancing in his eyes, offered her his arm, 
 which she took with the consummate grace of an ele- 
 gant lad^ of fashion.
 
 AN EXQUISITE APPARITION "105 
 
 As Aunt Caroline would not let go of Uncle Jas- 
 per's sleeve, Olive v^as left to follow on her husband's 
 arm, which she did with none too good a grace, whilst 
 across the hall she could hear Lieutenant Carrington's 
 whole-hearted laugh in response to some witty sally; 
 apparently made by transformed Boadicea.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A FULL-BLOWN YOUNG WOMAN 
 
 Supper that night in the flagged dining-room of 
 Old Manor Farm had been extremely lively, and 
 everyone who was unprejudiced would be bound to 
 admit that the merriment which reigned around the 
 table was entirely due to Boadicea. 
 
 She was vivacious in the extreme, keeping up a 
 flow of small talk with Lieutenant Carrington and 
 with Sir Baldwin Jeffreys which caused the latter no 
 small measure of astonishment. Little Boadicea — 
 whom he had known as a tomboy, usually with a 
 grimy face and invariably with dirty hands — had 
 suddenly developed into a full-blown, self-possessed 
 young woman, with an endless fund of conversation 
 and a marked talent for fresh repartee. 
 
 She looked remarkably pretty, too, now that her 
 face became more and more animated as supper pro- 
 gressed and she felt herself an object of attraction 
 and of praise. 
 
 Aunt Caroline had not begun to get over her aston- 
 ishment. What had come to the child she could not 
 think, nor why she should have chosen this particular 
 evening on which to unearth from the bottom of an 
 old oak chest, where it had lain in lavender for fifteen 
 years, the lime-coloured silk gown in which poor dear 
 Lucy had been presented to King George IV, 
 
 1 06
 
 A FULL-BLOWN YOUNG WOMAN 107 
 
 For the moment, however, Aunt Caroline was far 
 too busy at her end of the table to study this puzzle 
 deeply. She had Cousin Barnaby on her right, who 
 was eating enormously, and Sir Baldwin on her left, 
 who was eating nothing, and, what with urging Sir 
 Baldwin to take a little more cold beef and Cousin 
 Barnaby not to eat so much veal and ham pie, she 
 grew redder and hotter every moment, until the seams 
 of the magnificent puce silk gown seemed to be creak- 
 ing and crackling all at once. 
 
 At intervals she scolded Susan in an audible whis- 
 per. 
 
 " You mustn't nudge that gentleman when you are 
 handing the vegetables, Susan ! Be careful not to put 
 your thumb into the salad when you hold the dish — 
 put your hand underneath ! Don't offer the cream to 
 Miss Boadicea; you know she doesn't really care for 
 it, and there isn't enough to go round! Don't 
 go breathing so loud when you are waiting at 
 table — one would think you'd got asthma or some- 
 thing!" 
 
 Olive alone in the midst of this lively company ap- 
 peared glum and silent. She ate very little, and once 
 or twice she complained of the heat, asking for the 
 window to be opened. She certainly had Sir Baldwin 
 opposite to her and Lieutenant Carrington by her side, 
 but both these gentlemen seemed to pay more attention 
 to Boadicea than they did to herself — a demeanour 
 which was wholly unpardonable. 
 
 It was she who gave the signal for the ladies to 
 retire to the parlour, and she sailed majestically out 
 of the room, followed by Boadicea and Aunt Caroline,
 
 io8 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 and with Uncle Jasper bringing up tKe rear. Uncle 
 Jasper never cared to sit with the gentlemen over their 
 wine; he never drank wine himself, and thought every 
 meal such a bore that he never had the slightest desire 
 to linger over it. 
 
 But it was the custom at Old Manor Farm that after 
 supper Uncle Jasper should sit with the ladies in the 
 little parlour, which was situated to the left of the 
 front entrance door, and immediately faced the way 
 into the dining-room opposite. In this little parlour 
 there was an old-fashioned spinet, and Boadicea, who 
 had had lessons for a year or two from the organist 
 of Minster Church, used to play old airs upon it and 
 accompany herself when she sang. 
 
 Tradition at Old Manor Farm also demanded that 
 after supper she should sit at the spinet and sing Aunt 
 Caroline's favourite tunes. These were, " I Asked my 
 Fair One," and " Auld Robin Gray," and "Home, 
 Sweet Home," which Mr. Bishop had composed. 
 While she played and sang Aunt Caroline invariably 
 went to sleep and Uncle Jasper fished a book out of 
 his pocket and immersed himself in bats and beetles. 
 Lately, too, Cousin Barnaby had added the bass of 
 his snores to the treble of Aunt Caroline's, but this 
 did not upset Boadicea's singing in the least. 
 
 She sang for herself more than she did for the oth- 
 ers, as the birds sing in spring, because they are 
 young, and gay, and alive, and not because anyone else 
 is listening. 
 
 And to-night she went to the spinet as usual, uncon- 
 scious of the pretty picture which she made there 
 against the dull greyish white of the walls, and with
 
 A FULL-BLOWN YOUNG WOMAN 109 
 
 the light of the lamp just illumining her delicate pro- 
 file, the curled lashes, and the moist lips parted as she 
 sang. 
 
 Olive, who sat on the sofa beside Aunt Caroline, 
 frowned whenever she looked across the room toward 
 the spinet, and the tip of her foot beat an impatient 
 tattoo on the floor. Aunt Caroline, as usual, was full 
 of regrets and sighs, and she indulged in these whilst 
 counting the stitches of her knitting. 
 
 The door which gave on the hall was open, and 
 from the dining-room beyond came the drone of the 
 men's voices talking over their wine. From time to 
 time Mr. Crabtree's rose in a high-pitched alto. 
 
 " Will you be so kind," he would say loudly, " as 
 to pass me the port. Sir Baldwin? People in this 
 house are ignorant of the elements of hospitality." 
 
 Then Aunt Caroline would endeavour to catch 
 Olive's glance ere she sighed resignedly. 
 
 " Come, Aunt," said Olive impatiently, on one occa- 
 sion when Cousin Barnaby's remark from the dining- 
 room sounded peculiarly rude, " it's no use making 
 sheep's eyes at me like this, and sighing like one of 
 those new railway engines. I can do nothing to help 
 you. You and Uncle Jasper only get what you de- 
 serve ! " 
 
 "But what can I do, Olive?" again sighed Aunt 
 Caroline in utter helplessness. 
 
 "Two things," replied Lady Jeffreys resolutely; 
 " Give that old Crabapple the go-by and send Boadicea 
 to school ! " 
 
 " With no less than three hairless offsprings," mur- 
 mured Uncle Jasper, lost in his book.
 
 no MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Aunt Caroline gave a start, and Her knitting fell 
 on the floor. 
 
 " To school? " she ejaculated, in a state of complete 
 bewilderment, " and with what ? " 
 
 " In heaven's name, don't be so stupid, Aunt ! " re- 
 torted Olive, whose temper was none of the best just 
 now ; " the matter is far too serious not to be seriously 
 discussed. I said that Boadicea ought to go to board- 
 ing school for at least a year, just as I did at her age. 
 The child has no manners. Either she behaves like 
 a tomboy or like a pert minx ! '* 
 
 She had spoken acidly and at the top of her voice. 
 Boadicea's hands dropped from the spinet. She 
 turned on the music stool and looked straight at Olive, 
 with eyes wide open in astonishment. 
 
 " Look at the way she behaved to-night ! " contin- 
 ued Olive, whom the sight of Boadicea thus facing her 
 seemed to exasperate still further. 
 
 " How did I behave to-nightj Olive ? " queried 
 Boadicea. 
 
 " In a perfectly ridiculous fashion I The way you 
 threw yourself at Lieutenant Carrington's head was 
 positively indecent ! " 
 
 " Olive! " exclaimed the younger girl reproachfully. 
 
 But Olive felt spiteful, and was not inclined to 
 mince her words or to spare her sister's feelings. 
 
 " He was quite bewildered," she said. " I could 
 see it on his face. He did not know how to respond 
 to your bold advances. Gentlemen who are accus- 
 tomed to the usages of good society and to the man- 
 ners of well-educated young ladies don't always know 
 how to deal with the embarrassing attentions whicH
 
 A FULL-BLOWN YOUNG WOMAN iii 
 
 they get from country girls. No wonder Lieutenant 
 Carrington left so soon after supper! " 
 
 " He said quite early in the evening that he would 
 have to rejoin his ship the moment he had swallowed 
 his supper," protested Boadicea. 
 
 " Oh, he would not have gone so soon, I feel sure, 
 if your behaviour had not rendered his stay uncom- 
 fortable." 
 
 " He certainly seemed in a great hurry to depart," 
 commented Aunt Caroline. 
 
 Whereupon Boadicea ran to her sister in an agony 
 of repentance. She fell on her knees, and, in her ha- 
 bitual impulsive way, put her arms around Olive's 
 shoulders. 
 
 " I did not think that I had done any wrong! " she 
 cried tearfully. " Oh, Olive dear, I wish you could 
 teach me to be more like you ! " 
 
 "There, there, child!" said Olive, somewhat molli- 
 fied, though still rather acid and impatient. " For 
 gracious sake, don't cry! Your nose is inclined to be 
 red at all times; it will look swollen if you cry after 
 a meal. They'll teach you manners at boarding 
 school, and after that you must exercise proper self- 
 restraint." 
 
 " Yes, Olive," murmured the girl meekly. 
 
 " It is not a bit of good showing a man that you 
 like him. The more you try to run after him, the 
 quicker he will evade you," continued Lady Jeffreys 
 sententiously. 
 
 " I am sure," protested Boadicea, " that I neither 
 like Lieutenant Carrington, nor did I have any desire 
 to run after him, as you put it."
 
 112 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 ^ " Well, cliild, you acted as if you did ! But there, 
 in heaven's name, don't start whimpering again, and 
 don't hang round me Hke this ! You would ruin any- 
 one's clothes ! " 
 
 " Go back to your spinet, child ! " concluded Aunt 
 Caroline. *' Olive and I have many things to talk 
 over, and your uncle gets fidgetty at this hour if you 
 stop singing." 
 
 Boadicea rose obediently and went back to the 
 spinet. Tears still hovered on her lashes, for she was 
 finding life more bewildering than she had anticipated. 
 It did not seem quite so easy as she had thought to 
 step from out the guise of a savage into that of a 
 young lady. A silk frock and mincing ways were not 
 sufficient, it appears. With humiliating self-depreca- 
 tion Boadicea reviewed her own conduct most unfa- 
 vourably, and, though she was quite sure that she did 
 not care the least little bit what Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton thought of her or her behaviour, she was equally 
 convinced that she cared a great deal for Olive's opin- 
 ion of her. 
 
 Her fingers now wandered idly over the yellow 
 keys. She had not the heart to sing a lively song, and 
 the only song for which she seemed to have a fancy 
 just now was " On the Banks of Allan Water," and 
 her voice lingered lovingly over the last line : " There 
 a corpse lay she." 
 
 Tears came to her eyes whilst she sang; for some 
 reason, which she could not have explained, she felt 
 inexpressibly sad. The delight of seeing Olive had 
 been marred in some way which she did not altogether 
 understand. Her own behaviour, shq thought, must
 
 A FULL-BLOWN YOUNG WOMAN 113 
 
 have had something to do with it, for the young girl 
 was far too loyal to admit even to herself that there 
 was any coldness or ill-temper in the sister whom she 
 idolised. 
 
 For awhile the low hum of conversation between 
 Aunt Caroline and Olive reached her ears, even 
 through the melancholy music of " The Banks of 
 Allan Water." Then after awhile there was silence in 
 that part of the room; Aunt Caroline was busy with 
 her knitting and OHve was wrapped in meditations of 
 a pleasant nature, no doubt, for her ill-temper seemed 
 to have vanished and there was a satisfied smile 
 around her lips. 
 
 In the meanwhile Cousin Barnaby was making his 
 presence felt in the house; in fact, he never allowed 
 anyone to forget his existence for long. Now he was, 
 as usual, calling for Aunt Caroline in a loud and un- 
 mannerly voice right across the hall. 
 
 "Cousin Caroline! Where the deuce are you?" 
 
 Uncle Jasper clutched his book. Cousin Barnaby 
 had always the power to rouse him from his medita- 
 tions, and now he half rose from his chair, obviously 
 prepared to beat a precipitate retreat. But Aunt Car- 
 oline guessed his purpose, and before he could move 
 out of his chair she had pinned him down again into 
 it by vigorously pressing on his shoulder with a de- 
 termined hand. 
 
 " No, no, Jasper ! " she said resolutely, " you shan't 
 go and perch upon that ladder of yours just now. I 
 want you here. Now is the time." 
 
 " Tempus edax verum," murmured Uncle Jasper 
 with a melancholy sigh.
 
 1 14 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " I said," rejoined Aunt Caroline sternly, " that now 
 is the time to put your foot down, instead of quoting 
 Latin to your lawful wife! " 
 
 In the meanwhile Cousin Barnaby had waddled 
 across the hall, still calling loudly : 
 
 "Caroline, where the devil are you?" which, of 
 course, was excessively ill-mannered and impolite of 
 him, considering that he was a most unwelcome guest 
 in Uncle Jasper's house. He now entered the parlour, 
 looking for all the world like an over-fed drake; his 
 napkin was still tied around his neck and hung down 
 his chest like a bib. He had certainly overeaten him- 
 self, for his face was very red and his fishy eyes 
 looked bleary. 
 
 " Strange," he said as he entered the room, " that 
 women are never to be found when they are most 
 wanted, and always about the place when you least de- 
 sire their presence." 
 
 Uncle Jasper, egged on by Aunt Caroline, appeared 
 to be making a gigantic effort to put his foot down; 
 but the effort only resulted in the meek remark : 
 
 " Exceptio probat regulam ! " which brought forth 
 an irritable " Don't do that, Jasper ! " from Cousin 
 Barnaby. 
 
 At this point Sir Baldwin entered the room. He 
 had given orders that his horse be brought round, for 
 now he had no longer any excuse for lingering at Old 
 Manor Farm, and he really did want to reach Ash ford 
 well before midnight. 
 
 As his wife made no motion to go up and speak to 
 him, he made his way to the spinet, where Boadicea 
 etill sat idly fingering the keys.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A MUCH-WRONGED WOMAN 
 
 Cousin Barnaby had not yet completed his list of 
 grievances ere he retired for the night. 
 
 " And I have an idea, Caroline, that Susan has again 
 forgotten to put a hot bottle in my bed." 
 
 " But I thought — " she protested. 
 
 " Then you shouldn't think ! " he interposed rudely. 
 " I hate women to think of anything — except of mak- 
 ing people comfortable! And I still think that when 
 I go upstairs I may find that there's no hot bottle in 
 my bed." 
 
 " I'll see to it, Barnaby," said Aunt Caroline meekly. 
 
 " And put Jasper to bed. If I hear any more of 
 his abominable Latin I shan't sleep a wink all night ! " 
 
 " Yes, Barnaby." 
 
 All her determination seemed to have vanished, and 
 she was no more likely to put her foot down than poor 
 Uncle Jasper himself. Cousin Barnaby 's tyranny 
 over her good nature and her weak will had, in spite 
 of all resolutions to the contrary, not received the 
 slightest check throughout the day; in fact, it had as- 
 serted itself more overpoweringly than ever, and to 
 such an extent that now, when he calmly ordered his 
 hostess to take his host up to bed, neither of them even 
 thought of disobeying. 
 
 Come along, Jasper," said she, taking Uncle Jas- 
 
 115 
 
 ((
 
 ii6 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 per's arm ; " your bedtime has come and gone by long 
 ago. Come to bed now! Sir Baldwin will excuse 
 you." 
 
 Thus appealed to, Sir Baldwin Jeffreys came for- 
 ward and put out his hand with cordial farewell. 
 
 " I'll say good-night and farewell," he said pleas- 
 antly, " and thank 'ee again, Mr. Hemingford, for all 
 your kindness." 
 
 " Good-night, good-night ! " murmured Uncle Jas- 
 per absently. " It is very early yet to say good- 
 night ! " 
 
 " The hour is getting late," he said kindly. " Mrs. 
 Hemingford, will you forgive me if I now take my 
 leave?" 
 
 "Must you really be going, Sir Baldwin?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " By your leave, Mrs. Hemingford." 
 
 " Your horse is saddled," she said, " and Topcoat 
 has brought him round; but won't you change your 
 mind again and wait until the morning? " 
 
 " Not this time, thank you, Mrs. Hemingford. I 
 must indeed be going. If I do not reach Ash ford to- 
 night I cannot start for London early to-morrow, and 
 my business is pressing." 
 
 " You must have something hot to drink before you 
 start." 
 
 "No, no; I thank you!" he said, laughing; "your 
 kind hospitality has dealt over generously with me 
 already. I'll just say good-night to Mr. Hemingford 
 and then make an immediate start. Please don't trou- 
 ble further about me. I hate to give you all this 
 trouble just when you are all going to bed! "
 
 A MUCH-WRONGED WOMAN 117 
 
 " It would have been better to make an earlier 
 Start," said Cousin Barnaby blandly. 
 
 " Not at all ! ■ — not at all ! " rejoined Aunt Caroline. 
 " We have been delighted to have Sir Baldwin's com- 
 pany ! If you will excuse me, sir, I'll just see my hus- 
 band up to his room, else he would be giving me the 
 slip, and I would find him an hour hence perching on 
 the top of a ladder and quoting Latin at a pack of 
 stuffed lizards. Jasper," she added, " Sir Baldwin 
 Jeffreys is bidding you farewell ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " said Uncle Jasper kindly, " I am sorry you 
 must go, Sir Baldwin! You must come over some 
 day when you have more leisure, and go through my 
 collection of British beetles. It is the finest in Eng- 
 land ! " 
 
 "Thanks, Mr. Hemingford; I shall be delighted!" 
 
 *' Come along to bed now, Jasper ! " said Aunt Car- 
 oline. 
 
 " But my foot, Caroline ! " he protested meekly ; 
 **my foot — 'cr — you said I was to put my foot 
 down." 
 
 " Oh, go to bed ! " muttered Cousin Barnaby irrita- 
 bly. 
 
 "Yes, Barnaby. Good -night — good -night all! 
 Nunquam non paratus — ever ready — ever ready ! " 
 
 Boadicea ran up to him and kissed him tenderly, for 
 she and Uncle Jasper were the best of friends. Olive 
 yawned as she kissed him good-night, and as Aunt 
 Caroline led him away he murmured pleasantly : 
 
 " Cedant arma togae ■ — we yield to authority — to 
 authority ! "
 
 ii8 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 At the doof Aunt Caroline turned back once more 
 to Sir Baldwin. 
 
 " I'll not say good-night yet, Sir Baldwin/' she said. 
 " I'll be back to see you start." 
 
 Then the door finally closed on them, and Cousin 
 Barnaby gave a final grunt : 
 
 " What a deal of fuss there is," he said, " when a 
 married man goes to bed ! " 
 
 " The only thing," interposed Lady Jeffreys, with a 
 yawn, " worth doing in the country is to go to bed. 
 Good-night, child I " she added, turning to her sister, 
 " I'll to my room." 
 
 " May I come with you, Olive? " pleaded the young 
 girl softly. " I would love to help you undress. 
 May I?" 
 
 "If you like," replied the other carelessly. 
 
 " I'll run and see that your room is in order, then." 
 
 And away she ran, grateful even for this careless 
 ^vord of approval, happy to be of service and to bask 
 in the presence of the sister whom she loved. Here 
 was the nature that was always prepared to give of 
 the fulness of love, and content to take the crumbs 
 of affection which fell from a careless and a barren 
 heart. From childhood upwards she had been taught 
 to worship and admire the beautiful elder sister, and 
 it had never even entered her young mind to expect 
 anything from Olive in return, save perhaps occasional 
 approval and a tacit acceptance of her whole-hearted 
 devotion. 
 
 She was a woman born to love, rather, perhaps, 
 than to be loved. Her heart wa^ too generous to ac- 
 cept ; it was forever giving.
 
 A MUCH-WRONGED WOMAN 119 
 
 Sir Baldwin's glance followed her somewhat wist- 
 fully. He could not help at this moment contrasting 
 the two sisters in his mind. And yet — how strange 
 and perverse is human nature ! — whilst giving un- 
 grudging admiration to little Boadicea's splendid 
 qualities, his heart found a hundred excuses for Olive's 
 selfishness and egoism. His love for her had never 
 cooled, in spite of the hard trials to which she put his 
 devotion, and at any moment, even now that she had 
 so wilfully deceived and angered him, he was only too 
 ready to own himself in the wrong and to sue for par- 
 don, there where forgiveness should really have come 
 from him. 
 
 He had stepped out into the hall to see the last of 
 little Boadicea, for she had already taken more formal 
 leave of him, and he was standing there, still and with 
 sorrow and doubt in his heart, when Lady Jeffreys 
 casually brushed past him. 
 
 " Farewell, Sir Baldwin, since you must go," she 
 said lightly, and, smothering a yawn, " I wish you a 
 pleasant journey and a more comfortable sojourn in 
 town now that you are so happily rid of me." 
 
 " Surely, Olive," he retorted earnestly, even whilst 
 he stretched out to her a kindly, generous hand, into 
 which she, after a moment's hesitation, carelessly 
 placed her own, " surely you'll take kinder leave of me 
 than this?" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders with bored indifference. 
 
 " What would you like me to say ? " she asked 
 coldly. 
 
 " Anything that your heart might dictate." 
 My heart is too sore," she said, " and too deeply 
 
 <c
 
 120 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 wounded to dictate anything more to me than an in- 
 different farewell." 
 
 " Wounded ? " he retorted. " Great God ! you can 
 talk of a wounded heart when for months now you 
 have done nothing but trample on my devotion, 
 sneered at my love, and made of me the most wretched 
 of men? " 
 
 " And what have you done, pray, for the past two 
 years but angered me till I could bear it no longer? 
 What have you done recently but flout me and insult 
 me at every turn until I have become the laughing- 
 stock of society and an object of pity to my friends? 
 Truly," she added, whilst wrathful tears rose to her 
 eyes, " if marriages are made in Heaven, some of 
 them at any rate are finished up in hell ! " 
 
 Her voice, always somewhat high-pitched, had risen 
 in her anger until it echoed right round the oak-pan- 
 elled hall. Sir Baldwin cast a quick, apprehensive 
 glance round him, and, seeing that the door into the 
 parlour was open, he said hastily : 
 
 "Olive, I pray you — be careful in what you say! 
 Someone may hear you." 
 
 " Please don't mind me ! " came in placid accents 
 from Cousin Barnaby in the parlour ; " there's nothing 
 I enjoy more than overhearing a matrimonial squab- 
 ble. It causes me to appreciate more keenly the fact 
 that I am a bachelor." 
 
 " And I do not care who hears me ! " retorted Olive 
 defiantly. " I have no cause to hide my misery from 
 anyone's eyes. You make it patent enough to every- 
 body!" 
 
 " I? " he ejaculated in surprise.
 
 A MUCH-WRONGED WOMAN 121 
 
 tc 
 
 Yes, you ! " she said in tearful anger, whilst sobs 
 seemed to be choking her throat. " Why am I here 
 now, I ask you, to the derision of half London and 
 the pity and contempt of all my friends? You 
 dragged me away from town in the height of the sea- 
 son, whether I wished to come away or not, just like 
 a child who has been naughty and is being sent back 
 to school ! And all because of your senseless, insane 
 jealousy ! I cannot look at a man or speak to anyone 
 in a friendly manner without your suspicions of my 
 honesty being immediately aroused. You do not seem 
 to realise that such suspicious jealousy is offensive and 
 insulting in the extreme, and that no woman with the 
 least sense of pride and dignity would fail bitterly to 
 resent it. Look at your conduct to-night ! " she 
 added, lashing herself more and more into emotional 
 fury, and becoming more and more unguarded in her 
 language ; *' because Lieutenant Carrington — quite 
 unknown to me, on my honour ! — happens to be on 
 matters of duty in this neighbourhood, and to be in 
 this house to-night, your conduct becomes so offensive 
 to me and to him that he is obliged to leave directly 
 after supper, and all the servants' tongues now are 
 wagging at my expense ! " 
 
 This last attack was so unexpected that It left Sir 
 Baldwin wholly unprepared and very much bewil- 
 dered. He thought that he had done his best to hide 
 the mortification which he had felt when first he heard 
 that Lieutenant Carrington was in the immediate 
 neighbourhood of Old Manor Farm. He had even 
 prided himself on how well he had succeeded in this, 
 and succeeded in persuading his over indulgent heart
 
 122 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 that Olive's desire to spend some weeks at her aunt's 
 house was a pure matter of coincidence, and that she 
 had known nothing of Lieutenant Carrington's pres- 
 ence in Thanet when she made the arrangement. 
 
 He had also been so much amused by Boadicea's 
 suddenly altered demeanour that he had really paid 
 but little heed to Lieutenant Carrington. His wife's 
 accusations, therefore, took him wholly by surprise. 
 He thought that indeed he must have shown remark- 
 able ill-temper quite unbeknown to himself. 
 
 " Surely," he stammered, feeling profoundly apolo- 
 getic, "your ladyship is pleased to exaggerate? Be- 
 lieve me, I — " 
 
 *' No, no ! " she broke in vehemently, " I'll take no 
 excuse! My heart, as I remarked before, is too 
 deeply grieved for words. Your horse is saddled," 
 she continued a little more calmly, " and it is best 
 that you should go now — your absence may ease the 
 burden of my sorrow and heal the wounds which your 
 cruel jealousy has dealt me. I'll try and forget! " 
 
 Here she almost broke down. The tears were 
 trickling down her cheeks and emotion had gripped 
 her by the throat. She paused a moment, making 
 noble efforts to control herself, and her face now 
 looked singularly pathetic in its grief. 
 
 " But please go now," she whispered with sorrow- 
 ful gentleness. " It is best, I think, that we should 
 be parted for a little while, and I am afraid that I 
 might break down under the strain of so much trouble. 
 No, no ; please do not approach me ! " for he had in- 
 stinctively drawn near to her as she spoke. " I could 
 not bear it ! — not now. ,Good-night ! Good-bye ! "
 
 A MUCH-WRONGED WOMAN 123 
 
 Pressing her handkerchief to her eyes, for she was 
 crying bitterly, she turned away from him and slowly 
 walked upstairs. Sir Baldwin himself felt overcome 
 by emotion. Her pathetic appeal had gone to his 
 heart; he felt himself to be a brute and a tyrant, who 
 had wholly misunderstood the simple and childlike 
 nature of an innocent young girl, who knew nothing 
 of the world, and whom it was his duty to protect and 
 not to render miserable. 
 
 He watched his wife's retreating figure with an ever- 
 increasing feeling of remorse and of tenderness, chid- 
 ing himself for an ill-mannered lout and a cruel task- 
 master. He made resolve better to understand her in 
 future, to be more forbearing and more trustful. It 
 was terrible to hear her sobs dying away in the dis- 
 tance as she mounted the stairs. 
 
 "Is she often taken like that?" queried a bland 
 voice close at his elbow.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A JEALOUS MAN 
 
 Cousin Barnaby had come out of the parlour, and 
 was standing beside Sir Baldwin. He, too, seemed 
 to have been watching Lady Jeffreys's retreating figure 
 as she went upstairs. 
 
 "Is she often taken like that?" he reiterated, nod- 
 ding in the direction of the door through which Olive 
 had disappeared. 
 
 " No, no ! " replied Sir Baldwin, who seemed some- 
 what absent, and like a man talking to himself rather 
 than to an indifferent listener. " No, I have never 
 seen her like this before — so emotional — so appeal- 
 ing and gentle — as if she really cared ! It is a new 
 phase in her complex character which I had not ob- 
 served before." 
 
 " A new fiddlesticks ! " rejoined Cousin Barnaby 
 calmly. "As for me, sir, when a woman begins to 
 cry, I immediately begin to suspect ! " 
 
 " To suspect what? " queried Sir Baldwin abruptly. 
 
 "Mischief!" replied Mr. Crabtree curtly. 
 
 "Mischief?" 
 
 ".Yes, sir — mischief! Women live in mischief 
 as a bird does in feathers. If you suspect them, you 
 deceive yourself; if you don't, they deceive you! " 
 
 Now, we all know that there is nothing on earth so 
 eas;^ to arouse as dormant jealousy. If it is there, 
 
 124
 
 A JEALOUS MAN 125 
 
 iand it sleeps, the merest whisper will awaken it. In 
 a moment the remorse and good resolutions of a while 
 ago fled to the four winds. The poisoned sting of a 
 venomous wasp had wrought its evil already. 
 
 " But surely you don't think — " murmured Sir 
 Baldwin. 
 
 Then he paused, for he was ashamed to display his 
 jealous suspicions before this vulgar, obese creature, 
 who seemed to wallow in mischief -making as a fly 
 does in honey. 
 
 "Oh!" said Mr. Crabtree blandly, "I don't think 
 anything! I came here for peace, and the very 
 thought of clandestine meetings and lovers' intrigues 
 is abhorrent to me. The worst of it is, sir, that there 
 are too many women about the place. Women and 
 sailors, as I have remarked to you before, are the most 
 peace-disturbing elements in the world ! That fool 
 Jasper shouldn't live so near the sea. Inland you get 
 the women, but not the sailors. I had a bilious attack 
 once, but no headache. It was quite tolerable." 
 
 But he might have gone on rambling along in his 
 talk like this for hours. Sir Baldwin was paying no 
 attention to him; he was nursing the aching sting 
 which the poisonous wasp had left in his heart. 
 
 " Tears," he murmured, " tears ! " 
 
 Then, with sudden fury, he muttered through 
 clenched teeth: 
 
 "Oh, if I thought that!" 
 
 All his wrath had returned, and his jealous suspi- 
 cions were fully aroused. It was strange that for the 
 second time to-day these strong suspicions should 
 have come to him just when his horse had been
 
 126 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 brought rouncl, iand he had been ready to start. It 
 almost seemed as if Fate was giving him a warning, 
 telHng him not to go. 
 
 But now surely he could frame no excuse for delay- 
 ing his departure. He would become the laughing- 
 stock of the household by remaining here another 
 twenty- four hours. He could not stay at Old Manor 
 Farm, guarding his wife until the Dolphin had raised 
 anchor, and in the meanwhile he would be incurring 
 still further the hatred and contempt of Olive. 
 
 Aunt Caroline was even now coming down the 
 stairs with Sir Baldwin's mantle on her arm and his 
 hat in her hand. 
 
 *' I hope I haven't kept you waiting? " she said as 
 she descended ; " your mantle and hat were so covered 
 in dust I had to give them a brushing." 
 
 " Oh, thank you so much, Mrs. Hemingford ! " said 
 Sir Baldwin, rousing himself from his unpleasant 
 meditations ; *' indeed, I seem to have been giving you 
 a great deal of trouble to-day! '* 
 
 " No, no ; it was no trouble 1 " she said in her usual 
 fussy way. " Do come into the dining-room now. A 
 hot stirrup-cup awaits you there." 
 
 " No, no ! A thousand thanks, dear Mrs. Heming- 
 ford, I really could not take it ! " 
 
 " But you don't look well, Sir Baldwin ! Really you 
 should just take something- — you have looked upset 
 all the day." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; just a little upset, dear Mrs. Heming- 
 ford ! I — I haven't felt quite myself all to-day. The 
 heat, I think. It's nothing, I assure you, and please 
 don't think any more about it."
 
 A JEALOUS MAN 127 
 
 " A little dandelion root," she suggested, " with a 
 dash of sweet oil ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is it ! " he said more cheerily ; " a good 
 household remedy is all I want. And now it is fully 
 time that I went. A thousand pardons, dear Mrs. 
 Hemingford! I ought not to have kept you up so 
 late!" 
 
 She helped him on with his mantle and he took his 
 hat from her. 
 
 " I ought to have gone half an hour ago ! " he added, 
 cordially shaking hands with Aunt Caroline first and 
 then with Mr. Crabtree, who responded very coolly. 
 " Good-night again, and good-bye, dear Mrs. Heming- 
 ford! And — and — " 
 
 He drew nearer to her, and at the same time cast a 
 quick glance at Barnaby Crabtree, to see if he were 
 out of earshot. 
 
 " Yes, Sir Baldwin? " said Aunt Caroline, who felt 
 still a little anxious about him, owing to his agitated 
 manner. 
 
 " You will look after Olive, won't you? " he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " Of course we will! " 
 
 " You don't think — you don't really think that she 
 would — " 
 
 "That she would what?" 
 
 " Nothing, nothing ! " he concluded hastily, once 
 more shaking her by the hand. " Good-night, Mrs. 
 Hemingford ! " 
 
 She felt a little puzzled, and gravely shook her head 
 as she went to open the front door for him.
 
 128 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 He raised his hat and made her a final bow, and at 
 last went out into the night. 
 
 The full moon lit up the narrow white lane as it 
 went winding upwards in ribbonlike curves towards 
 the main Ramsgate road. Every tree and every leaf 
 upon the trees stood clear and distinct against the in- 
 tense blue of the sky. From afar came the soft, in- 
 cessant murmur of the sea, dashing her breakers 
 against the white cliffs far away. Intense peace 
 reigned all round; only the south wind, which came 
 breathing gently from the coast, stirred the delicate 
 leaves of the poplars, till they glittered like silver in 
 the moonlight. 
 
 When Sir Baldwin Jeffreys had given Topcoat half 
 a sovereign, and was mounted ready to start, he caught 
 Aunt Caroline's anxious eyes fixed curiously upon 
 him. She was standing in the doorway, and he bent 
 down from his saddle as if he desired to say a final 
 word to her. 
 
 She came up to him, and patted his horse's neck, 
 whilst he whispered very earnestly to her : 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Hemingford, take care of Olive! She 
 is very young and — and — a little thoughtless. I 
 beg of you to keep an eye on her! " 
 
 The tears were gathering in her eyes, for he spoke 
 very gently and sorrowfully; and, indeed, she was 
 quite sure that he was a kind man and Olive very 
 thoughtless and wilful. 
 
 She made him the promise which he asked of her; 
 then he once more bade her farewell, and, pressing 
 his knees against his saddle, he turned out of the 
 drive.
 
 A JEALOUS MAN 129 
 
 Aunt Caroline watched him for awhile from the 
 doorway with the puzzled look still in her face. 
 
 " Dear me ! " she sighed, " I wonder what has dis- 
 turbed him? What a strange temper he was in all 
 day, to be sure ! — at times so furious and the next 
 moment quite sad and gentle. There he goes ! " she 
 added, as Sir Baldwin, having turned out of the gates 
 into the lane, set spurs to his horse and set off at a 
 gallop — " there he goes, lashing into his poor horse I 
 I wonder now what has upset him? " 
 
 " His liver, most likely," said Mr. Crabtree placidly. 
 " I found him a most disturbing person. I am glad 
 that he, at least, has gone away." 
 
 And Aunt Caroline having lighted his candle for 
 him, he waddled off with it like a big, fat drake to- 
 wards the stairs, and then up to that part of the house 
 where his bedroom was situated. 
 
 But Aunt Caroline shook her head. She was not 
 altogether satisfied in her own mind. However, for 
 the moment she carefully shut and bolted the front 
 door, then she called loudly to Susan.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A FAIR TEMPTRESS 
 
 Susan was already standing at the foot of the 
 stairs, candle in hand. 
 
 "What are you doing there, Susan?" asked Aunt 
 Caroline sharply. 
 
 " Nothing, ma'am! " replied Susan with a grin. 
 
 " Then leave off at once, and close up for the night." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am!" 
 
 Nominally it was Susan who closed up for the night 
 at Old Manor Farm, but actually it was Aunt Caro- 
 line who saw that every shutter was put up and every 
 bolt gone home. Topcoat fastened all the outside 
 gates and made the round of the house, lanthorn in 
 hand, to see that everything was safe before he finally 
 retired for the night in the little cottage which closely 
 adjoined the old house. 
 
 From the floor upstairs there came from time to 
 time the sound of Cousin Barnaby's raucous voice, 
 calling loudly: 
 
 "Caroline!" 
 
 " Yes, Barnaby ! " she would shout in response ; but 
 she made no attempt to go upstairs until she was satis- 
 fied that all the closing up had been conscientiously 
 done. 
 
 Then she ordered Susan up to bed, and she followed 
 -— the last to go up — first paying a visit to Cousin 
 
 130
 
 A FAIR TEMPTRESS 131 
 
 Barnaby's room to see that he had everything he 
 wanted, then knocking at Olive's door to ask if she 
 was all right, then going into Boadicea's room to kiss 
 her " good-night," and finally going to her own room, 
 where she had to scold Uncle Jasper, who was sitting 
 up reading by the light of a candle, which everyone 
 knows is a very dangerous thing to do with so much 
 dry woodwork about. 
 
 At last every noise in the house was hushed. It was 
 dark from attic to cellar, and soon even the lights which 
 peeped through the narrow chinks of the doors of 
 various bedrooms were extinguished one by one. 
 
 Apparently everybody inside Old Manor Farm was 
 asleep. From Cousin Barnaby's bedroom came the 
 sound of vigorous snoring, but otherwise everything 
 was still. From outside there only came the soft 
 sighing of the breeze through the quivering poplar 
 leaves, and at times from the distant marshes the call 
 of bittern or heron, or perhaps the lowing of a cow 
 in distress. 
 
 The footsteps of Topcoat had resounded for awhile 
 as he made his tour of inspection round the house; 
 then these, too, died away, and the silence of the night 
 fell upon the old house and its sleeping inmates. 
 
 Downstairs in the hall the old grandfather clock 
 struck ten. 
 
 Two minutes later a door on the upstairs floor was 
 very softly opened, and a figure, clad in diaphanous 
 white, emerged tip-toeing upon the landing. Through 
 the windows the rays of the moon struck full on this 
 part of the house, throwing into bold relief the top 
 of the staircase, with the closed dog-gate, and the
 
 132 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 richly carved balustrade, and the dark oak doors with 
 their knobs of shining brass, which gave on the sev- 
 eral bedrooms on this landing. 
 
