1661)
 
 o 

 
 THE REAL MRS. HOLYER
 
 THE REAL 
 MRS. HOLYER 
 
 By 
 E. M. CHANNON 
 
 (Mrs* Francis Channon) 
 Author of "A Street Angel" 
 
 and "The Authoress" 
 
 GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 1912
 
 All rights reserved
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. PRINCE CHARMING i 
 
 II. CHRISTMAS PREPARATIONS . . 17 
 
 III. CHRISTMAS DAY ..... 36 
 
 IV. ONE OF OUR LARGE PARTIES . . 56 
 
 V. Two's COMPANY .... 75 
 
 VI. A BUSINESS PROPOSAL ... 93 
 
 VII. AMABEL AS A PERSON OF IMPORTANCE 105 
 
 VIII. THE LAST OF MARGERY LENNARD . 125 
 
 IX. ARCADIA ...... 140 
 
 X. THE JANNAWAYS .... 156 
 
 XI. THE SECRET THAT WAS NOT KEPT . 174 
 
 XII. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW . . 195 
 
 XIII. SOMETHING TO DO . . . . 218 
 
 XIV. TIME AND THE HOUR . . . 229 
 
 XV. MY LORD AND MY LADY . . . 250 
 
 XVI. MARGERY RECEIVES VISITORS . . 278 
 
 XVII. THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE PARK . 298 
 
 XVIII. LADY STELLACOMBE AT HOME . . 319 
 
 2134976
 
 THE REAL MRS. HOLYER 
 
 CHAPTER 1 
 
 PRINCE CHARMING 
 
 " A ND I do beg, Miss Lennard, that you will 
 
 f~\ try, at least for this one day when, as you 
 know, I am particularly anxious for them to appear at 
 their best to contrive for the children to come in from 
 their walk bright and cheerful ! It is most astonishing 
 to me that they should come in, day after day, either 
 fretful or in actual tears." 
 
 " Shan't come in at all next time if it's old rice- 
 pudding again for dinner ! " said Cedric, running his 
 hoopstick with an excruciating noise over the black- 
 and-white marble flags of the hall. 
 
 " / shall come in good ! " piped Amabel. " Uncle 
 Theophilus is sure to have presents for us, and he 
 will have come before tea-time." 
 
 " Childhood ought to be the happiest time of life, 
 and is, if proper care is taken," said Mrs. Croome, 
 in her best platform manner. " And I must say, Miss 
 Lennard, that it is a disappointment to me, after the 
 very high recommendations I had with you, to find 
 you so poor a manager ! " 
 
 Margery Lennard raised large submissive eyes to her 
 
 I
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 employer's face her schoolfellows had been wont to 
 say that she was " all eyes " but said nothing. How- 
 ever she had failed as a teacher, she had at least learnt 
 her own lessons well in three months. She must keep 
 her charges always spotless and presentable ; she 
 must spend her time exclusively with them, night and 
 day, without expecting change or holiday of any sort ; 
 she must teach them, without any reference at all to 
 their natural gilts, all the knowledge which the most 
 precocious eight-year-olds of genius might manage to 
 acquire, and at the same time train them to be quite 
 perfect in manners, bright and conversable when 
 required to show off, silent angels at other times. 
 She must never, never punish. Above all, she must 
 avoid, for her own part, all suspicion of the deadly vice 
 of " answering back," and understand, once for all, 
 that governesses were to be seen and not heard. 
 
 " Now, pray, go, at once ! " said Mrs. Croome. 
 " I can't imagine why you should be dawdling in this 
 way, when the afternoons now are so short ! " 
 
 Margery went silently down the wide steps after 
 her pupils, dreading the usual wrangle as to shops 
 versus Gardens ; but for once in a way she was spared 
 this. Cedric was anxious to try the paces of a new 
 hoop, which was incompatible with shopping. Amabel 
 had a sentimental hope of meeting with a certain 
 black-eyed little boy, whose attention she had vainly 
 sought to attract ever since his first appearance in the 
 Gardens ; and to-day, armed with a new Teddy bear, 
 and brave in her best velvet coat and hat, she felt that 
 she could no longer be ignored. So she minced along 
 
 2
 
 Prince Charming 
 
 beside the eager Cedric, and for once made no complaint 
 of the rate at which he went. 
 
 They were not pretty children, being pale, as London 
 children are apt to be, and peevish-looking, with the 
 fretfulness that comes of over-indulgence ; but each 
 possessed a wonderful quantity of light, curling hair. 
 Amabel's was caught back and tied with ribbon on 
 each temple, falling behind in a heavy mass of ripples 
 below her waist. Cedric's, cut square in front, lay 
 on his shoulders in curls after the Fauntleroy fashion, 
 and his mother took pains to keep him dressed in 
 accordance with that high ideal. The hair was suffi- 
 ciently remarkable to make strangers turn often to 
 look after it in the street ; but they passed over the 
 pale-faced young governess subsequently with only a 
 careless glance, for no one had ever yet called Margery 
 Lennard pretty. She was very tall, and much too 
 slim for her height. Her features were too large for her 
 extremely thin face, her black hair and strongly marked 
 eyebrows too strongly contrasted with her colourless 
 cheeks. Even her grey eyes, set in long black lashes, 
 were robbed of their undeniable beauty, because they 
 looked so unnaturally, uncomfortably large. 
 