 Now it also lit up with its soft, silvery light the 
 figure of Lady Jeffreys, candle in hand, silently cross- 
 ing the landing and noiselessly descending the stairs. 
 
 From outside came the muffled sound of a horse's 
 hoofs on the sandy lane. Olive paused halfway down 
 the stairs, listening intently. The horse's steps had 
 halted just outside the gates of the drive. She waited 
 a moment until she heard a man's footsteps on the 
 gravel, then she ran quickly down the last flight of 
 stairs, shielding the light of the candle with her hand 
 against the draught, and found herself in the hall op- 
 posite the door which gave on the museum. 
 
 This was locked, of course, and bolted. Olive had 
 to put the candle down before she could manage to 
 unfasten all the bolts; these gave her a good deal of 
 trouble, for she had to push them very gently, lest 
 anyone should hear. The dogs had started barking in 
 the distant cottage gardens, and, to Olive's anxious 
 mind, it seemed as if presently the entire household 
 would be astir. She had no idea that a nocturnal visit 
 in a country house would be fraught with quite so 
 much danger of discovery. 
 
 At last she had contrived to open the door of the 
 museum, and she now found herself in the long, nar- 
 row room with fantastic shapes of birds and beasts all 
 round her, the tallow candle flickering in her hand 
 and throwing huge grim shadows against the white- 
 washed walls and the raftered ceiling. 
 
 A slight sense of superstitious terror sent a cold
 
 A FAIR TEMPTRESS 133 
 
 shiver down her spine. Great, gaunt arms seemed to 
 be pointing at her from every corner of the room, and 
 wide-open jaws to be gaping at her, showing polished 
 white teeth. 
 
 One of the dogs at Topcoat's cottage was still 
 growling, but the others further away had apparently 
 gone to sleep, satisfied. Shaking off her nervousness, 
 Olive put down her candle and boldly went to the 
 outer door. Here she found less difficulty in undoing 
 the bolts ; though large and heavy, they worked easily 
 in their sockets. In a few moments she had undone 
 them, and also the chain. But she did not open the 
 door; she went back to the centre of the room and 
 calmly proceeded to light the lamp which stood upon 
 the table. 
 
 Whilst she was thus occupied, there came a knock 
 at the outer door. She said " Come in! " in an even 
 voice, and finished adjusting the wick of the lamp 
 until it burned clear and bright. 
 
 In the meanwhile Lieutenant Carrington had en- 
 tered. He was looking round him now, somewhat 
 bewildered, and when Lady Jeffreys turned to him, 
 and impulsively held out both her hands, he said apolo- 
 getically : 
 
 " A thousand pardons, Lady Jeffreys ! Am I very- 
 late? You said ten o'clock, did you not? and it is 
 only a few minutes since I heard the hour strike on 
 Minster tower." 
 
 " No," she said with a winning smile, " you are not 
 late. Jack ! Just in time, in fact, for Mr. Crabtree is 
 snoring and everyone is fast asleep." 
 
 *' Then let me acquit myself of my duty," he re-
 
 134 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 joined. " I have brought your letters, Lady Jeffreys. 
 I came as quickly as I could, but when I saw the house 
 looking so dark and quiet I was half afraid to come 
 near." 
 
 Whilst he spoke he was fumbling in the pocket of 
 his coat, and presently he drew from it a packet of 
 letters held together by a rose-coloured band. 
 
 " It was very presumptuous of me to keep them at 
 all, Lady Jeffreys, and do please try and believe me 
 when I give you my word that at your command I 
 would have destroyed them to-night, and thus spared 
 you the annoyance of this visit if I could." 
 
 He was still holding the letters, but she made no 
 movement to take them from him; she stood for 
 awhile looking at him with eyes that seemed to shim- 
 mer in the lamplight, and then she walked deliberately 
 to the sofa and sat down. 
 
 " Come and sit by me, Jack ! " she said invitingly. 
 
 " But, Lady Jeffreys," he urged, " do you not think 
 that I ought to be going? On my honour, I should 
 not have come at all, had I not pledged my word to 
 you! You have said yourself that the household was 
 abed." 
 
 " Well ! " she retorted with gentle Irony, " and are 
 you frightened to spend a little time alone with me? " 
 
 " No ! But I think that Mr. and Mrs. Hemingford 
 would ill approve of my being here at this hour. I 
 feel that I am repaying like a cad their kindness and 
 hospitality." 
 
 " And has it never struck you. Jack," she said 
 earnestly, " that there is someone in the world more 
 Important than yourself?"
 
 A FAIR TEMPTRESS 135 
 
 (( 
 
 There are thousands of people in the world more 
 important than myself, Lady Jeffreys! " 
 
 " Yet you only think of yourself at this moment! " 
 
 " I don't quite understand." 
 
 " I mean," she said, with increased vehemence, 
 "that, manlike, you have talked of nothing since you 
 came into this room but of your honour, and your 
 promise, and your feelings when you found that the 
 household was abed, and your return for Aunt Caro- 
 line's hospitality. For me you have not one thought, 
 not one consideration. Think what I have risked in 
 the past few months in order to give you pleasure! 
 The letters which now lie on the table, which you have 
 60 carelessly thrown aside, testify to a woman's self- 
 lessness as against man's egotism. I did not give a 
 thought to my own reputation, my own peace of mind, 
 or the opinion of other people; but I thought a great 
 deal of you. Jack, and of making you happy." 
 
 " You have made me very proud, Lady Jeffreys, 
 both in the past and at the present moment; but I 
 should prove the blackest ingrate, as well as an arrant 
 scoundrel, if I did not now beg your leave to go! " 
 
 Unconsciously Jack Carrington's voice had become 
 more trenchant and hard. He was not by any means 
 the unsophisticated young bumpkin whom Lady Jef- 
 freys could hold under her thumb. He had realised 
 by now that he had been trapped into this anomalous 
 position, humiliating to any man of feeling and of 
 honour, and that he had fallen stupidly into the trap 
 from which now he would find it very difficult to 
 extricate himself without leaving behind him a few 
 shreds of his own self-respect.
 
 136 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " You shall go directly, Jack," she said, holding out 
 her hand to him with a winning gesture ; " but not just 
 yet. Come and sit down here and let us talk. Five 
 minutes," she pleaded ; " there, and I promise you that 
 you shall go ! " 
 
 Then as he very reluctantly complied, and sat down 
 next to her, feeling angry with himself for what he 
 termed his weakness, chiding himself for his stupidity, 
 she settled herself down amongst the cushions like a 
 kitten that has found a comfy, downy place in which 
 to curl up contentedly. 
 
 " There now ! " she said, " am I such a formidable 
 ogress that you should be afraid of spending half an 
 hour alone with me? Come now! tell me, did you 
 not guess that I could not bear to part from you whilst 
 jealous eyes watched our every movement? " 
 
 " There was no question of parting. Lady Jeffreys. 
 I hope that we may often meet again." 
 
 " How cold you are ! I thought that you cared for 
 me. Jack ! " 
 
 "Lady Jeffreys!" 
 
 " Why not call me Olive ? " 
 
 " Lady Jeffreys ! " he said firmly, " may I go now? " 
 
 "Yes, yes! You may go — directly; but not just 
 yet, and not — not like this ! " 
 
 She was leaning towards him, her eyes seeking his, 
 the tendrils of her hair brushing against his cheek, 
 her hand stealing forward to meet his. 
 
 " We could be so happy together. Jack," she mur- 
 mured, " if only you thought a little less of yourself 
 and a little more of me! You don't seem to under- 
 stand how a woman can thirst for happiness — how
 
 A FAIR TEMPTRESS 137 
 
 she longs for some response to the burning wishes of 
 her heart ! Oh, if you only would listen to your heart, 
 Jack, which — I know it — I feel it — already beats 
 for me! " 
 
 And two lovely white arms crept round Jack Car- 
 rington's neck and a pair of red lips asked for a kiss. 
 He was young and she was beautiful; \vho would be 
 Pharisaic enough to condemn him if just then his heart 
 was softened and his resolutions gave way before this 
 charming temptress, who offered her beauty so un- 
 reservedly to his caress? 
 
 Jack Carrington was only a man ; there was nothing 
 of the saint about him, and he was heart-whole. No 
 other woman's image interposed itself between him 
 and the exquisite ripe and luscious fruit which only 
 asked to be plucked and enjoyed. 
 
 "Tell me — just once, Jack — that you love me!" 
 she whispered, " and the memory of your voice will 
 make me happy through all the misery of loneliness 
 which I have to endure ! Tell me — just this once — 
 that you love me, and then I promise you that, if you 
 still wish it, you shall go ! " 
 
 It is said — and oft with truth — that the whisper 
 of a beautiful woman is heard above the loudest call 
 of duty. In this case, though the woman was very 
 beautiful, duty had not troubled herself much about 
 calling. But now a slight noise — a creak upon the 
 stairs — suddenly recalled Jack Carrington to himself, 
 even w^hen temptation seemed to be stronger than he 
 could withstand. 
 
 " Hush ! " he said quickly. " Listen ! " 
 
 " What is it, Jack ? " she whispered, and her en-
 
 138 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 circling arms tried to keep him by her side. " Is it 
 so difficult to say the three magic words which will 
 make a lonely woman happy? Only three words, 
 Jack — * I love you ! ' — and I shall be satisfied ! " 
 
 " Hush, I say ! " he said, suddenly wrenching him- 
 self free and jumping to his feet, " there's someone 
 at that door ! " 
 
 This time she obeyed, and the passionate words of 
 reproach died upon her lips. Thus for a moment did 
 they both remain silent, he standing, she half-cower- 
 ing on the sofa, listening intently, with every sense 
 strained, scenting the danger which threatened them, 
 both from that creaking stair and the muffled footsteps 
 which were heard descending. 
 
 Resolutely Jack walked to the door and opened it. 
 The next second he had drawn instinctively away 
 from that open doorway back into the shadow. 
 
 Boadicea, clad in a loose white robe, her brown hair 
 falling in heavy masses over her shoulders, was stand- 
 ing on the threshold.
 
 .CHAPTER Xiy 
 
 A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 
 
 Olive saw her sister and quickly smothered a cry 
 of alarm. She stared at Boadicea for a moment or 
 two as if she were seeing an apparition, or perhaps a 
 somnambulist whose mental consciousness was not 
 present; the young girl certainly made no movement 
 to enter the room. She could not from where she 
 stood see Lieutenant Carrington, but she could see 
 her sister, and was gazing on her with wide, terrified 
 eyes, which gradually softened as she gazed until they 
 became appealing and gradually filled with tears. 
 
 "You?" gasped Olive at last, when she realised 
 that the young girl was indeed here with her full con- 
 sciousness, and obviously with some definite and 
 earnest purpose. " What are you doing here? " 
 
 " I heard your voice, Olive," murmured Boadicea, 
 as she took a step forward into the room. " I 
 knocked at the door once or twice, but you didn't hear 
 me, and I didn't like to come in." 
 
 Now she had seen Jack Carrington, for she had 
 turned her head for a moment, and looked him straight 
 in the face. Her eyes expressed nothing as she did 
 so but amazement, and they wandered from her sis- 
 ter's face to that of the young man, as if trying to 
 understand something which was beyond her compre- 
 hension, 
 
 139
 
 140 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Olive was the first to recover complete mastery 
 over herself. She had been a little scared by her 
 sister's sudden advent, but this feeling soon gave way 
 under a sense of irritation; she was angry with Boa- 
 dicea for having succeeded in frightening her. 
 
 " So you thought you would do a little eavesdrop- 
 ping, eh, little one? " she said acidly. 
 
 " No, no, Olive ! " replied the girl, who indeed now 
 seemed the most frightened of the three. " I came 
 because — " 
 
 She checked herself, for her voice was trembling, 
 and she made a sudden effort to speak more calmly. 
 She came up to the centre table, taking no notice what- 
 ever of Jack, and quietly facing her sister. 
 
 " I couldn't sleep to-night," she said, " and sat by 
 my open window — until just now. I saw a man on 
 horseback in the lane — he dismounted at the gate and 
 came stealthily round the house to the yard." 
 
 " We know all that, child ! " rejoined Olive care- 
 lessly. "Lieutenant Carrington forgot his mantle 
 when he left earlier in the evening, and he came back 
 to fetch it. I also happened to have been sitting at 
 the open window, and, seeing him arrive at so late an 
 hour, guessed that something serious had brought him 
 back, and ran down to open the door for him before 
 he roused the entire household, which he had been on 
 the point of doing." 
 
 Boadicea listened to her sister's peroration quite 
 calmly, then she gravely shook her head. 
 
 "No, no; I was not thinking of Lieutenant Car- 
 rington's arrival, for that, too, did I see ; but that was 
 some time before. It was only a quarter of an hour
 
 A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 141 
 
 ago that I saw this second horseman in the lane — 
 saw him dismount at the gate and then steal round to 
 the yard. He has been prowling round the house for 
 some time. I meant to call Susan at first ; then, when 
 I was on the landing, I thought that I heard your voice 
 coming from the museum." 
 
 " Tush, child, you've been dreaming ! " said Olive, 
 with a shrug of her comely shoulders. " Thieves do 
 not arrive on horseback ! " 
 
 " Hark ! " broke in Boadicea hurriedly, " I can hear 
 his footstep on the gravel now. He is at the front 
 door." 
 
 *' Miss Boadicea is right!" now interposed Jack 
 Carrington firmly. " There is someone in the drive 
 at this moment." 
 
 Olive suddenly became as white as her gown. 
 There are moments in life when the coming danger is 
 so potent, so terrible, that it casts the shadow of an 
 awful prescience over the mind. Olive now saw 
 through the thick walls of this house — saw right 
 through the darkness of the night the owner of those 
 footsteps upon the moonlit drive. She saw the ap- 
 proaching danger, and fear gripped her so suddenly 
 and so overwhelmingly that her heart stood still and 
 her limbs felt weighted with the terrible weight of 
 unreasoning terror. 
 
 " Jack ! " she murmured in a hoarse whisper, " if 
 it should be—" 
 
 She dared not breathe the name, lest its very sound 
 realised all the nameless horror which held her almost 
 physically by the throat.
 
 142 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 ** I'll go and see ! " said Jack Carrington, resolutely 
 turning toward the hall. 
 
 But this Olive would not allow — not without a 
 struggle at any rate ; she would not see her fears made 
 real, her terror become tangible. As Jack with a firm 
 step walked towards the door she ran to him, stretch- 
 ing out both her arms and clinging to him, forcing 
 him to pause. At first she could not speak; a half- 
 inarticulate cry escaped her from time to time, an ap- 
 pealing " No, no ! " and a vigorous, entreating shake 
 of the head. 
 
 Her lips and tongue were so dry that she did not 
 seem able to frame the words, and Boadicea, forget- 
 ting her own puzzlement and her own fears, ran to the 
 loved sister and put her own protecting arms round 
 the trembling figure with a gesture that was quite 
 motherly in its encouraging tenderness. 
 
 " Olive ! " she said softly, " Olive, dear, what is the 
 matter?" 
 
 " Don't go, Jack ! " the poor frightened woman now 
 contrived to say; " don't go to the door! If it should 
 be Sir Baldwin! He was mad with jealousy to-day; 
 he suspected me, perhaps, and has set a watch on me. 
 My God! If it should be he! " 
 
 Jack Carrington stood for a moment irresolute. It 
 was pathetic to see this wretched woman clinging in 
 such terror to him. Instinctively his glance sought 
 that of Boadicea, as if mutely asking her advice as to 
 what was best to be done. 
 
 There came a loud knocking against the front door. 
 The midnight prowler, whoever he was, was tired of
 
 A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 143 
 
 waiting outside, he desired to enter. Olive smoth- 
 ered a cry of anguish. 
 
 " Listen ! " she murmured. " It is Sir Baldwin, I 
 am sure ! " 
 
 " But why should you thinic, Olive, that it is Sir 
 Baldwin ? " urged Boadicea, in a quick, encouraging 
 whisper. " Let me go and see." 
 
 " No, no, child ! " pleaded Olive ; " don't leave me, 
 don't leave me ! I am in danger, little one — in great 
 danger! If my husband finds me here at night — 
 alone with Jack — he may kill me! — he may kill 
 me!" 
 
 " Olive ! " exclaimed the young girl, horrified. 
 
 The knocking at the front door was repeated. This 
 time it was more loud and more peremptory. Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington and Boadicea looked at one another 
 with a feeling of utter helplessness, for Olive was 
 clinging to the young man, clutching at his arm with 
 the frenzied strength of terror, so that he could not 
 move from where he stood. 
 
 " Lady Jeffreys," he urged, " I do entreat you to 
 let me go and open that door! Whoever is knocking 
 there will rouse the house if I do not." 
 
 But she paid no attention to him, and whilst cling- 
 ing to him she made heartrending and incoherent ap- 
 peals to Boadicea. 
 
 " I've done no wrong ! " she pleaded ; " but Sir 
 Baldwin won't understand. I swear to you that I've 
 done no wrong! You believe me, little one, don't 
 you ? Say that you believe me ! " 
 
 " Of course, I believe you, Olive dear; but do allow
 
 144 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Lieutenant Carrington to go to the door. I am sure 
 Aunt Caroline will hear, and will be coming down 
 directly." 
 
 " Promise me — promise me first that you will 
 agree with everything I say to Sir Baldwin." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I promise ! Do go and open the door. 
 Lieutenant Carrington. I can hear Aunt Caroline 
 moving overhead." 
 
 The knocking now was peremptory and incessant; 
 obviously it was bound to rouse the household sooner 
 or later. At Boadicea's promise Olive released Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington's arm; he went out of the room 
 quickly, and his firm step was heard crossing the hall. 
 Within the next few seconds he was busy with the 
 bolts and bars of the front door. 
 
 " Hush ! Listen ! " whispered Olive, when Jack 
 Carrington slipped the chain, and said in an audible 
 whisper : 
 
 " Who are you ? What do you want ? " 
 
 " I am Sir Baldwin Jeffreys ! " came the loud re- 
 sponse. " Open the door before I smash it in! " 
 
 A shiver ran through Olive's frame, and she gath- 
 ered up round her shoulders the filmy folds of a lace 
 scarf which she wore. Her cheeks and lips were of 
 a dull ashen hue and her eyes were dilated so that they 
 looked dark and cavernous in her pale face. 
 
 "It is Sir Baldwin!" she murmured. "You will 
 help me, child. You swear it?" 
 
 " I swear it, Olive ! " said the girl simply. 
 
 Now the sound of men's voices speaking in anger 
 and contempt rang right through the house. 
 
 "Sir Baldwin Jeffreys?"
 
 A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 145 
 
 " Stand back, man ; stand back ! " 
 
 " One moment, Sir Baldwin ! " 
 
 " Not one instant, man ! Let me pass ! " 
 
 " Not before I know — " 
 
 " You shall know nothing until I have dealt with 
 her ! Let me pass, or — " 
 
 But during this brief colloquy Olive had quite re- 
 gained her calm. Hastily, whilst this brief passage of 
 arms went on in the hall, she had readjusted the tum- 
 bled folds of her gown and passed her fingers over 
 the lines of her face, as if instinctively trying to 
 smooth them away. She composed her lips into a 
 conventional smile, and with a great effort she steadied 
 the trembling of her limbs. 
 
 Thus Sir Baldwin saw her, when, with a loud curse 
 and a volent gesture of uncontrollable rage, he pushed 
 past Lieutenant Carrington and strode to the door of 
 the museum. 
 
 " Olive ! " he thundered loudly, as soon as he caught 
 sight of her, "Olive! — as I suspected, by all that's 
 damnable ! " 
 
 She confronted him quite calmly, allowing him a 
 full view of her clear eyes and the contemptuous smile 
 on her lips. He looked wretched and over-tired, his 
 eyes had dark rings round them, and a slight foam ap- 
 peared at the corners of his mouth. He was hatless, 
 and his iron-grey hair was matted against his temples. 
 His clothes and boots were covered with mud, and in 
 his clenched hand he grasped his heavy hunting crop. 
 
 So evil and wrathful did he look that Boadicea's 
 fears all returned to her; she no longer wondered that 
 Olive had been so frightened when first she suspected
 
 146 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 that it was Sir Baldwin who had unexpectedly re- 
 turned. There was such a wild look in his eyes that it 
 was obvious that he had not full consciousness of his 
 actions, and the expression of fury in his face, to- 
 gether with his threatening gestures, showed that a 
 dangerous mood was on him, which might drive him to 
 some awful and desperate deed. 
 
 He looked at no one except at his wife, and as he 
 looked on her the whites of his eyes became bloodshot 
 and a curious hissing sound escaped from his throat. 
 
 There was silence for a second or two whilst he 
 stood in the doorway, preparing, no doubt, for ven- 
 geance, whilst Boadicea felt that the beatings of her 
 heart must be heard through this awful, this appalling 
 stillness; then suddenly Olive's high-pitched voice 
 broke the solemn silence with a long, rippling laugh. 
 
 " Well, upon my word ! " she said lightly, " this is 
 a surprise! Where are your manners. Sir Baldwin, 
 falling into my uncle's house at this hour of the night? 
 
 — and in such guise, too ! Why, look at your boots I 
 
 — and what in the world have you done with your 
 hat?" 
 
 " I'll apologise for my manners. Lady Jeffreys," he 
 replied, trying to contain himself, and speaking in a 
 voice that trembled with rage, " when you have ex- 
 plained to my satisfaction how you happen to be alone, 
 and at this hour of the night, with Lieutenant Car- 
 rington, when the rest of the house is in bed! " 
 
 *' The rest of the house! " she exclaimed, with well- 
 feigned astonishment; "and do you quite ignore my 
 sister Boadicea? " 
 
 " Truce to this nonsense, Lady Jeffreys ! " he re-
 
 A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 147 
 
 torted roughly; "and if you have any shame left in 
 you, leave your innocent sister's name out of this 
 matter!" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders with contemptuous in- 
 difference. 
 
 " My aunt and uncle are coming downstairs," she 
 said; " are you proposing to insult me before the en- 
 tire household? " 
 
 " What explanation is necessary, sir," here inter- 
 posed Lieutenant Carrington, " I am prepared to make. 
 I hold myself entirely at your service; but, for the 
 ladies' sake, I entreat you — " 
 
 " Sir," broke in the irate man, " with you I mean to 
 deal later! For the moment I demand an answer 
 from her ! " 
 
 And he pointed a resolute hand at his wife. The 
 next moment he took a quick step forward, and with 
 that same hand seized her wrist so violently that she 
 gave a quick cry of pain. 
 
 " My God ! " he exclaimed hoarsely, " I mean to 
 have that answer now ! " 
 
 " You shan't touch her ! " cried Boadicea defiantly, 
 as she put her arms round her sister, and, like a young 
 cat, was ready with fingers and nails to defend her 
 against her assailant, whoever he might be; "you 
 shan't touch her! She's done no wrong! I tell you, 
 she has done no wrong ! You shan't hurt her ! — you 
 shan't!"
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A BELOVED SISTER 
 
 Even whilst Boadicea was screaming defiance at 
 Sir Baldwin, like a wild animal protecting its young, 
 heavy footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. 
 The household, aroused originally by Sir Baldwin's 
 knocking at the door, had quickly tumbled into some 
 clothes. Aunt Caroline was the first to seize a candle 
 and to drag Susan out of her room after her. She 
 picked up a poker, prepared to fight an army of bur- 
 glars, not recognising the voice of Sir Baldwin Jeff- 
 reys, and thinking that wholesale murder was being 
 done downstairs. Uncle Jasper, too, had struggled 
 into his breeches, vaguely wondering what all this dis- 
 turbance was about; but, since his wife had called him, 
 he followed her meekly down the stairs. Barnaby 
 Crabtree, furious at being disturbed, had also jumped 
 out of bed, and he now stood on the threshold of his 
 own room, volleying a string of expletives at every- 
 body. 
 
 " What the — why the — how the — " 
 Curiosity getting the better of his laziness, he, too, 
 followed in the wake of Uncle Jasper, and it was a 
 motley crowd of terrified humanity that poured into 
 the museum, and stood there gaping in hopeless be- 
 wilderment at Sir Baldwin Jeffreys and Olive, at Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington and Boadicea, Aunt Caroline, in a 
 
 148
 
 A BELOVED SISTER 149 
 
 crimson flannel dressing-gown, with her hair done up 
 in innumerable tiny plaits, which, being tight and stiff, 
 stood out all round her head like the prickles of a 
 porcupine ; Uncle Jasper, in tight black knee-breeches, 
 his thin, bare feet shoved into a pair of buckled shoes, 
 his high-crowned bald head adorned with a white cot- 
 ton nightcap, his pale eyes blinking in the glare of the 
 lamp. 
 
 And Barnaby Crabtree, like an angry turkey-cock, 
 muttering incessantly : 
 
 " Why the — what the — 
 
 "Why in thunder does not someone explain?" he 
 shouted at last. 
 
 " The explanation is simple enough," said Olive 
 calmly. " Sir Baldwin Jeffreys, having left his com- 
 monsense and his manners behind, has chosen this ex- 
 traordinary hour and place in which to insult me ! " 
 
 "Insult you?" retorted Sir Baldwin scornfully. 
 
 He looked somewhat like a bear in a pit now, who 
 has been chained up and is unable to do all the mischief 
 which it had intended. Clearly he could not murder 
 his wife in the presence of all these people. But his 
 wrath had not abated, even though it could not find 
 sufficient vent for the moment. 
 
 " Insult you? " he reiterated savagely. 
 
 " Yes," she retorted, " to insult me ! Your insane 
 jealousy has put us all into a ridiculous and anomalous 
 position. Boadicea, child," she continued, quietly 
 turning to her sister, and taking her by the hand, 
 " will you explain to this — this raving madman — 
 that I came down here half an hour ago in order to 
 play gooseberry to you ? "
 
 150 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " For Boadicea? " exclaimed Sir Baldwin. 
 
 " Yes, for Boadicea. Is there anything very ex- 
 traordinary in this? Come, little one, don't be shy! 
 Sir Baldwin apparently does me the honour to imagine 
 that I am lying. Will you assure him that I speak the 
 truth?" 
 
 " Olive is speaking the truth, Sir Baldwin," said 
 Boadicea firmly. 
 
 Her cheeks were very pale, but her voice was quite 
 steady. She understood at once what her sister de- 
 sired of her, and she accepted the humiliating role 
 without demur. 
 
 *' But what does it all mean ? " exclaimed Aunt 
 Caroline, whose brain worked very slowly at all times, 
 but more especially at this hour of the night, when all 
 self-respecting folk should be in bed. 
 
 " Dictum sapienti sat est," murmured Uncle Jasper, 
 who felt it incumbent on himself to assert his author- 
 ity at this juncture — " a word to the wise is enough." 
 
 " Don't fuss, Aunt Caroline ! " said Olive ; " there's 
 no harm done in this except the irreparable harm done 
 to me through Sir Baldwin's unjustifiable conduct! 
 As for Boadicea, I assure you that she was quite all 
 right — were you not, little one ? " 
 
 " Yes, Olive, I was quite all right." 
 
 " Is it to be wondered at that her head was turned 
 by Lieutenant Carrington's attentions? She gave him 
 this rendezvous ; but I am sure she meant no harm." 
 
 She was quite motherly in her manner toward 
 Boadicea, stroking the child's loose hair with a gentle 
 hand. But across Boadicea's bowed head she threw 
 warning looks to Jack Carrington, who seemed every
 
 A BELOVED SISTER 151 
 
 moment on the verge of giving away the whole infa- 
 mous trickery, which aimed at a pure woman's repu- 
 tation, in order to safeguard that of a miserable co- 
 quette. 
 
 " You gave Lieutenant Carrington this rendezvous, 
 did you not, little one?'* she insisted with tender so- 
 licitude. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Fortunately, I could not sleep to-night. I heard 
 the child creep out of her room, and I followed, so, of 
 course, there was no harm done. These two young 
 people are very thoughtless. Aunt Caroline; but they 
 acted in the innocence of their hearts. At any rate, I'll 
 vouch for Boadicea ! " 
 
 " Child, child ! " said Aunt Caroline sternly, " how 
 could you so far forget your modesty? " 
 
 " And then get caught in the act ! " growled Mr. 
 Crabtree spitefully. 
 
 " Deprendi miserum est — it is sad to be found out," 
 said Uncle Jasper under his breath. 
 
 Olive now turned triumphantly to Sir Baldwin Jeff- 
 reys. 
 
 " You see," she said coldly, " how simple it all is, 
 and how your furious jealousy has brought scandal 
 on the child." 
 
 " It will be the talk of Thanet!" said Cousin Bar- 
 naby placidly. 
 
 "I'll never survive It!" murmured Aunt Caroline 
 through her tears. 
 
 Boadicea said nothing. She hung her head, endur- 
 ing passively Olive's motherly caresses, and wondering 
 in her heart why this public disgrace had been put upon
 
 152 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 her, and why Olive — beautiful, exquisite, perfect 
 Olive — should have taken the trouble to tell such a 
 lie about her, seeing that from this time forth the 
 whole countryside would know that she was a forward 
 minx, who gave rendezvous to young men at dead of 
 night. But for this she cared little. Olive had been 
 in grave danger at the hands of her husband. She 
 had done no wrong, and yet her life had been threat- 
 ened by him, and it was only this tale of Boadicea's 
 disgraceful conduct which had averted a terrible catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 Therefore, though she wondered at the cruelty of 
 the whole thing, she was quite willing to endure it, so 
 long as Olive's safety required it. She was a little 
 ashamed to meet Lieutenant Carrington's eyes, but at 
 the same time she felt bitterly resentful against him. 
 If Olive had done no wrong, he certainly had by com- 
 ing to this house at night, since coming to a house at 
 night was more wrong than coming to it in the day- 
 time. 
 
 But for his presence here and now, Sir Baldwin's 
 advent would not have mattered in the least. Olive 
 would not have been so frightened, and Boadicea 
 would never have been put face to face with the terri- 
 ble alternative either of betraying her own sister or of 
 standing ashamed before all these people. 
 
 "And now that we have cleared this simple mat- 
 ter," concluded Olive finally, " perhaps you, Sir Bald- 
 win, will be pleased to depart, and allow this respecta- 
 ble household to go peaceably back to bed." 
 
 " Simple matter, do you call it? " retorted Sir Bald- 
 win, who throughout this while had been still nursing
 
 A BELOVED SISTER 153 
 
 his jealous suspicions ; '' a simple matter that a young 
 girl — my wife's own sister, and scarce out of the 
 nursery — should have been thus ready to cast aside 
 her honour, and but for your interference might have 
 brought lasting disgrace upon us all! " 
 
 " Hold on, man ! " protested Lieutenant Carrington 
 in a loud voice ; " hold on, or I'll make you swallow 
 your own words ! " 
 
 " I'll not hold on, sir ! " retorted Sir Baldwin hotly ; 
 " and 'tis you should be made to swallow every lying 
 word with which you induced a thoughtless girl to 
 forget her duty. You came like a thief in the night, 
 prowling about a respectable house in order to rob it 
 of its most precious possession — the honour of its 
 child ! " 
 
 '* Nay, here do I brand you a liar, Sir Baldwin, and 
 stand at your service when you will! But before I 
 have the opportunity of making you eat your words, 
 understand from me that Miss Aldmarshe deigned to 
 grant me an interview to-night in the presence of Lady 
 Jeffreys, her sister, because I had told her that to-mor- 
 row my ship will raise anchor and sail for the Medi- 
 terranean, and ere I left Thanet I desired to beg from 
 her the honour of her hand in marriage." 
 
 "And she refused you?" sneered Sir Baldwin, 
 whilst his mirthless, harsh laugh echoed along the old 
 oak rafters. " Ah, I have you there ! — the pretty 
 story indeed ! It's not true, I tell you ! — it's not true ! 
 You are all lying — every one of you ! And I am not 
 to be fooled with such a likely tale. You asked for an 
 interview at dead of night? You asked for her hand
 
 154 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 in marriage, and she refused you? It's not true, I 
 say ! — it's not true ! " 
 
 " It is quite true, Sir Baldwin,'' said Boadicea very 
 quietly. " Lieutenant Carrington did ask for my hand 
 in marriage — and I have accepted him." 
 
 There was dead silence after that. The young girl 
 stood alone in the midst of a circle of gaping faces, six 
 pairs of eyes gazed on her in mute astonishment. But 
 she never flinched. Olive's life and happiness had 
 been in danger, and she had been shown the way how 
 to avert the catastrophe. It was no use making any 
 sacrifice by halves. As to the future — well, that was 
 in God's hands! He would see to it that no grave 
 harm came to her through the intensity of her love for 
 her sister. On the whole, the situation which she her- 
 self had so boldly created at the last moment was more 
 endurable than the former one, and she would not al- 
 low Lieutenant Carrington to be more ready for sacri- 
 fice than she was herself. After this, though she 
 would still be blamed, her reputation would not be 
 irretrievably tarnished, and Aunt Caroline and Uncle 
 Jasper could still hold up their heads among the neigh- 
 bours; and she felt that she had earned Olive's love 
 quite completely now, for Sir Baldwin hung his head, 
 thoroughly himiiliated, and even began murmuring 
 vague words of apology. 
 
 Tis no use doing that now," said Olive coldly; 
 the sooner you return to Ashford, the kinder it will 
 be to my uncle and aunt, whom your jealous temper 
 has so unwarrantably disturbed. As for me, only 
 your prolonged absence could teach me how to forgive 
 you!" 
 
 (t
 
 A BELOVED SISTER 155 
 
 These were the last words which reached Boadicea's 
 consciousness. After that everything became blurred. 
 She felt just as if she were in a dream. Aunt Caro- 
 line and Cousin Barnaby were dream-people, so were 
 Olive and Sir Baldwin, and she herself felt as if she 
 were one of those dolls that are made to move by in- 
 visible hands pulling the strings. She seemed to have 
 no wish, no thought, no feeling, save one immense 
 longing to fly to her room, to lock the door, and to 
 throw herself on her bed — not to sleep, but to cry. 
 She felt terribly sad, with a great, big ache in her 
 heart, just as if she had lost something that was in- 
 finitely dear to her. The worst of it was that she did 
 not know what it was that she had lost; all that she 
 knew was that something was gone — something that 
 had made everything much more beautiful than it had 
 ever been before, something that had gilded the sunset 
 and flicked the tiny clouds with rose, something that 
 had tinged the meadows with glorious colour, and 
 caused the tone of the nightingale's voice to sound 
 infinitely sweet. 
 
 But that was long, long ago; now that something 
 was gone. She knew that it would never come back ; 
 that in the future the sunset would be grey and the 
 meadows brown, and that she could never again bear 
 to hear the song of the nightingale without the big 
 ache coming back to her heart. 
 
 She did not know that what she had lost was just a 
 girlish illusion — the first peep into that land where 
 love dwells, a land where everything is covered with 
 glory, where every cloud is of a roseate hue and every 
 song is a " Hosanna ! " She had had just one little
 
 156 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 peep through the curtains of life, and had seen just 
 enough to guess how beautiful was that land of love. 
 Now the curtains had fallen back with a swish, and 
 she had drawn back, miserable and deceived. 
 
 All that night she lay back on her pillows, wide-eyed 
 and wrapped in thought. She could not understand 
 why she was so sad. 
 
 Her engagement to Lieutenant Carrington would 
 only be a farce. She would only make it last for as 
 long as Olive thought it desirable, for the sake of ap- 
 pearances, and to allay completely Sir Baldwin's sus- 
 picions. After that — Lieutenant Carrington being 
 probably away on the Mediterranean with his ship — 
 the mock engagement would be comfortably broken off 
 without any fuss, and everything would be just as it 
 had been before. 
 
 But Boadicea knew all the time that nothing would 
 ever be again just as it had been before.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AN IMPERTINENT YOUNG MAN 
 
 'After that there came for Boadicea many days of 
 blank weariness, days when Aunt Caroline fussed 
 round her, talking of trousseaux and a house in town, 
 whilst Olive would scarcely say a kind word to her. 
 
 Lieutenant Carrington would call every afternoon at 
 about five o'clock and stay to supper, and then ride 
 away again at eight o'clock. During those two or 
 three hours he would either sit in the museum talking 
 to Uncle Jasper, or Olive would insist on his walking 
 out with her in the orchard, 
 
 Boadicea would take her sewing into the museum, 
 whilst Jack was there, and make an occasional remark 
 when he addressed himself directly to her. But she 
 did not join him and Olive when they walked together 
 in the orchard. She had a great deal to do in the 
 house helping Aunt Caroline with jams and pickle- 
 making, and she really felt in the way when Olive and 
 Jack were together. 
 
 She never knew what to talk about, especially when 
 Olive was present, for then the conversation ran chiefly 
 on town topics, the balls and receptions of the season, 
 the health of the King, or bits of scandal about people 
 whom she did not know. When Olive was not there 
 it was a little easier, for Jack was interested in birds 
 and their nests, and could tell her about tropical birds 
 
 157
 
 158 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 which he had perceived in the distant lands which he 
 had visited, and about nests which were good to eat. 
 
 In fact, it was when Lieutenant Carrington told her 
 about the Chinese people eating birds' nests that she 
 looked him straight in the face, being highly interested 
 and very much amused, and that she saw his twinkling 
 grey eyes fixed upon her in such a manner that the 
 blood rushed up to her cheeks, and she was obliged to 
 put her work down very suddenly, and to run out of 
 the room on some paltry pretext. 
 
 She did not, of course, know how long this mock 
 engagement was to last. Once she spoke about it to 
 Olive, who said that a month would be quite sufficient, 
 and that it would be best to wait until Lieutenant Car- 
 rington's leave was up and he went away on his ship in 
 the first week of July. Olive declared then that the 
 matter would be quite easy; no one, she said, disliked 
 the present silly position more than Lieutenant Car- 
 rington, and he would arrange to break off the mock 
 engagement quite easily from Malta. He would find 
 some suitable pretext, and write the usual letter of 
 regret. 
 
 At the back of Old Manor Farm, beyond the yard 
 and all the barns, there was a small orchard, with a 
 strawberry bed that sloped to the south, and was in 
 full bearing long before any other strawberry bed in 
 the whole of Thanet. Beyond the strawberry bed 
 came the cherry and the plum trees, and these in spring 
 were like a fairy garden. Now the cherries were ripe, 
 and soon it would be the turn of the plums. 
 
 By the time that the plums were ripe Boadicea's en- 
 gagement would have been a thing of the past, and by
 
 AN IMPERTINENT YOUNG MAN 159 
 
 the time that the apples were stored in the fruit-room 
 she would no doubt have forgotten all about this 
 weary, dreary time. 
 
 It was now the second day of July, and the very 
 hottest weather that Thanet had experienced within 
 memory of man. Fruit was very plentiful and very 
 early, strawberries had been a glut in the market, and 
 now cherries were threatening to be the same. It 
 seemed hardly worth while picking, when cherries in 
 Covent Garden Market only fetched twopence a 
 pound. 
 
 But then Aunt Caroline cared nothing about Covent! 
 Garden Market, nor about the price of fruit. Cherries 
 were ripe and plentiful and made excellent jam, and as 
 Topcoat had to dig up some early potatoes, Boadicea 
 had to gather cherries for jam. 
 
 She had been gathering for over an hour, and the 
 weather was terribly hot. Aunt Caroline had said 
 that tea would be in the orchard, and Susan had com- 
 menced operations in that direction by bringing a huge 
 tray on which was laid out Aunt Caroline's best tea- 
 service, the one with the tiny rosebuds dotted all over 
 it, even over the inside of the cups. 
 
 A very large basket filled to the brim with cherries 
 was deposited at the foot of the biggest cherry-tree in 
 the orchard. It was a big grand fatherly kind of tree, 
 with huge gnarled branches and a massive trunk which 
 you could not span round with your two arms. 
 Against this grandfatherly old tree was propped a lad- 
 der, and on the most solid branch of the tree with her 
 back resting against the trunk sat Boadicea, reading a 
 book.
 
 i6o MEADOWSWEET 
 
 She was very tired and very hot, for she had been 
 on the top of the ladder for over an hour; the book 
 was very interesting. It was called " The Last Days 
 of Pompeii," and had just been published by Sir Ed- 
 ward Bulwer. Lieutenant Carrington had brought it 
 one day for her, and she was deeply absorbed in the 
 thrilling tale of love and adventure, and for the mo- 
 ment quite oblivious of the fact that to-morrow, the 
 third of July, H.M.S. Dolphin would set sail for the 
 Mediterranean, and her mock engagement to Lieuten- 
 ant Carrington would then be virtually at an end. 
 
 She had really been counting the days ever since she 
 had first known that Lieutenant Carrington would be 
 leaving definitely on the third of the month. She had 
 even reckoned that he would be in Thanet just long 
 enough to taste Aunt Caroline's strawberry jam, and 
 to hold the ladder whilst she, Boadicea, climbed up to 
 gather the cherries. Now he had held the ladder for 
 her to-day, Aunt Caroline was going to open the first 
 of her pots of strawberry jam for tea, and Lieutenant 
 Carrington was going away to-morrow for good. 
 
 Boadicea up in the fork of the cherry-tree was very 
 busy forgetting all about Glaucus and Nydia, the blind 
 girl, and the marble halls of Pompeii. She was also 
 extremely busy in watching Lieutenant Carrington, 
 who, in his turn, was very earnestly occupied in carry- 
 ing Aunt Caroline's best china tea-service from the 
 place where Susan had deposited it to another spot, 
 immediately at the foot of the grand fatherly cherry 
 tree on the branch of which perched Miss Boadicea. 
 
 He had arrived to-day a little earlier than usual, 
 seeming very exhilarated, like a schoolboy who has
 
 AN IMPERTINENT YOUNG MAN i6i 
 
 had an extra holiday allotted to him. The twinkle of 
 merriment in his grey eyes had been more pronounced 
 than it had been for a long time, a circumstance which 
 Boadicea immediately attributed to his rejoicing at 
 thought of his getting away from the anomalous posi- 
 tion which — as Olive said — he so heartily disliked. 
 
 However, she had taken but very little notice of him, 
 and soon left him talking with Olive in the museum, on 
 the subject of Lady Something-or-Other's partiality 
 for Captain Something-Else. That is to say, that 
 Olive talked about Lady Something-or-Other, whilst 
 Jack listened with apparent interest, and always with 
 that bright tw^inkle in his eyes. 
 
 Boadicea had thus left them and went to gather cher- 
 ries, until she was tired, when she took up her book 
 which she had taken out with her, and settled herself in 
 the branches of the cherry-tree. 
 
 Cousin Barnaby Crabtree, who wallowed In heat like 
 a frowsy torn cat, usually took his afternoon siesta in 
 the orchard, sitting at the foot of that same grand- 
 fatherly tree which sheltered Boadicea; he was sitting 
 there now, with handkerchief over his head, snoring 
 like one of those new steam engines which dragged car- 
 riages along between Stockton and Darlington. 
 
 It was, therefore, all the more remarkable why Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington, the moment he came out into the 
 orchard — which he did half an hour before tea time 
 — should busy himself in placing Aunt Caroline's best 
 china tea-set at the foot of this self-same tree. 
 
 However, Lieutenant Carrington and his doings 
 were no concern of Boadicea's, and for quite a long 
 while she watched him as he carefully disposed the
 
 i62 MEADOWSWEET. 
 
 cups and saucers and the plates all round the foot of 
 the tree, some quite close to Cousin Barnaby, who 
 would be sure to knock the cups over if he stirred. At 
 last curiosity got the better of indifference. 
 
 " Might I inquire, Lieutenant Carrington," she asked 
 politely, "what you are doing? " 
 
 "As you see, Miss Aldmarshe," he replied with 
 equal politeness, " I am disposing of your aunt's best 
 china in a convenient place." 
 
 " I do not think it at all a convenient place," she 
 said stiffly. 
 
 " Extremely convenient. Miss Aldmarshe, I assure 
 you." 
 
 "For tea?'* 
 
 " Exactly. For tea. The tree is shady, the ground 
 flat around it. It is, indeed, a most convenient spot." 
 
 " But there is no cloth laid here for tea." 
 
 " True ! " he said ; " but I can soon remedy that," 
 
 And he turned back to where some few yards higher 
 up Susan had originally deposited the tray, and from 
 whence the gleam of a folded white cloth could be seen 
 among the trees. 
 
 He went to fetch the cloth, and was back again with 
 it in a few seconds. Then he once more busied him- 
 self with the china. 
 
 " Please don't tire yourself. Lieutenant Carrington," 
 said Boadicea from above, " if you desire to have tea 
 under this tree, we can, of course, have it here. But 
 Susan can lay the cloth. She will be back directly. 
 Please do not tire yourself doing her work." 
 
 " I feel no fatigue, I assure you." 
 
 But his work had become somewhat aimless. At
 
 AN IMPERTINENT YOUNG MAN 163 
 
 least so it appeared to Boadicea. He moved the cups, 
 and the saucers and the plates from one place to an- 
 other and back again, but he was not really attempting 
 to lay the cloth for tea in a proper and methodical 
 manner. It irritated her to see him fussing about like 
 this, and yet he would not give up, in spite of what she 
 said. And he seemed quite happy in his task, for his 
 eyes twinkled with merriment every time they met 
 hers. 
 
 " Why doesn't Susan come back ? " she said, and 
 sighed audibly with impatience. 
 
 " I wonder I " he said calmly, and went on rattling 
 the cups and saucers. 
 
 *' I told her to come back at once with the toast and 
 bread and butter." 
 
 " And I told her just now not to let me see her face 
 for at least ten minutes." 
 
 " Why should you have told her that ? " 
 
 " For private reasons of my own." 
 
 " Then it was extremely foolish to give her such or- 
 ders. And I doubt if she will obey them." 
 
 " Oh ! she will obey them, I'll warrant. I took good 
 care of that. I should call Susan a discriminating 
 young female." 
 
 " And I should call you most impertinent for Inter- 
 fering with the orders which I gave to Susan." 
 
 Now, Boadicea must have been feeling very cross 
 indeed, or she would not thus have departed from the 
 customs of politeness prescribed by good breeding to- 
 wards a gentleman who but a little while ago had been 
 and who in another twenty- four hours would once 
 more become a complete stranger.
 
 i64 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 But Lieutenant Carrington seemed totally unaware 
 of the fact that he had offended Miss Aldmarshe, for 
 he did not show that due sense of humility which her 
 reproof should have called forth in him; on the con- 
 trary, he said quite imperturbably, and with consum- 
 mate politeness : 
 
 " Miss Boadicea Aldmarshe, you are a marvellous 
 judge of character: I am extremely impertinent." 
 
 " Then I pray you mend your ways ! " she retorted. 
 
 " Not while you are perched on that tree." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 He came close to the foot of the ladder, and as it 
 was leaning against the tree, so did he lean up against 
 it, and his merry grey eyes were fixed on a point some 
 three or four feet lower than Miss Boadicea's face. 
 
 " Because," he said, and she could see his lips, and 
 could see that they twitched — not with shame or re- 
 gret, I'll be bound — *' because if I were not imperti- 
 nent I would not dare to watch at this moment the 
 daintiest pair of . , ," 
 
 " Lieutenant Carrington ! " she broke in sternly. 
 
 And still he was neither rebuffed nor ashamed. 
 
 "If you wriggle about so much," he said, " you will 
 surely fall." 
 
 And he actually mounted two rungs of the ladder. 
 
 " I wish to descend," she said stiffly ; " I pray you 
 stand aside." 
 
 But he did not stand aside. He so far misconstrued 
 her commands that he mounted two further rungs of 
 the ladder. 
 
 " I have not the remotest desire to stand aside," he 
 said. " You don't know, perhaps, what a charming
 
 AN IMPERTINENT YOUNG MAN 165 
 picture you make perched up there among the cher- 
 
 ries ! " 
 
 " I wish Susan would come back I " retorted she, 
 With a sigh. 
 
 "If she does, before I have told you something that 
 IS in my mind, I will either commit murder or . . ." 
 
 "Or what?" 
 
 By way of a reply, he mounted several further rung,3 
 of the ladder, until his head was just below the level 
 of Boadicea's knees. 
 
 "On the whole," he said, looking boldly into her 
 face, " I think that this is the wiser course." 
 
 " Lieutenant Carrington," she commanded, " I re- 
 quest you to descend." 
 
 " I will not descend until you have heard what I 
 have got to say." 
 
 " There Is nothing that you could say to me at this 
 moment that would interest me." 
 
 And, very ostentatiously, she spread her book upon 
 her knees, and began once more to read about Glaucus 
 and Nydia, and the marble halls of Pompeii. 
 
 "Oh I I can wait!" said Lieutenant Carrington 
 airily. 
 
 And he settled himself down on the top of the lad- 
 der, astride on the branch against which it rested, and 
 leaned back his head against the trunk. He took off 
 his hat and threw it down amongst the china cups and 
 saucers. Then he actually began to whistle! — yes, 
 whistle ! and with Miss Aldmarshe bubbling over with 
 wrath by his side. 
 
 "Very warm summer we are having," he said 
 lightly.
 
 1 66 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Very/' 
 
 She was absorbed in her book, and he was absorbed 
 in the contemplation of her. Never had she looked so 
 pretty, not even to him, who had been feasting on her 
 beauty these weeks past, whenever chance or her wil- 
 fulness allowed him to gaze upon her undisturbed. 
 She had on a white muslin frock, and the strong after- 
 noon sun striking through the leafy branches of the 
 tree made patches of gold upon it, and caused blue 
 shadows to nestle in the folds. Her soft brown hair 
 was a little wild after the fruit-picking, and a very 
 gentle breeze stirred the curly tendrils all round her 
 head, making them shimmer and quiver in the intense 
 brilliancy of the light. 
 
 . Her face now was bent down to her book, and he 
 could just see the still childish contour of cheek and 
 chin, with the vivid red lips and the pearly shadows 
 cast by the drooping lashes. 
 
 Pretty? My God! but she was pretty! and Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington was no longer heart-whole. For 
 days and weeks now she had filled his entire heart and 
 mind and soul until he positively ached with the wild 
 desire to fold her in his arms, to raise her chin up with 
 his hand until her eyes looked straight into his ; those 
 eyes that were so true, so pure, so full of the knowl- 
 edge of nature and of God, so ignorant of the world. 
 
 But up to now he had never dared speak to her of 
 love. She seemed such a child that he almost feared 
 to trust his happiness to words that might scare her, 
 that might not reach her soul. For days and weeks he 
 had waited patiently for the tiny, almost impercepti- 
 ble sign that would tell him that he might speak. Her
 
 AN IMPERTINENT YOUNG MAN 167 
 
 blush the other day when he was talking about Chinese 
 birds' nests, her confusion when some of his worship- 
 ful admiration had on that occasion spoken mutely 
 through his eyes, her quaint stiffness when first she 
 met him again after that episode, and her subsequent 
 avoidance of him was the first of encouragement which 
 he had received. 
 
 With it had come hope, and to-day Chance had 
 played into his hands. Lady Jeffreys had a bad head- 
 ache and had gone to her room for half an hour's rest 
 before tea, and Boadicea was alone perched like a 
 w^ood-nymph in the branches of a tree. 
 
 The orchard was silent, too, in the heat of this after- 
 noon; the buzz of bumble bees alone disturbed the 
 peaceful stillness around. Lieutenant Carrington was 
 lost in a dream from which he was suddenly awak- 
 ened by a loud and prolonged snore which came from 
 below. 
 
 Boadicea, too, was startled, and nearly dropped her 
 book, which would have been calamitous to Aunt Caro- 
 line's best china tea-service. 
 
 " Mr. Crabtree makes a pretty picture down there, 
 does he not?" said Jack Carrington, in an easy con- 
 versational tone. 
 
 " Lieutenant Carrington," she rejoined Impatiently, 
 " did you hear me remark that I wished to descend? " 
 
 " I did hear you make that observation. Miss Ald- 
 marshe," he replied. 
 
 " Yet you have made no attempt at letting me pass." 
 
 " The attempt would be beyond my humble capaci- 
 ties." 
 
 I wish to use that ladder, Lieutenant Carrington." 
 
 ((
 
 i68 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 (( 
 
 It is at your service, Miss AldmarsHe, if you will 
 put that book aside and listen to me quietly for ten 
 minutes." 
 
 " That were beyond my humble capacities ! *' she re- 
 torted. 
 
 " In that case, I fear me that the ladder will remain 
 inaccessible to the prettiest little feet in England." 
 
 " Then I'll jump ! " she said resolutely, and turning 
 her back on him and on the ladder. 
 
 But with a comical air of reproach, he pointed down- 
 wards to his own elaborate arrangement of tea-cups 
 and saucers round the foot of the tree. 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed — " on Aunt Caroline's best 
 china? ... or into Mr. Crabtree's lap — which?" 
 
 " I think you are odious ! " she said. 
 
 " Absolutely odious ! " he assented. " Hadn't you 
 better listen to what I have to say ? " 
 
 " I cannot ! You are sure to talk nonsense, and 
 Cousin Barnaby hates to hear nonsense talked." 
 
 Whereupon Cousin Barnaby gave forth a mighty 
 snore. 
 
 " * Out of their own mouths thine enemies confound 
 thee'!" quoted Jack, triumphantly; "and out of my 
 mouth only wisdom shall come, I promise you." 
 
 " Another time ! " urged Boadicea. 
 
 There never is another time. You make a point of 
 never being alone with me." 
 
 " I do not see that there is any occasion for you to 
 see me alone." 
 
 " But I go away to-morrow." 
 
 " I know that. All the more reason why we should 
 not see too much of one another to-day. The less we
 
 AN IMPERTINENT YOUNG MAN 169 
 
 are together, the easier it will be to carry on this foolish 
 pretence another twenty-four hours." 
 
 *' Foolish pretence? " he asked. 
 
 " Indeed, what else is it? " 
 
 " A serious engagement." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " and she tried by the expression in her 
 face to show him all the contempt which she felt for 
 that so-called engagement. 
 
 " I asked you in the presence of several witnesses," 
 he persisted, " for the honour of your hand in mar- 
 riage, and in the presence of several witnesses you 
 accepted me as your future husband." 
 
 " You know quite well, Lieutenant Carrington, that 
 you only asked me, and I only accepted as you say, in 
 order to save Olive from Sir Baldwin's unreasoning 
 jealousy. We are going through the pretence of an 
 engagement to save appearances; and you will, of 
 course, be glad when that pretence no longer binds 
 you. As we are going to break off this mock engage- 
 ment in a few days, there is no cause to hold conversa- 
 tions about it." 
 
 " There is every cause for me to tell you some time 
 during the next few hours exactly how pretty you are." 
 
 " Your original estimate of me was that I was a 
 young savage." 
 
 " That was a long time ago." 
 
 " One month ago exactly, to the day." 
 
 " Is it as long? Well, since then many things have 
 changed." 
 
 " Including your estimate of me? " she asked iron- 
 ically. 
 
 "No! Not that"
 
 170 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " You've not come to the conclusion that I am not a 
 savage ? " 
 
 " No. I've merely discovered that there's nothing 
 in the world so fascinating as a young savage." 
 
 Again that look in his eyes ; they did not only twin- 
 kle, they glowed, and — worse still — they caused her 
 cheeks to glow. She would have given worlds to be 
 able to run away; but he had possession of the ladder, 
 and Aunt Caroline's best china was down below. 
 
 "Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly; "there's someone 
 coming at last." 
 
 " The devil ! " he retorted. 
 
 " And Cousin Barnaby is awake ! " she added tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 This was true. Cousin Barnaby even at this mo- 
 ment was heard to yawn, and was seen to remove the 
 handkerchief from the top of his head. 
 
 I am afraid that this time Jack emphatically said : 
 "Damn!" 
 
 " Kindly allow me to descend," resumed Boadlcea 
 quietly. 
 
 He made pretence to be making way for her. 
 
 " On one condition," he said. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " That you give me ten minutes' private interview 
 in this orchard some time this afternoon." 
 
 " There's no necessity," she said firmly. 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 And once more he Installed himself on the top of the 
 ladder as if he had no intention of stirring from that 
 uncomfortable position. 
 
 Tears of vexation rose to Boadicea's eyes.
 
 AN IMPERTINENT YOUNG MAN 171 
 
 " Olive is coming this way ! " she pleaded. 
 
 " Ten minutes ! " he pronounced resolutely. 
 
 "Oh, very well!" 
 
 The citadel had capitulated. Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton began descending the ladder, whilst Boadicea 
 watched him impatiently. Midway down the ladder 
 he paused : 
 
 " Alone," he said. 
 
 "If you insist." 
 
 " I insist. You promise ? " 
 
 "I . , . ohl here's Olive!" 
 
 " You promise ? " 
 
 ** I promise. There 1 "
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 'A MAN IN LOVE 
 
 Olive came walking down the orchard in her pret- 
 tiest afternoon gown, and with a rose-coloured sun- 
 shade held above her head. 
 
 She was looking her best just now and she knew it, 
 and when a woman knows that she is pretty, that 
 knowledge makes her a thousand times prettier than 
 before. Lieutenant Carrington was going away to- 
 morrow; he would be absent some months, during 
 which time that silly mock engagement with Boadicea 
 would be broken off, and on his return Lady Jeffreys 
 could resume with him that pleasing flirtation, that 
 agreeable toying with the flames of passion, which was 
 her idea of supreme enjoyment in life. 
 
 But to-day being the last which Lieutenant Jack 
 would spend in her company for many months to 
 come, it would have to be one fraught with many de- 
 lights, with graciousness tempered with a measure of 
 coquetry, just sufficient to leave in its trail a happy 
 memory of the past, and an exciting longing for the 
 future. 
 
 Therefore she had put on her most becoming gown, 
 and retired to her room during the hottest part of the 
 day so that she should appear fresh as spring blossom 
 to dazzle Jack's eyes at tea time. 
 
 She thought to find him alone in the orchard lan- 
 
 172
 
 A MAN IN LOVE 173 
 
 guishing for her company, and listening with bored 
 attention to Boadicea's few remarks. In her mind she 
 had apprised the young couple's attitude to one an- 
 other, entirely to her own satisfaction. On the part 
 of Boadicea there was just childish ignorance of the 
 world, a total want of knowledge of the art how to 
 captivate and hold a man. She may originally have 
 been flattered by Lieutenant Carrington's notice of her, 
 but seeing him tired and bored, as he undoubtedly 
 was in her presence, she must very quickly have given 
 up all thoughts of trying to please him. 
 
 As for Lieutenant Jack, why, of course, his attitude 
 was plain enough to the eyes of the lady who desired 
 to keep him dangling round her skirts. He looked 
 upon Boadicea with eyes of contemptuous pity. How 
 could he fail to do so, seeing that he must for ever be 
 comparing her with her beautiful and fascinating 
 sister. 
 
 Having thus disposed of the feelings of two young 
 people Lady Jeffreys felt herself at liberty to give free 
 rein to her own. She liked Lieutenant Jack. He was 
 good looking, and had distinguished himself above the 
 herd of idle young men about town. There was a 
 certain amount of social glory to be derived from hav- 
 ing a temporary society lion dallying round her skirts ; 
 moreover, it continued to vex Sir Baldwin Jeffreys, 
 who — heartily ashamed of his violent outburst of 
 jealousy — had not put in an appearance at Old Manor 
 Farm since then. 
 
 Olive — thinking to find Lieutenant Jack listless and 
 bored in her absence — was very disagreeably sur- 
 prised when she saw him standing at the bottom of a
 
 174 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 ladder watching with unmistakable attention Boadi- 
 cea's descent from a cherry tree. So absorbed did he 
 seem in the contemplation of a pair of ankles encased 
 in white cotton stockings that he did not even perceive 
 the swish of silk skirts on the grass, nor the affected 
 little cough which should have told him that a very 
 beautiful lady was close by, 
 
 Olive frowned. She was not pleased with the pic- 
 ture, which in itself would have delighted the eye of 
 any artist or dreamer or poet who happened to revel 
 in brilliant sunshine and dense blue shadows, in wild 
 brown hair on which the afternoon light threw gleams 
 of ruddy gold, in youth and grace, and that subtle 
 aroma of delight which emanates from young people 
 who are in love, and do not yet know the full meaning 
 of the passion. 
 
 Still frowning, Olive approached the grand fatherly 
 cherry-tree, at the foot of which Barnaby Crabtree was 
 just awakening from his midday slumber. 
 
 " Child," said Lady Jeffreys through pursed lips, 
 " what are you doing here ? " 
 
 She was still talking from some little distance, and 
 no doubt that was the reason why her high-pitched 
 soprano voice sounded shrill and out of tune on this 
 exquisitely harmonious afternoon* 
 
 " I thought," she added, " that aunt had deputed you 
 to set the china straight." 
 
 Boadicea was a little confused, as well she might be, 
 seeing that Olive was angered with her, and Lieutenant 
 Carrington's searching grey eyes seemed brimming 
 over with amusement. 
 
 I . . ." she stammered, "that is . . . we . . . 
 
 a
 
 A MAN IN LOVE 175 
 
 Lieutenant Carrington and I . . . did busy ourselves 
 in . . . 
 
 " Looking for begad caterpillars on a tree-top, I sup- 
 pose ! " muttered Cousin Barnaby irritably. 
 
 Olive was surveying Aunt Caroline's best china tea- 
 set with frowning eyes. 
 
 " You had better busy yourself to better purpose 
 now," she said. " Lieutenant Carrington, please 1 — 
 a branch of thorn has caught the hem of my gown. 
 Might I trouble you to disentangle it ? " 
 
 " At your service, Lady Jeffreys." 
 
 And Boadicea had the mortification to see with what 
 alacrity he ran to do Olive's bidding, leaving her to 
 struggle with the china, which he himself had so clum- 
 sily ranged round the foot of the cherry-tree. He 
 knelt at Olive's feet and busied himself laboriously — 
 and very lengthily, she thought — with the bit of 
 bramble that was tearing a filmy lace flounce, whilst 
 Olive was looking down on him, smiling and quite 
 good-humoured now. 
 
 Obviously the disentangling of a bit of thorn from a 
 silk gown could not last an indefinite length of time. 
 Boadicea was watching the process through the cor- 
 ners of her eyes, which caused her once or twice to 
 stumble against Cousin Barnaby's outstretched legs, 
 whereupon he said something very rude under his 
 breath. 
 
 " Child," said Olive after a while in that high-pitched 
 tone which she usually affected. " I can see aunt com- 
 ing from the house with a pile of cakes and Susan be- 
 hind her, more clumsy than a cow. Had you not best 
 goto her? "
 
 176 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Allow me to go," said Lieutenant Carrington, ris- 
 ing to his knees with truly marvellous alacrity, consid- 
 ering the pleasing occupation in which he had just been 
 engaged. 
 
 " Ah, Lieutenant Carrington ! " pleaded Olive, with 
 captivating grace, " please do not vote me a nuisance, 
 but the string of my shoe has come undone, and I can- 
 not fasten it myself without grave discomfort." 
 
 Jack looked undecided. On the one hand he did not 
 want Boadicea to go away from him at this moment, 
 or at any other when he could persuade her to remain 
 close by, and on the other he could not with politeness 
 refuse to render a lady the service of tying up her shoe. 
 Boadicea, trying to conceal her vexation under a mask 
 of indifference, decided the point for him. 
 
 " I pray you, Lieutenant Carrington," she said in a 
 high-pitched, affected tone of voice like that of her sis- 
 ter, "attend to Lady Jeffreys' shoe-string. I have 
 business elsewhere." 
 
 And before Jack could make a movement to stop her, 
 she had darted away like some elfish creature of woods 
 and orchards, her muslin gown flying out behind her, 
 her brown hair gleaming in the sun. 
 
 " Jack ! " whispered Lady Jeffreys tenderly. 
 
 He knelt down once more and busied himself with 
 her shoe, whilst Cousin Barnaby murmured rude things 
 in the rear. 
 
 When he had finished tying the shoe, he rose to his 
 feet, and she took his arm with easy familiarity and 
 led him away among the cherry-trees. He went quite 
 submissively, for indeed his thoughts were not here at 
 all : they were following the graceful fairy -like figure
 
 A MAN IN LOVE 177 
 
 that had run away from him just now, and his mind 
 was busy recalHng every line that had enchanted him 
 while she ran, dwelling on the memory of her as she 
 sat there in the cherry-tree with the sunshine playing 
 on her hair, the soft blush mantling on her downy 
 cheek. . , . 
 
 And Olive went rambling on, talking of Lady 
 Medenham's rout, and of the Queen's latest whim in 
 bonnets. He listened without hearing, and gave an- 
 swers without heeding, thankful that Lady Jeffreys 
 was too absorbed in her own charming personality to 
 notice his absent gaze and his crooked remarks ; appar- 
 ently she had succeeded in. persuading herself that 
 he was so filled with sorrow at his coming departure 
 from her side that he had no heart for society small 
 talk. 
 
 He did not mind walking round the orchard like this, 
 and indeed, the beautiful Lady Jeffreys hardly existed 
 for him. He was living through that halcyon time 
 that only comes once in life — and not in every life — ■ 
 the halcyon time of newly awakened love, when every 
 blade of grass whispers of one foot, and every bird 
 throat sings the praise of one divinity. 
 
 Whilst Jack Carrington wandered round the orchard' 
 with Olive he saw Boadicea at every turn and behind 
 every tree, her voice spoke to him through that of the 
 thrush, her brown hair glittered for him in every ray 
 of sunshine. 
 
 And now Aunt Caroline really came bustling out 
 with a tray in her hands on which were laid plates filled 
 with cakes, bread and butter, and all manner of things 
 to eat. She was scolding Susan as hard as she could
 
 178 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 go, her tongue and her feet going along at an equally 
 quick rate. 
 
 " Lord bless my soul, did anyone ever see the like? 
 Truly servants were specially invented by Providence 
 to plague us. There is nothing this girl does that I 
 could not do a thousand times better than she, or a 
 thousand times quicker. Susan ! Susan ! where in the 
 name of common-sense are you? " 
 
 And Susan, who was following very closely on her 
 mistress's heels with another tray on which were set 
 the tea-pot, milk and cream jugs, and other appur- 
 tenances of the homely brew, said pertly: 
 
 " Here, ma'am." 
 
 " Bustle up, then ! bustle up ! " admonished Aunt 
 Caroline. " The tea should have been here long ago." 
 
 " It is half an hour late," said Cousin Barnaby, who 
 made no attempt to give a hand in the laying-out of the 
 picnic tea. 
 
 Aunt Caroline and Susan were very busy for the 
 next five minutes in setting out the best china tea-serv- 
 ice, and making arrangements for the comfort of 
 everyone else. 
 
 " There ! that will do," said Aunt Caroline, when all 
 had been arranged to her satisfaction. " Run and find 
 your master now, Susan." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. Master was in the orchard just 
 
 now." 
 
 " Well ! and did you tell him that tea was ready ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Did he say he was coming? " 
 
 " He said something like mixed biscuits, ma'am ! " 
 
 " Mixed biscuits ? "
 
 A MAN IN LOVE 179 
 
 " Some of his confounded Latin, I suppose! " con- 
 cluded Cousin Barnaby, with a grunt. 
 
 But even at this moment Uncle Jasper was coming 
 along. He had his coat on with the brass buttons, and 
 the wig with the full curls over the temples, a specimen 
 case made of shining brass was slung round his shoul- 
 ders by a strap, and he had his butterfly-net in his 
 hand, showing that he had not spent an idle after- 
 noon. 
 
 " Qui utile 'dulci miscuit," he said, when he saw the 
 tea-things so temptingly laid out in the shade of the 
 cherry-tree on the grass. 
 
 " Mixed biscuits ! " commented Cousin Barnaby 
 'drily. 
 
 " * Who mixes the agreeable with the useful,' is the 
 correct translation from the Latin adage, Barnaby," 
 said Uncle Jasper blandly. 
 
 Though he saw the tea laid out before him, and Aunt 
 Caroline raising the heavy tea-pot preparatory to pour- 
 ing out, he said, with his usual vagueness : 
 
 " Tea did you say, my dear? " 
 
 "Why, of course, tea, Jasper! " said Aunt Caroline 
 impatiently; "didn't you hear me say at dinner time 
 that we would have tea in the orchard to-day ? " 
 
 " A most inconvenient spot ! " remarked Cousin 
 barnaby. 
 
 He was stuffing the corner of a napkin into the open- 
 ing of his collar. Already he had taken possession of 
 the most shady and most comfortable seat at the im- 
 provised tea-table, with his back against the trunk of 
 the tree, and his favourite cakes and scones disposed 
 conveniently to his hand.
 
 i8o MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " I hate meals out-of-doors/' he said, " like a begad 
 earwig ! " 
 
 " But in beautiful weather like this, Cousin Bar- 
 naby," retorted Aunt Caroline, " it would be a sin to 
 remain indoors ! " 
 
 Lady Jeffreys and Lieutenant Carrington were now 
 seen walking among the trees. They were hailed by 
 Aunt Caroline, and soon joined the party at tea. Olive 
 looked prettier than ever, for her cheeks were aglow 
 with pleasure. She had thoroughly enjoyed her walk, 
 and comfortably attributed Jack's abstraction to sor- 
 row at parting from her.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A WOMAN IN A RAGE 
 
 Aunt Caroline was already busy pouring out tea. 
 She was excessively hot, because she thought it right 
 and proper to put on her silk dress every time Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington paid an afternoon visit at Old 
 Manor Farm. 
 
 *' Olive, dear, where will you sit ? " she asked, seeing 
 that the two newcomers — both for reasons of their 
 own — were standing by, irresolutely, before joining 
 in the circle on the grass. 
 
 " On a clean pocket-handkerchief, Aunt, if there is 
 one," replied Olive, with a supercilious lift of her 
 arched eyebrows. 
 
 "Come, Susan, bustle up, then, bustle up!" said 
 Aunt Caroline fussily, " a clean handkerchief for her 
 ladyship. . . . Lord ! bless my soul I how stupid these 
 girls are nowadays." 
 
 Which obviously was a very unfair accusation 
 against Susan just at this moment, for how in the 
 world was a girl to find a clean pocket-handkerchief in 
 the middle of an orchard? Mr. Crabtree had one in 
 his pocket, and the corner of it protruded under the 
 flap ; Susan did try to obey her mistress and incident- 
 ally to show her cleverness by seizing the corner of 
 that handkerchief, whereupon, of course, Mr. Crab- 
 tree was very angry.
 
 i82 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 te 
 
 « 
 
 Don't do that ! " he cried. " Am I a begad laun- 
 dry?" 
 
 This made everyone laugh, and it also gave Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington the very opportunity which he had 
 longed for. 
 
 " Will you allow me, Lady Jeffreys ? " he said, and 
 turned toward the house. 
 
 "What to do?" she said. 
 Find a handkerchief for you." 
 But ..." she protested. 
 
 But it was too late to protest. Lieutenant Jack 
 was already half way to the house. 
 
 " So attentive, Lieutenant Carrington," said Aunt 
 Caroline placidly. " His manners are quite irre- 
 proachable." 
 
 "A foolish thought to run after a handkerchief!" 
 said Olive stiffly; *' I had one by me, after all." 
 
 She felt suddenly out of temper; quite unaccountably 
 so, surely, for Jack had hurried off in her service. But 
 she would have been more pleased had Boadicea been 
 in the orchard at the present moment, instead of in the 
 house, where she certainly would be meeting Lieutenant 
 Carrington. 
 
 Aunt Caroline was handing Barnaby Crabtree hig 
 second cup of tea. He gave a grunt of satisfaction. 
 
 " Let us be thankful for small mercies ! " 
 
 " How so? " questioned Olive. 
 
 " To have a meal in comparative peace." 
 
 " Surely, Cousin Barnaby," she said, " you find the 
 country peaceful, this beautiful midsummer time? " 
 
 " I might, ma'am, if it were not for that begad love- 
 making ! 
 
 >r
 
 A WOMAN IN A RAGE 183 
 
 " Love-making?" 
 
 " Aye ! No sooner have Caroline's confounded 
 guinea-fowls ceased their abominable screeching, be- 
 ing, I suppose, busy with their food, and I have settled 
 down at last to a few moments' quiet rest in the heat 
 of the afternoon, than I am disturbed . . . disgrace- 
 fully, unwarrantly disturbed ! " 
 
 " But how. Cousin Barnaby ! " exclaimed Aunt Caro- 
 line. " I thought that in the afternoon both the 
 house and the orchard were particularly quiet and 
 peaceful." 
 
 " Ah ! " he retorted crossly, " you thought, then, 
 that it was quiet and peaceful for me yesterday after- 
 noon to be aroused from my gentle meditations by 
 sickly sounds of ' Meadowsweet ! Meadowsweet ! ' " 
 — and he mimicked the sentimental voice of a young 
 man who might be in love. " * My little Meadow- 
 sweet, come out ! ' Ugh ! disgusting, I call it." 
 
 " You were dreaming. Cousin Barnaby," said Olive, 
 whose irritation and ill-temper were perceptibly grow- 
 ing. 
 
 "Dreaming? eh? And was I dreaming just now 
 when those two you-ng jackanapes were perching 
 on that tree-top talking of ankles like two begad 
 idiots?" 
 
 " I don't know whom you mean, Cousin Barnaby," 
 she rejoined. " Who is Meadowsweet, and who are 
 the two jackanapes to whom you refer? " 
 
 " I am talking of your sister, ma'am, and of that 
 begad sailor." 
 
 " Then you are talking nonsense, Cousin Barnaby. 
 I am sure that Lieutenant Carrington is most moderate
 
 i84 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 in his courtship. Anyone can see that he is not in the 
 least in love." 
 
 " Anyone can see that he is a fool." 
 
 " Omnis amans, amens ! " murmured Uncle Jasper. 
 
 " Jasper used to be the only insane person in this 
 house," said Mr. Crabtree blandly; "but now, ma'am, 
 your sister and her sailor are two begad lunatics." 
 
 " I feel sure you exaggerate, Cousin Barnaby ! " re- 
 torted Olive, who by now had great difficulty in con- 
 cealing her irritation. 
 
 " I feel sure," he rejoined placidly, " that I shall get 
 a bad bilious attack if this begad cooing and billing is 
 allowed to go on." 
 
 But this was more than any woman could stand. 
 Olive jumped up from the tea-table, for she felt that if 
 she stood still any longer listening to all this vapid 
 talk she would surely have an attack of hysteria. 
 
 " Did a wasp sting you? " queried Barnaby Crabtree 
 blandly. 
 
 " Yes," she replied viciously. 
 
 " You have spilt your tea, ma'am, and upset my 
 peaceful enjoyment of this repast." 
 
 Olive now was walking up and down on the grass in 
 a state of great agitation. Aunt Caroline, at the bare 
 suggestion of a wasp sting, had come forward with all 
 manner of remedies — milk, salt, soil made into a 
 messy pap with water and sugar — and was mortally 
 offended because Olive would have none of these 
 things applied to the imaginary sting, 
 
 " No, no, Aunt, let me be ! " said Olive irritably, 
 " for gracious' sake, don't fuss ! You'll get on my 
 nerves if you fidget round me like this."
 
 A WOMAN IN A RAGE 185 
 
 " I don't believe that it was a wasp, after all," said 
 Aunt Caroline; "perhaps it was only a gnat." 
 
 " Yes! that's it. Aunt," rejoined Olive, with a harsh 
 little laugh; " it was only a poisonous little gnat! " 
 
 " Won't you come and finish your tea, then ? " 
 
 Was ever woman so plagued before? Olive would 
 gladly have indulged in a screaming fit ; she felt that it 
 would have eased the tension of her nerves. As it 
 was, the bland platitudes of Aunt Caroline and the 
 venomous shafts of Cousin Barnaby were equally driv- 
 ing her to desperation. 
 