 " There's the gate now we can run ! " said Cedric, 
 and began to do so forthwith, with Amabel in his wake. 
 Margery quickened her steps in pursuit. It was quite 
 useless to call them back ; but, fortunately, eight 
 years old is a poor match for long-limbed eighteen. 
 They were sure to make for the long, wide path under 
 the plane-trees, where nurses, children and governesses 
 the three degrees of importance, in a descending 
 
 3 I*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 scale most did congregate. Margery had a liking for 
 it on her own account. It was bright and sunny. 
 One could sit there quite comfortably, even when one's 
 coat was not wonderfully thick, on any reasonably 
 mild winter day ; and there was plenty to watch, even 
 for a lonely person who knew nobody and was not 
 expected to make friends. It is true that a good 
 many kindly glances had been cast from time to time 
 towards the very young and pale girl, who was always 
 alone with her little charges ; but on one occasion, 
 when a warm-hearted little Swiss governess had made 
 advances of friendship, and had caused a long morning 
 to slip by like five minutes, Mrs. Croome's subsequent 
 indignation had been so great that Margery had never 
 dared to repeat the pleasant experiment. 
 
 " The children tell me that you have actually been 
 talking all this morning to a foreign person a foreign 
 person, Miss Lennard ! whom they do not know. I 
 thought you told me that you had no friends in 
 London ? " 
 
 " No. I have not," Margery acknowledged, 
 trembling. 
 
 " Then who introduced you to her ? " 
 
 Margery was forced timidly to own that there had 
 been no introduction no formality of any sort : 
 that the morning's chat had been only born of a kind 
 impulse on the part of a perfect stranger : that she 
 did not even know the name of her new acquaintance's 
 employers. 
 
 There was an awful pause. 
 
 " You go out to take care of my children ; not to 
 4
 
 Prince Charming 
 
 amuse yourself with undesirable companions," said 
 Mrs. Croome terribly. " This must not occur again. 
 Do you understand that ? " 
 
 Margery murmured the faintest " Yes " in reply ; 
 and the next day discouraged her new friend for good 
 and all, and ever thereafter took care to reject any 
 further advances made to her. She could not afford 
 to quarrel with her bread-and-butter. 
 
 " You live in one of the fine houses in Canning 
 Place ! " the little Swiss had exclaimed, much im- 
 pressed, on that one delightful morning of comrade- 
 ship ; and then had gone on to describe the little 
 house in Bayswater where her own lot was cast : its 
 shifts, its clever contrivances, its merriment. Margery 
 learned, as the best of fun, that there was always a 
 certain doubt as to the possibility of providing Tom, 
 or Harry, or Peter with his next pair of boots ; that 
 Sylvia's dancing-class was only achieved at the expense 
 of her mother's new winter jacket ; that sometimes 
 the meat would not go round more than once, even with 
 the cleverest carving, and that it was only a good 
 joke to have to eke it out with dripping- toast. Margery 
 looked wistfully from her own two charges to the 
 rosy, shabby, good-humoured Tom and Sylvia, hob- 
 nobbing in the most friendly fashion with half the other 
 children in the plane-tree walk ; and did not feel that 
 her own more splendid isolation was anything to be 
 envied. 
 
 The Gardens were unusually empty this afternoon, 
 though it was the brightest and most charming of 
 winter days. But it was more than that : it was 
 
 5
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Christmas Eve, and the glories of the shops had drawn 
 most of the children away as by a magnet. Cedric's 
 ideas were very well suited, for there was practically 
 no one to get in the way of that fine new hoop ; and 
 Amabel, too, was quite content, for the little black- 
 eyed object of her admiration was there, walking 
 stolidly up and down with his nurse, and she had 
 the best of opportunities for strutting up and down 
 in his full view, dandling her Teddy bear ostentatiously, 
 and shaking her long curls back at every turn. Her 
 manoeuvres had very little effect on the cold-hearted 
 swain, who seemed quite content with his apathetic 
 strolling up and down ; but Amabel, who was a per- 
 sistent child, went on steadily with her little wiles, 
 undiscouraged and untiring. 
 
 Margery sat by herself on a sunny seat, for no one 
 else seemed to care to sit down at all not because it 
 was too cold, but because all the world was too busy. 
 The spirit of Christmas was abroad, even in the 
 Gardens. People walked briskly, with bright faces, 
 as if they had still many pleasant things to do; and 
 the scraps of passing talk that came to Margery's ears 
 were all of presents and parties and holidays. One and 
 all seemed to expect a great deal of enjoyment; and 
 a forlorn lump rose suddenly in Margery's throat, for 
 she had no agreeable expectations at all of Christmas 
 in Canning Place and, though those who expect 
 nothing are said to be blessed, they are not often 
 among the riotously happy of the world. 
 
 She was horrified, a moment later, to find actual 
 sharp tears pricking into her eyes, and the fright of 
 
 6
 
 Prince Charming 
 
 the discovery dried them at once. If Mrs. Croome 
 objected to juvenile weeping, it was quite impossible 
 to imagine what she would say to a governess who 
 returned from her walk with a tear-stained face ; and 
 Margery had a desperate feeling that if she once began 
 to cry, she could not stop at all. She took herself 
 sharply to task for her absurd, disgraceful nay, quite 
 unpardonable behaviour. What in the world had she 
 to cry for ? She had never expected to find governess- 
 ing a bed of roses. She had been accounted fortunate 
 to secure this highly eligible situation, with a salary 
 beyond what most young beginners hoped for more 
 than half, in fact, what Mrs. Croome paid her lady's 
 maid. With only two charges, her duties were light 
 enough and, by the way, where were the children ? 
 