 " As for me," said Mr. Crabtree, who was con- 
 tentedly eating plum cake, " I came here for peace. 
 This afternoon I settled down in this orchard for peace. 
 Love-making is disturbing at all times, especially on a 
 warm afternoon. And now I come to think of it, 
 Caroline, I'll go indoors directly after tea, ere I get 
 more of it." 
 
 " More of it! " exclaimed Olive- 
 Mr. Crabtree once more mimicked the voice of some 
 young man supposed to be sick with love. 
 
 " ' Ten minutes with you — alone — to-day ! ' 
 Bah ! ! ! It makes me sick ! " 
 
 " I'll not allow it ! " cried out Olive impulsively, for- 
 getting all prudence in this sudden access of jealousy. 
 "I'll not allow it!" 
 
 " And why not, Olive ? " queried Aunt Caroline. 
 " Indeed, I think Cousin Barnaby's remarks most un- 
 seemly. As for me, I like to see two young people in 
 love. Lord bless my soul! it reminds me of the days 
 when your uncle came courting me ! " 
 
 " Did he come along with a butterfly-net ? " asked
 
 i86 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Mr. Crabtree, glancing at Uncle Jasper, who, indeed, 
 had finished his tea, and was hovering about behind a 
 cherry-tree, butterfly-net in hand, intent on the gyra- 
 tions of a magnificent butterfly which seemed to have 
 strayed from the flower-garden, 
 
 "Jasper was better-looking than you ever were, 
 Barnaby," said Aunt Caroline hotly. 
 
 " Then you think. Aunt," interposed Olive, who now 
 tried to speak more gaily and unconcernedly, " you 
 think that Lieutenant Carrington has fallen in love 
 with Boadicea ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it," replied Aunt Caroline. " At first 
 I thought that he seemed rather cold towards her." 
 
 " No wonder. Since she inveigled him into this en- 
 gagement," assented Olive spitefully. 
 
 "Her conduct that evening was certainly unmaid- 
 enly," conceded Aunt Caroline. "I think that she 
 must have fallen in love with him at first sight, and 
 that she — being very young — did not know how to 
 conceal her feelings towards him. He, on the other 
 hand, was at first only flattered." 
 
 " Flattered ! " ejaculated Olive under her breath, " at 
 the attentions of a pert country minx. I should have 
 thought that they would have disgusted him." 
 
 " Not a bit of it, my dear. Men are like wasps. 
 Honey will always attract them ... the honey of soft 
 speeches and pretty glances. He may have been cold 
 at first, but now things are altogether reversed." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " 'Tis Boadicea who holds aloof, whilst Lieutenant 
 Carrington is as keen as a fly after jam." 
 
 " Ug:h ! 1 " grunted Mr. Crabtree.
 
 A WOMAN IN A RAGE 187 
 
 " Then, 'tis for you, Aunt, to put an end to this 
 ridiculous engagement ! " exclaimed Olive excitedly. 
 
 " I wish she could ! " said Cousin Barnaby. 
 
 " Ridiculous engagement ! " — and Aunt Caroline's 
 hands went up in token of supreme astonishment. 
 ** Why, it will be the joy of my life to see the child 
 married to Mamie Carrington's boy! She was my 
 dearest friend. He is rich, well-favoured, a perfect 
 gentleman. . . ." 
 
 " I call the whole thing unseemly, silly, senseless ! " 
 cried Olive hotly. " She is far too young, too stupid 
 . . . she is nothing better than an uneducated school- 
 girl, quite unfit to go into society ... or to the altar, 
 for a matter of that ... I call it wicked to allow such 
 an engagement to go on." 
 
 " But, my dear, at the time . . ^ 
 
 " At the time we all had to save the child's reputa- 
 tion, which she had so gravely compromised by her im- 
 modest conduct. Lieutenant Carrington behaved just 
 as a gentleman should, and averted the scandal which 
 would for ever have disgraced us all. But he had no 
 intention to entangle himself in the meshes of an en- 
 gagement with a girl for whom he could have nothing 
 but contempt, and for his sake — since he behaved so 
 nobly at the time — that senseless engagement must be 
 put an end to at once I " 
 
 " But, my dear," protested Aunt Caroline meekly, 
 for Olive was waxing very vehement, and Aunt Caro- 
 line was greatly afraid of her niece's tantrums, " be- 
 lieve my old experience I I don't believe that either of 
 those two young people would wish to break the en- 
 gagement off now 1 '*
 
 i88 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Then you should interfere, Aunt ! " cried Olive, 
 completely losing control over her nerves, and shriek- 
 ing at the top of her voice like some virago in a rage. 
 ** Someone ought to interfere — the whole thing is 
 monstrous, infamous, silly and wicked! I'll not allow 
 it ... I won't ... I wont ! " 
 
 " Olive ! " exclaimed Aunt Caroline in astonishment, 
 " what in the world is the matter? . . . I've never seen 
 you like this. . . ." 
 
 " Most disturbing! " muttered Cousin Barnaby. 
 
 Aunt Caroline's exclamation of astonishment had 
 recalled Olive to herself. She had a sufficiency of 
 common-sense and also of conceit not to wish to expose 
 her feelings before her aunt and this disagreeable, mis- 
 chief-making old man. Her jealousy had rendered 
 her not only spiteful, but careless of appearances; and 
 appearances were the beginning and end of Olive's rule 
 of conduct. So, seeing her aunt's round eyes fixed in 
 amazement upon her, she pulled herself together reso- 
 lutely, and said, with a quick, anxious little laugh : 
 
 " Oh ! ... I ... I beg your pardon, Aunt. . . . 
 I must have been dreaming . . ." 
 
 " Funny dreams ! " muttered Cousin Barnaby. 
 
 " It is so hot — and the flies are so upsetting," con- 
 tinued Lady Jeffreys. " I was disturbed. . . ." 
 
 " So was I, gravely disturbed." 
 
 " I think it must have been the heat . . . and 
 Cousin Barnaby 's silly remarks.. . . Please, Aunt, ex- 
 cuse me! ... I think I'll go and lie down for a 
 while. Boadicea shall bathe my head with vinegar 
 and water. . . . Cousin Barnaby was too funny . . . 
 mimicking a love-sick youth . . . Cousin Barnaby, I
 
 A WOMAN IN A RAGE 189 
 
 suspect you of being in love yourself, the pretty way 
 you said ' Meadowsweet ! my little Meadowsweet ! * 
 ... I thought I should have died with laughter. . . . 
 What time is supper to-night, Aunt? — as usual, I 
 suppose. ... I don't think that I'll come down be- 
 fore then . . . my headache will be better by that 
 time, if I keep quiet. So long, Cousin Barnaby. . . . 
 I hope you'll enjoy your fourth cup of tea . . . un- 
 disturbed." 
 
 She was laughing hysterically, whilst short, sharp 
 sobs shook her throat and brought tears of anger to 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Shall I come with you, Olive ? " asked Aunt Caro- 
 line, feeling very concerned at this strange outburst of 
 rage, which she was too simple to understand. 
 
 " No, no. Aunt, thank you ! I shall find Boadicea 
 indoors, shall I not? In the arms of Lieutenant Car- 
 rington probably? Really, Aunt, I think you might 
 "watch a little more carefully over the child. With 
 her disregard of conventionalities, she might yet 
 bring lasting disgrace upon us all." 
 
 With this parting shaft aimed at poor, unsophisti- 
 cated Aunt Caroline, Lady Jeffreys gathered up her 
 flounced skirts and, interposing her sunshade between 
 herself and Cousin Barnaby 's rude stare, she walked 
 rapidly away in the direction of the house. 
 
 " At last we may indulge in a little peace," said 
 Mr. Crabtree calmly, as soon as Olive's pretty figure 
 had vanished in the distance. " Caroline, both your 
 nieces are a disturbing element in this household. You 
 will have to rid yourself of them."
 
 190 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " I wonder now what was the matter with Olive," 
 mused Aunt Caroline thoughtfully. 
 
 "Her liver probably. Most disturbances can be 
 ascribed to the liver. Caroline," he added, handing 
 over his cup for refilling, " this tea has become cold. 
 I'll partake of another more^ palatable cup — and this 
 time, I hope, in peace." 
 
 And he did finish his tea in peace, even though a 
 few moments later Lieutenant Carrington came down 
 from the house, and after a few polite words of excuse 
 sat down and had his tea in silence. Aunt Caroline 
 asked after Boadicea. But Lieutenant Carrington 
 said that he had sought for her in vain for a long 
 while, and only caught sight of her a moment ago, 
 when she was running upstairs in response to a per- 
 emptory call from Lady Jeffreys. 
 
 Whereupon Aunt Caroline was greatly upset that the 
 child should be missing her tea.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 AN UNSEEMLY INCIDENT 
 
 I DON^T know whether Aunt CaroHne actually sug- 
 gested that Boadicea should go out into the orchard 
 and see if that silly girl Susan had left one of the best 
 silver spoons behind, or whether Aunt Caroline did 
 no such thing, and the suggestion came from Boadicea. 
 
 This I do know, that about an hour later, when the 
 tea-things had been washed up and Aunt Caroline 
 had as usual gone to the museum for the express pur- 
 pose of worrying Uncle Jasper in the intervals of 
 darning his socks, Boadicea did go into the orchard 
 to see if Susan had left one of the best silver spoons 
 on the grass. 
 
 Now Susan had done no such thing, and the orchard 
 at this hour was quite peaceful and deserted. The 
 birds were gathering up the crumbs which had fallen 
 from the merrymakers' table, and except for the fact 
 that the grass around the foot of the grand fatherly 
 cherry-tree was trodden down and limp from the im- 
 press of the recent tea-party, there was no sign that the 
 peace of this midsummer's afternoon had ever been 
 disturbed. 
 
 The tea-party had, as a matter of fact, come to an 
 abrupt and somewhat unseemly ending, which circum- 
 stance it is my duty to chronicle, seeing that it will 
 more fully explain the reason why the orchard gener- 
 
 191
 
 192 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 ally and the neighbourhood of the grandfatherly 
 cherry-tree most particularly were quite so deserted at 
 this early hour of the day. 
 
 Aunt Caroline and Lieutenant Carrington were con- 
 versing politely on indifferent topics, such as the 
 weather, and the prospects of the apple crop, whilst 
 Mr. Crabtree partook of a copious meal, which in- 
 cluded all the muffins and most of the cake which had 
 been intended for the rest of the party. Strangely 
 enough. Aunt Caroline, by some intuition which she 
 herself could not have explained, refrained from men- 
 tioning either Olive's or Boadicea's name; this reti- 
 cence was all the more remarkable as she must have 
 felt worried at the thought that both were missing their 
 tea. 
 
 To miss a meal was in Aunt Caroline's opinion the 
 most blameworthy act on the part of any well-regu- 
 lated constitution, and it was therefore greatly to her 
 credit that tact and discretion got the better of her 
 usual fussiness. I think that Lieutenant Carrington 
 would have liked to talk about Boadicea just then; 
 there are strange and subtle wishes in the heart when 
 love holds its full sway in it, curious reticences, and 
 unaccountable timidities, which are very delicious to 
 experience, for Love creates them, and the sensations 
 that Love creates have all a foretaste of heaven. So 
 Lieutenant Carrington was quite content to sit quietly 
 beneath the cherry-tree and to listen to Aunt Caroline's 
 mild efforts at conversation, for his memory held the 
 promise which Boadicea had given him, to meet him 
 in the orchard — alone — presently and to listen to
 
 AN UNSEEMLY INCIDENT 193 
 
 what he had to say, and his heart was feeding on the 
 dehghts of anticipation. 
 
 During this time, Susan, sitting at a respectful dis- 
 tance from her betters, was consuming everything that 
 Aunt Caroline had set aside for her, the outside pieces 
 of the cake and the middle pieces of the muffin, which 
 Cousin Barnaby did not care about ; and Uncle Jasper 
 was stalking a beautiful large butterfly with his net. 
 
 As luck would have it, the butterfly settled for one 
 moment on the top of Mr. Crabtree's bald head, and 
 unfortunately Uncle Jasper, being very short-sighted 
 as well as very enthusiastic in the pursuit of science, 
 brought his net down somewhat suddenly over the 
 butterfly and Mr. Crabtree's head. 
 
 The immediate result was only what could be ex- 
 pected. The cup full of tea, which Mr. Crabtree was 
 about to convey to his lips, fell from his hand, the 
 tea was spilt all over Aunt Caroline's best table-cloth 
 and drowned the remainder of an excellent plum-cake 
 which, after such an immersion, would be wholly unfit 
 to eat, and of course Cousin Barnaby swore profusely. 
 
 " Thunder and flame ! . . . what the . . . why 
 the ., . ." 
 
 "Jasper, how could you?" exclaimed Aunt Caro- 
 line, horrified. 
 
 Then she loudly called to Susan, who, I am sorry to 
 say, was rolling over in the grass, at a respectful dis- 
 tance, of course, holding her sides with laughter. 
 
 " Susan ! Susan ! Lord bless my soul, where's that 
 girl now! Susan! " 
 
 Yes, ma'am!" Susan contrived to say, after she 
 
 i(
 
 194 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 had stuffed her mouth full of muffin to choke back the 
 immoderate laughter. 
 
 And while Aunt Caroline fussed round Cousin Bar- 
 naby with a serviette, and Susan tried to rescue the 
 bread and butter from the flood of tea. Uncle Jasper 
 said reproachfully : 
 
 " You have scared him away, Barnaby ! A beautiful 
 Red Admiral!" 
 
 " On my head? " roared Mr. Crabtree, whose indig- 
 nation was at its height. "On my head? . . . Jasper, 
 I ask you, am I a begad geranium? " 
 
 " Aliusque et idem," murmured Uncle Jasper plac- 
 idly; " another yet the same." 
 
 And not waiting to hear further abuse from irate 
 Cousin Barnaby, he calmly continued to stalk the Red 
 Admiral. Presently he caught it, and carried it off in 
 triumph to the museum, whilst Mr. Crabtree muttered 
 indignantly : 
 
 " I shall have to change my pantaloons ! " 
 
 " Aye, aye, come with me. Cousin Barnaby ! " said 
 Aunt Caroline in a kindly spirit of conciliation. 
 " Take no heed of Jasper ; he meant no harm." 
 
 " He ought to be in a lunatic asylum ! " 
 
 He kindly allowed Aunt Caroline to lead him away 
 from the scene of this outrageous catastrophe, whilst 
 Susan, busy clearing away the mess, muttered under 
 her breath : 
 
 " If we all was . . ." 
 
 "Stop muttering!" said Mr. Crabtree, who was 
 still very cross. " I hate muttering . . . What did 
 you say, girl ? " 
 
 But Susan now was dumb. She bent her head
 
 AN UNSEEMLY INCIDENT 195 
 
 down to the tea-things, pretending to be very absorbed 
 in her work. She waited until Mr. Crabtree and Aunt 
 CaroHne were well out of earshot, then she said as 
 loudly as she dared, nodding her head in the direction 
 of the dyspeptic old man : 
 
 " What I say is, some of us ought to be in a wild 
 beast show ! " 
 
 After which exclamation she felt that her feelings 
 had been relieved. She concluded her own tea in 
 peace and then set to to clear away all the tea-things, 
 and honestly I do not think that she left any silver 
 spoon on the grass. 
 
 And yet, an hour later, Boadicea declared to Aunt 
 Caroline that one of the spoons was missing and that 
 she was quite sure she would find it in the long grass 
 under the cherry-tree where the tea had been laid out, 
 which I must tell you was not at all unlikely, seeing 
 that that spoon was at this moment quietly reposing 
 in Boadicea's pocket, and that as she went straight 
 away and put it in the long grass under the cherry- 
 tree, she would surely find it there again after a ten 
 minutes' search. 
 
 All of which of course is most reprehensible ; nor 
 did the manoeuvre deceive Aunt Caroline, who had 
 counted the spoons over before they were washed up, 
 and knew that they were all together then, and who 
 had, moreover, taken special note of the fact that Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington was nowhere about the house and 
 was most probably in the orchard at this moment, 
 waiting for that spoon to be discovered in the long 
 grass under the cherry-tree.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A FAIRY TALE 
 
 Six o'clock in the afternoon at the beginning of 
 July is one of the most exquisite moments in an Eng- 
 lish orchard, when the shadows are beginning to length- 
 en, and the rays of the sun come slanting through the 
 network of boughs, and on the west side every leaf 
 on every damson or cherry tree is a tiny mirror that 
 reflects the glory of the sky. 
 
 In the shadow of the house there was a bed of white 
 tobacco in full bloom, and just at this hour the sweet 
 pungent scent filled the orchard from end to end, and 
 lazy bumble bees hovered above the waxen flowers and 
 gave forth that dull, quaint sound of buzzing and dron- 
 ing which is so soothing and so suggestive of peace. 
 
 Boadicea walked towards the orchard from the 
 house. She was hatless, and her brown hair, ever 
 inclined to unruliness, escaped all round her head 
 from the trammels of a big black satin bow which at- 
 tempted to fetter it at the nape of her neck. Close 
 by the bed of tobaccos she paused a moment, and 
 drew one long breath, drinking in with both nostrils 
 the delicious, almost intoxicating fragrance of the 
 flowers. 
 
 She could see no one in the orchard for the moment, 
 and she was glad of this respite, for her heart was 
 beating furiously; she really could not have told you 
 
 196
 
 A FAIRY TALE 197 
 
 why. She turned her steps toward the grand fatherly 
 cherry-tree, and the next moment two strong arms 
 encircled her from behind, and she had the greatest 
 possible difficulty in extricating herself from these in- 
 sistent bonds. 
 
 *' How dare you ? " she exclaimed as soon as she 
 was free again, and stood facing the bold assailant, 
 who, with glowing eyes, was looking into her own. 
 
 ** I wonder how I dare," he replied, unabashed. 
 
 *' I was looking for aunt," she said stiffly. But she 
 made no attempt to move away. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " he said quite seriously. " Surely for old 
 Crabtree ? " 
 
 And that light of merriment twinkled impertinently 
 in his grey eyes. 
 
 " I'll go and find aunt elsewhere," she rejoined lof- 
 tily, and walked further into the orchard in the direc- 
 tion of the cherry-tree. 
 
 " I swear to you that you shall not ! " he said. 
 
 And he walked quicker than she did, and was the 
 first to reach the tree. There he stopped, and threw 
 himself down on the grass in the long cool shadow, 
 and whilst she said haughtily: " Indeed? " he looked 
 on her approaching figure with eyes that literally 
 drank in every graceful line, from the exquisitely 
 poised little head, with the brown hair gleaming like 
 gold in the sunshine, down to the small feet that trod 
 the ground so firmly. 
 
 " You are going to stay here for ten minutes — 
 alone with me — as you promised," he said. 
 
 And his eyes invited her to sit beside him on the cool 
 grass, and, believe me, that when presently she did
 
 198 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 so, putting on a quaint air of resignation and of dis- 
 dain which the soft blush in her cheeks disclaimed, he 
 had to clasp his hands tightly together, pressing his 
 nails into his flesh, in an endeavour to repress that 
 overmastering desire to seize her then and there in 
 his arms and to press her closely to him, whilst his 
 lips sought the delicious fragrance of her hair, her 
 eyes, her lips. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! I promised ! " she said, with whimsical 
 affectation. " Well, then, you must be brief. . . ." 
 
 Then as he said nothing, but continued to look on 
 her with an ardent gaze that sent the hot blood rush- 
 ing up to her cheek, she said impatiently : 
 
 " Well ! why don't you begin? I can only give you 
 ten minutes, you know." 
 
 He saw the blush in her cheek, and wondered how 
 much of it came from girlish coquetry and how much 
 from ignorance of what his glance had desired to 
 convey. Now that he had her so near to him, so 
 thoroughly at the mercy of the passionate appeal 
 which he wished to make to her, a strange diffidence 
 seized him. She seemed so very young, so wholly 
 unsophisticated, so far removed in her purity and her 
 innocence from the scorching breath of a man's pas- 
 sion. He was afraid that he would scare her, that she 
 would not understand all that lay in his heart, and that 
 he wished to convey to her in a few glowing words 
 which already seared his lips. 
 
 Therefore he called forth his strongest will-power 
 now, and forced back the words of love which were 
 rushing up, helter-skelter, from his heart, in mad dis- 
 order, and glowing, wild, delicious nonsense. He was
 
 A FAIRY TALE i99 
 
 longing just to lie down close beside her, with his lips 
 pressed against her feet, and to pour out all the flood 
 of love, of worship and ecstasy which filled his heart 
 to bursting. But will-power was strong in him, for 
 on its strength, perhaps, depended all future happiness, 
 both for him and for this child. It called back his 
 unruly senses to calm and to self-control, and after a 
 moment's pause during which he closed his eyes, for 
 he could not bear to look on her and not tell her at 
 once of his love, he said, quite quietly: 
 
 "May I tell you a tale?" 
 
 "A tale?" she asked, in astonishment. "What 
 kind of a tale? " 
 
 " A fairy tale," he replied. 
 
 " Why should you want to tell me a tale now ? " 
 
 " You will understand the reason after my tale has 
 been told. May I begin? " 
 
 "If you like," she said, with an indifferent shrug of 
 the shoulders. 
 
 " Once upon a time," he began, " all the flowers of 
 the field rebelled against the Fairy Queen, They had 
 got tired of the country, and wished to go up to town. 
 * We'll go to London,' said they, * and see the world, 
 and be seen and admired by all the townsfolk. We're 
 tired of being looked on merely by stupid country 
 folk ! ' This, mind you, is what the flowers of the 
 field said to the Fairy Queen." 
 
 " Did you invent this tale. Lieutenant Carrington? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Yes, partly. Do you care for it ? " 
 
 " Not very much so far. It seems to be rather 
 pointless."
 
 200 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " How can you tell ? I have only just begun." 
 
 "Will it take long?" 
 
 " Ten minutes. May I go on? " 
 
 "If you like," she reiterated, with still the same 
 indifference. 
 
 " The Fairy Queen," he then went on, " could not 
 very well stop them if they wished to go, so all the 
 flowers of the field went to town — briar-rose and 
 toad-flax, purple vetch and ox-eyed daisies. They 
 were clipped and trimmed and put into vases and 
 openly displayed in shops and markets. They suffered 
 tortures with wires and string, but they didn't mind. 
 They had had their way and had become town flow- 
 
 ers." 
 
 " I still don't see the point of the story. Lieutenant 
 Carrington," she said. 
 
 " You must have a little patience. I am coming to 
 the point. In the general exodus from the fields, one 
 little flower was forgotten. She was dainty and shy 
 and hid under the hedgerows, and so her prouder 
 sisters failed to notice her." 
 
 " What was her name? " 
 
 " I'll tell it you presently. The Fairy Queen saw 
 her as she passed, she was touched by the flower's 
 freshness and her grace, and then and there endowed 
 her with all the attributes which the other flowers had 
 disclaimed. She gave her scent so sweet that the bees 
 and butterflies fight for a kiss from her, she gave her 
 a white gown with dainty frills, and finally she gave 
 her a name so beautiful and so pure that ever after it 
 remained the emblem of tender womanhood." 
 
 " And what was that name, Lieutenant Carring-
 
 A FAIRY TALE 201 
 
 ton?" she asked, shyly, timidly, almost in a whisper, 
 for her voice had lost its quaint note of affectation, and 
 her head was drooping as if under the weight of the 
 gold in her hair. 
 
 " The name," he said — also in a whisper — " which 
 always springs to my lips when I look at you . . . 
 Meadowsweet ! " 
 
 " My name is Boadicea Aldmarshe." 
 
 " Not to me ! . . . Ever since that day when Fate 
 thought fit to shuffle her cards and made us partners 
 in this game of life, ever since then you have meant 
 to me all that is fresh and pure in life — just a little 
 sprig of meadowsweet." 
 
 " But the game is ended," she said. " Fate is shuf- 
 fling her cards again." 
 
 He could not see her eyes, for they were downcast, 
 but it seemed to him as if dewy moisture lingered on 
 their lashes, and certainly there had been a tremor in 
 her voice, as of tears that would rise to her throat. 
 
 " Is it ended? " he asked. 
 
 " Why, of course," she said ; " we were partners not 
 of our own free will." 
 
 "Yes, then. But now?" 
 
 " I don't know what you mean ! " 
 
 " I could explain if . . ." 
 
 "If what?" 
 
 "If you would look at me." 
 
 She raised her eyes to his, and he saw that they were 
 full of tears, and so bright, so bright that an infinity 
 of promise lay within their luminous depths. 
 
 He could have fallen down and worshipped her then.
 
 202 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Never had he seen such innocence, such purity in any 
 woman's eyes. From her whole personality there 
 emanated such perfect trust, and such simplicity of 
 soul, that even the ardent breath of passion must cool 
 ere it touched her. Later on she would become a 
 woman, no doubt; later on she would understand a 
 man's love better, know all its ardour, and forgive all 
 its sins; but now she was only a child, and it almost 
 seemed sacrilege to disturb her serenity. 
 
 " May I go on with the fairy tale? " he asked. 
 
 "If you like," she said simply. 
 
 " One midsummer's day — while all the gayer jflow- 
 ers were parading the streets — the meadowsweet fell 
 asleep under the hedgerow. The air was full of the 
 song of birds, and the flap of butterflies' wings. And 
 the West Wind came playing round that hedgerow. 
 He peeped beneath and saw the Meadowsweet, so pure, 
 so sweet, so exquisitely fair. He blew upon the blos- 
 som . . . and whispered words to waken the soul of 
 the flower . . . words of tenderness . . . and 
 of love. . . ." 
 
 The long lashes were once more veiling the glory of 
 the eyes. She could not have gone on looking at him, 
 whilst he spoke like that. 
 
 How exquisite was his voice ! how tender the glance 
 of his eyes. A delicious sense of happiness, of confi- 
 dence and of faith crept into her heart. Something 
 thrilled her, too, something that she did not under- 
 stand; perhaps it was the scent of those white flowers 
 in the shadow, for the very air seemed quivering with 
 their fragrance. 
 
 " I don't suppose," she murmured shyly, " that the
 
 A FAIRY TALE 203 
 
 Meadowsweet understood . . . tenderness, perhaps 
 . . . but love? . . ." 
 
 " My Meadowsweet — the one of whom I speak — 
 asked the birds and the bees, and they told her what 
 the West Wind meant." 
 
 " But you say that she was asleep." 
 
 " Ah ! but the West Wind woke her." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 He put his arms round her suddenly, without 
 further thought, and only because he could no longer 
 contain himself and his very body ached with the in- 
 tensity of his desire for that first kiss. He took her 
 in his arms, and his lips sought hers. 
 
 " Like this ! " he said. 
 
 She yielded her lips to him, just like a child that 
 would give all it has, for sheer love, for sheer happi- 
 ness, for sheer desire to give. She yielded her lips 
 and gave him kiss for kiss. 
 
 " Meadowsweet, my little Meadowsweet! " he mur- 
 mured through broken sobs that came to his throat 
 with the very intensity of his happiness. " It is too 
 good, too good to be true! . . . You so beautiful, 
 so dear, so sweet, do you ... do you really love 
 me?" 
 
 She smiled at him through her tears, and whispered 
 timidly : 
 
 " The West Wind woke the Meadowsweet, you see 
 . . . she has asked the birds and bees, and now . . ." 
 
 "Yes! And now?" 
 
 " I think that she understands." 
 
 She hid her face, which was covered with blushes. 
 Then as he was about to pour into her ear all the words
 
 204 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 of passionate adoration which he had held in check 
 for so long, she quickly put up her small brown hand 
 and her fingers were pressed against his lips. 
 
 And now she looked at him again, half shyly, and 
 with a curious, questioning glance. 
 
 "Hush! sh! sh!" she said. "Don't speak now 
 . . . don't tell me anything more. ... It is all so 
 new, so wonderful! I had never loved before," she 
 added naively ; " I never even knew what love meant. 
 It must be so different for you." 
 
 " Until I looked into your dear eyes," he said ear- 
 nestly, " until I scented the meadowsweet in the hedge- 
 rows, I never knew what love could mean." 
 
 She sighed with infinite content; you see, she had 
 no idea that the world could be quite so beautiful as it 
 was now; she had no idea how glorious could be the 
 sunshine peeping through the branches of cherry-trees, 
 how green could be the grass, how sweet the note of 
 the cuckoo which came from far away. Everything 
 in nature which she had seen and felt and heard, every- 
 thing that she had admired and loved, was infinitely 
 more lovable, more admirable now that she sat with 
 a man's arms round her, and the savour of his kiss 
 still lingered on her lips. 
 
 How long they sat together like this, neither of 
 them did know; what they said to one another only 
 the birds and bees could hear. I'll not plague you 
 with telling you of that delicious nonsense which they 
 talked, the tender, inane, sublime babblings of newly 
 awakened love. Only those who remember their own 
 first babblings would forbear to smile, and those who 
 choose to remember are fewer and fewer every day.
 
 A FAIRY TALE 205 
 
 In every human heart there is such a memory; 
 every human soul has once been an infant suckling at 
 the breast of Love, inarticulate, ecstatic, sublime in its 
 inanity. But the strenuous exigencies of modern life 
 have thrown a thick grey veil over the memory of that 
 halcyon hour, and the veil has been allowed to cling 
 to and to choke up memory until it has faded out of 
 ken. 
 
 But those who have kept such memory green will 
 understand, without being told, all that Jack Carring- 
 ton and Boadicea said to one another under the cherry- 
 tree that afternoon; as for the others, they would not 
 care. 
 
 The hours slipped by and the shadows grew longer. 
 From Minster tower far away came the sound of 
 church bells ringing for evening prayer. Boadicea 
 was the first to wake from an enchanting dream. 
 
 " And now I must go, my dear, my love ! " she said, 
 still shyly. " Aunt Caroline will be wondering . . . 
 and, oh ! it must be near supper-time." 
 
 " Not yet ! " he pleaded. 
 
 " Oh, but I must go I I ... I want to be alone — 
 just for a little while . . . before I meet the others 
 ... I want to think ... to live my happiness." 
 
 " Live it awhile longer in my arms." 
 
 " No ... no ... I must go ... I really 
 must ! " 
 
 And she disengaged herself from those clinging 
 arms, and, rising to her feet, she stood before him, 
 demure and tall, with just that soft, rosy blush in her 
 cheeks to betray her womanhood, to show that a man's 
 kiss had blown the spirit of childhood away.
 
 2o6 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 She meant to turn away from him without a word 
 of parting, for it seemed to her that everything had 
 been said that could possibly be said, and that the time 
 had come now for a long and delicious silence. 
 
 But just as she was about to turn away, some 
 thought seemed to flash through her mind, and it was 
 she now who, with a sudden impulse, had put her arms 
 on his shoulders. 
 
 " My dear," she said earnestly, " if anything should 
 part us now . . ." 
 
 " What could part us, little Meadowsweet ? " he 
 asked exultantly, triumphant in his love. 
 
 " I don't know," she replied; " but if it should . . ." 
 She paused a moment, then added slowly : 
 
 " It would break my heart! " 
 
 " Nothing on earth can part us now. I have held 
 you in my arms, my Meadowsweet, and I have felt the 
 magic of your kiss ... do you think that I could 
 after that allow anything to part us? " 
 
 " No! no! of course not," she said simply; "but it 
 seems so strange! it seems as if this happiness was 
 really too great to last ! " 
 
 Then she turned away quickly, and ran towards the 
 house, and he stood still under the cherry-trees, look- 
 ing after her retreating figure as a man would on the 
 embodiment of earthly happiness. 
 
 And the intoxicating fragrance of many blossoms 
 was in the air. Overhead a thrush was singing to its 
 mate; the swallows were circling high up above the 
 trees, and tiny fleecy clouds raced across the sky. 
 
 Jack Carrington fell on his knees and thanked God 
 for it all.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A LIE 
 
 What a beautiful world it was! 
 
 The air was balmy and soft, not too hot and not 
 too cool; never had the thrushes sung so beautifully; 
 their incessant "He did it! he did it! he did it!" 
 sounded just the right note in tune with this glori- 
 ous afternoon. Had the sky ever been more brilliant 
 and more filmy ? had the flowers ever been so fragrant 
 before, or the strawberries looked more luscious? 
 
 Of course they had not. Nothing had ever been 
 so beautiful, so fragrant, or so luscious; in fact, one 
 came to wonder how the world had got on at all be- 
 fore . . . before this . . . this wonderful thing hap- 
 pened. 
 
 The most wonderful thing that ever was had sud- 
 denly come to pass, and therefore the swallows twit- 
 tered so merrily and circled round and round high up 
 above the trees, in a manner indicative of their great 
 joy, and therefore the thrushes said : ** He did it, he 
 did it, he did it!" over and over again because, of 
 course, they knew that the one and only He in all the 
 world had done it. The one and only He had opened 
 the book of life and told Boadicea to read in it the 
 great opening chapter — the chapter of Love. 
 
 Would you laugh in a very superior way if yoit 
 heard that Boadicea ran straight up to her room and 
 
 207
 
 2o8 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 threw herself on her narrow bed face downwards, and 
 that she buried her hot Httle face in her hands, and 
 cried, and cried as if her heart would break? 
 
 It was breaking, you know, with the intensity of her 
 happiness. That happiness seemed really greater than 
 her young heart could hold. 
 
 She cried for a while, and then she smiled through 
 her tears, and kissed the palms of her hands, because 
 they had touched his hair and his cheeks. Then she 
 laughed at herself for being such a goose, and blushed 
 at the thought of what he would say and do if he saw 
 her now. 
 
 She jumped up from the bed and washed her face 
 and eyes with cold water; and all the while she was 
 singing merrier than any bird : " He did it ! he did it ! 
 he did it! " He had opened up the store-house of her 
 heart, and had put his own image there into a shrine. 
 There it would remain for ever; it would take very 
 cruel hands to tear it right out, hands that would lac- 
 erate the heart before ever they succeeded in their 
 cruel purpose. 
 
 And he had done more than that ; he had made the 
 world beautiful for her, he had decked the lily and 
 painted the sky, and taught her a great and wonderful 
 lesson. 
 
 She knew now how dellciously sweet a kiss could be ! 
 
 The old grandfather clock in the hall below struck 
 six most solemnly. Though the world was so beauti- 
 ful, time did not stand still. Boadicea gave a little 
 sigh of disappointment. She had so wanted to spend 
 a few happy hours contemplating her dream. But 
 habit and a sense of housewifely duties still held pow-
 
 A LIE 209 
 
 erful sway, even over her excitement. Hastily she 
 smoothed down the last rebellious brown curls, then 
 she donned her housekeeping apron and was ready to 
 go downstairs. 
 
 Half an hour before supper, and the cloth was not 
 yet laid unless Susan had been more than usually ac- 
 tive. 
 
 As she opened the door of her room, she saw Olive 
 coming up the stairs. She was apparently going to 
 her own room, but was moving with a languid step, 
 as if she were tired or else very troubled. She paused 
 on the landing, and looked with obvious surprise on 
 Boadicea, whose glowing face, bright eyes, and whole 
 personality quivering w^ith joy and excitement be- 
 trayed a secret that was not difficult to guess. 
 
 Olive's eyes were sharp, and her intuition in such 
 matters unerring. The child w^as simply brimming 
 over with happiness, and Lieutenant Carrington had 
 not yet come in from the orchard. It required no 
 great penetration to fit these two facts into one very 
 obvious whole. 
 
 " Why, child, where have you been? " exclaimed the 
 older sister, feigning complete astonishment. " Aunt 
 Caroline has been looking for you everywhere." 
 
 " I have been in the orchard," said Boadicea simply. 
 
 She had no occasion or desire to conceal the one 
 great fact, though in her heart of hearts she would 
 have loved to guard her secret just a little while longer, 
 to feast on it, like a little glutton that would devour 
 a world of happiness. 
 
 " In the orchard ? " queried Olive, with just that 
 delicate lifting of arched eyebrows which indicated
 
 210 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 displeasure as well as surprise. " Were you alone? " 
 " No. Lieutenant Carrington was with me." 
 " Oh ! " said the other indifferently. " By the way, 
 child, just run down a moment to Aunt Caroline and 
 see if she wants anything, then come and talk to me 
 in your own room, will you? There is something I 
 want to say to you." 
 
 Olive was smiling, and she spoke quite kindly. 
 " Run along, child. Don't be long," she added, as 
 Boadicea, submissive and willing as usual, had already 
 turned to obey. Her white skirt soon disappeared 
 round the angle of the stairs. Olive watched her sis- 
 ter's retreating figure, until the light patter of her feet 
 ceased to echo from below, then she turned and went 
 into Boadicea's room. 
 
 She sat down at the dressing-table, in front of the 
 old-fashioned mirror. Leaning forward she studied 
 for awhile with grave attention the dainty image which 
 the glass held before her; the tiny head crowned with 
 curls of a pale golden hue, the colour of ripe corn, 
 shimmering in the sunlight; the blue eyes and arched 
 eyebrows, the softly-rounded cheek on which nature 
 carefully aided by art had spread a delicate rosy tint. 
 
 The image was winning and charming in the ex- 
 treme. No one who looked could deny this ; no won- 
 der that on Olive's face, as she gazed, there came an 
 expression of deep puzzlement. Surely a man must 
 be blind to look with favour on any other face but that 
 which the mirror so kindly reflected. And being blind, 
 he must, of course, be cured, and you may be certain 
 that he will presently be thanking God on his knees 
 for having been cured from his malady.
 
 A LIE 211 
 
 The resolution of perfonning this surgical operation 
 was quickly come to. Olive now only chided herself 
 for having been so considerate, so tender-hearted all 
 this while. Lieutenant Jack had no doubt been miser- 
 able at her seeming indifference, and — almost in des- 
 peration — 'Was turning to Boadicea for solace and 
 consolation. 
 
 Well! all that could be put right with very little 
 trouble. Olive marvelled that she had never thought 
 of it before. Fortunately it was not too late; Lieu- 
 tenant Jack's affections were not really engaged, and, of 
 course, a child like Boadicea would soon forget her 
 own silly sentimentality. 
 
 There came the sound of light feet upon the stairs. 
 Olive went to the door and opened it, and the next 
 moment the same excited, quivering, glowing Boadicea 
 had followed her sister back into the room. 
 
 " Aunt did not really want me," she said. " I told 
 her that you wished me to come to you, so, of course, 
 she told me at once to run along, for she and Susan 
 had nearly finished laying the cloth for supper." 
 
 She talked rather breathlessly and quickly, like one 
 who has been running very fast. Olive put out an in- 
 viting hand to her, and in her childlike, impulsive way, 
 Boadicea ran to the dearly loved sister, and in the 
 exuberance of her joy kissed her tenderly. 
 
 She had no doubt but that Olive wished to question 
 her, and she was looking forward to entrusting her 
 precious secret to the one being in the world who she 
 believed would understand her. 
 
 " Sit down near me, little one," said Olive gently, as
 
 212 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 she sat down on one chair and drew another close to 
 hers. 
 
 But Boadicea disdained the chair. She knelt down 
 on the floor beside Olive and had her arms round 
 Olive's waist, and her head against Olive's shoulder. 
 She sighed with absolute content and also with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " I told you, dear, did I not," began Lady Jeffreys, 
 after a slight pause, " that there was something which 
 I wished to say to you ? " 
 
 "Yes, Olive. What is it?" 
 
 " Well, little one, it is a confession which I feel 
 bound in honour to make to you." 
 
 " A confession ? " queried the girl, very puzzled. 
 
 " Yes, dear. One which I ought to have made to 
 you long ago. ... I mean a month ago." 
 
 " Is it very serious, then ? " asked Boadicea play- 
 fully. 
 
 She was still so far from guessing what would come. 
 
 " Very serious to me," replied Olive earnestly. " I 
 do not think that it will affect you much . . . only, 
 perhaps," she added, whilst tears seemed to be on the 
 point of gathering to her eyes, " in your estimate of 
 me." 
 
 The arms round Olive's shoulders tightened their 
 embrace. The face that was hidden against her bosom 
 was raised to her with an expression of enduring affec- 
 tion and of boundless trust. 
 
 " Nothing could affect my estimate of you, Olive," 
 said Boadicea tenderly ; " you know that ever since I 
 was a baby I have always looked up to you as the most 
 beautiful, the most clever, the most perfect being in all
 
 A LIE 213 
 
 the world. And to this day you are my ideal — and 
 the pattern whom I long to emulate." 
 
 " Well, dear, that is just what I cannot bear any 
 longer . . . your innocent admiration, your loving 
 faith weighs on me like a burden. ... I am not wor- 
 thy of it, little one . . ." 
 
 And this time two genuine tears ran down the deli- 
 cately-rouged cheeks, making pathetic little rivulets 
 which Olive did not even try to obliterate. 
 
 " Then what is this serious confession," asked 
 Boadicea quite gaily, " which you feel called upon to 
 make to me ? " 
 
 " It is so hard to make," said Olive, with a sigh. 
 
 " Shall I turn my back? It might be easier." 
 
 " No, no ! don't jest, little one. It hurts me to see 
 you laugh." 
 
 "Olive darling!" exclaimed Boadicea, and for the 
 first time since that wonderful moment this afternoon 
 a curious pang of pain shot right through her heart. 
 
 " You know, dear," began Olive, after some hesita- 
 tion, " a month ago . . . when Sir Baldwin came on 
 us unexpectedly. . . ." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " And I was alone with Lieutenant Carrington, you 
 remember? " 
 
 " Yes, Olive." 
 
 The voice was a little harder now, and the arms 
 that encircled Olive's shoulders dropped limply to the 
 girl's side. Boadicea was still kneeling beside her sister, 
 but her head was no longer pillowed on the sister's 
 breast. She was squatting back, sitting on her heels ; 
 the glow had died from her cheeks, and left them wliite
 
 214 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 and drawn ; her eyes were fixed upon her sister's face, 
 and her Hps were tightly set and hard. 
 
 " Go on, Olive," she said quietly, 
 
 " I ... I asked you, then, did I not, little one ? to 
 stand by me and to save me from my husband's jeal- 
 ousy ? " 
 
 " I did it heartily and willingly, Olive, and I have 
 not repented since." 
 
 " I swore to you then that I had done no wrong . . . 
 that Sir Baldwin's jealousy was baseless and insane. 
 ... I led you to believe, in fact, that I had been 
 merely thoughtless, and that Lieutenant Carrington 
 had never made love to me . . . you believed this at 
 the time, little one . . . did you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, Olive ... I believed this ... at the time." 
 
 " Well, child, I ... I lied to you then ... I lied 
 because I was afraid . . . but Sir Baldwin's jealousy 
 was quite justified. . . . Lieutenant Carrington and I 
 fully deserved his wrath. . . . Jack and I had loved 
 one another for some time . . . and that night. . . ." 
 
 Almost against her will she paused. She had meant 
 to put facts crudely, to plunge the poisoned dagger 
 into the child's innocent heart, and then to turn it in 
 the wound, so as to be quite sure that it had done its 
 deadly work; but Boadicea's eyes had compelled her 
 suddenly to silence, and for the next few moments 
 silence absolute reigned in the small narrow room. 
 Through the open window came still the hum of bees 
 and the song of birds; but, oh! how out of tune wefe 
 they. There was a peep of sky and of sunshine 
 through that same window, and tiny, fleecy clouds 
 chased one another across the canopy of blue, but they
 
 A LIE 215 
 
 were grey and dark, and the blue of the sky had faded 
 into dreary dullness. 
 
 " I ought to tell you, child," resumed Olive at last, 
 with an effort — for the silence had become oppressive. 
 
 " Tell me nothing now," said Boadicea in an even, 
 toneless voice ; " you have said enough . . . and I un- 
 derstand. . . . Now please go ! " 
 
 She seemed suddenly to have grown older. Olive 
 noted, not without satisfaction, how hard were the lines 
 of the young face now. The sun struck full in through 
 the open window, but Boadicea appeared not to notice 
 it, she was staring straight in front of her, her face 
 was the colour of grey ashes, and her lips were blood- 
 less. Her arms hung limply by her side. She had 
 forgotten Olive's presence, she had forgotten that she 
 lived, and that the world existed, In this awful cata- 
 clysm which had destroyed her happiness. 
 
 Olive tried to reason with her. She was almost 
 frightened at the havoc which she had wrought. 
 
 " Child, listen to me . . ." she urged. 
 
 But Boadicea, without moving from her position, 
 murmured through her half-closed lips: 
 
 " Go . . . go . . . Oh ! can't you see that you must 
 go now ! " 
 
 And Olive, without a word, slunk quietly out of the 
 room.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A BROKEN HEART 
 
 It had all been lies! lies! lies! 
 
 He had lied to her : that was the great, the dominat- 
 ing fact which reared its grim head above the ashes of 
 her joy. 
 
 He was a liar and had been Olive's lover ! The lips 
 which had murmured words of love into Olive's ear 
 had come to whisper lies into her own. 
 
 The shame of it! The awful, awful shame! The 
 desecration! The sacrilege! To talk of love and 
 pollute it ! To kiss, to embrace, and to be lying all the 
 time! To sneak like a coward, afraid of Sir Bald- 
 win's wrath ; and then to sneak further like a liar and a 
 cheat, stealing love and stealing kisses ! Oh, the misery ! 
 The shame of it all! 
 
 It was not so much the sense of a cruel wrong done 
 to herself that oppressed Boadicea's heart at this mo- 
 ment, but the knowledge that he was a liar, a sneak, 
 and a coward! It was the shattering of her illusions 
 that hurt her so terribly ; it was the ruthless hand that 
 tore at the image which she had enshrined that caused 
 her physical and mental agony, so great that she could 
 have rolled .on the floor and cried out in bitterness of 
 pain. 
 
 For the first few moments after Olive left her, life in 
 
 216
 
 A BROKEN HEART 217 
 
 her seemed almost suspended. She was so stunned 
 that her brain reeled. She saw nothing but blackness 
 before her, blackness through which came voices mock- 
 ing her and screaming shrilly : " He is a liar ! He is 
 a cheat!" 
 
 And now the thrush kept on repeating in a senseless, 
 monotonous fashion : " He did it ! He did it ! He 
 did it!" 
 
 He broke her heart by telling her lies without end ; 
 he cheated her into thinking him good, upright, hon- 
 ourable — he, her sister's lover, whom Sir Baldwin 
 might, if he would, have thrashed like a dog with im- 
 punity. 
 
 The shame! The shame of it all! The cruel cow- 
 ardly lies ! 
 
 She stopped her ears, for that silly thrush would 
 keep on saying : " He did it ! He did it ! He did it ! " 
 And when she could not shut out that monotonous 
 sound she began to laugh. It really was too ridiculous ! 
 
 She laughed and she laughed — loudly and jerkily. 
 She could not stop herself from laughing, because that 
 thrush was so very ridiculous. 
 
 And suddenly while she was still laughing, and her 
 chest and throat were torn to pieces by painful sobs, 
 the thrush ceased to talk nonsense. It seemed to 
 pause and to be listening. 
 
 And Boadicea, too, listened. 
 
 From the orchard which lay not far from her win- 
 dows there came the sound of a fresh, deep voice sing- 
 ing an old English song. 
 
 The refrain was quaint, and had in it a dreamy lilt, 
 and the words rang out clear and distinct.
 
 2i8 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Queen of my heart, unquestioned and alway, 
 Till death consume me, thou shalt be indeed ! 
 Reason ordains that I should ne'er be freed 
 (And there withal my pleasure doth agree) 
 From thy sweet service, while the years succeed, 
 And to this end we twain together be ! 
 
 The sobs and laughter in the girl's throat were 
 stilled. She squatted on the floor, there where she had 
 knelt when Olive first told her the ugly, unvarnished 
 truth. 
 
 She neither wept nor laughed now. Pain itself had 
 subsided. It seemed as if that song sung by him in 
 the orchard where he had lied to her had severed the 
 last cords which bound her to illimitable regret. 
 
 She was no longer a child. The last half-hour had 
 made her into a woman — a miserable, disillusioned, 
 suffering woman : a woman conscious of abiding deceit 
 and of abiding shame. But the paroxysm of grief 
 had gone by, leaving her physically a wreck and men- 
 tally numb. It was a long time before she could bring 
 her mind back to the realities of life and to its many 
 puerilities. 
 
 Supper would be served almost directly. It was 
 close on seven, and vaguely through her inert brain 
 there had passed the consciousness of various familiar 
 noises in and about the house — the rattling of pots 
 and pans in the kitchen, Aunt Caroline going up to her 
 room to tidy herself for supper. Cousin Barnaby 
 clamouring for something or other that he wanted. 
 
 Boadicea rose to her feet ; but she had to steady her- 
 self as she did so, for the walls of the room were danc- 
 ing a merry-go-round in front of her. Cold water to 
 her face and wrists brought a little sense of freshness.
 
 A BROKEN HEART 219 
 
 She was soon able to master herself and to steady her 
 limbs. She even said a few words aloud to herself to 
 see if her voice trembled or not. 
 
 Then from the wardrobe she took out the high- 
 waisted silk dress — the one which she had worn that 
 first evening when Lieutenant Carrington stayed to 
 supper, and then rode away, returning late at night for 
 the pre-arranged rendezvous with Olive. She had not 
 worn the dress since ; it had seemed sacred to that one 
 day when love was first bom and peeped out shyly into 
 the world. 
 
 Now love was dead, a liar's hand had smothered it 
 with cruel embraces, a liar's tongue had spoken its 
 funeral oration. Boadicea put on the high-waisted 
 dress again ; it had ceased to be sacred — it was just a 
 rag that would help to mock the dying throes of agon- 
 ising love. 
 
 Just as carefully as she had done on that memorable 
 evening, she dressed herself in her mother's silken 
 gown; she arranged her hair in puffs and curls with 
 the high comb of filigree fold, and donned the long lace 
 mittens and the narrow-pointed shoes with the crossed 
 straps over the ankles. After that she studied her 
 appearance in the mirror. She thought that she looked 
 rather pale, and that her eyes seemed unnaturally 
 large, for they had wide purple rings round the lids, 
 ,_but she hoped that her pallor would be generally 
 ascribed to the heat, and in any case she felt the power 
 in her to make light of it and to smile. 
 
 She took up the lace handkerchief and the tiny shell 
 fan which she had carried before, and thus arrayed 
 and equipped, she went downstairs.
 
 220 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Lieutenant Carrington was standing in the hall, 
 smiling up at her as she descended. She looked a per- 
 fect picture of dainty girlishness, and his twinkling 
 eyes told very plainly into what a fever of passionate 
 admiration her very appearance had thrown him. 
 
 He ran to the foot of the stairs with both arms out- 
 stretched, ready to catch her the moment her small foot 
 had touched the lowest step. 
 
 She paused, however, midway down the stairs and, 
 with admirable self-control, forced her face and eyes 
 to express nothing but lively unconcern, even whilst 
 within her innermost heart she marvelled how true 
 and loyal a miserable liar could contrive to look. 
 
 Half afraid that the contempt and loathing which 
 she felt for him would betray itself within the next 
 few moments, she gave a merry, affected laugh and 
 ran so quickly down the stairs that his arms failed to 
 catch her as she ran, and she escaped from him to the 
 museum door. 
 
 He overtook her just as she was inside the room and 
 was about to close the door on him. 
 
 " My Meadowsweet," he said gaily as he caught at 
 her hand and held it imprisoned between his own, 
 " queen of my heart, whither away? " 
 
 " A white-throat has nested in the mulberry-tree," 
 she retorted as gaily as he. " I have just time before 
 supper to steal the eggs for Uncle Jasper." 
 
 " But not in this gown," he said, with a smile that 
 had something of triumph in it, and he tried to draw 
 her closer to him, but she contrived to free herself 
 and to interpose the big table with all the glue-pots and
 
 A BROKEN HEART 221 
 
 brushes, the boxes of eyes and reels of wire, between 
 herself and him. 
 
 *' The gown will not suffer," she said lightly, " and 
 this is the best hour of the day for birds'-nesting." 
 
 But she made no attempt to go, seeing which Jack 
 Carrington's heart gave a wild thump of delight. He 
 was feasting his eyes on the exquisite apparition be- 
 fore him, and was longing for Old Father Time to 
 stand still for awhile, so that he might look and look 
 until he was really satiated with the sight of her. 
 
 He thought that she looked pale and that her eyes 
 were circled as if she had been crying, but at this he 
 was not astonished. He, too, out in the orchard, in 
 the shadow of the cherry-tree, had felt as if he could 
 have cried out his heart for sheer happiness; he, too, 
 felt as if all his blood had rushed back to his heart, 
 causing it almost to burst with the greatness of his joy. 
 
 And her pale cheeks and purple-circled eyes made 
 her seem a thousand times more beautiful to him than 
 she had been before, for these touches of pathos gave 
 to her strong personality an enchanting touch of child- 
 ish weakness, which rendered her infinitely dear. 
 
 Uncle Jasper up on his perch was immersed in a 
 ponderous book; through the open window came the 
 soft sighing of the west wind through the drooping 
 leaves of the cherry-trees. 
 
 " Will you come out into the orchard for ten min- 
 utes, little Meadowsweet?" he pleaded in a tender 
 murmur. 
 
 She raised her eyebrows with an expression of af- 
 fected surprise.
 
 222 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 "What," she said, with a harsh Httle laugh, 
 "again?" 
 
 " The sun is just beginning to set. It will be glori- 
 ous through the trees. Come and look at it with me." 
 
 " How can I, in this gown? " she said coquettishly. 
 
 " The gown will not suffer. We'll walk through 
 the grass, and the dew has not yet fallen. Do come, 
 little Meadowsweet, there is so much that I have to 
 say to you." 
 
 " Much to say to me ? " she retorted. " Lord bless 
 my soul, Lieutenant Carrington, I thought you had 
 told me everything that you could possibly think of, 
 and that you had exhausted the storehouse of your 
 eloquence." 
 
 " I had not even begun," he said earnestly. 
 
 He was looking at her almost inquiringly now; he 
 did not quite understand her. All the merry twinkle 
 had gone from his eyes; they looked sorrowful and 
 puzzled. 
 
 The eyes of a liar, she thought, who begins to fear 
 that his lies have found him out. 
 
 She smothered a yawn, and turned her back on him. 
 
 " Then I am afraid," she said lightly, " that you will 
 have to find some other listener now. I am tired of 
 your rodomontades ! " 
 
 For a moment he thought that excitement must have 
 turned her brain. She looked absolutely a different 
 woman; when she turned once more to him now, and 
 faced him with that affected curl on her lips, that un- 
 natural expression of empty coquetry in her eyes, he 
 had to close his own just for a moment, for he really 
 thought that he must be dreaming some ugly, horrible
 
 A BROKEN HEART 223 
 
 dream, and that he must make a supreme effort to 
 dispel it before it caused his own brain to reel. 
 
 When he opened his eyes again she was looking just 
 the same — smiling, affected, distinctly bored. 
 
 "I — I did not think, dear, that I had tired you," he 
 said gently. ** You listened so patiently . . . that I 
 hoped . . ." 
 
 " What ? " she exclaimed, with a laugh. " What 
 did you hope ? That I should be willing to go on lis- 
 tening for another long ten minutes to your stale gal- 
 lanteries? We may be fools in the country, Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington, and uneducated savages, but we are 
 not quite such fools as that ! " 
 
 Then suddenly he thought that he held the key to 
 this new mood of hers : she was just teasing him, play- 
 ing with him like a kitten with a mouse. The game 
 was cruel enough ; the suffering which she was inflict- 
 ing on him was greater than she could gauge, but he 
 loved her so dearly that He could find it in his heart to 
 forgive her readily, and to endure patiently any tor- 
 ment which she might think fit to impose upon him. 
 
 " My dear little Meadowsweet," he said, speaking 
 with utmost tenderness, " I don't suppose that you 
 realise for a moment quite how cruel is the game which 
 you are playing with me." 
 
 " The game? " she asked. " What game? " 
 
 " You have a perfect right, of course, to tease and 
 hurt me as much as you like if it gives you pleasure; 
 but just now, when my happiness is so new and so 
 unexpected, and I have not actually grasped the fact 
 yet that your dear lips have really touched mine, just 
 now, my beautiful Meadowsweet, the game is doubly
 
 224 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 cruel. . . . And every word which you speak in jest 
 cuts through my heart Hke a knife." 
 
 " Your heart? " And she laughed loudly and mer- 
 rily. "Your heart? Oh, how funny! Lieutenant 
 Carrington, do tell me where you keep your heart ? " 
 
 " I am afraid that it has been in your keeping, dear, 
 for a long time now . . . and I had hoped that it 
 would remain there always." 
 
 " Always is such a long word. . . . What do you 
 mean by ' always,' Lieutenant Carrington? " 
 
 " Until death," he said earnestly. 
 
 " But I have no intention of dying for a long while 
 to come." 
 
 " I pray to God to fulfil that intention for you." 
 
 " Then how can your heart — as you are pleased to 
 call it — remain in my keeping for that long while ? 
 . . . Whilst you are in the Antipodes and I in Thanet 
 ... it will get lost midway ... in the great open 
 sea." 
 
 " The great open sea will not always be between us, 
 dear, will it?" 
 
 " I don't know. I should imagine that it would be 
 . . . most of the time. . . . You are going to the 
 Antipodes to-morrow, are you not ? " 
 
 " I am going to Malta . . . but I shall soon be 
 back." 
 
 "Indeed? How interesting ! " 
 
 And she sank languidly upon the sofa. But in a 
 moment now he was near her, kneeling beside her, and 
 trying to imprison her hands. Gone was the merri- 
 ment, the patience, the softness from his eyes, passion, 
 anger, and reproach glowed within their depths.
 
 A BROKEN HEART 225 
 
 " Meadowsweet," he said, and his voice was harsh, 
 for she had wounded him cruelly and unwarrantably, 
 and he no longer could bear the pain of that wound, 
 " in the name of God cease this fooling, dear! I am 
 only a man . . . nothing of a saint . . . I'll bear a 
 great deal from you . . . but not this . . . not this. 
 . . . This is beyond my strength." 
 
 " What is beyond your strength. Lieutenant Car- 
 rington? " she queried gaily. " Why are you so sol- 
 emn ? I don't understand you." 
 
 " Meadowsweet ..." 
 
 " Why do you go on calling me that? It is so sense- 
 less; my name is Boadicea . . . and for Heaven's 
 sake do sit down properly, and leave my hands alone. 
 . . . Aunt Caroline will be here directly. . . ." 
 
 " To me you are Meadowsweet," he said slowly, 
 trying to control himself, to keep calm in face of this 
 awful nightmare, which was fast becoming reality; 
 " you were Meadowsweet until just now, when you 
 started playing so cruelly with me. You were Mead- 
 owsweet when you lay in my arms. . . ." 
 
 " In your arms ? . . ." she ejaculated in mock sur- 
 prise. " Come, come, you must not exaggerate. . . ." 
 
 " In my arms," he reiterated fervently. " You 
 were my Meadowsweet when my lips sought and found 
 your own . . . when you returned my kiss and quiv- 
 ered with passion like a rose under the subtle touch 
 of the bee. . , ." 
 
 " Really, Lieutenant Carrington ! . . ." 
 
 " You were my Meadowsweet when you told me that 
 you loved me. ..." 
 
 "I?"
 
 226 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 *' When you promised to be my wife." 
 "I? Your wife? . . . Your wife? . . ." And 
 once more her ringing laugh echoed from end to end 
 of the room. " Really, that is the funniest thing I 
 have heard for a long time. I promised to be your 
 wife? When?" 
 
 " In the orchard. Half an hour ago." 
 
 " You were dreaming." 
 
 *' Indeed, it seems as if I must have been." 
 
 " Then I really must ask you, Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton, to wake up from a dream which has such very 
 unpleasant consequences for me. ... I, your wife? 
 Did you ask me to be your wife? " 
 
 " Have you forgotten ? " 
 
 " No. But did you? " she insisted. 
 
 " I still ask you on my knees to leave off torturing 
 me." 
 
 " And to be your wife? " 
 
 " And to be my wife." 
 
 " Then stay on your knees just half a minute longer, 
 Lieutenant Carrington, for here comes Aunt Caroline 
 with Cousin Barnaby, and I don't think that they 
 ought to miss the fun."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A STORMY PFTREL 
 
 He would then and there have risen from his knees 
 if he could, but he seemed rooted to the ground. His 
 limbs were paralysed; he was unable to move, for he 
 felt just like a man who has received a stunning blow 
 on the head. 
 
 She had risen to her feet — calm, smiling and self- 
 possessed — just when Aunt Caroline entered the 
 room with Cousin Barnaby at her heels. 
 
 When Aunt Caroline saw the pretty picture — 
 Boadicea in her quaint old-fashioned dress, standing 
 there laughing gaily, and Lieutenant Carrington kneel- 
 ing at her feet, she sighed with utmost satisfaction. 
 It was delicious to see these two beautiful creatures in 
 love with one another, and the wedding-cake would be 
 the finest that Aunt Caroline had ever baked. 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Caroline, there 3^ou are ! " exclaimed • 
 Boadicea. " I am so glad you have come. Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington was just busy making violent love 
 to me." 
 
 " Of course he was, child, of course he was ! " said 
 Aunt Caroline, somewhat taken aback and not a little 
 shocked. " But you must not shout about it like 
 that." 
 
 " Why not ? It is so funny ! " 
 
 "Funny? . . . My dear child! 
 
 22^ 
 
 >>
 
 228 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Yes, Aunt. Don't you see how funny It is ? 
 Here's this gallant officer who asks the young savage 
 from the country to be his wife. What do you think 
 the birds will say to it ... or the frogs or the beetles 
 or the bees. . . . They'll laugh, of course. . . . We'll 
 all laugh here . . . even the toads and bats will wink, 
 for we in the country have fooled the man from town." 
 
 " Meadowsweet, have you no pity?" murmured the 
 broken-hearted man. 
 
 " Child, child ! " exclaimed Aunt Caroline in utter 
 bewilderment. "What in the world are you talking 
 about? What does it all mean? I don't understand 
 you?" 
 
 " It's not at all difficult to understand. Aunt dear. 
 Here's a fine gentleman who had it in his head that I 
 cared for him, and that I really meant to be his wife." 
 
 " So you did ! " retorted Aunt Caroline. 
 
 " H she didn't, she ought to be stuffed and kept in 
 this museum as a stormy petrel ! " growled Cousin 
 Barnaby. 
 
 " I never intended to marry him," said Boadicea 
 firmly — "never! I never meant to be his wife . . . 
 the wife of an empty-headed, smooth-tongued gallant 
 — never ! never ! . . . I fooled him as much as ever I 
 could — because he called me a savage and I wanted to 
 be revenged on him. . . . And I think that it is the 
 funniest thing In all the world to see how I suc- 
 ceeded! . . ." 
 
 Then as Aunt Caroline remained speechless with 
 horror and confusion, and Cousin Barnaby sat down 
 in utter resignation at this new disturbance of his 
 peace, Carrington rose to his feet.
 
 A STORMY PETREL 229 
 
 " It is unnecessary to say more, Miss Aldmarshe," 
 he said quite calmly. " Am I to understand that your 
 desire is to intimate to me . . ." 
 
 " That I decline the honour of your hand in mar- 
 riage, Lieutenant Carrington. Yesl that is my de- 
 sire," she said. 
 
 And she swept him a deep and ironical curtsey. 
 
 " My dear child ! " murmured Aunt Caroline. 
 
 "Oh, Aunt! isn't it funny?" cried Boadicea, whose 
 voice now had become almost as shrill as Olive's, be- 
 cause she found the present game terribly difificult to 
 play, and sobs were fighting laughter for mastery over 
 her. " Lieutenant Carrington, I do wish you could 
 see yourself, how foolish you look! But you looked 
 still more foolish in the orchard, let me tell you, when 
 with sheep's eyes, and sickly sighs, you told your won- 
 derful legend of fairy flowers and meadowsweet and 
 — what was it ? — the West Wind I . . . You were so 
 engrossed in your story that you did not notice 
 how the young savage was laughing at you all the 
 time." 
 
 " At any rate I know it now. Miss Aldmarshe," he 
 said quietly. " Have I your permission to go ? " 
 
 His face was so ravaged with grief that Boadicea 
 herself would have been struck by it had she dared to 
 look at him. But she w^ould not trust herself to do 
 that; she was terribly afraid of breaking down, of 
 letting him see how terribly she suffered, how terribly 
 she had been shamed. 
 
 He was a liar and a cheat, and no doubt for the mo- 
 ment his fatuous vanity was smarting under the blow ; 
 at best he might be feeling relieved at thought that he
 
 230 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 was free once more, free to break other hearts, to He 
 to other women who trusted him as she had done. 
 
 Therefore she would not look at him, but poured out 
 words which she hoped would lash him like a whip; 
 she made fun of every word he uttered, taking a sort 
 of grim pleasure in heaping odium and desecration on 
 the smouldering ashes of her love. 
 
 "His wife?" she reiterated again and again, now 
 addressing Aunt Caroline, now speaking to the empty- 
 air, to Cousin Barnaby, or to absent-minded Uncle 
 Jasper. "Really, I think I shall die of laughter! 
 Why don't you laugh, Aunt? ... I fooled him, you 
 know . . . made him think that I cared . . . and he 
 talked sentiment and poetry to me, the little savage 
 whom he despised . . . why don't you laugh, Cousin 
 Barnaby?" 
 
 And she ran up to Mr. Crabtree, seized him by the 
 coat-tails, just like the boisterous little madcap she 
 used to be, and she dragged him up from his chair and 
 twirled him and whirled him round and round, laugh- 
 ing all the time, as if she was the maddest, merriest 
 creature on the whole of God's earth. 
 
 Aunt Caroline looked at her almost in fear. She 
 thought that the child had gone mad. Even Uncle 
 Jasper woke from his absorption and stared down at 
 the strange bacchanalian dance. But he did not think 
 that little Boadicea was mad, he had often seen her in 
 these boisterous moods. She had always been a 
 strange and a wilful child! 
 
 Then suddenly, in the very midst of her maddest 
 frolic, Boadicea stopped short. Her eyes had met 
 those of Jack Carrington. Her whole figure stiffened,
 
 A STORMY PETREL 231 
 
 the hysterical laughter died on her lips; her face be- 
 came stern and set and her cheeks deadly pale. 
 
 With one quick, imperious gesture, she pointed to 
 the door, and looking straight at him, she said loudly : 
 
 " Go 1 "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A HOPELESS OUTLOOK 
 
 And after that came dreary, dreary days in endless 
 succession, dreary days the Hke of which had never 
 been in this world before. 
 
 Everything became a hopeless, colourless blank, life 
 was just one dreary thing after another; getting up in 
 the morning, helping Aunt Caroline about the house, 
 and going to bed in the evening. There was nothing 
 else, nothing to look forward to in the morning, noth- 
 ing to look back upon in the evening. Birds'-nesting 
 was uninteresting, the old mare slow in her trot, the 
 nightingales had ceased to sing, and only the weari- 
 some cuckoo sent his monotonous tune through the 
 flower-scented air. 
 
 Of course, it was impossible to go into the orchard 
 now; that was beyond the capacity of any human soul. 
 It was impossible to stroll in the long grass, or to sit 
 in the forked branches of the old cherry-tree; the 
 plums were ripening fast; there would soon come the 
 awful moment when they, too, must be gathered for 
 jam-making. 
 
 Boadicea, thinking of the day when she would per- 
 force have to go into the orchard, and perch upon a 
 ladder that would be resting perhaps against the very 
 tree where he . . . Boadicea, thinking of that, felt 
 that life could not hold worse tortures for any living 
 
 232
 
 A HOPELESS OUTLOOK 233 
 
 heart than the revisiting of places where Happiness 
 and Love had paid such fleeting visits. 
 
 And the worst of it was that in the midst of all this 
 weariness and monotony there was a part to play. 
 Boadicea was not the woman — she was a woman now 
 — to wear her sorrows, the signs of her broken heart, 
 upon her face. Neither Aunt Caroline nor Uncle Jas- 
 per nor Cousin Barnaby should see that she was a mis- 
 erable, broken-hearted creature, who cried half the 
 night in unspeakable wretchedness, and was wearing 
 out her young life in bitter regrets. No! they should 
 see nothing of her misery, and neither should Olive. 
 Oh, above all, Olive should see nothing, Olive who also 
 had lied, who also had cheated, Olive who had at last 
 fallen from the pedestal where her adoring sister had 
 enshrined her all these years. 
 
 Uncle Jasper and Cousin Barnaby were, of course, 
 too much absorbed — one in his books, the other in 
 himself — to notice any change in Boadicea. She ac- 
 companied Uncle Jasper in his birds'-nesting expedi- 
 tions, and looked after Cousin Barnaby's hot water 
 bottle, just the same as she had always done. 
 
 Aunt Caroline, however, was not quite so blind. 
 She could not help noticing that the child's eyes were 
 now always circled with dark lines, that she ate very 
 little, and that her cheeks and chest were rapidly falling 
 in. She prescribed rhubarb and treacle and dandelion 
 root, all of which Boadicea obediently and cheerfully 
 took, but the girl's appetite did not return, nor did her 
 cheeks regain their roundness. 
 
 All of which greatly puzzled Aunt Caroline. The 
 situation was altogether beyond her comprehension.
 
 234 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 It was Boadicea who had behaved shamefully towards 
 Lieutenant Carrington — Mamie Carrington's boy — 
 and yet it was Boadicea who seemed miserable, and 
 who had lost her appetite; therefore the child's pale 
 cheeks and loss of appetite could not on the face of it 
 have anything to do with the broken engagement: 
 
 Aunt Caroline tried to question Boadicea, but her 
 anxiety was met with such placid serenity, and with 
 such gentle obstinacy that she soon gave up trying to 
 find out anything from the child. 
 
 After that highly improper, unladylike scene in the 
 museum that evening. Lieutenant Carrington had 
 called — only once — on the following morning to 
 proffer his respectful adieux to Mr. and Mrs. Heming- 
 ford. Boadicea had not come down to see him, and 
 he went away, after staying exactly ten minutes by the 
 museum clock, and Aunt Caroline declared that they 
 were the most uncomfortable ten minutes which she 
 had ever spent. 
 
 H.M.S. Dolphin made tracks for the Mediterranean 
 that self -same afternoon, and since then one letter had 
 come from Lieutenant Carrington for Mrs. Heming- 
 ford, and one for Boadicea. Both letters had been 
 posted from Cherbourg; in the one written to Aunt 
 Caroline Jack had endeavoured to express his grati- 
 tude for all the kindness which had been showered upon 
 him at Old Manor Farm. 
 
 Aunt Caroline had cried when she read the letter ; it 
 was so beautifully written, she said, and showed what 
 a noble-hearted fellow Mamie Carrington's boy had 
 proved himself to be. She expressed the fervent wish
 
 A HOPELESS OUTLOOK 235 
 
 that some day he would meet a really nice girl, who 
 would make him as happy as he deserved to be. 
 
 Olive had been in the hall when the postman brought 
 the two letters ; she it was who persuaded Aunt Caro- 
 line not to give the other one to Boadicea. 
 
 " The child is so very determined," she said, " and 
 so bitter on the subject of Lieutenant Carrington just 
 now, that to allow a correspondence to be started be- 
 tween them at this juncture would only aggravate the 
 situation and cause a great deal of unhappiness to 
 both sides." 
 
 Aunt Caroline would have demurred, but Olive al- 
 ways had an irresistible way with her. 
 
 " I shouldn't give this letter to Boadicea just now, 
 Aunt," she said, with that authoritative air of hers 
 which Aunt Caroline never could disregard. " Let me 
 put it by for a little while — say, for a month or two 
 — until the child's curious temper has had time to calm 
 down, and she is able to look at things a little more 
 coolly. I do firmly believe that if you will only give 
 her time, and in the meanwhile do not even mention 
 Lieutenant Carrington's name to her, everything may 
 yet be well." 
 
 " Do you really think so, Olive ? " said Aunt Caro- 
 line, with a sigh. 
 
 " I do really. I am sure you would be doing an 
 infinity of harm by giving the child this letter at the 
 present moment. You know what she is: impulsive 
 and wilful to a degree! She would, in her present 
 mood, probably send an answer back to Lieutenant 
 Carrington which would offend him beyond the hope
 
 236 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 of his ever forgiving her. Silence and his continued 
 absence are the best chances of reconcihation." 
 
 Of course, Aunt CaroHne was far too unsophisti- 
 cated to see through OHve's clever machinations. She 
 firmly believed that her worldly niece's advice could 
 not help but be sound, and never for a moment did it 
 enter her head that Olive's desire to gain time and to 
 keep Boadicea and Lieutenant Carrington apart was 
 solely actuated by her selfish hope that she in the 
 meanwhile would succeed in regaining Jack's regard 
 and in once more enchaining his truant allegiance to 
 herself. 
 
 " Very well," said Aunt Caroline after a brief mo- 
 ment of hesitation, " I'll put the letter by, and only 
 give it to Boadicea when I see that she is in a better 
 frame of mind." 
 
 " No, no," protested Olive. " If you put that let- 
 ter by. Aunt, you will never be able to find it when the 
 time comes for giving it to the child. Let me take 
 charge of it. I'll give it her just at the right moment, 
 you may be sure of that." 
 
 Thus did Olive's scheme succeed most admirably. 
 After a little more persuasion she got Aunt Caroline 
 round to her way of thinking, nor had the good soul 
 any thought of seriously opposing her niece in such a 
 matter. Lady Jeffreys, who was one of the most 
 prominent members of London society, would be sure 
 to know exactly what had best be done under these 
 very trying conditions. Aunt Caroline soon became 
 convinced that it was distinctly her duty to withhold 
 Lieutenant Carrington's letter from Boadicea, at any
 
 A HOPELESS OUTLOOK . 237 
 
 rate, temporarily, whereupon she handed it over with- 
 out further demur to OHve. 
 
 After the episode Aunt Caroline became greatly ab- 
 sorbed in the making of jams, pickles, and preserves, 
 and it was small wonder that, in the midst of these 
 important duties, she wholly forgot all about Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington's letter. In fact, after a while she 
 managed to forget all about Lieutenant Carrington 
 himself and his engagement to Boadicea. A day or 
 two after the incident of the letter Olive announced 
 her intention of leaving Old Manor Farm at the end 
 of her prolonged visit. She proposed to spend the re- 
 mainder of the summer at a fashionable watering-place 
 on the Continent. 
 
 Boadicea took farewell of the sister — whom she 
 had so dearly loved — almost with a feeling of relief. 
 Olive's presence in the house had greatly added to her 
 misery. She felt how completely shipwrecked were 
 all her illusions and all her joys of life. The man 
 whom she had loved, the sister whom she had trusted, 
 had been the two first teachers who had taught her 
 how base and deceitful human creatures could be. It 
 was a lesson which she was not likely to forget. The 
 shadow which now hung over her life would no doubt 
 never be lifted. It had altered her entirely, her soul 
 and her mind were alike different to what they had 
 been before, even her body had undergone a change. 
 She felt no longer young, no longer full of life and 
 joy, things which before had delighted her no longer 
 pleased her now. She did not care what happened, 
 for nothing could happen that would ease the load of 
 sorrow and of disappointment from her heart.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A SENTIMENTAL CONVERSATION 
 
 And then the summer and the autumn went by. 
 
 Aunt CaroHne had made strawberry jam, then 
 cherry jam, then walnut pickle, and finally damson 
 cheese, after which came the curing of bacon, the fat- 
 tening of the Christmas turkey, the making of the 
 twelve Christmas puddings — one for the first Sunday 
 of every month, to be eaten throughout the year when 
 the Vicar of Minster came over to dine at Old Manor 
 Farm after the Communion service. 
 