 She sat up straight and looked hastily round. There 
 was Amabel, still parading and pirouetting at a little 
 distance from the unresponsive object of her admira- 
 tion. But Cedric and his hoop had vanished. 
 
 " Amabel ! Amabel ! Where has Cedric gone ? " 
 cried Margery. 
 
 " / don't know, Miss Lennard," said Amabel, not 
 troubling to come nearer, but raising the little thin 
 voice that was such an absurd replica of her mother's. 
 " It's not my place to look after him." 
 
 There was a deadly truth in this, most obvious, most 
 exasperating, and anything but consoling. Margery 
 started up from her seat, looking anxiously round for 
 the truant. Only two minutes before he had been 
 contentedly running up and down the plane-tree walk, 
 from one end to the other, and now he had vanished 
 
 7
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 as if into thin air. True, there were plenty of other 
 paths, but none so straight, broad, and generally 
 eligible for the bowling of a new hoop. But it was 
 absurd to be alarmed about him ; of course, he would 
 come back in a minute or two. There was no danger 
 of any sort, except 
 
 Her hasty thoughts, reaching that precise point, 
 were met by a splash and a blood-curdling shriek. 
 With a gasp of horror, Margery set off running as if 
 her feet were winged. There was no mistaking the 
 voice ; she had heard Cedric's peculiar high-pitched 
 scream far too often to be in any doubt now as to the 
 screamer. Of course, that one particular part of the 
 Gardens was absolutely forbidden to both the children, 
 unless she was with them ; but they were not in the 
 habit of obedience, unless it happened to fit in with 
 their occupations. The very worst of all had hap- 
 pened : and how was Margery ever to face Mrs. Croome 
 again ? 
 
 It took only two minutes, that seemed years, to 
 reach the dreadful pond, which was all broken up into 
 waves and ripples. People were running towards it 
 from all sides. In the very middle floated the brand- 
 new hoop that had been Cedric's pride and joy five 
 minutes before ; and at Margery's very feet, as she 
 paused on the edge, Cedric's brown velvet hat bobbed 
 up and down. 
 
 " What a naughty boy Cedric is, isn't he, Miss 
 Lennard ? " said Amabel's squeaky, virtuous little 
 voice at her elbow. 
 
 " Don't ! " choked Margery, with wild eyes scanning 
 8
 
 Prince Charming 
 
 the little waves. Surely, surely there had not been time 
 for Cedric to sink and rise three times and surely 
 drowning people always did that ! If only she could 
 tell the exact point where he had fallen in, so that she 
 might throw herself after him at the same place 
 
 " You don't think he is quite drowned, do you, Miss 
 Lennard ? " inquired Amabel with interest. 
 
 " Don't, Amabel ! " said poor Margery again. 
 
 "If he is, the rocking-horse will be all mine, won't 
 it ? " Amabel pursued pleasantly. 
 
 Margery turned away with a shiver, clasping and 
 unclasping her hands. Her mind ran forward with 
 lightning speed to the awful return to Canning Place. 
 It seemed years since she had reached the edge of the 
 pond, and yet the people who had begun running 
 towards it from a little distance at the sound of the 
 splash and scream had only just arrived. They were 
 asking her excitedly what had happened who it was 
 what had become of him 
 
 " Why, there he is ! and oh, what a mess he is in !" 
 cried Amabel. 
 
 Margery turned, gasping. A well-known sound of 
 fretful crying was coming rapidly towards her she 
 had never expected to hear that particularly exaspera- 
 ting noise with such rejoicing. A wet, dripping, 
 muddy brown creature was being quickly carried 
 towards her in the arms of someone very tall. 
 
 " Oh, Cedric ! " screamed Amabel. " Look look 
 at your best suit ! " 
 
 " I'm afraid I gave you an unnecessary fright," said 
 a voice over Margery's head. " I was lucky enough 
 
 9
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 to be standing by this young man when he over- 
 balanced, and had him out almost before he was 
 fairly in ; but I could see no one belonging to him, 
 so we went the wrong way at first. Don't worry about 
 him he isn't any the worse for it." 
 
 Margery looked up straight into a pair of very blue 
 eyes, which were looking down at her with reassuring 
 kindness. She was so very tall that she had not 
 often to look up at anyone ; but this particular person 
 over-topped her by four or five inches. He was young 
 not so much older than herself and handsome 
 with the frankly obvious beauty of a fairy-tale prince, 
 about which there cannot be two opinions. He set 
 Cedric down on his feet, giving him a friendly little 
 shake. 
 
 " There, young man ! That'll do ! " said he. 
 " There is nothing the matter now, you know ; and a 
 fellow of your size is too big to cry. Besides, you 
 are frightening your sister." 
 
 " She isn't our sister," said Amabel, with indigna- 
 tion. " She's only our governess ! " 
 
 " So much the worse for you, then ! " said Cedric's 
 rescuer ; and he shook himself too, incidentally, for 
 he was nearly as wet and muddy as Cedric himself. 
 Margery began to stammer out faltering, distressful 
 thanks; but he cut them short at once with a gay 
 laugh and a merry glance from the kind blue eyes. 
 
 " My humble garments will be none the worse ; but 
 
 the young man's " he said, with an expressive 
 
 glance of some amusement at the Fauntleroy velvet ; 
 and Margery, noting for the first time what a deplorable 
 
 10
 
 Prince Charming 
 
 state her charge was irij turned, if possible^ a little 
 whiter than before. 
 
 " Oh, I must get him home at once ! " she said. 
 " Come, Cedric, be quick, or you will catch such a cold ! " 
 
 But Cedric, subsiding in a hopeless heap on the path, 
 wept and wailed, and declined to walk at all. A 
 crowd was rapidly gathering round them. The young 
 man, with one disgusted glance, picked up the sobbing 
 child without ceremony, and walked off with him. 
 
 " There are cabs only five minutes away though 
 he would have been better walking," he said briefly. 
 
 Margery followed as quickly as she might, with 
 Amabel dragging pettishly at her hand, and declaring 
 that she was tired, and could not walk any farther 
 and why were they not going home the other way? The 
 Croome children were certainly not a helpful pair in 
 any dilemma. For the last half of the little distance, 
 Margery had to drag her refractory companion along 
 almost by force, which so impeded their progress that, 
 by the time they reached the gate, Cedric was already 
 established in a cab, with his rescuer standing by it 
 like a jailer. 
 
 " Now, then, in with you, too ! " and he swung 
 Amabel inside in an unceremonious fashion not at all 
 to her taste ; and then gave Margery's hand a re- 
 assuring grasp a very cold hand, even through her 
 woollen glove. " Don't worry about him / should 
 smack him, if I were in authority ! " he said. " He's 
 quite all right, and won't be any the worse for it. 
 Where shall I tell the man to drive to ? " 
 
 "Five, Canning Place," said Margery faintly; and 
 
 ii
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 could not help seeing, even in the midst of her misery, 
 a quick glance of half amusement, half interest, that 
 met her words. But he said nothing more, except, 
 just as the cab was moving off, a very brief injunction 
 through the window : " Don't pay the man over again." 
 Then he lifted his hat and turned away, smiling, gay 
 and debonair ; and Margery's heart, as she lost sight 
 of him, went down like lead. It was all very well to 
 say : " Don't worry." He had not the prospect of 
 facing Mrs. Croome. He did not know that that 
 beautiful velvet suit had been donned with the sole 
 purpose of making a favourable impression on the rich 
 and eminently desirable Uncle Theophilus, who would 
 presumably have arrived by this time. Lower and 
 lower went Margery's heart, as she surveyed Cedric 
 sitting opposite to her, a truly deplorable object ; 
 for brown velvet hates water as much as does the 
 proverbial cat, and a pale little fretful face, stained 
 with tears and mud, is anything but prepossessing. 
 Even the beautiful curls were wet and matted with 
 mud ; and, with a new pang, Margery remembered that 
 the very expensive hat, in her relief at sight of its 
 owner, had been left to bob up and down forlornly at 
 the edge of the pond. 
 
 " Don't cry any more, Cedric don't, dear ! " she 
 implored. " It's all right now, you know ! " 
 
 " I'm all wet and uncomferable ! " wept Cedric. 
 
 " We shall be at home directly, and you will soon be 
 warm and dry again," urged Margery. 
 
 " He'll be sure to catch his death of cold," said 
 Amabel complacently. " He always does if he gets 
 
 12
 
 Prince Charming 
 
 wet. He had infamation of the tongue once, and his 
 temper was two hundred and two ! " 
 
 " It wasn't ! " said Cedric. 
 
 " It was ! " said Amabel. 
 
 Cedric melted incontinently into fresh tears. 
 
 " I shan't catch my death ! " he shrieked. " I 
 won't be buried in a hole ! " And he slapped Amabel 
 with a will, and with such a wet and muddy hand, 
 that her appearance also was effectually spoiled for the 
 afternoon, and her ready tears came as if someone had 
 pulled the string of a shower-bath. 
 
 " Children ! children ! " cried poor Margery, with 
 her own lips quivering. " Have you forgotten your 
 uncle ? What will he think, if he sees you come in with 
 faces like that ? " 
 
 But the little Croomes, brought up to no habits of 
 self-restraint, only wept consumedly, with mouths 
 wide open. The chorus of roars attracted far more 
 notice than was pleasant, though Margery hastily pulled 
 up both windows ; and it was almost a relief when they 
 turned into Canning Place. At least, the terrors of 
 the journey were over, and the worst of all must be 
 over too, in a very few minutes more. If only there 
 were any chance of Mrs. Croome's being out, or, at 
 least, temporarily out of sight and hearing ! But that 
 was beyond hope. The mere stopping of the cab would 
 infallibly attract her attention ; and, besides, there 
 was not the least likelihood that she would be out of 
 the way. The triumphal return of the children from 
 their walk had been planned out for the immediate 
 impressing of Uncle Theophilus. 
 
 13
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 She cast out one despairing glance, and then stepped 
 out of the cab herself and helped the sobbing children 
 in a dumb apathy of horror. It was even worse than 
 she had feared. There, actually waiting at the dining- 
 room window, was the expectant face of Mrs. Croome, 
 and beside it a round, pink, bald head, which could 
 belong only to Uncle Theophilus. 
 
 The guilty trio went very, very slowly up the long 
 flight of steps. 
 
 " What does this mean, Miss Lennard ? " 
 
 Mrs. Croome had come out into the hall to meet 
 them. Her voice had never been so awful. Her light 
 eyes had never glittered so ominously. 
 
 Margery trembled where she stood, not daring to 
 look up after one terrified glance. 
 
 " I am so sorry oh, so sorry I " she faltered. 
 " Cedric was bowling his new hoop " 
 
 " And it's lost ! We've left it behind in the pond 1 " 
 howled Cedric, suddenly waking up to this disastrous 
 fact, which had not previously occurred to him 
 amongst his other woes ; and he ran forward, to throw 
 his muddy self for sympathy upon his mother's new 
 and delicate grey silk gown. 
 