 Sir Baldwin and Lady Jeffreys had spent a couple 
 of months on the Continent, then they settled down 
 at Ashford Great Court — their country residence — 
 for the shooting, and Lady Jeffreys gave some very 
 smart parties there during the autumn. The echo of 
 these fashionable entertainments did reach sometimes 
 as far as Old Manor Farm, Mr. Culpepper riding over 
 every now and again from the Abbey to take tea with 
 Mr. Hemingford, and bringing over the news with 
 him, but Aunt Caroline was too busy about the house 
 to take a great deal of interest in social events, and it 
 really seemed now as if Olive and her world were very 
 far removed from the humble folk in Thanet. 
 
 Though Ashford was distant from Old Manor 
 Farm only twenty-two miles. Lady Jeffreys never 
 came throughout the autumn to visit her uncle and 
 
 ?38
 
 A SENTIMENTAL CONVERSATION 239 
 
 aunt. She wrote several pleasant and chatty letters to 
 Boadicea, and made many agreeable, if somewhat 
 vague, suggestions that the child should come and 
 spend a few days at Ash ford Great Court. But to 
 these Invitations Boadicea gave no reply, nor did Olive 
 seem to expect any; she never fixed any definite time 
 for the visit, and so it never came about. 
 
 Twice during that autumn did Sir Baldwin come 
 riding over in the morning, having made an early start 
 from home ; but he only stayed to dinner and returned 
 in the afternoon. He seemed more morose even than 
 usual, and was apparently very wrathful with Boadi- 
 cea for her treatment of Lieutenant Carrington. But 
 he was far too well-bred and far too reserved In his 
 speech to make open allusion to such matters, since he 
 would not consider it his business to do so. 
 
 Directly after Christmas he and Lady Jeffreys went 
 to Bath, as was customary with them and a great many 
 fashionable folk. They stayed there some little time, 
 Sir Baldwin being greatly troubled with gout that 
 year ; but exactly how long they were there I could not 
 tell you, nor where they went to after that. All 
 I know Is that In May they had once more returned 
 to their town house In St. James's-street, which had 
 been beautifully redecorated in view of the coming 
 season, and that all the fashionable journals of that 
 year speak In glowing terms of Lady Jeffreys' entranc- 
 ing beauty, and of her charm as one of the leading 
 hostesses of the day. 
 
 The King and Queen, as you know, graced her 
 house with their presence on one occasion, and she con- 
 stantly entertai)l?4 the elite of fashionable London
 
 240 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 society. Never, in fact, had Olive more cause to be 
 satisfied with her own dainty person and with the cir- 
 cumstances of Hfe which rendered all things extremely 
 pleasant to her. 
 
 Jack Carrington was home on leave after nine 
 months spent in Malta. He had been invalided home, 
 as he had greatly suffered from low fever, a fact not 
 to be wondered at, considering the heat of the climate 
 of Malta and the primitive methods of sanitation dis- 
 played at that otherwise delightful station. 
 
 At first Olive had been greatly shocked at Lieuten- 
 ant Jack's altered appearance. He looked like a mid- 
 dle-aged man, with bowed shoulders, and a touch of 
 grey on the temples. Low fever was evidently a very 
 trying complaint, one that affects the mind as well as 
 the body, for Jack's spirits had lost all their buoyancy. 
 He seemed listless and apathetic even in the presence 
 of the prettiest woman in London, and Olive vainly 
 waited for those charming tokens of gallantry with 
 which Lieutenant Jack had delighted her and won her 
 regard a year ago. 
 
 Of course, the task of looking after the bodily wel- 
 fare of a young and well-looking naval lieutenant is 
 often a pleasing one, more especially when that naval 
 lieutenant is interesting to a large circle of ladies, who 
 become rivals for his attentions. Jack Carrington was 
 always popular in London society, but seemed doubly 
 so now that his appearance suggested something of 
 sorrowful romance. Olive — • whose powers of hint- 
 ing and insinuating were far above the average — 
 soon drew these suggestions of romance toward her- 
 self.
 
 A SENTIMENTAL CONVERSATION 241 
 
 She quickly managed to persuade her friends that 
 Jack Carrington's altered appearance and listless man- 
 ner were due to his hopeless attachment for her; and 
 from persuading her friends in this manner she soon 
 succeeded in persuading herself. 
 
 She became quite convinced that Lieutenant Jack 
 was pining himself into an early grave because of his 
 thwarted love for her, and his chivalrous sense of 
 duty as opposed to his burning passion. 
 
 Whereupon she increased her show of kindness to- 
 ward him. She was in turn motherly, sisterly, 
 friendly, tender, sorrowing, pitying, until he — over 
 grateful for her charity and hating that very society 
 which he used formerly to enjoy — found pleasure 
 only in his visits to her. 
 
 During all this while he never once mentioned 
 Boadicea in his conversation, and on this Lady Jeff- 
 reys looked as a good sign. But in her work of re- 
 capturing his wandering allegiance she went charily 
 to work. She had almost alienated him once by over- 
 impulsive actions, and she was far too great an adept 
 in the art of winning an admirer to fall twice into the 
 same error. 
 
 It was one evening in the conservatory, during one 
 of her most brilliant receptions, that Olive received the 
 first shock which told her that everything was not go- 
 ing on quite as well as she could have wished. 
 
 She was looking radiantly beautiful that night, and 
 was conscious of her own irresistible charm. Whilst 
 a string-band was discoursing a dreamy motet by 
 Lully, she lured Jack Carrington into the conservatory. 
 It was filled with lilies, and the air all round was soft
 
 242 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 and fragrant. The sound of the music penetrated 
 faintly to this distant part of the room, and dim hghts 
 burned low among the fronds of ferns and the gently 
 swaying curtains of maiden-hair or of grevillea. 
 
 Olive chose a low seat on which to recline, a seat 
 nestling in a clump of palms and lilies artistically 
 grouped, and she allowed Jack to sit close beside her, 
 so that the perfume from her hair and her handker- 
 chief mingled agreeably with that of the flowers. 
 
 The folds of her pretty gown fell gracefully across 
 his knee, and her hand fell listlessly to her side and 
 came in gentle contact with his. 
 
 Everything, as you see, was well disposed for senti- 
 mental conversation. Olive sighed with satisfaction 
 and pleasurable anticipation, and wielded her fan pre- 
 paratory to embarking on those delightful paths where 
 the ice is very thin indeed, and every footstep might 
 lead to dangerous falls. And yet, in spite of the lilies 
 and of the fragrance in the air, in spite of the folds of 
 her gown and the proximity of her hand, Lieutenant 
 Carrington engaged the conversation by a reference 
 to Old Manor Farm. He would talk of Aunt Caro- 
 line and of her excellent dinners, of Cousin Barnaby's 
 ill temper and Uncle Jasper's eccentricities, and this 
 despite the fact that Olive looked bored from the first 
 and subsequently grew markedly impatient. 
 
 Time was getting on. An attentive hostess could not 
 absent herself from her guests for more than fifteen 
 minutes, and ten had already gone by in a discussion 
 of Aunt Caroline's pickles. It was truly exasperating. 
 A daintily shod foot was tapping the ground in angry 
 impatience. But Lieutenant Carrington seemed quite
 
 A SENTIMENTAL CONVERSATION 243 
 
 oblivious of this fact; his conversation rambled on, and 
 presently he mentioned Boadicea's name. 
 
 He did not say much, and while he spoke of the girl 
 his voice certainly had none of that softness of tone 
 which might suggest latent tenderness. Olive, there- 
 fore, had no cause for pique, and yet she bit her lower 
 lip almost viciously, so angry was she at Jack's want of 
 tact. 
 
 Soon the subject was dropped. Two or three other 
 couples had wandered into the conservatory, and there 
 was no longer any chance on this perfect occasion for 
 the sentimental conversation which Olive had desired. 
 
 She felt very provoked and dismissed Lieutenant 
 Jack with unusual curtness. He seemed quite uncon- 
 scious of having offended her, and at the last, when he 
 kissed the tips of her fingers bidding her adieu, he 
 actually had the effrontery to beg of her to use her 
 influence with Boadicea, that the young girl should 
 grant him a personal interview. 
 
 " I cannot help feeling convinced," he had said 
 earnestly, " that her extraordinary attitude towards 
 me is the result of a grave misunderstanding, which 
 perhaps two words freely exchanged would put right. 
 I would kneel to you now, Lady Jeffreys, if I dared, 
 and thus beg you to use your influence with her that 
 she should grant me one short interview." 
 
 It would not have been either dignified or politic to 
 refuse. Olive promised him that she would do what 
 she could.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A BUNCH OF ROSES 
 
 That was a week ago, and since then Olive had met 
 Jack Carrington several times, and never once did he 
 allude to Boadicea or to his request for an interview 
 with her. Of course, he knew that some days must 
 elapse for letters to pass between the sisters to and fro, 
 but Olive consoled herself with the thought that if he 
 really cared for the interview he would not keep such 
 persistent silence about it. 
 
 He came to see her on the morning of her birthday, 
 having taken the gallant precaution to send a bouquet 
 of La France roses to propitiate the goddess who he 
 hoped would do so much for him. On Olive alone — 
 so he thought — depended his chances of an interview 
 with his dear little Meadowsweet — still infinitely dear 
 despite the hurt which she had so wantonly inflicted 
 upon him. From Olive he hoped at last to get the 
 welcome news that he might journey down to Thanet 
 with the certainty of seeing once more that exquisite 
 childlike face, the great wondering eyes, and tender 
 mouth that meant earthly happiness to him. 
 
 But Olive had no idea that La France roses sent on 
 her birthday morning could possibly mean anything 
 but discreet and respectful admiration for herself, and 
 when presently Jack Carrington was shown into her 
 
 244
 
 A BUNCH OF ROSES 245 
 
 pretty mauve and blue room, she extended a very 
 gracious hand to him. 
 
 " How kind of you to come, Jack ! " she said, with 
 one of her most bewitching smiles. 
 
 " Kind? " he exclaimed. " I should be an ungrate- 
 ful wretch, indeed, if I did not at least pay my respects 
 to you, Lady Jeffreys, on your birthday. You have 
 always been such a good friend to me." 
 
 " So many women have been that to you. Jack ! " 
 
 " Friends ? No, I think not. People in London 
 have been more than kind. But on the whole I shall 
 not be sorry to leave England. Society is not much 
 in my line now, is it. Lady Jeffreys ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! You seem to get on in it 
 remarkably well. But what makes you talk of leaving 
 England ? You are not going away ? " 
 
 " Indeed I am. The Dolphin leaves for the China 
 seas early in next week." 
 
 " But you are not going in her? " 
 
 "Please God, lam!" 
 
 " But you have been offered an appointment in the 
 Admiralty?" 
 
 " Yes. Entirely through your kind influence. Lady 
 Jeffreys, and no one could be more profoundly grateful 
 than I am to you, but . . ." 
 
 He paused, hesitating somewhat, knowing instinc- 
 tively — though Heaven knows he was not proud of it 
 — that the announcement which he was about to make 
 would affect her very unpleasantly. 
 
 He questioned her with a look, and saw that she 
 was frowning, and that her face was hard and set, just
 
 246 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 as it often was when anything in Hfe occurred in op- 
 position to her wishes. 
 
 "You have refused the appointment?" she asked 
 curtly. 
 
 " My letter of refusal and of thanks goes in to- 
 night." 
 
 " Don't post that letter, Jack ! " she entreated. 
 
 " I really must, Lady Jeffreys." 
 
 "But why?" she asked. 
 
 " I can't bear to stay in England," he replied dully. 
 " I cannot bear it. I would far rather go away, un- 
 less . . ." 
 
 "Unless what?" 
 
 " Can't you guess ? " 
 
 " No. I cannot," she said more softly, thinking in- 
 deed that she could guess how her own harshness was 
 driving him away from England. " Tell me, Jack, 
 what is it that would keep you in London ? " 
 
 Then as he did not reply immediately, she said 
 more languishingly still : 
 
 " Why do you hesitate, Jack ? Tell me. I might 
 be able to help you." 
 
 " You can help me, Lady Jeffreys," he said eagerly. 
 " That brief interview with Boadicea. . . . Have you 
 asked her? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Olive drily. 
 
 Gone was all the softness in her voice, the languor- 
 ous look in her eyes. Her sister's name, spoken by 
 Jack at this moment, had acted like a shower of icy 
 water upon her temperament, so ready to yield and to 
 sentimentalise. But Jack was quite unconscious of 
 the change in her voice. He did not notice her annoy-
 
 A BUNCH OF ROSES 247' 
 
 ance any more than he had understood her more pas- 
 sionate mood. His thoughts were of Meadowsweet, 
 and of the hope of seeing her, and everything else was 
 as if it never existed at all. 
 
 " Will she . . . will she grant me the interview ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " She refuses to see you." 
 
 "But why — in Heaven's name? Why?" he 
 urged. 
 
 " I cannot tell you," she replied harshly. " Boadi- 
 cea is a curious child, as you know. She lent herself 
 readily enough at first to the brief farce of an engage- 
 ment with you ; but she only did it for my sake, and 
 because she really thought that Sir Baldwin was at 
 that moment capable of doing me an injury. She 
 never cared for you . . . you know." 
 
 " I thought that she did," he murmured almost in- 
 voluntarily, for his thoughts had quickly flown back 
 to that glorious day in June, to the orchard fragrant 
 with spring flowers, to the old cherry-tree in the forked 
 branch of which had sat his little Meadowsweet with 
 the bright, wondering eyes, and the red lips that were 
 so good to kiss. 
 
 " Ah!" said Olive more gently, as she put a hand 
 upon the young man's shoulder; "that is where a 
 man's heart is so strange. Jack. It so often seeks love 
 where none exists, and passes true love indifferently 
 by." 
 
 " You think, Lady Jeffreys," he insisted with that 
 sublime tactlessness of a heart filled with the image of 
 another woman, " you really think that there is no 
 hope for me? "
 
 248 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Hope ? " she retorted. " Why should you speak 
 of hope in connection with a heartless, wayward 
 child ? The sooner you forget her the better for your 
 own dignity, I should imagine. Your vanity alone is 
 wounded, Jack, believe me. You will soon get over 
 it. There are others, you know, who could well show 
 you of what depths of affection a woman's heart is 
 capable." 
 
 " But the whole thing puzzles me so hopelessly. 
 Lady Jeffreys. ... It seems to me as if I should 
 never know another happy hour until I have seen 
 daylight through that amazing veil of mystery. It is 
 all so unlike Boadicea . . . she is so simple-hearted 
 ... so true and loyal in her disposition. I no more 
 can think of her playing such a cruel game as she 
 seems to have done than I would think of a Madonna 
 being a fickle coquette." 
 
 " Lord bless my soul, man," exclaimed Olive, whose 
 patience was now utterly exhausted, and who took no 
 longer any pains to hide her anger, " did you come to 
 see me to-day for the sole purpose of gushing over my 
 sister's perfections? For, if so, let me tell you that 
 your rodomontades are not at all to my liking." 
 
 " A thousand pardons. Lady Jeffreys ! " he rejoined 
 quite humbly. " I seem, indeed, to have lost myself 
 as well as my manners recently. You are quite right. 
 I must not plague you with my troubles. May I take 
 my leave now ? " 
 
 She hesitated for a moment, then thought it best to 
 accede. Jack took his leave without another word. 
 He was evidently not in the mood in which she would 
 have liked to see him, and, moreover, she wanted to
 
 A BUNCH OF ROSES 249 
 
 think matters out now, for they had shaped themselves 
 altogether differently to what she had anticipated. 
 
 And as soon as she was alone she did begin to 
 think. 
 
 Though nothing of very serious import had hap- 
 pened, yet somehow she felt that the last half-hour 
 had sounded the death-knell of her own hopes. Ob- 
 viously she had never really cared for Jack Carring- 
 ton, not in the same sense in which good women un- 
 derstand the words " to care." Hers was an essen- 
 tially shallow nature, wholly incapable of lasting or 
 genuine feeling beyond sympathy for and love of self. 
 Her own amusement and pleasure was the ultimate 
 aim of every one of her actions. Jack Carrington' 
 had been the lion of London society, and it had 
 amused her to chain him to her triumphant chariot. 
 She liked his unsophisticated gallantries, the atten- 
 tions which he paid her, but above all she liked the 
 other women of her own set to envy her her conquest 
 of the most popular man in London. 
 
 It had amused her to render Sir Baldwin jealous, 
 to play him the trick of outwitting him when he had 
 tried to stop the scandal that coupled her name with 
 that of Lieutenant Carrington by taking her away 
 from London in the height of the season; but she was 
 as incapable of genuine passion as of sacrificing her 
 reputation and position for any man in the world. 
 
 It all was only amusement. If Jack Carrington 
 had broken his heart over her she would have been still 
 more highly amused. 
 
 The engagement between Boadicea and Lieutenant 
 Carrington she had looked upon as a necessity. Her
 
 250 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 own bodily safety and the upholding of her own repu- 
 tation were of far greater moment than the feelings 
 of two young people whose obvious duty it was to 
 protect her at a critical moment against her husband's 
 violence. But when the first breath of sentiment 
 mingled with the prosiness of the mock engagement, 
 then the situation ceased to be amusing. The only 
 strong feeling of which Olive was capable was that 
 of supreme egoism. Her position as elder sister chap- 
 eroning a younger one did not please her in the least, 
 and she certainly would not allow another woman to 
 wrest from her the conquest which she firmly believed 
 she herself had made, even if that other woman hap- 
 pened to be her own sister. 
 
 No, there certainly was no affection in her heart for 
 Jack Carrington, but there was a vast deal of vanity, 
 and that vanity had received a severe blow when she 
 first noticed signs of awakening love for another 
 woman in the man whom she would have liked to tie in 
 perpetuity to her own apron strings. 
 
 She fought with all the armoury at her command to 
 regain possession of Carrington's allegiance, and her 
 foremost weapon she had used with complete effect. 
 She had succeeded in parting Jack from Boadicea, 
 and she knew her sister well enough to be quite satis- 
 fied that the blow which a callous and lying tongue had 
 dealt would remain incurable so long as Boadicea had 
 no opportunity of a calm explanation with Lieutenant 
 Carrington. The subject, of course, was one which 
 the young girl was not likely to put into crude words 
 at any time; still, an interview might certainly prove 
 dangerous, fraught with the risk that Olive might
 
 A BUNCH OF ROSES 251 
 
 stand before her sister and before the man whom she 
 still desired to conquer as a shameless and miserable 
 liar. 
 
 However, there was certainly no fear just now that 
 that interview would take place. Boadicea was safely- 
 stowed away in the wilds of Thanet, and was no doubt 
 busy forgetting in the midst of jams and pickles that 
 she had ever been engaged to marry Lieutenant Car- 
 rington. 
 
 As for Jack, well, I must confess that Lady Jeffreys' 
 thoughts became somewhat troubled on that subject. 
 H she had made no headway in his affections in the 
 past few weeks, was she very likely to succeed in doing 
 so as time went on? Her vanity — which was ab- 
 normal — certainly demanded that she should not give 
 up even this semblance of conquest. Some women 
 she knew of, in her own set, would indeed jeer at her 
 if Lieutenant Carrington did finally break away from 
 her apron strings. But her desire to keep him in 
 London was certainly not so great as it used to be. 
 If Jack no longer dangled round her skirts, then he 
 might as well go to the China seas. Lady Jeffreys 
 had but to lift a finger and she would soon find a sub- 
 stitute for that very indifferent admirer. 
 
 Jack was not amusing when he talked of Aunt 
 Caroline's pickles and of Boadicea's eyes; and as he 
 ceased to be amusing so his personal value went down 
 in Olive's estimation. 
 
 Moreover, if he still did hanker in a half-hearted 
 manner after the little savage from Thanet, he would 
 with characteristic masculine obstinacy persist in his 
 desire for an interview with her.
 
 252 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 And that interview must not take place. 
 
 On that — if on nothing else — was Lady Jeffreys 
 absolutely determined. 
 
 She preferred the China seas for Jack and a new 
 admirer for herself.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 A LITTLE PLAN 
 
 " I HAVE just met Carrington on your doorstep, 
 m'dear!" 
 
 " Yes, he called to wish me a happy birthday and he 
 brought me some lovely roses." 
 
 Sir Baldwin had spoken quite pleasantly, and she 
 indifferently. We may safely assume that neither 
 tone was wholly sincere. Sir Baldwin — though his 
 jealousy no longer fastened itself on Lieutenant Car- 
 rington — was never very pleasant when the young 
 man called at the house in St. James's-street, nor was 
 Olive ever indifferent when her husband mentioned 
 the name of Jack. 
 
 But to-day Sir Baldwin's mood appeared most se- 
 rene. He did not frown at sight of the roses, and 
 presently he took possession of one of the most com- 
 fortable chairs in the room, and lounging in it he 
 looked for all the world as if he meant to stay and 
 have a long chat with his wife — a thing which, be- 
 lieve me, he very seldom did. 
 
 " I understood from Lieutenant Carrington," he 
 said complacently, " that he had been paying you his 
 farewell visit." 
 
 " Yes," she replied drily. " Lieutenant Carrington 
 proposes to refuse the splendid appointment offered 
 
 253
 
 254 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 him in the AdmiraUy, and to sail in his old ship next 
 week." 
 
 " And all because a flirty miss is making a fool of 
 him." 
 
 " I pray you, Sir Baldwin, not to be so coarse in 
 your references to my sister." 
 
 " I only speak of her as she deserves. I have no 
 patience with the girl, and only wish it were my busi- 
 ness to give her a sound talking to. But I shall get 
 an opportunity one of these days. . . . Why don't you 
 speak to her, Olive? . . . You would have some in- 
 fluence over her — curse her obstinacy ! " 
 
 " Boadicea prefers not to see Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton — she does not want to discuss the subject at all. 
 She has told me so in her letters over and over again." 
 
 "The heartless little reprobate! . . . You women 
 are all alike . . . and we men are just a lot of silly, 
 gullible fools!" 
 
 "You wrong yourself, at any rate, Sir Baldwin!" 
 
 He took no heed of the obvious sarcasm, but con- 
 tinued in the same pleasant, even, conversational tone : 
 
 " I must say, though, that I had thought better of 
 little Boadicea." 
 
 " And did you tell Lieutenant Carrington so ? " 
 
 " Yes. Frankly, I did." 
 
 " And what was his remark on the subject? " 
 
 " He merely said that it would obviously be best for 
 him to sail to China. He thanked me for my solici- 
 tude, and he desired to remain your ladyship's and my 
 most humble and most devoted servant." 
 
 Sir Baldwin Jeffreys was in the habit of taking 
 snuff, a habit which became him remarkably well, for
 
 A LITTLE PLAN 255 
 
 he had fine, aristocratic hands, and a selection of 
 beautiful gold and enamelled snuff-boxes. He took 
 a pinch of snuff now, an act which left him free quietly 
 to observe his wife, to note her impatient frown, and 
 to chuckle to himself at private thoughts of his own 
 which he was on the point of imparting to her. 
 
 " I must tell you that I did give Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton the advice not to decide about that Admiralty ap- 
 pointment just yet," he said when he had once more 
 restored his gold snuff-box to his pocket, and was 
 again lounging in the luxurious chair. 
 
 " Indeed ? " she remarked casually. " I thought 
 that he was obliged to give his decision in that matter 
 to-day." 
 
 " Yes. But I told him that so much can happen in 
 one day . . . say, between dawn and sunset." 
 
 " A very poetical way of putting it, but I don't sup- 
 pose that your eloquence. Sir Baldwin, would cause 
 Lieutenant Carrington to change his plans." 
 
 " I don't know so much about that," retorted Sir 
 Baldwin, with marked complacency. " I certainly 
 know of one thing that would keep Carrington hang- 
 ing about in London." 
 
 " And what may that be? " 
 
 She was getting a little impatient with his obvious 
 contentment with himself, and slightly on the alert for 
 something unpleasant which might be lurking behind 
 his unaccustomed good-humour. 
 
 " The hope of an interview with Boadicea," he re- 
 plied. 
 
 "Ah? I doubt if Lieutenant Carrington has any 
 such hope."
 
 256 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " He hadn't until just now, when I asked him to 
 come back here at sunset. . . ." 
 
 She turned her own chair right round, so that she 
 could look him full in the face. He sat there smiling 
 blandly, with his finger-tips tapping against one an- 
 other, his head slightly cocked on one side, and regard- 
 ing his wife with a look of distinct triumph. 
 
 An awful fear caused her heart suddenly to stand 
 still. Every drop of blood fled from her cheeks, her 
 eyes were dilated and her lips quivering. But she 
 forced herself to speak quite calmly, vaguely hoping 
 that her face was not betraying all that she felt. 
 
 " May I take the liberty of inquiring, Sir Baldwin, 
 why you should have asked Lieutenant Carrington to 
 return here at sunset ? " 
 
 " A little plan," he said airily — " a little plan for 
 which I entertain the greatest hope." 
 
 " Indeed?' May I ask what this little plan is? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear. Originally it was a desire — 
 a not very unusual one with me — of pleasing you." 
 
 " In what way ? " 
 
 " I arranged a surprise for your birthday." 
 
 " A surprise ! " 
 
 " A visit, my dear, from your sister," he said tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 To Olive's credit be it said that she did not wince 
 under this sudden blow. On the contrary, she pulled 
 herself very quickly together and appeared even more 
 tmconcerned than she had been before. But the blow 
 was all the more cruel as it was quite unexpected. 
 She seemed in one moment to see the entire edifice of 
 her fabric of falsehoods tottering beneath her feet.
 
 A LITTLE PLAN 257' 
 
 There might in the near future be nothing for her but 
 more and more lies, under most humihating condi- 
 tions, or the tacit acknowledgment of the original lie 
 before her young sister and before Jack. 
 
 The position would be intolerable. For the mo- 
 ment, of course, she had no time to give it further 
 thought. Sir Baldwin was gazing on her with that 
 same irritating self-complacency, and it would be mad- 
 ness to let him see now that she was in any way dis- 
 turbed by his news. 
 
 " A visit from Boadicea ! " she said, feigning pleased 
 surprise. " Do you really think that she would 
 come? " 
 
 " I am sure she will," he replied. " I wrote her 
 some days ago saying that you seemed very dull and 
 lacking in spirits, suffering somewhat from megrims, 
 and so on ; and I begged her for my sake to come over 
 for two or three days and to reassure me, if possible, 
 about your general health." 
 
 "Admirable, admirable, I must say! Your inven- 
 tive powers do you the greatest credit." 
 
 " Well, I was afraid that she might not come unless 
 I put it that way." 
 
 " Quite so. And has she accepted your invita- 
 tion?" 
 
 "Yes, she has!" 
 
 " And let me know nothing about it? " 
 
 " I told her that I wished her coming to be a sur- 
 prise for your birthday. . . . The thought pleased her, 
 I think. . . . Anyway, she is coming," he concluded 
 jovially. 
 
 "When?" she asked.
 
 258 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Almost Immediately. I sent the coach with re- 
 lays to fetch her. I reckoned that she would arrive 
 in time for luncheon." 
 
 Then as Olive remained silent, too much absorbed 
 in her own thoughts and fears now to make an at- 
 tempt at cheerfulness, he asked, with sudden concern: 
 
 " You are glad, Olive, are you not ? " 
 
 "Glad? . . . Glad?" she replied vaguely. "Of 
 course I am glad! What else should I be? It is a 
 pleasant surprise, as you say." 
 
 " And then you see my plan ? . . . A final visit 
 from Carrington. . . . Eh? . . . Boadicea here . . . 
 alone, for you must arrange that. . . . What do you 
 think of it all?" 
 
 "Think? Think?" she said as quietly as she 
 could, for her voice was trembling and every moment 
 angry tears threatened to rise to her eyes. " I think 
 it an admirable plan ... to force my sister into an 
 unfortunate marriage, now that she has found out her 
 mistake and realised that she does not care for the 
 man. . . . Admirably thought out, indeed ! " she added 
 more vehemently, whilst a tone of bitter spite crept 
 into her voice. " Our own marriage has been so bril- 
 liant a success! . . . No wonder you desire to see 
 another equally such perfectly ill-assorted pair!" 
 
 " But, my dear . . ." protested Sir Baldwin feebly, 
 for he had been wholly taken aback by his wife's ex- 
 traordinary attitude. 
 
 " Well, what is it ? You don't expect me, I pre- 
 sume, to be over-delighted at the prospective unhappy 
 marriage which you desire to force upon my sister." 
 
 " But . . ."
 
 A LITTLE PLAN 259 
 
 " We will not discuss it any further, Sir Baldwin," 
 she said, with injured dignity. " You have chosen to 
 take my sister's fate into your own hands. I suppose 
 that when the inevitable occurs and she flies to me for 
 protection against the husband whom you will have 
 forced upon her, you will be prepared to give her a 
 home." 
 
 She rose from her chair and went up to a small 
 writing-desk, where she stood for awhile with her back 
 towards her husband, fidgetting with some papers, 
 trying to compose herself into some semblance of 
 serenity. 
 
 She had the satisfaction of knowing that her tirade 
 had left poor Sir Baldwin hopelessly bewildered. He 
 was certainly wishing to goodness that he had never 
 meddled in women's affairs, for such meddling seemed 
 invariably to lead to most unpleasant tantrums. 
 
 " Will you leave me here now," she said after awhile, 
 " to receive poor Boadicea ? I must prepare her for 
 the ordeal which she will have to go through, poor 
 child." 
 
 Sir Baldwin rose somewhat awkwardly. Though 
 he felt rather sheepish and subdued, he had not by any 
 means given up the belief that his plan was an excel- 
 lent one, and that he was doing the right thing by 
 bringing two young people together who were labour- 
 ing under a misunderstanding. 
 
 He did not suggest that he would go and tell Car- 
 rington not to come to St. James's-street to-night. 
 Olive had half hoped that he would do so. She did 
 not dare, however, to make the suggestion herself. 
 Sir Baldwin had a curious disposition, and suspicions
 
 26o MEADOWSWEET 
 
 were only dormant in him; they might be aroused at 
 the sHghtest false move on Olive's part. 
 
 She allowed him to go without any further com- 
 ment. 
 
 Then she sat down at her desk, and with her chin 
 resting in her hand she had a good hard " think." 
 
 She thought, and thought, and thought for the one 
 way possible out of the terrible plight in which her 
 husband's tactless blunder had placed her. 
 
 Should she own to Boadicea that she had told her 
 a lie, or should she persist in the lie, even, if necessary 
 in the face of Lieutenant Carrington's denial? Or 
 would Fate be kind to her and help her effectually to 
 keep those two young people apart ?
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE 
 
 The luncheon-bell had just been rung. 
 
 Sir Baldwin had joined Lady Jeffreys in the draw- 
 ing-room, and the solemn butler had thrown the dou- 
 ble doors wide open and announced in a cadaverous 
 voice that " Luncheon was served," when the cheerful 
 noise of a fanfare upon a coach-horn rang clearly from 
 the further end of the aristocratic street. 
 
 " Your guest, Sir Baldwin," said Olive drily. " We 
 must wait now until my sister has had time to tidy 
 herself after her journey." 
 
 She sat down and took up a fashion paper, seeming 
 absorbed in her reading and totally indifferent to the 
 rattle of coach wheels, the clatter of horses' hoofs on 
 the stone pavement, the jingle of harness and shouts 
 of ostlers and grooms, as Sir Baldwin's heavy travel- 
 ling coach swung round the corner from Piccadilly and 
 came to a halt with magnificent precision immediately 
 in front of the stately front door of the Jeffreys' town 
 mansion. 
 
 Sir Baldwin seemed agitated. He did not go to the 
 window to see the arrival, but walked up and down the 
 room, with his hands behind his back, and his eyes 
 wandering from time to time furtively in the direction 
 of his wife. 
 
 " I shall have to put luncheon back at least half an 
 
 261
 
 262 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 hour," said Olive coolly, as she stretched her shapely 
 arm toward the bell. " From the noise that is going 
 on outside I imagine that Boadicea has brought either 
 an enormous quantity of luggage with her or else some 
 members of the Thanet household." 
 
 There certainly was an extraordinary amount of 
 noise going on outside. Half a dozen people seemed 
 to be talking at one and the same time and at the top 
 of their voices. Sir Baldwin apparently had some 
 misgivings on the subject, for he went to the door and 
 opened it. 
 
 All doubts were set at rest then and there, for Aunt 
 Caroline's shrill voice, giving confused directions 
 anent a multitude of boxes, was quite unmistakable, 
 and two or three other voices also rose from below. 
 Sir Baldwin turned rather sheepishly toward his wife, 
 
 " They've come, my dear," he said haltingly. 
 
 " You mean that my sister has come, do you not, 
 Sir Baldwin?" rejoined Olive, who seemed unac- 
 countably absorbed in the perusal of her fashion paper. 
 " Will you not go down and receive her ? She is more 
 your guest than mine, you know." 
 
 " I mean, my dear . . . er . . . that is . . . they 
 all seem to have come. . . ." 
 
 Sir Baldwin felt distinctly at a disadvantage, and 
 knew that his wife was laughing at him. She was 
 not likely under the circumstances to help him out of 
 a very awkward situation which he certainly had 
 never foreseen. 
 
 He had looked forward to Boadicea's visit, but the 
 entire family, including Cousin Barnaby, installed per-
 
 AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE 263 
 
 haps for an indefinite time in a London house was 
 more than he had bargained for. 
 
 The well-drilled footman now appeared on the land- 
 ing. His face, set on approved conventional lines, be- 
 trayed nothing of what he thought of the remarkable 
 visitors that were trooping up the stairs at his heels. 
 It certainly betrayed nothing of what he would say 
 presently in the servants' hall on that subject. 
 
 With scanty ceremony. Aunt Caroline, who was 
 leading the little party, pushed the solemn footman 
 out of her way. In one hand she had a bandbox 
 which contained her best bonnet, and in the other she 
 carried a gargantuan umbrella, and a small cardboard 
 box on which was displayed the legend : " Eggs. 
 With care." 
 
 " Here we are, my dear Sir Baldwin ! " she said 
 cheerfully. " And right glad to see something of 
 London. I cannot shake hands till I have put some 
 of these things down. Here, young fellow," she 
 added, turning to the solemn footman, who stood 
 there in resplendent livery, " take these, and be careful 
 not to drop this box; there are three turkey's eggs in 
 it." 
 
 She thrust umbrella and egg-box into the hands of 
 the highly indignant footman, deposited her bandbox 
 on the floor, shook Sir Baldwin vigorously by the 
 hand, and with a perfectly self-possessed " Come along, 
 Barnaby ! " she marched straight into the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 Olive rose languidly to receive her, but Aunt Caro- 
 line was always self-possessed and always at her ease.
 
 264 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 She was quite unconscious of the coolness of the re- 
 ception or of Sir Baldwin's embarrassment. 
 
 " So kind of Sir Baldwin to ask us," she said with 
 the same persistent cheerfulness, after she had depos- 
 ited two well-sounding kisses on Olive's delicately 
 rouged cheeks. 
 
 She undid her bonnet strings and sat down with an 
 obvious sense of satisfaction. Cousin Barnaby had 
 entered in her wake, also Uncle Jasper. The latter 
 had his tin specimen-case slung round his shoulder, and 
 clung to his butterfly-net with an obvious sense of se- 
 curity. He was smiling benignly on the world in gen- 
 eral, and his eyes had already fastened themselves on a 
 glass case which adorned one of the walls, and which 
 contained a fine stuffed eagle, the product of one of Sir 
 Baldwin's shooting expeditions in the north of Scot- 
 land. 
 
 Cousin Barnaby, muffled up to the eyes, had a rug 
 over one arm and a travelling pillow in his hand; he 
 made somewhat gauche efforts at greeting Sir Baldwin 
 and Lady Jeffreys in a becoming manner. 
 
 " So you see, my darling Olive, here we are ! " said 
 Aunt Caroline airily, when she was satisfied that her 
 little party had all assembled; Cousin Barnaby and 
 Uncle Jasper in the drawing-room, Boadicea talking to 
 Sir Baldwin, and Susan still on the landing. " I could 
 not allow the child to travel alone, could I ? " 
 
 " No, no. Aunt, of course not," assented Olive, who 
 was feeling almost hysterical with an access of rage 
 mingling with one of uncontrollable laughter. Really 
 the situation was almost too funny to be infuriating, 
 and too infuriating to be genuinely funny.
 
 AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE 265 
 
 And Sir Baldwin — the creator of this stupid, in- 
 sane, idiotic pHght into which he had placed his wife as 
 well as himself — looked the picture of hopeless be- 
 wilderment. 
 
 It was enough to send any woman, suffering already 
 from nerves, clean out of her senses. 
 
 " Your arrival is a charming surprise for my birth- 
 day," she said with bitter irony, which was wholly lost 
 on Aunt Caroline, but not on Sir Baldwin. '' I am 
 delighted to see you . . . and dear Uncle Jasper." 
 
 " Well," said Aunt Caroline complacently, " I could 
 not very well allow your uncle to stay in the house 
 alone . . . and Susan such a careless minx . . ." 
 
 "Of course not . . . of course not . . . dear Uncle 
 Jasper . . . this is really a surprise. ... Is it not. 
 Sir Baldwin? . . . You could not have given me a 
 more delightful surprise for my birthday . . . could 
 you?" 
 
 " How de do, Mr. Hemingford . . . very pleased to 
 see you," murmured Sir Baldwin. ' 
 
 " How de do," responded Uncle Jasper. " Er . . . 
 er . . . mayhap you could tell me the way to the 
 Royal Society's museum, my dear Olive ... I have 
 heard that there is a wonderful collection there of 
 British song birds. . . ." 
 
 " Yes, yes, Uncle Jasper, there is . . . and Sir Bald- 
 win will take an early opportunity of taking you there, 
 will you not. Sir Baldwin? " 
 
 "Of course, of course ! " 
 
 " And fancy Cousin Barnaby making up his mind to 
 pay us townsfolk a visit," said Olive, who was ap- 
 proaching nearer and nearer to the verge of hysteria,
 
 266 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 and talked glibly and gaily in a very loud, high-pitched 
 voice. 
 
 Aunt Caroline, a little shame-faced, was smoothing 
 out her bonnet strings. 
 
 " I could not ver^ well allow Barnaby to . . . er 
 . . ." she muttered, " to . . ." 
 
 " I could not allow you, Caroline, to leave me alone 
 in the house," rejoined Mr. Crabtree, settling himself 
 down placidly in a corner of the sofa; *' you are well 
 aware of the fact that I could not remain unattended 
 in an empty house. The matter was fully discussed 
 before we left." 
 
 " Besides which," said Olive, " my birthday surprise 
 would not have been complete without you, dear Cousin 
 Barnaby. And Sir Baldwin would have been so dis- 
 appointed if you had not come. Would you not, Sir 
 Baldwin?" 
 
 "Certainly, certainly!" murmured the unfortunate 
 man. 
 
 " Lis liten generat," said Uncle Jasper calmly. 
 
 " Jasper even brought his abominable Latin away 
 with him," said Mr. Crabtree, " and we found that 
 there would be less inconvenience for me to undertake 
 this tiresome journey than to be left alone in company 
 with Caroline's clucking hens." 
 
 " But what about Susan ? " asked Olive. 
 
 " Oh, we brought her along with us," replied Aunt 
 Caroline. 
 
 " She had to see after my bed warmer," said Cousin 
 Barnaby in tone of stern reminder. 
 
 "Of course she has, I had nearly forgotten. And 
 also she had to complete the birthday surprise! It is
 
 AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE 2^-] 
 
 all too delightful, and I don't know how to thank Sir 
 Baldwin for his kindness in thinking out all the details 
 of this delightful visit." 
 
 "But where is Boadicea?" interposed Aunt Caro- 
 line. 
 
 " On the landing. Sitting on her boxes ! " rejoined 
 Mr. Crabtree airily. 
 
 Everyone had forgotten little Boadicea. Sir Bald- 
 win had greeted her kindly, but she did not follow Aunt 
 Caroline into the drawing-room. She had just caught 
 sight of her sister — beautiful as usual, exquisitely 
 dressed, angered at this invasion of her fashionable 
 house by this set of country bumpkins, but otherwise 
 perfectly serene — and the sight of Olive's face, of 
 those lips that had lied, those eyes that had so cruelly 
 deceived, brought back in a moment all the acuteness of 
 the heart ache which had become almost numb in the 
 past few months. 
 
 Boadicea would at that moment have given all she 
 had in the world to be allowed to run away from here 
 at once, to go back to lonely sea-girt Thanet, to the old 
 house and the orchard, which were so full of memories, 
 but also so full of peace. She could not then have 
 come forward to greet her sister, to kiss her again, to 
 lie by word and look again and again. 
 
 Nor was Olive any more eager to greet her. She 
 had caught sight of the little face, so pale now, so dif- 
 ferent to the childish face of a year ago. It looked 
 almost wan and quite tiny, with bloodless cheeks and 
 eyes that seemed unnaturally large. After that quick 
 exchange of looks the sisters, by tacit consent, turned 
 away one from the other. On the pretext of giving a
 
 268 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 few final directions to Susan, Boadicea went back on to 
 the landing, and for the moment, luckily, both Sir 
 Baldwin and Olive were far too deeply absorbed in a 
 ridiculous situation to pay much attention to her. 
 
 She was very tired, so she sat down quietly on one of 
 Aunt Caroline's boxes, and waited patiently for the 
 time when some degree of silence would follow the 
 present babel of talk and of hysterical laughter, and in 
 the meanwhile screwing up her courage for the ordeal 
 of meeting Olive — as she would have to do presently 
 — just as if nothing had happened either to wreck her 
 life or to destroy her illusions'. 
 
 In a moment of impulse she had decided to come to 
 London because Sir Baldwin had written to say that 
 Olive was ill, and at that thought all the old fondness 
 for the beautiful sister had revived. She had come feel- 
 ing that Olive was ill and had need of her. If Olive had 
 been really ill, Boadicea could have found it in her heart 
 to forget and to forgive everything ; but Olive was not 
 ill and had no need of a sister's sympathy, and in her 
 eyes there was just that look of hard selfishness which 
 Boadicea had discovered in them on that one hideous 
 afternoon when all the world suddenly became black 
 and ugly with the stains of sin and deceit.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 AN AWKWARD SITUATION 
 
 There was. grave consultation with Thompson, the 
 majordomo of Lady Jeffreys's household, as to how 
 the unexpected guests were to be housed. 
 
 Though the mansion was fairly large and roomy, 
 there was no superabundance of space in it, and, as in 
 most London houses, there were but few spare bed- 
 rooms. Thompson gravely shook his head when her 
 ladyship asked him what rooms could be placed at the 
 disposal of Sir Baldwin's guests. 
 
 " If you please, my lady," he said, " there is only the 
 blue room free now. We thought that Miss Ald- 
 marshe alone was coming." 
 
 ''Only the blue room?" 
 
 " That's all, my lady. Miss Aldmarshe can then 
 have the small green room on the east side." 
 
 " And," interposed Mr. Crabtree quietly, " Caro- 
 line and Jasper can go to an adjacent hotel." 
 
 "To an hotel," exclaimed Aunt Caroline, a little 
 horrified at the proposal. 
 
 " Yes," interposed Uncle Jasper, with alacrity, 
 " somewhere near the Royal Society's museum. . . ." 
 
 " Shall I tell Cutler, my lady, that that arrangement 
 will suit?" asked Thompson, who was showing a 
 lofty contempt for these savages from the country. 
 
 " Yes. Send her down here to me." 
 
 269
 
 270 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Thompson retired and Mr. Crabtree concluded with 
 perfect complacency: 
 
 " The blue room will do very well for me . . . 
 though I must tell you, Olive, that I hate blue. . . ." 
 
 " But, Cousin Barnaby," protested Olive, " I have 
 only the one room, and Aunt Caroline . . ." 
 
 " She can sleep at the hotel with Jasper, of 
 course . . . and I can make the blue room do . . ." 
 
 " But really, Cousin Barnaby . . ." 
 
 " No matter," he interposed loftily. " I can make 
 it do. Don't apologise. ... I hate blue, but I can 
 make it do." 
 
 Cutler, the housekeeper, In splendid black silk and 
 lace-edged apron, was already at the door ready to 
 confirm Thompson's assertion that no other room but 
 the blue one would be available, and Miss Aldmarshe 
 would then have to have the smaller green room on 
 the east side. 
 
 Aunt Caroline thought that the majestic house- 
 keeper looked a pert minx, and tried to tell her so by 
 a withering look. Mr. Crabtree had risen from the 
 sofa. Totally una wed by the glance of contemptuous 
 astonishment which Cutler threw at him, he stalked up 
 to her, rug and travelling-pillow in hand. Without 
 more ado he thrust these things into the indignant 
 housekeeper's arms. 
 
 " Here, woman, take my things into the blue room," 
 he said. 
 
 Poor Cutler nearly dropped the things on to the 
 floor. She had never been so insulted in all her life. 
 Nothing but respect for her master and mistress pre- 
 vented her making a scene then and there, and in her
 
 AN AWKWARD SITUATION 271 
 
 mind she determined that if these people stayed more 
 than one night in the house she herself would promptly 
 give a month's notice. For the moment she vainly 
 looked to Sir Baldwin — whom she had served faith- 
 fully for twenty years — for support against this in- 
 sult. 
 
 " Mr. Crabtree," said Sir Baldwin, somewhat fee- 
 bly, for, poor man, his spirits had been somewhat 
 cowed during the past half hour — "Mr. Crabtree, I 
 really must ask you to . . ." 
 
 " Don't apologise, don't apologise ! " broke in Cousin 
 Barnaby in his usual summary manner. " I hate blue, 
 but I can stand it for a few days. Let your woman 
 show the vv^ay. Get along, girl, can't you ? " 
 
 "What am I to do, my lady?" asked Cutler, who 
 was on the point of bursting into tears. 
 
 " Show me the way to the blue room, and don't 
 argue," concluded Mr. Crabtree. 
 
 It is a very curious fact in life that very selfish and 
 very self-assertive persons invariably succeed in im- 
 posing their wishes on others. In this case Mr. Crab- 
 tree had it entirely his own way. Sir Baldwin felt far 
 too bewildered and far too sheepish to do his duty as 
 host or master of the house. Olive, on the other 
 hand, was much too resentful and really not in a nor- 
 mal state of mind to attend to the most elementary 
 duties of hospitality towards her uncle and aunt. 
 
 Thus the perplexed and irate housekeeper, finding 
 no support from her master or mistress, was obliged 
 to obey that muffled-up scarecrow who insulted her 
 and ordered her about as if she had been a kitchen- 
 maid.
 
 272 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Wrapping herself up in a perfect mantle of offended 
 dignity, she threw one withering glance on Barnaby 
 Crabtree, and asked him, with ironical deference, 
 kindly to follow her up the stairs. This he did quite 
 contentedly, whilst Aunt Caroline said blandly : 
 
 " Cousin Barnaby insisted on coming, you know, 
 my dear Olive; I do hope that it is not inconvenient? " 
 
 " Oh, not at all — not at all, my dear Aunt ! We 
 are charmed, I assure you. . . . Are we not. Sir Bald- 
 win?" 
 
 " Delighted. Delighted, of course! " 
 
 " But," rejoined Olive, with a laugh, " unless you 
 and Uncle Jasper will sleep on the drawing-room floor 
 I am afraid that you will have to go to an hotel." 
 
 " Somewhere near the Royal Society's museum," 
 murmured Uncle Jasper mildly. 
 
 "At any rate, we'll see to that later on. For the 
 moment we must have some luncheon. The bell will 
 ring in a quarter of an hour. Come to my room, 
 Aunt, will you? Sir Baldwin, will you see to Uncle 
 Jasper in the meanwhile ? " 
 
 " And that poor child ! " exclaimed Aunt Caroline, 
 suddenly recollecting Boadicea. 
 
 " She is still sitting on her boxes, I suppose." 
 
 But Boadicea was no longer on the landing. She 
 and Susan had found their way upstairs. They had 
 enlisted the housekeeper's sympathy, and had been 
 shown into their rooms. 
 
 The meeting between the two sisters had again been 
 postponed, but, of course, it could not be put off in- 
 definitely. Olive frowned with impatience at herself 
 for being so strangely disturbed in her younger sis-
 
 AN AWKWARD SITUATION 273 
 
 ter's presence. She deposited Aunt Caroline in front 
 of a basin full of hot water in her own room, and then 
 deliberately went upstairs to the small green room on 
 the east side which Boadicea would have to occupy, if 
 she stayed in St. James's-street. 
 
 She knocked at the door and went in. Boadicea 
 was standing beside her boxes looking listless and 
 apathetic. She made no movement to embrace her 
 sister, and Olive felt strangely ill at ease at sight of 
 the thin, pinched little face so different to the apple- 
 cheeked, rosy one of awhile ago. 
 
 Not that there was any feeling of remorse or of 
 shame in her. She was not in the least ashamed of 
 what she had done, either of the lie which she had told 
 or of what that lie implied with regard to herself; nor 
 was she remorseful, for she had no conception of the 
 gravity of her action. Being wholly incapable of 
 deep and passionate attachment, she did not believe in 
 the existence of it. She thought that Boadicea — at 
 most — had had just the same passing fancy for Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington as she had had herself, that her 
 vanity had been agreeably tickled by the young man's 
 attentions, and that a sense of pique and of disap- 
 pointment was all that the young girl could possibly 
 feel at the present moment. 
 
 Not anything to make a fuss over, surely. 
 
 She thought that the child was exhibiting a sulki- 
 ness of temper altogether unwarranted under the cir- 
 cumstances, and it was almost with a feeling of ag- 
 grieved dignity that she said : 
 
 " Good gracious, child, are you so tired as all that ? 
 You don't seem overjoyed at seeing me."
 
 274 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 She made pretence to kiss Boadicea with some show 
 of affection, and immediately afterwards began to talk 
 glibly of the present ridiculous situation. 
 
 " It is quite intolerable. You see that for yourself, 
 don't you, little one?" she said. "I am, of course, 
 delighted to have you, but what in the world shall I do 
 with Aunt and Uncle, and that odious Crabtree? I 
 haven't the room in this house, and Barnaby will up- 
 set all my servants." 
 
 " I am very sorry, Olive," said Boadicea, and for 
 the first time for many months a twinkle of amuse- 
 ment crept into her large, purple-circled eyes. " I did 
 what I could to stop the crowd of us coming all to- 
 gether. But Aunt made all the arrangements. ... I 
 was not allowed to speak a word." 
 
 " Aunt is really in her dotage. As for Uncle, he has 
 no business to be let loose in London like that." 
 
 " Aunt will do her best to look after him." 
 
 " They'll both come to grief in London," was 
 Olive's decided pronouncement. "And I am obliged 
 to send them to an hotel where Aunt will quarrel with 
 the chambermaid and the head waiter and set the man- 
 agement by the ears. As for paying her bill without 
 a terrible row with the cashier, she is simply incapable 
 of it. Little one, I am very, very sorry, but much as 
 I would like to have you here with me, I honestly 
 think that it is your duty to go to the hotel with them." 
 
 "Yes, Olive?" 
 
 " You will have to come back to me later on in the 
 season; and then I must see that you come alone. 
 Your visit this time has been spoilt, anyhow ; and I do
 
 AN AWKWARD SITUATION 275 
 
 think that it is not safe for Aunt and Uncle to be alone 
 in a London hotel." 
 
 Boadicea cared so little as to where she went or 
 what she did, that she acquiesced readily in her sister's 
 wish. 
 
 , " I won't unpack my box, then," she said simply, 
 " and after luncheon we can all go to some hotel near 
 the Museum, as Uncle Jasper wishes." 
 
 " Yes, dear. And I wouldn't stay in London longer 
 than a few days. You could easily make Aunt under- 
 stand that London does not agree with you. And 
 then, you see, little one, the sooner you and the family 
 go back this time, the sooner you can return to me, 
 say, at the beginning of July, when the season is still 
 at its height, and we can spend a nice time together." 
 
 Boadicea could not help smiling, in spite of the pain 
 which Olive was causing her by her shallow pretences. 
 Oh, how well she had learnt to read in her sister's 
 heart! How clearly she saw the deceit that pierced 
 through this show of affection! She knew that Olive 
 no more meant what she said, no more meant her to 
 come back to London this year or any other year than 
 she had done in the years that were past. 
 
 " You need not be afraid, Olive," she said, gently. 
 " I won't stay in London a day longer than I can 
 help." 
 
 " My dear child . . ." 
 
 "No, no, dear! Never mind about trying to pro- 
 test what you don't feel. It's no good, Olive, things 
 will never be quite the same between us as they were 
 in the past." 
 
 " You are such a country ninny, child. You judge
 
 2y(y MEADOWSWEET 
 
 me harshly because of what I told you. Why, every 
 woman in London — if she be good-looking — has 
 more than one lover. Let me tell you that, and no 
 one thinks any the worse of her for that." 
 
 " I am not judging you, Olive, or thinking harshly 
 of you. I only judge myself for having been silly and 
 vanity-stricken. But don't let us talk about all that. 
 It is all over and done with." 
 
 " That is a very sensible way of looking at it, child. 
 It is all over and done with, as you say. Lieutenant 
 Carrington has forgotten all about you by now, I dare 
 say, and you are very wise to forget all about him. 
 And you are sure you don't mind going to an hotel 
 with Aunt and Uncle ? " 
 
 *' Of course I don't mind." 
 
 " And after to-day you must all come over for 
 meals. To-night, I am sorry to say, I shall not be 
 able to entertain you. I have a dinner-party first and 
 go to a rout afterwards. You wouldii't care for 
 either, would you, dear?" 
 
 " No, Olive, I should not." 
 
 " Then perhaps we can arrange for you to leave 
 London to-morrow. Sir Baldwin has any number of 
 horses in town. I am sure that he will readily send 
 you back in his coach." 
 
 " It would be very kind of him." 
 
 " And, really, dear, I ask you, in all fairness, what 
 could I do with that odious Crabtree for more than 
 one day? " 
 
 The luncheon-bell sounded now for the second time. 
 Boadicea had already smoothed her hair and washed 
 her face and hands. She was quite ready to go down-
 
 AN AWKWARD SITUATION ^-jy 
 
 stairs with her sister. On the whole she was not 
 greatly hurt at her sister's obvious desire to be rid of 
 her again as quickly as possible. Was she herself not 
 conscious of a strong desire to put mile upon mile of 
 road between her and Olive ? 
 
 She had only come because she believed that Olive 
 was ill. Now she realised how impossible it would be 
 for her to be constantly with her sister day after day, 
 in the same house, at meals, at all times. 
 
 But Olive was triumphant. Her strategy had suc- 
 ceeded beyond her fondest hopes. Sir Baldwin's 
 clumsy plan had been most cleverly outwitted, and if 
 Lieutenant Carrington, acting upon the hint dropped 
 to him, did turn up at sunset this evening, it would be- 
 come a very easy matter indeed to persuade him that 
 Boadicea had fled because of his approach. In fact, 
 chance had been so kind that she had arranged the 
 situation altogether for the best. 
 
 Boadicea in London and to all appearances refusing 
 to meet Lieutenant Carrington, was a far more satis- 
 factory asset in Olive's schemes than she had been in 
 distant Thanet. 
 
 Olive was quite longing for Jack's visit this even- 
 ing; there would be no need for him now to go to the 
 China seas. He could accept the appointment at the 
 Admiralty and remain in London, worshipping com- 
 fortably at the feet of beautiful Lady Jeffreys, for she 
 would make him understand how thoroughly at an 
 end was that silly romance, which — surely against his 
 own will and judgment — had kept him bound in a 
 cold spirit of chivalry to the little savage whom he 
 had met in Thanet.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 AN HONEST MAN 
 
 After luncheon Mr. Crabtree retired to the blue 
 room for rest until tea-time. He hated blue, but pro- 
 fessed himself willing to sacrifice his prejudices for 
 the sake of peace, which he hoped to find in London. 
 
 It was arranged that Sir Baldwin's barouche would 
 conduct the rest of the Thanet party to a good hotel 
 in the neighbourhood of the Royal Society's museum, 
 which was situated at some little distance from St. 
 James's-street, and Olive — an irreproachably charm- 
 ing hostess now, full of spirits and brimming over 
 with smiles — was dispensing coffee in the drawing- 
 room whilst waiting for the advent of the barouche. 
 
 No wonder that she was in a good humour. In 
 less than a quarter of an hour from now Boadicea 
 would be safely out of the house, after which the 
 manoeuvring of keeping her and Lieutenant Jack apart 
 for a day or two longer would become a very simple 
 matter. No one had mentioned Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton at luncheon, and now Aunt Caroline and Boadicea 
 had their bonnets on, ready to start, and if all went 
 well the whole party would have left London in less 
 than forty-eight hours from now. 
 
 Sir Baldwin was making vigorous efforts to enter- 
 tain Uncle Jasper with travellers' tales. Aunt Caro- 
 
 278
 
 AN HONEST MAN 279 
 
 line talked volubly and incessantly whilst stirring her 
 coffee. 
 
 She talked of Susan's misdeeds, of jams and of 
 pickles, of Topcoat's rheumatism, and Mr. Friday, the 
 Minster grocer's bankruptcy. Finally, she talked of 
 Boadicea's lack of appetite, which had sat heavily on 
 her own mind of late. 
 
 " But now," she said cheerfully, " that she will be 
 near you, Olive, I dare say that the roses will soon 
 return to her cheeks. Not that I believe in London 
 air, mind you, but I have done my best with her, giv- 
 ing her dandelion tea and liquorice, before every meal, 
 and no woman can do more." 
 
 " But I am very well. Aunt," said Boadicea in that 
 listless way which seemed to have become habit- 
 ual with her. " I am sure that I have no need of 
 physic." 
 
 Whereupon Sir Baldwin broke off in his conversa- 
 tion with Uncle Jasper, and said tartly, his temper be- 
 ing none of the best by now: 
 
 " The physic the chit wants is a contented mind." 
 
 " Good, Sir Baldwin ! " protested Aunt Caroline. 
 
 " Aye, you'll have to excuse me, ma'am ! " he con- 
 tinued, speaking loudly and bluntly. " I had intended 
 speaking straight words to the minx when she came. 
 It is time, I say, that heartless coquettes heard the 
 truth spoken openly to them by honest men." 
 
 " Pay no attention, Aunt," interposed Olive hastily, 
 for she did not like the turn which the conversation 
 had taken so unexpectedly. " Sir Baldwin is aiming 
 a shaft at me: a pleasing practice to which he is often 
 addicted."
 
 28o MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Then she turned with a sad and patient smile to her 
 sister. 
 
 " Dear child," she said, sighing prettily, " I hope for 
 your sake that you will never be plagued with a jealous 
 husband." 
 
 But Boadicea replied very earnestly, and turning 
 large, sad eyes on Sir Baldwin : 
 
 " No, no, Olive ! Sir Baldwin is quite right in what 
 he says, though of course he does not understand." 
 
 "Understand?" exclaimed Sir Baldwin hotly. 
 " What is there to understand, if you please, save that 
 like a wanton chit you amused yourself by toying with 
 the love of an honest man, and now go about your 
 business smiling and contented whilst he is breaking 
 his heart? " 
 
 " Breaking his heart ? " she protested, with a con- 
 temptuous shrug of the shoulders. " Oh, as to 
 that . . ." 
 
 " Well, you know, child," broke in Aunt Caroline, 
 with her usual complacency, " I have always told you 
 that you did not treat Lieutenant Carrington quite 
 fairly." 
 
 " For gracious' sake," cried Olive, with angry im- 
 patience, " do not revive that old, forgotten story now, 
 Aunt. It is all past and forgotten. It certainly did 
 not redound to anybody's credit, so I really do not see 
 why you should wish to dig it up again." 
 
 " The story is not past and forgotten," protested Sir 
 Baldwin vigorously. 
 
 " At any rate, it never concerned you. Sir Baldwin." 
 
 " A story of that type concerns every honest man." 
 
 " There's too much talk of honest men, it seems to
 
 AN HONEST MAN 281 
 
 me," concluded Olive, trying to conceal beneath the 
 appearance of indifference, the fear and anger which 
 she now felt. " Good wine needs no bush. More- 
 over, the barouche is at the door." 
 
 " It can wait," rejoined Sir Baldwin curtly ; " at any 
 rate, until I, too, have told Miss Boadicea that she 
 did not treat Lieutenant Carrington fairly. Fairly ! " 
 he reiterated, with a suppressed oath, " Heaven's 
 sakes alive, girl ! Is it fair to send such heartless mes- 
 sages to a man so sorely stricken with grief already? " 
 
 " Sir Baldwin," said Olive in a harsh, high-pitched 
 voice, " I must insist on your ceasing to interfere in 
 my sister's affairs." 
 
 But Boadicea, very bewildered, had frowned in 
 obvious puzzlement, and was murmuring : 
 
 " Messages ? What messages ? " 
 
 She gazed inquiringly from her sister to Sir Bald- 
 win, and then back to her sister again. Olive was 
 flushed and looked more and more angered, her eyes, 
 too, appeared restless, avoiding Boadicea's direct gaze. 
 Something of the truth — a mere glimmer, of course 
 — struggled to the young girl's comprehension. 
 There was no mistaking Olive's furtive looks, and Sir 
 Baldwin seemed very sure of his assertion. 
 
 " In your letters to your sister," he said hotly, " your 
 messages were positively heartless. How many times 
 did you send Carrington a message, pray, saying that 
 you never wish to look on his face again ? " 
 
 " Poor young man," murmured Aunt Caroline, 
 " M'hy did you say that, child? " 
 
 " I . . . don't know . . ." said Boadicea slowly, 
 for she was beginning to understand that some kind
 
 282 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 of treachery had been at work. What it was or who 
 had been guilty, and for what object she could not at 
 present conceive, but Olive looked frightened, as she 
 had done on that memorable evening a year ago, and 
 Boadicea now, as then, was far too loyal to give her 
 away. 
 
 " You don't know ? " queried Sir Baldwin. 
 
 "Sir Baldwin," protested Olive, "the barouche is 
 at the door. This is not the time . . ." 
 
 But Sir Baldwin once launched on the subject which 
 he had so much at heart, was not in a humour to be 
 interrupted. He turned to Boadicea and once more 
 demanded sternly : 
 
 "You don't know?" 
 
 " I had forgotten," she replied meekly. 
 
 " Forgotten, have you ? " he retorted. " Lord bless 
 my soul, girl, have you no heart, no feeling, no honest 
 sentiment in you ? And you a mere child, and already 
 so versed in the perverse arts of wanton coquettes ! " 
 
 " Sir Baldwin ..." cried Olive. 
 
 " Let me talk to her, I tell you. I must talk to her, 
 and she has got to listen. It is time someone spoke a 
 brave mind to her. You, Miss Boadicea, have broken 
 an honest man's heart, let me tell you that. You have 
 ruined his hopes and blighted his career. He is in 
 London at the present moment looking the very wreck 
 of his former self, old before his time, sober in mien, 
 pale and gnawed by fever. He had to be invalided 
 home from Malta. He, a young man, not eight-and- 
 twenty, who should enjoy the best of healths. All 
 that is your work, let me tell you. Yours, and you 
 don't seem to care ! You calmly say that you never
 
 AN HONEST MAN 283 
 
 wish to see his face again. Well, you won't, for he 
 will be underground before you have time to repent of 
 your heartlessness. Next week he sails for the China 
 seas, far away from home, from kindred, and from 
 friends. In his present state of apathy and feeble 
 health, I doubt if he will ever come back from there. 
 Shame on you, child, I say — shame on you! If you 
 have no pity on a man whose life you have ruined, at 
 least you must have shame for your unwarrantable 
 conduct. What harm had he done you? What sin 
 had he committed ? And now, when a poor, innocent 
 man's heart is broken by your indifference and your 
 cruelty, you stand calmly here and say stolidly, * I do 
 not know — I had forgotten ! ' Shame, I say — 
 shame ! " 
 
 Sir Baldwin Jeffreys had worked himself up into a 
 violent state of anger — a state which rendered him 
 unusually persuasive and eloquent. Olive had once or 
 twice during his loudly-spoken tirade endeavoured to 
 stop his flow of eloquence, but in vain. He was just 
 letting himself go. He had in many ways suffered as 
 much as the man whose cause he was pleading. He, 
 too, had been treated with cruel indifference, mocked 
 at, ignored, deeply wronged, and it was his own griev- 
 ances so long held secret in his heart that gushed forth 
 now clothed in vigorous words. 
 
 Olive had become pale to the lips. She would — if 
 she could then have done it — have annihilated her 
 meddlesome husband, with her looks of anger border- 
 ing on absolute hatred. The crisis, which she had 
 really hoped would now be avoided, was being precipi- 
 tated by what she termed Sir Baldwin's impudent in-
 
 284 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 terference. An explanation with Boadicea would 
 now, she feared, be inevitable, and what the outcome 
 of that would be she hardly dared to guess. 
 
 " 'Twas well said, Sir Baldwin," said Aunt Caro- 
 line, with her usual cheerful complacency. " I've been 
 much too weak all this time past, else I would have 
 given her a good straight talk myself." 
 
 " I thank you for what you have said, Sir Baldwin," 
 said Boadicea coldly. " But unfortunately what is 
 done cannot now be undone." 
 
 " It can be mended, at any rate," he retorted. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " You talk it over with your sister. She under- 
 stands young men and their ways. She'll be of good 
 counsel to you, eh, Olive?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course. I'll talk it all over with 
 Boadicea some time," said Olive impatiently; "but 
 surely not now when the barouche is at the door. 
 Unless they go soon to seek for rooms, every decent 
 hotel will be closed against them. Hotel-keepers have 
 no liking for travellers who arrive too late." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Aunt Caroline, " let us go now, 
 Sir Baldwin, we may have to visit several hotels be- 
 fore we find suitable rooms. I must be on the south 
 side, you know, because of my asthma." 
 
 " Yes, yes," assented Sir Baldwin, " I will accom- 
 pany you, ma'am, if you will allow me, on your tour 
 of inspection. Our desire would have been to enter- 
 tain you here, you know, only that Mr. Crabtree has 
 unfortunately interfered with that pleasant arrange- 
 ment." 
 
 " He would come, dear Sir Baldwin, though I tried
 
 AN HONEST MAN 285 
 
 to persuade him to return to his sister's, poor dear, 
 who usually looks after him, and who is glad, I dare 
 swear, to be rid of him for a while. However, he 
 simply insisted on coming with us. But never you 
 worry about it. Sir Baldwin, your uncle and I will do 
 very well in lodgings, now that Boadicea has also de- 
 cided on being with us. Eh, Jasper? Do set Sir 
 Baldwin's mind at ease, and tell him that we shall do 
 very well in lodgings." 
 
 Thus roused from the perusal of a book which he 
 had surreptitiously concealed in his pocket at the last 
 moment when leaving home, Uncle Jasper assented 
 meekly : 
 
 " Somewhere near the Royal Society's museum," 
 he said. 
 
 " We'll find something close by, at any rate," con- 
 cluded Sir Baldwin. 
 
 He rang the bell, and Thompson, the solemn major- 
 domo, opened the doors for the party to file out. 
 
 " We shall be quite comfortable wherever you put 
 us. Sir Baldwin," said Aunt Caroline who had got 
 Uncle Jasper by the arm, and was forcibly taking him 
 along. "Are you coming, Boadicea?" she added, 
 turning back to the young girl, who had made no 
 movement to follow. 
 
 Boadicea was deliberately undoing her bonnet 
 strings. She looked frail and tired, but very resolute. 
 Olive was watching her with ever-growing apprehen- 
 sion. The inevitable explanation was closer at hand 
 than she had imagined, and it was not likely to prove 
 an easy one for her. 
 
 *' I think, Aunt, if you will excuse me," said Boadi-
 
 286 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 cea, taking off her bonnet and settling down on a cor- 
 ner of the sofa, " I would rather stay with Olive for a 
 little while. Someone no doubt will later on pilot me 
 to the hotel which you will have chosen, once Sir Bald- 
 win returns and tells us where it is."
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 A LITTLE FOOL 
 
 Silence reigned in the large elegantly-furnished 
 drawing-room of the stately house in St. James's- 
 street. The party from Thanet was heard descending 
 the stairs, and presently entering the barouche and be- 
 ing driven away in the direction of Piccadilly. 
 
 Olive was at the window, with her back towards her 
 sister, apparently deeply immersed in watching Aunt 
 Caroline and Uncle Jasper and after them Sir Baldwin 
 — finally followed by Susan — getting into the car- 
 riage; but in reality she w^as wondering in her own 
 mind how in the world she could get out of the pres- 
 ent extremely uncomfortable situation without too 
 much hurt to her vanity and to her self-esteem. 
 
 Boadicea still sat on the corner of the sofa, very 
 still, with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes 
 fixed upon her sister, as if from right through the 
 back of Olive's head she would wish to extract the 
 solution of that riddle which was puzzling her own 
 mind so painfully. 
 
 The silence became oppressive. 
 
 With a forced little laugh Olive suddenly turned 
 and faced Boadicea. 
 
 "Thank goodness!" she said lightly, "they have 
 driven off at last. Some of that eloquent sermon was, 
 of course, meant for me. Oh, dear me, what we poor 
 
 287
 
 288 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 women have to suffer when we are bound for Hfe 
 to a veritable walking dictionaiy of whole-hearted 
 abuse." 
 
 She yawned affectedly, and, going to the nearest, 
 most conveniently placed mirror, she readjusted the 
 curls of her elaborate chignon. 
 
 " Well, child," she said after awhile, " I am afraid 
 that you have not chosen the most pleasant way of 
 spending your first afternoon in London ! I am truly 
 sorry, but I cannot possibly entertain you. I have 
 promised to put in an appearance at Lady Malvern's 
 concert this afternoon, and it is already unconsciona- 
 bly late. I must go and put on my hat now. Will 
 you wait for me here till I come down again ? " 
 
 " Don't go yet, Olive," said Boadicea, with a wistful 
 little tone of entreaty. "I want to ask you some- 
 thing." 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " queried Olive, with an indif- 
 ference which she was very far from feeling. She 
 was wishing with all her might that some one or other 
 of her numerous fashionable friends would take this 
 opportunity of paying her an afternoon call and inter- 
 rupt this unpleasant tcte-a-tete. On most days during 
 the season her drawing-room was filled with visitors 
 who were not always welcome. It was more than 
 provoking, therefore, that just to-day, when she pined 
 for interruption, she should be left so severely alone. 
 
 Across the younger girl's smooth forehead there had 
 appeared a deep frown of puzzlement. 
 
 " What did Sir Baldwin mean," she asked, " about 
 those messages which he says I sent to — to Lieuten- 
 ant Carrington? "
 
 A LITTLE FOOL 289 
 
 " I am sure I don't know, child," replied Olive im- 
 patiently. " How should I ? Sir Baldwin was talk- 
 ing at random. He often does when he has an imagi- 
 nary grievance against me." 
 
 " But Sir Baldwin said that my messages were sent 
 in my letters to you." 
 
 " Well, yes, he did say that. I tell you, child, that 
 he was talking at random." 
 
 "Yes, now! But, then?" 
 
 " What do you mean by * then ' ? " 
 
 " When those messages were delivered to Lieuten- 
 ant Carrington: was someone talking at random 
 then?" 
 
 " Oh," said Olive, with yet a greater show of indif- 
 ference, " I thought that surely you would not wish 
 to see Lieutenant Carrington." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " It seems to me that your own good sense ought to 
 tell you why not. I should have imagined that you 
 would see for yourself that an interview could not 
 possibly lead to anything, but would only be painful to 
 you both." 
 
 " An interview ? Sir Baldwin did say something 
 about my refusing to see Lieutenant Carrington. Had 
 he asked for an interview then ? " 
 
 " Well, he did say something about it. But really, 
 child, I haven't got the time to waste over all this silly 
 talk. I am due at Lady Malvern's now." 
 
 " One moment, Olive. I won't keep you long. 
 You have just told me that Lieutenant Carrington said 
 something about an interview. What did he say ? " 
 
 " He only spoke vaguely, I tell you."
 
 290 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " But you were not going to tell me anything about 
 it?" 
 
 Olive was getting nervous and fidgetty. This close 
 questioning under her younger sister's calm gaze had 
 taken all her self-assurance from her. Yet, strangely 
 enough, she made no attempt to run away. Instinc- 
 tively she felt that the situation had become so acute, 
 and Boadicea so determined, that to evade both would 
 only mean disaster to herself, to all her desires and, 
 above all, to her position before her sister, before 
 Jack, and even perhaps before her husband. 
 
 On the whole she thought it best to hold her ground 
 now, trusting to her kind ally Chance, and to her own 
 wits to lead her triumphantly out of this unpleasant if 
 temporary cul-de-sac. 
 
 " You took it upon yourself to refuse him then and 
 there in my name ? " asked Boadicea, whose voice had 
 suddenly become hard and trenchant even as her face 
 became more calm and set. " You took it upon your- 
 self without consulting me? " 
 
 " I thought it best," retorted Olive boldly, " so did 
 Sir Baldwin at the time. He was present when Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington made his request, and we both 
 thought ..." 
 
 Boadicea quickly interrupted her. 
 
 " His request? " she said. " He did request an in- 
 terview then? Just now you said that he merely 
 spoke vaguely about it." 
 
 " Tush, child ! " said Olive, with angry impatience. 
 " I'll not be cross-examined like this ! The whole 
 thing only amounts to a row of pins, and why you 
 should make such a fuss now and behave so rudely to
 
 A LITTLE FOOL 291 
 
 me, I can't think. Lieutenant Carrington did make 
 the suggestion that an interview between him and you 
 might be desirable before he left for China. Sir Bald- 
 win was present at the time, as I told you, and 
 so . . ." 
 
 " And so you told a lie," broke in Boadicea calmly. 
 
 " Pshaw ! . . . What would be the good of such an 
 interview? " 
 
 " I don't know. Lieutenant Carrington may really 
 be puzzled at my attitude towards him. He may not 
 have understood things clearly, and may have wished 
 for an explanation." 
 
 " What nonsense, child ! You are a regular country 
 ninny! Lieutenant Carrington knows as well as you 
 and I the real cause of the rupture between you." 
 
 " He knows? . . . That you have told me? . . ." 
 
 " Or that you guessed . . ." 
 
 " That he had been your . . ." 
 
 " Why . . . yes. . . ." 
 
 " One does not guess such things all of a sudden. 
 ... If one guessed one would wish to make sure." 
 
 ^ " That's just it. Lieutenant Carrington, I think, 
 only wanted to assure himself that you were not quite 
 sure." 
 
 "Then he really wished for that interview?" 
 
 " Only because of that, I think." 
 
 " And was he disappointed at your refusal ? " 
 
 " I don't think so." 
 
 " But Sir Baldwin said just now that he had never 
 seen a man so broken-hearted and so altered in appear- 
 ance as was Lieutenant Carrington. . . . Why do you 
 go on lying to me, Olive ? "
 
 292 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " Bah, child ! " retorted Olive in uncontrolled exas- 
 peration. " You are excited and very impertinent. I 
 really have no time to listen to all this nonsense. I 
 am over late now for Lady Malvern's concert. You 
 have really been too provoking." 
 
 " I am sorry, Olive," rejoined the young girl quietly. 
 " Do go and put on your hat now. I won't detain you 
 any longer." 
 
 " Ah, that's better ! Really you have been very ex- 
 asperating, child, keeping me here all this while with 
 all that senseless talk. What will you do with your- 
 self while I am gone? " 
 
 " I'll wait for Sir Baldwin." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Ask him to kindly take a message from me to 
 Lieutenant Carrington." 
 
 " A message ? What message ? " 
 
 " That I will grant him the interview which he de- 
 sires." 
 