 " And his hat's there too the new one that was so 
 particular 'spensive. Miss Lennard forgot to get it 
 out," said Amabel, supplying this additional informa- 
 tion with a manner that would have been precocious 
 if it had not been so impish. 
 
 Mrs. Croome took a hasty step backwards, drawing 
 her light skirts together. 
 
 " Don't come near me run away upstairs at once- 
 14
 
 Prince Charming 
 
 children ! " she cried sharply, in a voice of dreadful 
 repression. " Miss Lennard, have the goodness to 
 make them both presentable before I see them again. 
 Why, the child is soaking wet ! " putting a gingerly 
 hand on Cedric's muddy shoulder. " I never heard of 
 such a thing ! Quite disgraceful ! " 
 
 Margery shrank as if the sharp words had been a 
 whip-lash, and dumbly took a hand of each child to 
 lead them away. 
 
 " Come, come, Selina ! Accidents will happen I " 
 said a cheerful, fat voice, and Uncle Theophilus 
 appeared at the dining-room door, his round face 
 breaking at once into irrepressible laughter. " What 
 a pair of little mudlarks ! Here's a parcel for each of 
 you to open while you are getting dry," and he pro- 
 duced with some difficulty from a tight pocket two 
 tempting little packages. The children's tears stopped 
 as if by magic at the sight, and they precipitated them- 
 selves upon him with ecstasy. 
 
 " Don't touch your uncle, children ! You're not fit 
 to come near him besides, you will catch your deaths 
 if you don't run away and get dry at once ! " cried 
 Mrs. Croome hastily. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Uncle Theophilus, giving each a 
 bear-like hug. ' You aren't made to melt away in a 
 little water, are you, Cedric ? But off you go at once, 
 since your mother says so 1 " 
 
 And, for a wonder, the children did go without further 
 delay, disappearing up the broad staircase with Margery, 
 in what was, for them, quite an obedient and tractable 
 mood. 
 
 15
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 "Unpardonable carelessness! I am extremely 
 vexed t " said Mrs. Croome. 
 
 "Never saw such eyes in my life I " said Uncle 
 Theophilus. But he had the wisdom to say it only to 
 himself. 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 CHRISTMAS PREPARATIONS 
 
 THE children were washed and dried and warmed, 
 and Margery's judgment would have put Cedric 
 promptly to bed for the rest of the day. But the mere 
 suggestion of such a thing produced such a tempest of 
 screams that she had no resource but to send down a 
 timid message, to inquire if Mrs. Croome expected the 
 children down after tea as usual. A particularly stiff 
 answer came back, that " of course, that was Mrs. 
 Croome' s wish " ; so Margery had no choice in the 
 matter, and Cedric stopped screaming to triumph over 
 her. The little parcels, which proved to contain 
 presents of equal value and great attractiveness, pro- 
 vided peaceful amusement until tea was ready ; and 
 Margery had time to contemplate the afternoon's 
 disasters, and wonder tremblingly what awful vengeance 
 would befall her. Her spirits were not raised by a 
 flying visit from Flora, the grown-up daughter of the 
 house, who looked in to remark that " Mother is 
 furiously angry, Miss Lennard ; and how on earth 
 did it happen ? " 
 
 Margery explained briefly, and the children supplied 
 details. 
 
 17 2
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " I suppose the suit is quite ruined ? " said Flora, 
 fastening at once upon the special point that appealed 
 most to herself. 
 
 " I'm afraid it will never look really nice again," 
 said poor Margery. 
 
 " What a waste ! and quite new only the other 
 day ! " said Flora. " By the way, don't let Amabel 
 wear her pale blue to-night, Miss Lennard. I want 
 to wear my green, and she always comes and stands by 
 me and kills it." 
 
 " I don't 1 " said Amabel. 
 
 " You do ! " said Flora sharply. *' You little spite- 
 ful thing 1 " 
 
 " I don't ! I don't ! But I will next time, you see 
 if I don't ! " cried Amabel in vindictive crescendo. 
 Whereupon Flora shook her soundly, and then flew 
 out of the room, banging the door after her. 
 
 " Don't cry, Amabel ! " implored Margery. " You 
 don't want to look an ugly girl again, do you, when 
 you go down to see your uncle ? " 
 
 " It's her that's spiteful, not me/" sobbed Amabel 
 vengefully. But a prudent vanity fortunately checked 
 her tears, and the storm passed by, losing itself in the 
 usual animated dispute over the best-buttered piece 
 of toast. Margery had long ago given up the hopeless 
 task of trying to make the twins treat each other with 
 at least some outward show of politeness ; and was 
 even sometimes reduced to a dismal wonder whether 
 either had the smallest affection for the other. Amabel's 
 precocity had been laughed at and encouraged until it 
 frequently ended in downright, pointless rudeness ; 
 
 18
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 while the slower and stronger Cedric, destitute of a 
 similar readiness of tongue, had to prove his masculine 
 superiority by mere brute force. For once, however, 
 they combined in a brief armistice, while they simul- 
 taneously dilated to Margery upon the glories of 
 Christmas Day. 
 
 " We always go down to dinner not just dessert ! " 
 they cried in concert. " We stay up as late as we like, 
 and we have turkey and plum pudding, and mince - 
 pies, and crystallised fruits, and everything" 
 
 " And pork-wine ! " cried Cedric. 
 
 " Last year you would have likoor, and it gave you a 
 red face and a headache," said Amabel. 
 
 " I don't care ! " said Cedric. " We always have 
 just what we like on Christmas Day, like the grown-ups ; 
 and I shall have it again if I like ! Daddy said he never 
 laughed so much in all his life." 
 
 " You did look silly I " said Amabel, with an irri- 
 tating little tinkle of shrill laughter. 
 
 " I shall have it again if I like I shall ! I shall 1 " 
 shouted Cedric. " We're both always sick the next 
 day, anyhow ; but it's worth it ! " 
 
 " And there aren't any shops open then, so there's 
 nothing to go out for," said Amabel philosophically. 
 
 " Only sweet-shops," said Cedric. " And we always 
 have lots of boxes of them ; and we don't want them, 
 either, just after Christmas Day." 
 
 " What else do you do, besides having late dinner ? " 
 asked Margery. 
 
 " Oh, we always have a Christmas-tree I " cried the 
 two together. " With lots of presents we always 
 
 19 2*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 have our presents saved up for that and lots and 
 lots of candles ! " 
 
 " But that's in the evening, of course," said Margery 
 gently. " What happens before that ? " 
 
 " Oh, we go to church, of course, in the morning, 
 with mother," said Amabel primly, with a sudden 
 change of manner. 
 
 " Just spoils the day ! " growled Cedric, looking very 
 cross all at once and kicking a stool hard. 
 
 " Cedric ! " said Margery. 
 
 " Yes. It's naughty to say that, isn't it, even if he 
 thinks so ? " said Amabel. " Besides, it's quite the 
 thing to go to church on Christmas Day. Mother says 
 so. She always does, even if she doesn't much other 
 times. And, after all, it's only a short service ; and 
 the decorations are rather pretty, and the hymns 
 aren't bad, and lots of the people have new clothes 
 on." 
 
 " It's a much nicer church than the one we go to with 
 you, too," said Cedric. " They have nice smelly stuff, 
 and candles and things, and the clergymen wear 
 queer clothes. I've done, Miss Lennard. Can I get 
 down ? " 
 
 " Yes, if Amabel has finished too," said Margery, 
 and the twins, for once like -minded, scrambled from 
 their chairs without further ado, full of their daily visit 
 to the drawing-room : so anxious, in fact, to see what 
 else Uncle Theophilus had about him in the way of 
 presents, that the work of getting them ready was 
 unusually easy. Cedric was astonishingly willing to 
 fetch and put on his own shoes and socks. Amabel 
 
 20
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 stood still to admiration while her hair-ribbon was 
 being tied, and did not whine at all about its being too 
 tight or too loose. In a time that was a record for 
 shortness, they were in order to the last flaxen curl, 
 and were starting off together, as dainty and attractive 
 a pair as white satin and lovely hair could make them ; 
 even the little pale faces looked their best, smiling 
 and expectant, with fretfulness banished for the 
 moment. Margery had taken infinite pains, and 
 hoped tremblingly that so much might be placed to 
 her credit ; but, for all that, it was a very wretched 
 hour that she spent alone before their return. Mrs. 
 Croome in her ordinary moods was sufficiently alarm- 
 ing ; but Mrs. Croome " furiously angry " ! 
 
 Margery shivered, and walked up and down the school- 
 room, twisting her thin hands together. Would she 
 be dismissed at once ? It would be terrible to be sent 
 away in dire disgrace after only three months : terrible 
 to begin all over again that heart-breaking scanning of 
 advertisements and reading of letters, with the addi- 
 tional set-back of one bad failure behind her. True, 
 she might possibly find herself eventually in some less 
 lofty but more congenial situation, such as that 
 described by her quondam little Swiss friend ; but 
 Margery's brief encounter with the world, as repre- 
 sented by Canning Place, had not inspired her with 
 hopefulness. Besides, the head-mistress of her 
 Orphanage school had taken such pains to find this 
 place for her, and would be so disappointed at her 
 failure. No ! The bad best which was all she dared 
 to hope for was a terrible scolding and a tardy for- 
 
 21
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 giveness ; and even that seemed more than she could 
 expect. 
 
 The children were coming back, and coming back 
 in a good temper, as she could tell by the tone of their 
 voices outside in the corridor. They rushed in and 
 fell upon her, full of scraps of news. 
 
 " Uncle Theophilus didn't give us anything at all. 
 He's keeping it all for to-morrow." 
 
 " He said my hair was lovely ! " cried Amabel, 
 shaking her long locks about with much gratification. 
 
 " It's not any lovelier than mine ! So there ! " said 
 Cedric. 
 
 " Well, he said that your curls made you look like 
 a girl, and that if you were his, he'd have cut them off 
 when you were two so there ! And I said he might 
 have had them himself for his bald head." 
 
 " Oh, Amabel ! that was very rude ! " chided Mar- 
 gery reproachfully. 
 
 " Well, they all laughed, anyway ! " said Amabel, 
 who had come to regard that as her criterion of conduct. 
 
 " He asked where you were, Miss Lennard " 
 
 " Oh, and mother wants to see you in the library as 
 soon as we are in bed ! " 
 
 Margery turned white. It was coming, then ! Well, 
 better to get it over before night. 
 
 " She's frightfully angry about the pond," said 
 Amabel. 
 
 " Well, she was ; but Uncle Theophilus begged you 
 off," said Cedric, quicker of eye and perhaps of heart, 
 though slower of tongue, than his sister ; and struck, 
 child as he was, by the change in Margery's face. 
 