 " Oh, he no longer desires it ! " 
 
 " Perhaps not. But I do ! " 
 
 " My dear child ! You cannot ask for an interview 
 with a gentleman. It would be a most improper thing 
 to do." 
 
 " Then I'll do an improper thing." 
 
 " Listen to me, child . . ." urged Olive, whose 
 nervous excitement was growing with every new 
 phase of her sister's sudden determination. 
 
 " I'll not listen to you, Olive," replied Boadicea. 
 " I'll wait for Sir Baldwin. You go and get your hat 
 on, or you'll be late for Lady Malvern's concert."
 
 A LITTLE FOOL 293 
 
 (( 
 
 But, my dear child, Sir Baldwin won't be able to 
 help you." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " He does not know where Lieutenant Carrington 
 lodges. ^ He cannot go and look for him in the Lon- 
 don streets." 
 
 " I'll write a letter to Lieutenant Carrington, and 
 Sir Baldwin will give it to him when next he sees 
 him." 
 
 " Sir Baldwin is not the proper person to deliver a 
 young girl's letter to another man." 
 
 " I think that Sir Baldwin would be willing for once 
 to override the conventions." 
 
 " Moreover, it's too late, anyway. Lieutenant Car- 
 rington leaves London to-night and England to-mor- 
 
 row." 
 
 " Then my letter addressed to H.MS. Dolphin will 
 reach him without fail." 
 
 " Too late for the interview which you seem to de- 
 sire," cried Olive, with a mighty effort at self-restraint. 
 
 " But not too late for him to hear the truth," re- 
 torted Boadicea simply. 
 
 "The truth? What truth?" 
 
 Boadicea had risen. Looking round the room she 
 saw the bureau that stood at one angle, with blotter, 
 pen and ink and sandbox ready to hand. She walked 
 quietly up to the bureau, and sat down in front of it, 
 Olive watching her the while with eyes that looked 
 black with anger, and with a sense of impotence and 
 of fear. 
 
 Boadicea opened the blotter, found paper and enve- 
 lope, and taking up a pen she began to write.
 
 294 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 (( 
 
 Lieutenant Carrington may be killed in some en- 
 gagement," she said quietly, even whilst the sound of 
 her pen scraping against the paper set every one of 
 Olive's nerves tingling. " He must not die under the 
 misapprehension that I do not know the truth." 
 
 The callousness — not to say the effrontery of this 
 pronouncement on the part of her young, unsophisti- 
 cated sister, struck Olive dumb with amazement. She 
 stood there in the middle of the room almost like a 
 person dazed with a sudden blow on the head. Her 
 ■wide-open eyes watched as if fascinated with the hor- 
 ror of it, her sister's small, sun-tanned hand running 
 rapidly from left to right of the sheet of notepaper in 
 front of her. The scraping of the quill pen alone dis- 
 turbed the silence that had fallen between these two 
 women ; outside cabriolets and barouches rattled along 
 the stone pavement, street-criers proclaimed their 
 wares : " Sweet lavender ! Won't you buy sweet 
 lavender?" or "Knives and scissors to grind!" or 
 
 " All a-blowin' and a-growin'." 
 
 People went about on their business or their pleas- 
 ure, the indifferent, the gay, the sad, they all went on 
 just the same, whilst one sister in her innocence was 
 calmly writing the condemnation of the other. 
 
 It was some time before Olive could again trust her- 
 self to speak, and even then her voice sounded harsh 
 and hollow, as if her throat were parched. 
 
 And by that time the letter was nearly finished. 
 
 " Are you . . . are you telling Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton the reason why you broke your engagement off 
 with him ? " she asked at last.
 
 A LITTLE FOOL 295 
 
 " Certainly ! " replied the other, without looking up 
 from her writing. 
 
 " That . . . that you knew that his relations with 
 me . . . had not been quite . . . quite innocent?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " And that I had told you so? " 
 
 " That you had confessed this to me. Yes ... I 
 am telling him that." 
 
 ** And you propose to entrust a letter like that — a 
 letter which would compromise me hopelessly . . . 
 you propose to entrust it to Sir Baldwin ? " stammered 
 Olive, who now was forced to give up all attempt at 
 concealing her own agitation, for she no longer could 
 control her voice, which was trembling, or her blood, 
 which fled from her cheeks and left them visibly grey 
 even beneath the delicate coating of rouge. 
 
 " It is monstrous . . . abominable ..." she gasped 
 and incontinently burst into tears. 
 
 But Boadicea finished her letter very calmly. She 
 signed her name boldly and with an elegant flourish, 
 then she addressed the envelope, and finally strewed 
 sand over the wet ink. 
 
 " Don't disturb yourself, Olive dear," she said 
 quietly, and — her sister thought — very callously. 
 " Sir Baldwin is an honourable gentleman. I will 
 close and seal the envelope myself; he would never 
 think of tampering with a closed letter." 
 
 " Oh, you never know what Sir Baldwin might or 
 might not do ! " said Olive through her tears. " His 
 jealousy is always there ; even when it seems quite dor- 
 mant the merest suspicion calls it back to life." 
 
 " You need not worry, dear ; I have so worded the
 
 296 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 letter that no one but Lieutenant Carrington himself 
 could read your name between the lines." 
 
 " You don't know Sir Baldwin as I do." 
 
 Boadicea was even now folding the letter, prepara- 
 tory to slipping it into its envelope. She paused in 
 the act, and, rising from her chair, she turned quickly 
 towards her sister. 
 
 " Would you like to see the letter? " she asked. 
 
 The change of front was so sudden, the suggestion 
 so unexpected that for the moment Olive was quite 
 thrown off her balance. The blood rushed back to her 
 cheeks. She was alternately pale and then flushed, 
 and her eyes gave a quick flash of eagerness. 
 
 But Lady Jeffreys was essentially a woman of the 
 world, and primarily now she was a woman fighting 
 for her own prestige in the eyes of others, and for the 
 realisation of her own desires. If for a moment she 
 had lost control over herself, it was only because every 
 phase of this extraordinary interview with her sister 
 had been so wholly unexpected. 
 
 Boadicea within the last quarter of an hour had not 
 only been a totally different woman to the ignorant 
 tomboy whom Olive had known so superficially, but 
 she had been many women in turns. She had been a 
 hard, determined woman, with a cross-examining legal 
 mind ; she had been a callous one, unresponsive to the 
 feelings of her sister, of the man whom she had pre- 
 tended to love; she had been a bold woman, too, for 
 she had done a thing which no young girl with any 
 sense of shame could possibly have done when she 
 wrote what she called " the truth " to a man who in the 
 future would remain an utter stranger to her.
 
 A LITTLE FOOL 297 
 
 But now equally suddenly the unsophisticated coun- 
 try ninny reappeared. With her own hands she was 
 handing over to her sister the very letter which Olive 
 had every intention should never reach the man for 
 whom it was intended. 
 
 No wonder that for a second or two the clever 
 woman of the world was thrown off her balance by^ 
 this naive- move. But she recovered herself quickly 
 enough, and made no movement to take the letter from 
 her sister. 
 
 " Oh, I'll read it if you like ! " she said, with perfect 
 indifference. 
 
 "Just as you like," rejoined Boadicea, not a whit 
 less self-possessed or less indifferent. " It is no secret 
 from you. If I may, I'll just run up to your room, 
 and put on my bonnet there, in front of your glass. 
 Perhaps Sir Baldwin will have returned by the time I 
 am down again." 
 
 Olive took the letter from her. Truly the girl was 
 astonishing — astonishing by her very trustfulness, 
 which, in Olive's opinion, was not far removed from 
 idiocy. She picked up her bonnet, and as she did so 
 she was humming some song or other quietly to her- 
 self. She certainly looked a little flushed, but then 
 she had been very pale before, and the argument had 
 been lengthy and exciting. 
 
 Olive watched her almost In amazement, whilst 
 twirling between her fingers that compromising letter 
 which had caused her so much agitation, and such un- 
 reasoning terror. Boadicea was actually leaving It in 
 her hands, and was preparing to go out of the room 
 with her bonnet swinging by its ribbon on her arm.
 
 298 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 " I think I'll take a peep at Cousin Barnaby," she 
 said as she was about to go. " Aunt Caroline will be 
 sure to worry me with questions about him." 
 
 " Don't be long, dear," said Olive calmly. 
 
 " I shan't be ten minutes. I must just take the 
 ink off my fingers. If you think the letter is all right, 
 will you close it? It is addressed." 
 
 And she went out of the room. 
 
 Olive could hear her running upstairs to the room 
 immediately overhead, she could hear her open and 
 shut the door of that room, and immediately after- 
 wards handling ewer and basin and singing all the 
 time. 
 
 And the letter, with the envelope fully addressed was 
 in Olive's hand. She took it out of the envelope and 
 read it quickly from beginning to end. 
 
 And all that she said was : 
 
 " The little fool ! The little fool ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY 
 
 And Olive went on repeating those three words: 
 "The little fool!" over and over again to herself. 
 Thus to express her contempt of Boadicea's naive con- 
 duct seemed to ease her mind and to calm her nerves. 
 The fact that the young girl had by that same conduct 
 really played Olive's game for her did not in the least 
 mitigate the latter's contempt. 
 
 Thank goodness, that silly letter need never reach 
 Lieutenant Jack now. Olive was twirling and turning 
 it between her fingers, quite enjoying the sudden and 
 unexpected respite from the terrible anxiety of awhile 
 ago. 
 
 Overhead she could hear her sister's light footstep 
 moving about the room, and her voice humming one of 
 those eternal old songs of which she was so fond. 
 
 " Little fool ! " murmured Olive once more, as she 
 folded up the compromising letter and thrust it into 
 the pocket of her gown. " What would Jack have 
 thought of me, if he had read this impudent epistle? 
 . . . For an unsophisticated country wench I must say 
 that my young sister puts matters very clearly." 
 
 To have lied on such a subject, and then to be found 
 out in the lie, would have been an humiliation which 
 Lady Jeffreys had hardly dared to contemplate. 
 
 She now sat down at the bureau, and drew pen and 
 
 299
 
 300 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 paper towards her. The letter which she meant to 
 write needed no great effort in composition. It should 
 be crisp and to the point. 
 
 " Miss Aldmarshe desires to inform Lieutenant Car- 
 rington that she has no desire for a personal interview 
 with him." 
 
 There, nothing could be better! Olive contem- 
 plated her handiwork with supreme satisfaction. She 
 had not even taken the trouble to imitate Boadicea's 
 handwriting; to do so would have been both clumsy 
 and unnecessary. All being well, the girl would with 
 her own hands give the letter to Sir Baldwin, who, of 
 course, would transmit it to Lieutenant Carrington this 
 very evening. 
 
 " Boadicea gave me this letter for you ! " Sir Bald- 
 win would be bound to say that. Olive closing her 
 eyes could picture the whole scene as it would be en- 
 acted presently. Sir Baldwin, pompous and correct, 
 handing over the letter, she herself, trying to look 
 calmly sympathetic, whilst Jack, of course, would be 
 somewhat disturbed and even gloomy after he had 
 mastered the contents of the curt epistle. 
 
 "She gave you this herself?" he would probably 
 insist. "With her own hands?" 
 
 And, of course. Sir Baldwin would be bound to an- 
 swer " Yes ! " to both these questions. 
 
 It really was all too delightful and almost funny. 
 Even Olive's somewhat dormant sense of humour 
 woke to the comical side of the situation. And she 
 felt no genuine sympathy for Jack. 
 
 " He will have forgotten her in three months," she 
 concluded as she folded up the missive, slipped it
 
 A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY 301 
 
 back into the same envelope which had been addressed 
 by Boadicea and finally folded and fastened the whole 
 thing up neatly. 
 
 " There's no reason for him to go to the China seas 
 now." And instinctively Olive's fingers went up to 
 the golden curls that needed slight readjustment, and 
 her eyes wandered to the nearest mirror. " That ap- 
 pointment at the Admiralty will keep him in London 
 and . . ." 
 
 And at the lady's feet, no doubt. That would be 
 the final outcome of the stormy interview which had 
 ended so satisfactorily. 
 
 A few moments later Sir Baldwin's voice was heard 
 down in the hall. A thrill of pleasure went right 
 through Olive's heart; the curtain was about to be 
 raised on one of the most exciting little bits of drama 
 that she had ever witnessed ; and the charm of it all was 
 that, though she would be sitting by as an apparently 
 indifferent spectator, she would really be the chief 
 actor, the chief mover in the scene; the other two — 
 Sir Baldwin and Boadicea — would be the marion- 
 ettes, she — Olive Jeffreys — would be pulling the 
 strings that made those marionettes dance to her tune. 
 
 Sir Baldwin came straight upstairs to the drawing- 
 room. He had escorted Aunt Caroline and Uncle 
 Jasper to a nice quiet hotel he knew of in Bloomsbury 
 — The Coptic. He had deposited them there with 
 Susan, and himself had returned in his barouche, 
 which he now wished to place at Boadicea's disposal, 
 that she might rejoin her uncle and aunt. 
 
 " It is almost a pity that the child is not going to 
 stop in the house," he said. " Curse that interfering
 
 302 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 old Crabtree! She must come back here to-night, 
 though. I have practically arranged that Carrington 
 should be here." 
 
 " She has written to Carrington." Olive was quite 
 calm and indifferent. She had Boadicea's letter in her 
 hand and the child was even now coming downstairs. 
 
 "Ah! What did she say?" 
 
 " Oh, I think she only asks for a few hours' time in 
 which to consider her decision. She probably means 
 to grant Lieutenant Carrington the interview which he 
 desires ; but I wouldn't worry her any more just now, 
 Baldwin, if I were you. She seems to have written a 
 nice letter to Jack and if you don't interfere I have no 
 doubt that everything will be for the best. I have her 
 letter here; she shall give it to you herself." 
 
 Boadicea, who looked her best just now, with eyes 
 very bright with excitement, and curved lips quivering 
 with eagerness, was even now at the door. 
 
 " Here, child, come in," said Olive lightly. " Sir 
 Baldwin thinks he may be seeing Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton to-day. He can take your letter to him, if you 
 like." 
 
 " Yes, Olive. Have you read my letter? " 
 
 " I only glanced at it." And Olive was handing the 
 letter to Sir Baldwin, who was about to take it from 
 her when Boadicea put out her hand and quietly took 
 possession of it herself. 
 
 " On the whole," she said, " I think I had best not 
 send this letter. H Sir Baldwin will be seeing Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington to-day, he may as well take a verbal 
 message." 
 
 She folded the envelope in half and slipped it into
 
 A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY 303 
 
 her pocket. Olive thought that her brain must be 
 reeHng. The wahs of the room were spinning round 
 and round ; her throat seemed to be closing up so that 
 for the moment she could not draw her breath. 
 
 Fortunately Sir Baldwin was not looking at her. 
 He had turned to Boadicea, and was saying with his 
 habitual pompous complacency : 
 
 " Of course a much wiser plan, my dear; or, better 
 still, let me send the carriage for you this evening. 
 Lieutenant Carrington will be here then, and a verbal 
 message will come far better from your own lips than 
 from mine." 
 
 " I thank you, Sir Baldwin ! " said Boadicea de- 
 murely. 
 
 Olive, had she dared, would have gasped with hor- 
 ror, she would have raved, she would have protested. 
 But fortunately for herself she had just a sufficiency 
 of commonsense left in her to make a supreme effort 
 to control both her rage and her fears. 
 
 " I think " — and she contrived to speak calmly, so 
 that Boadicea alone saw the awful effort which it cost 
 her to do so — " I think that it would be better for 
 your letter to go first, child." 
 
 " Do you really think so, Olive ? " asked Boadicea. 
 
 No one, I think, will begrudge her this tiny pin-prick 
 of malice which she administered to her sister. She 
 was but a girl after all, and was holding the trump card 
 now. Triumph had exhilarated her, and it was she 
 now who felt contempt for her sister, and who could 
 readily have murmured : " You little fool ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Olive, catching at this feeble straw of 
 hope — " yes. Let Sir Baldwin take your letter now.
 
 304 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 You can then easily arrange to see Lieutenant Carring- 
 ton to-morrow." 
 
 Boadicea seemed to be hesitating for a moment, 
 whilst Sir Baldwin remained coldly neutral, determined 
 not to interfere again in women's affairs; his interfer- 
 ence not having succeeded overwell hitherto. Olive 
 was thus kept on tenterhooks for a few minutes. 
 Boadicea was not cruel, but she enjoyed this moment 
 of mental torture which she was deliberately inflicting 
 on her sister. And even then Olive's punishment was 
 in no way commensurate with her fault ; and the worst 
 of it for Olive was that she knew that her sister was 
 punishing her, and that she had not the power of re- 
 taliation either now or for the future. 
 
 " I have changed my mind ! " Boadicea's decision 
 came almost as a relief ; the suspense had been agonis- 
 ing, even the worst — and this undoubtedly was the 
 worst that could happen — was better than the horror 
 of anticipation. 
 
 " That's a good girl ! " said Sir Baldwin cheerfully. 
 " Now I think I had better drive back to the hotel and 
 tell Mr. and Mrs. Hemingford that you will not join 
 them until this evening. You stay here quietly with 
 Olive. Have a good talk with her; she seems a little 
 nervy this afternoon." 
 
 He was very fussy and excited. His diplomacy was 
 succeeding overwell, after all. Olive made no at- 
 tempt to stop him from going ; events had come to such 
 a pass that it did not greatly matter now who came or 
 stayed, what anybody did or did not do. 
 
 And once more the two sisters were left alone to- 
 gether.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 A SUBLIME CONCLUSION 
 
 Olive no longer made attempt to hide either her 
 wrath or her fears. As soon as Sir Baldwin was 
 safely out of earshot her piercing voice rang out, shrill 
 and quivering. 
 
 "What is the meaning of all this nonsense?" she 
 cried. 
 
 There was no mistaking the look of rage, nor even 
 that of hate with which she met Boadicea's quiet 
 glance. 
 
 " It means that I have been seeking for the truth," 
 And Boadicea took the letter out of her pocket and 
 held it tightly clasped between her hands. *' It lies 
 here," she said, " in this letter." 
 
 " What do you mean? Give me that letter." 
 
 " Yes. I will give it you, Olive, directly. I need 
 not read it now." 
 
 She sat down on the corner of the sofa, just as she 
 had done before, when some hidden power in her sug- 
 gested this stroke of diplomacy v^^hich had culminated 
 in the present situation. The letter she still clutched 
 with both her hands. Her cheeks were glowing with 
 suppressed excitement, her large, eager eyes followed 
 her sister's restless walk up and down the room. 
 
 " I need not read this letter, Olive," she said. " I 
 can read all I want in your disturbed face and in your 
 
 305
 
 3o6 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 shrinking eyes. You lied to me, Olive. You lied 
 when you tried to part me from the man whom I loved, 
 and who loved me. . . . You lied when you tried to 
 prove him false and base, a liar and a cheat. . . . You 
 trapped and duped me — me, your own sister — the 
 country wench whom you used as a tool for just as 
 long as you needed her, and whose heart you broke 
 once she herself became useless." 
 
 " Be quiet, girl ! " cried Olive, in a last futile attempt 
 to gain the mastery over the silly wench whom she 
 used to dominate long ago. " I will not listen to all 
 this nonsense, this impudence. . . ." 
 
 " You must listen, Olive," broke in Boadicea firmly ; 
 " you have got to listen, for it is my turn now. You 
 have had the upper hand for so long, for you are clever 
 and you always know what you want, and what you 
 want that you make up your mind to get. But God 
 gave me country wits, not much of these, I dare say. 
 You think me a ninny and an unsophisticated savage, 
 but I have pitted my wits against your intrigues, and it 
 seems that my wits were the keener. I wished to 
 know who — you or he — had lied to me. You or 
 he! The alternative was horrible, for I loved you, 
 Olive, and believed in you ; but to him I had given my 
 whole heart. Do you think that I really meant to 
 send a letter to him? Not I ... I only wanted to 
 know, and it was my turn to lay a trap for you and 
 to make a fool of you. . . . Yes, a fool — a miser- 
 able, cringing fool; and see how I succeeded! Your 
 excitement, your terror, the many purposeless little 
 lies which you had already told, had roused my sus- 
 picions — and somehow I thought of writing the letter
 
 A SUBLIME CONCLUSION 307 
 
 and then of leaving it — open — in your hands to see 
 what you would do. I never meant to give the letter 
 to Sir Baldwin. I had only thought out a way of 
 finding out whether Jack Carrington had been lying to 
 me last year, or whether you were lying to me now. 
 Now you see that country wits are sometimes keener 
 than town wits. You fell into my trap just like a 
 bird. When my back was turned you stole my letter. 
 You were terror-stricken lest he — the man whose ad- 
 miration you covet for the mere gratification of your 
 own vanity — should know how you had lied to me, 
 and shamed yourself before me so as to part me from 
 him. You stole my letter, Olive, and in its place you 
 wrote another — another — with your hand. I don't 
 know what you wrote. ... I don't care how you put 
 it . . . but this I know that in this envelope now lies 
 the proof of your falsehood and of his loyalty." 
 
 It was a severe ordeal for a young girl, this act of 
 accusation, spoken with a great effort at self-control 
 and at dignity. Nor, whilst she was actually speaking, 
 did that self-control and dignity forsake her. Her 
 voice perhaps had gradually become a little more 
 trenchant as excitement took stronger and yet stronger 
 hold of her. She had risen to her feet, and it was 
 Olive now who sat cowering and weeping, unable to 
 find the requisite words with which to silence her sis- 
 ter's indictment against her. 
 
 But when Boadicea had finished speaking, when 
 with every moment the conviction grew upon her that 
 she had not been mistaken, that her sister had lied, 
 deliberately lied to her, but that the man whom she 
 loved had been loyal and very deeply wronged, then
 
 3o8 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 for an instant her self-control entirely left her. She 
 was only a young girl, after all — little more than 
 a child, with a heart filled with passionate love for a 
 man whom for a whole year she had believed a liar 
 and a cheat. 
 
 The load of intense misery, of bitter disillusionment 
 which she had borne silently for so long was lifted 
 from her with amazing suddenness, and she who had 
 never given way under the weight of so much sor- 
 row, and such cruel disappointment, did so now with 
 the completeness of her relief. 
 
 Her voice broke down in a great sob. Hot tears 
 rushed to her eyes. She covered her face with her hands 
 and crying and laughing hysterically she fell on her 
 knees beside the sofa and murmured through her 
 tears : 
 
 " I knew it. ... I really knew it all the time. . . . 
 Oh, my God, my God! I thank thee! I thank thee 
 that he has not lied to me ! " 
 
 That was the great hosanna, the heavenly paeon of 
 gratitude that went up from her overburdened heart, 
 straight to God the Maker of all things good. He 
 had not lied — he was true and loyal, for this she 
 thanked God on her knees. Nothing else mattered 
 now, not the pain and misery of the past year, not the 
 sister's treachery, not even the hopeless dreariness of 
 future years! All that was as nothing, for he was 
 just as she had thought him, true and loyal. The 
 sky once more was beautiful and blue, the clouds but 
 filmy gossamer of silver tissue, the nightingale had 
 an exquisite note in its tiny throat, and the scent of 
 cherry blossom was exquisite in its fragrance.
 
 A SUBLIME CONCLUSION 309 
 
 " Thank God, thank God, he did not lie to me ! " 
 
 This mood of Boadicea's was wholly incomprehen- 
 sible to the older sister, so incomprehensible, in fact, 
 that it irritated her. She ceased her own crying, the 
 tears of shame and of rage died in her eyes, even be- 
 fore they fell. At first she gazed on her sister as she 
 would on a person who had suddenly become demented. 
 She wiped her eyes and sat straight up in her chair. 
 Then contempt — that innate contempt which she had 
 always felt for the country-bred ninny — once more 
 reasserted itself. 
 
 Bah! the child was, after all, nothing but a fool, and 
 she — Olive — had been but a silly dolt, thus to allow 
 herself to be cowed by a wench like that. The child 
 was a fool, of that there was no doubt, else why should 
 she now seem so overwhelmed with joy when in reality 
 there was nothing yet to exult over. Nay, what's 
 more, Olive would — even at this eleventh hour — see 
 that nothing should occur to justify tears of gratitude 
 and of joy. 
 
 She was not one to take a beating easily, and did not 
 by any means consider herself beaten yet. Check to 
 her queen — perhaps — her queen who was called self- 
 love — but not checkmate by a long way yet. 
 
 But she waited patiently until Boadicea's paroxysm 
 had somewhat calmed down. At last the girl rose to 
 her feet again, and still a little hysterical, still quiver- 
 ing with excitement, she was drying her tears, and 
 making quick, jerky attempts to smooth the tendrils of 
 brown hair that clung, moist, to her temples. 
 
 By this time Olive had wholly composed herself. 
 She was well-schooled in the art of passing from parox-
 
 3IO MEADOWSWEET 
 
 ysm of tears or anger to apparent complete indiffer- 
 ence. She embraced her sister's elegant young figure 
 with one contemptuous and comprehensive glance, then 
 she said lightly : 
 
 " My dear child, let me congratulate you ! Your 
 heroics are positively wonderful ! " 
 
 This sobered Boadicea completely. She was not 
 really ashamed of her outburst before the sister who 
 was so uncomprehending and so profoundly cynical, 
 but she was angry with herself for having allowed that 
 sister a peep into her simple, ardent soul. Her young 
 face, tanned by sun and sea, beaten by the breezes of 
 Thanet, had not learnt the art of concealing the strong 
 emotions which surged up from the depths of her pas- 
 sionate and unsophisticated heart. 
 
 Olive — had she been more keenly observant — 
 could easily have read in her sister's glowing eyes every 
 thought that coursed through the young brain. But 
 she cared so little what that sister thought and felt that 
 now she merely shrugged her shoulders and said flip- 
 pantly : 
 
 " Well, I admit that I have lied. What, then ? I 
 admit that I was fond of Jack Carrington. I am fond 
 of Jack Carrington, and he is fond of me. He may 
 have paid you some attention which your silly childish 
 vanity construed into declarations of love, but he was 
 and is fond of me. I lied in order to keep you away 
 from him. What then? I admit it. There! You 
 can call me a liar, and despise me as much as you like. 
 But all your weeping will not bring him back to you 
 now. I'll see to that." 
 
 Boadicea listened to Olive's cynical tirade with a
 
 A SUBLIME CONCLUSION 311 
 
 smile on her lips, and a look of supreme joy on her 
 face. Neither joy nor smile fled from her when Olive 
 ceased speaking. 
 
 " But he did not lie to me," she said simply. 
 
 " To-morrow he leaves in the Dolphin for China, 
 You cannot stay in my house against my wish. You 
 must go now, for I shall send you away, and you will 
 not have the chance of seeing Lieutenant Carrington 
 before he leaves." 
 
 Still smiling and triumphant, Boadicea repeated: 
 
 " But he did not lie to me ! " 
 
 " Bah ! You may never see him again. He may 
 never return from China." 
 
 And once again came the sublime, all-embracing an- 
 swer: " But he did not lie to me! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 A SIMPLE WAY 
 
 After awhile Olive left her to herself. There was 
 nothing to be done with the girl. I think that for the 
 first time in all these months of many and of varied 
 intrigues she felt herself on the verge of being check- 
 mated. 
 
 But she could no longer remain in the presence of 
 her sister. That optimistic exultation irritated her be- 
 yond her powers of endurance. She still clung to the 
 hope that Carrington and Boadicea need not meet this 
 evening, and to the determination that Jack now should 
 follow his original intention and leave for China the 
 next day. 
 
 At any rate, she had a good many hours during 
 which she could think things out. 
 
 Sir Baldwin had gone to Bloomsbury. At the 
 quickest computation he could not go there and back 
 and have a brief talk with Aunt Caroline under about 
 an hour. No one could have a brief talk with Aunt 
 Caroline, for she saw to it that it was anything but 
 brief, so that in all probability Sir Baldwin would be 
 gone over an hour, and he had left the house a quarter 
 of an hour ago. 
 
 If Boadicea left St. James's-street in half an hour 
 from now in a hackney coach which moved very slowly 
 indeed she' would be well out of the way before Sir 
 
 312
 
 A SIMPLE WAY 313 
 
 Baldwin could possibly return, and would reach the 
 Bloomsbury hotel some time after Sir Baldwin had 
 left it. 
 
 And surely whilst Lady Jeffreys in the meanwhile 
 sat listening to Lady Malvern's musicians she could 
 think out some little scheme whereby she could keep 
 Sir Baldwin from interfering this evening when Lieu- 
 tenant Carrington paid his promised visit. 
 
 Carrington would be in St. James' s-street this even- 
 ing, Boadicea at the Bloomsbury hotel, and that Fate 
 would be a very malignant one indeed that did not 
 keep those two young people apart for another twenty- 
 four hours. As Olive had harshly intimated to her 
 sister, the latter could not possibly remain in the house 
 when the hostess had bade her go. 
 
 After to-night Lieutenant Jack could start for China 
 and Boadicea for Thanet, leaving Lady Jeffreys's repu- 
 tation still immaculate in Jack's eyes, even if it had 
 been irretrievably sullied in those of her sister. 
 
 Twenty- four hours ! Surely Fate was not going to 
 deal cruelly with the prettiest woman in London at this 
 important crisis in her life? 
 
 A little buoyed up by hope again, a little fearful, 
 and very irate against her sister, Olive made up her 
 mind that by far the best and simplest thing to do now 
 would be, firstly, to order Thompson to call a hackney 
 coach for Miss Aldmarshe in half an hour, and to 
 direct the driver to take the young lady quietly as far 
 as the Coptic Hotel in Bloomsbury, and after that for 
 herself to endeavour to forget her w'orries in the social 
 triumphs which awaited her at Lady Malvern's re- 
 ception.
 
 314 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 Therefore she tried resohitely to conquer that In- 
 tense sense of irritation which was in her still, and 
 which might even now have betrayed to Boadicea the 
 fact that her sister's intriguing mind was once more in 
 activity. 
 
 Resolutely she went to the door as if by her de- 
 parture she meant to imply that she was vacating the 
 battlefield and leaving Boadicea there alone and tri- 
 umphant. At the door, however, she turned to her 
 sister and spoke to her acidly over her shoulder : 
 
 " You will understand, child," she said, " that your 
 presence in my house can no longer be very agreeable 
 to me. I will instruct Thompson to call a hackney 
 coach for you. It may be some time before he can 
 get one, but when he does, he will instruct the driver 
 to take you straight to the Bloomsbury hotel, where 
 Aunt and Uncle must be getting anxious about you. 
 You have the address, I think." 
 
 " Yes, Olive," replied Boadicea, " I have the address 
 Sir Baldwin mentioned — the name of the hotel, the 
 Coptic, wasn't it ? I have no doubt that the coachman 
 can find it." 
 
 ** Of course he can. Good-bye, then! I may bring 
 myself to go and see you again before you leave, for 
 Aunt's sake, of course. She need not know how im- 
 pertinently you have treated me, and how angry I am 
 with you for your rough, bullying ways. Outwardly 
 we can yet remain friends." 
 
 " Yes. Outwardly, Olive." 
 
 " I must go now. Your impertinence and all the 
 nonsense that you have talked have made me miss one 
 of the finest concerts of the season."
 
 A SIMPLE WAY 315 
 
 (( 
 
 I am sorry! " 
 
 " And I cannot help thinking, child, that your pri- 
 mary object in making all this fuss was to make mis- 
 chief between Sir Baldwin and me." 
 
 " I don't think, Olive, that you will seriously believe 
 that when you have thought the whole matter over 
 seriously." 
 
 " I may or I may not. Good-bye now ! " 
 
 "Good-bye, Olive!" 
 
 The door was opened and shut again. There was a 
 frou-frou of silk skirts and a tripping of lightly shod 
 feet up the carpeted stairs; and one sister passed en- 
 tirely out of the life of the other. 
 
 For a second or two Boadicea was conscious of the 
 irresistible impulse to run to the door to call after the 
 sister whom she had once loved so dearly, whom even 
 now she was willing, even eager to forgive. But she 
 fought that impulse down. Nothing at this moment 
 could be gained by making appeal to Olive's finer feel- 
 
 ings. 
 
 With a sigh Boadicea was bound to admit that Olive 
 had very few fine feelings in her. But what did that 
 matter? What did anything matter since he had 
 proved himself loyal and true. 
 
 Even if he went to China to-morrow, even if she 
 should never see him again in life, she would never 
 again be so hopelessly wretched as she had been in the 
 past year. Death — his death — the most terrible 
 thing now that her mind was able to contemplate, 
 would not seem such a cruel thing, since she knew that 
 he was true and loyal, and that he had not lied to her. 
 
 As — a year ago — she had sat alone in her little
 
 3i6 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 room at Old Manor Farm gazing on the very abject- 
 ness of her own misery, so now she gazed upon that 
 one great and glorious fact; he had not lied; he was 
 true and loyal. All her belief in him was justified. 
 The one terrestrial idol which her virgin heart had 
 set up had not fallen to ashes and dust at her feet, and 
 her lips had never been defiled by the kiss of a traitor. 
 
 On this she dwelt, on this her heart fed now, as 
 probably it might have to feed for many years to come : 
 just on the memory of that kiss, in the shadow of the 
 big cherry-tree when the thrush sang so exultantly: 
 " He did it! He did it! " and when the scent of to- 
 bacco flowers, pungent and intoxicating, filled the air 
 with its exquisite fragrance. 
 
 She heard her sister's footsteps once more descend- 
 ing the stairs, she heard the harsh, high-pitched voice 
 ordering a hackney coach to be brought to the door in 
 half an hour. She heard the heavy front door opening 
 and shutting as the fashionable Lady Jeffreys sallied 
 forth into the streets to walk the few hundred steps 
 which would lead her to Lady Malvern's mansion. 
 
 Then she felt the silence of the big house. She sat 
 in the drawing-room, quite still, waiting for the hack- 
 ney coach to arrive which would take her away from 
 her sister's house, probably never to return. 
 
 Olive had passed out of her life, so no doubt would 
 Sir Baldwin. To-morrow she thought that she could 
 persuade Aunt and Uncle to go back to dear old 
 Thanet, where there were no intrigues, no lies, no false 
 appearance of affection, no lying lips, but where mem- 
 ory dwelt under the cherry-trees, and was kept sweet 
 and young in the fragrance of spring flowers.
 
 A SIMPLE WAY 317 
 
 She was content thus to sit quietly, to dream and to 
 wait. OHve had apparently ordered the coach to 
 be brought round in half an hour. She wondered — 
 in the same vague and dreamy way — why Olive 
 should have wished her to wait half an hour before 
 leaving. But it really did not matter. When thoughts 
 are so full and the soul so far away from the body, 
 time is of little account, and the small details of life do 
 not really exist, 
 
 A coach eventually did drive up to the door. Boadi- 
 cea heard it and made ready to go. She felt more 
 than ever like a person in a dream, only vaguely realis- 
 ing that she must adjust her bonnet, tie its strings and 
 slip on her gloves. Equally vaguely the thought 
 crossed her mind as to what would become of Cousin 
 Barnaby. 
 
 " Olive will turn him out of the house to-morrow 
 for certain. She is not in a mood to care about Mr. 
 Crabtree's tantrums." And she smiled in an absent, 
 dreamy kind of way, as she pictured to herself Bar- 
 naby Crabtree being hastily and unceremoniously bun- 
 dled out of the house. 
 
 She thought every minute that Thompson would 
 come in and tell her that the hackney coach was at the 
 door, and she was, in the meanwhile, struggling with a 
 recalcitrant glove. 
 
 Presently she heard Sir Baldwin's voice down be- 
 low. He had evidently returned once again from 
 Bloomsbury. His coachman must have driven very 
 quickly, for Boadicea had an idea that Bloomsbury was 
 a very long way off. 
 
 Still, she was glad that Sir Baldwin had returned,
 
 3i8 MEADOWSWEET 
 
 and that she would be able to say " Good-bye " to him 
 before she left. Sir Baldwin had been very kind all 
 along, and even the severity of his judgment on her 
 was due to the kindness of his heart. 
 
 A man's footsteps were heard ascending the stairs 
 very quickly. It was Sir Baldwin, of course; and the 
 coach was at the door, and she must really go now. 
 
 Then the door was thrown open, and it was not Sir 
 Baldwin who was standing there. 
 
 At first Boadicea thought that it was all part of her 
 dream, because she was quite sure that in the back- 
 ground behind Jack's head she could see the old cherry- 
 tree and the sunshine glinting through the fruit-laden 
 branches ; she was equally sure that she could smell the 
 delicious fragrance of those tobacco plants which were 
 planted in the shade over against the north side of Old 
 Manor Farm, whilst nobody could doubt that the very 
 air was vibrating with the song of innumerable 
 thrushes who repeated the glorious' pseon of joy: 
 ''He did it! He did it!" 
 
 But, of course, all that was nonsense, and Boadicea 
 laughed aloud at herself for being so silly and so fan- 
 ciful. Did she not know that she was in a London 
 house, in her sister's drawing-room, very far away 
 from the old orchard in Thanet ? 
 
 But she also was in the arms of the man whom she 
 loved, of the man who throughout had been true and 
 loyal. It was his kiss that was as sweet as the scent 
 of the flowers; it was his voice that murmured in her 
 
 ear: 
 
 My Meadowsweet ! " 
 
 I wonder if you will ever understand? " she whis-
 
 A SIMPLE WAY 319 
 
 pered shyly. " It was all such a hideous, such a horri- 
 ble mistake. But it was all my fault, and I shall never 
 be able to explain. I wonder if you will forgive and 
 never try to understand ? " 
 " I wonder? " he said simply. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later Sir Baldwin ventured to 
 disturb them. He sighed a little wistfully when he 
 saw them sitting side by side, hand against hand, and, 
 unseen by him, soul to soul. 
 
 " I did not go to the hotel after all," he said in ex- 
 planation of his sudden return. " I went to fetch Car- 
 rington at his lodgings, which were close by. I 
 thought it would be the simplest way out of our many 
 difficulties." 
 
 And it had been by far the simplest way. 
 
 THE END
 
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