 22
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 " He said accidents would happen, and mother said 
 they didn't ought." 
 
 " He said you were only a child yourself. But that 
 isn't true, is it, Miss Lennard ? " 
 
 " And mother said you were old enough to know 
 better." 
 
 " He said that, after all, there was no harm done." 
 
 " And mother said we should see about that in a 
 day or two ; and that, anyhow, if there wasn't, it was 
 no credit to you. And she said she'd take care not to 
 get her next governess from a charity school." 
 
 Margery winced. 
 
 " But daddy said that then she'd have to make up 
 her mind to pay more, and that she wouldn't have got 
 anyone else so cheap with such a lot of stiffkets. What 
 is a stiff ket, Miss Lennard ? " 
 
 " But Uncle Theophilus said that bygones were 
 bygones, and that, after all, Christmas comes but once 
 a year. And / said that, of course, everyone knew 
 that. Wasn't it a silly thing to say ? " shrilled Amabel 
 conceitedly. 
 
 " Come, children ! " said poor Margery, very pale 
 and subdued. " It's bedtime now. And I must not 
 be late, if your mother wants me downstairs." 
 
 " I don't want to go to bed ! " said Amabel posi- 
 tively. 
 
 "I do ! " said Cedric, unfastening buttons with 
 haste. " It will make Christmas come all the 
 quicker." 
 
 The suggestion was a most useful one, at least from 
 Margery's point of view ; for Amabel's opposition 
 
 23
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 ceased at once, and she was only anxious to be the first 
 in bed. They chattered merrily during the undressing 
 process ; but Margery, sick at heart, hardly listened, 
 until a further allusion to the afternoon's misadventure 
 caught her attention. 
 
 " Flora wasn't a bit interested, except about the 
 gentleman who got Cedric out of the pond ; and I 
 told her that he was like a young Apple-o ! " 
 
 " A what, Amabel ? " said Margery. 
 
 " Apple-o," repeated Amabel testily, with raised 
 voice. '' All the gentlemen in Sophia's little paper 
 books, what marry the pretty ladies, are like that ; 
 and he was just like the pictures of them ! " 
 
 " But, Amabel," cried Margery, seeing a fresh 
 opening for alarm, " you know you mustn't read Sophia's 
 books ! " 
 
 " Why not ? " snorted Amabel. 
 
 " They aren't meant for children " 
 
 " Have you read them ? " asked the astute damsel. 
 
 " No ; but I am sure " 
 
 " You can't be sure, if you haven't ; and they are 
 most in-ter-esting," said Amabel, getting into bed 
 with a determined nod of her flaxen pigtails. " And 
 he was. His eyes were as blue as as my new frock ; 
 and his hair was as pretty as Cedric' s, and nearly as 
 pretty as mine. Good-night, Miss Lennard." 
 
 Cedric, after the usual brief nightly contest as to the 
 use or abuse of washing his face and hands the last 
 thing at night, was fortunately in bed and asleep in 
 his adjoining dressing-room, and so missed this insult ; 
 and Amabel's eyes looked very drowsy as Margery 
 
 24
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 leant over to kiss her. She shut the door softly, and 
 went downstairs to her dreaded interview. 
 
 " Library " was only a courtesy title, for no one 
 in the Croome household was addicted to reading. 
 There were books, to be sure : handsome books in 
 expensive calf and morocco bindings, which had cost 
 much money and were without exception uncut. But 
 " library " sounded well, and it was certainly a hand- 
 some, spacious room, and just the place for Mr. Croome to 
 enjoy his pipe and paper undisturbed. Margery went 
 in and found no one there, but in one corner stood the 
 Christmas-tree of which the children had spoken 
 a very monster of a tree, towering up towards the 
 ceiling ; and beside it, on chairs and tables, were heaps 
 of parcels, and candles, and pretty, glittering, foolish 
 ornaments, and elaborate confectioneries with ribbons 
 attached. The pleasant sight went a little way towards 
 cheering Margery's frightened heart. It looked so 
 very, very like Christmas preparations such as one 
 read of in books : books about families, where everyone 
 was happy and loved everyone else. Her own Christ - 
 mases had been spent at her Orphanage school ever 
 since her smallest childhood ; and though Miss Willis 
 did her best to make a Christmas for the few children 
 left behind without relations or friends to go to, the 
 trail of the institution was over it all it was Christmas 
 in fetters. Margery had never in all her life yet seen 
 real preparations for a lavish home Christmas. 
 
 She was contemplating them with eager eyes when 
 the door opened and Mrs. Croome came in, shutting it 
 after her. Margery glanced trembling towards her, 
 
 25
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 but her face was not one to betray emotion of any 
 sort. 
 
 " Ah ! This is just what I wanted to speak to you 
 about, Miss Lennard," she said, and her voice was not 
 noticeably colder than usual. " I want you to get 
 the tree ready while we are at dinner, and then I will 
 come in later and see how it looks." 
 
 " I should like to, very much," said Margery, with 
 brightening eyes. " But I haven't had any experi- 
 ence. I never had to do with a Christmas-tree before." 
 
 "Oh, I'm sure you will do it charmingly!" said 
 Mrs. Croome, with a wintry smile. " I never like to 
 leave it to servants ; this sort of thing is always so 
 much better done by one of ourselves, isn't it ? They 
 haven't the same taste. All the heavy things under- 
 neath, of course, and the lighter things wired on. You 
 will find plenty of wire and so on. Oh, and I will 
 ring for the steps ; you will want them to reach the 
 top of the tree. Oh, and, of course, I want the room 
 nicely decorated with holly and so on ; it is all in that 
 corner, I see. Take care that the candles are all quite 
 safe : not under overhanging branches, or anything of 
 that sort. I am always terribly afraid of fire, as you 
 know." 
 
 " I will be very careful," promised Margery earnestly. 
 She had never seen Mrs. Croome so nearly friendly. 
 Since apparently there was to be no scolding, after all, 
 for the afternoon's doings, she was too conscientious 
 not to apologize. " I am so very sorry for Cedric's 
 accident ! " she faltered. " I will always take the very 
 greatest care in future." 
 
 26
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 Mrs. Croome's cold smile faded like winter sunshine, 
 and her manner stiffened appreciably, as if with 
 frost. 
 
 " I was, of course, extremely annoyed," she said. 
 " Indeed, I was prepared to speak rather severely 
 about the matter ; and should have done so, if it had 
 not been for my uncle, Mr. Privett." She might just 
 as well have added outright : " The great and wealthy 
 Mr. Privett, of Privett and Fortescue's Indestructible 
 Rubber Tyres," for her tone certainly said it for her. 
 But, as a matter of fact, all that she added was : " He 
 has been kind enough to ask that the matter may be 
 passed over, in consideration of his visit and of the 
 season. So we will say no more about it." 
 
 " Thank you," murmured Margery, and wanted to 
 add : " You are very kind." But the words, like 
 Macbeth's blessing, stuck in her throat. 
 
 " Oh one thing more, however, before we drop the 
 subject altogether, Miss Lennard," said Mrs. Croome, 
 turning back just as she had reached the door. " The 
 the gentleman or person who rescued Cedric from 
 what might easily have been a very serious accident 
 I did not understand exactly " 
 
 " Oh, he was certainly a gentleman ! " said Margery, 
 raising such innocent eyes that Mrs. Croome's hard, in- 
 quisitive glance fell before them. 
 
 " A friend of yours, perhaps ? " she suggested 
 tentatively. 
 
 " Oh, no, I never saw him before, I am sure," said 
 Margery, in so guileless and earnest a fashion that 
 even Mrs. Croome could not doubt her. " I suppose he 
 
 27
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 just happened to be passing. I have no idea who he 
 was." 
 
 " I see," said Mrs. Croome, her thin lips relaxing a 
 very little ; and she went out, leaving Margery to 
 her task. 
 
 It was very pretty and charming work for the first 
 hour or so. Margery had plenty of natural taste, and 
 she thoroughly enjoyed the handling of so many pretty 
 things and the arranging of them to the best advantage. 
 The candles were little trouble, except for their number ; 
 they were all ready provided with little metal clips, 
 and the only difficulty connected with them was reach- 
 ing up to the highest parts of the tree. It was very 
 interesting, too, to hang up the little parcels, each 
 labelled with a name, and to speculate on their con- 
 tents. Margery so enjoyed her task that quite a long 
 time had passed before she realized that she was 
 getting tired. A sudden whiff of dinner, something 
 very savoury, stole in through the closed door and 
 made her think of her own supper ; and suddenly it 
 struck her that she was very tired indeed. The tree, 
 so far as its decorations went, was very satisfactory ; 
 she had no fault to find with her arrangements, and 
 really had some reasonable hope that they might 
 give satisfaction even to the severely critical eyes of 
 Mrs. Croome. But what a terrible number of little 
 parcels and ornaments still remained to be fixed in 
 their places ; and what arm-aching work it was to reach 
 up to the very high branches ! Margery sat down for 
 a minute's rest ; and the large, prosperous-looking 
 clock on the mantelpiece struck nine. In dismay, she 
 
 28
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 remembered that her supper must have been taken 
 up to the schoolroom long ago, and wondered if she 
 might run up to have it before finishing her work. 
 It would be a very pleasant break. On the other 
 hand, if Mrs. Croome came in to find her flown, her 
 task not much more than half done, she might be very 
 much annoyed ; and it was not worth while risking 
 the present peaceful state of affairs, especially after the 
 afternoon's disasters. Margery started up again and 
 began to arrange the heavy parcels under the tree. 
 At any rate, that would give a little change of position, 
 though it was tiring work. Her dismayed eyes 
 wandered on to the large pile of evergreens in the 
 corner, which she had entirely forgotten. No, she 
 had certainly understated the matter in reckoning 
 her task half done ! It promised to stretch out, at 
 this rate, to the crack of doom. 
 
 There was a sound of opening doors and chattering 
 voices ; and, two minutes after, the diners came in 
 to see what progress she had made. They looked 
 well fed and well content. Mrs. Croome sailed in 
 first, resplendent in heliotrope velvet, glittering with 
 rings and necklaces and hair-ornaments as a City 
 magnate's wife has a perfect right to do, even at 
 her own domestic table. Beside her came Uncle 
 Theophilus, short, round, bald, pink, irresistibly sug- 
 gestive of an excellent pink ham. Flora fluttered after 
 them, conveying her usual effect of being a little too well 
 dressed for the occasion, a little too plump, a little too 
 much curled and powdered and scented, a little too con- 
 scious of her good points. She bore too strong a family 
 
 29
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 resemblance to the twins to be a distinctly pretty girl ; 
 but she shared their gift of abundant and beautiful 
 hair, and she had the advantage over them of a really 
 good pink-and-white complexion. Last of the group, 
 heavy-footed and flushed of face, came the master of 
 the house, diffusing an atmosphere of vintage port ; 
 and before him Margery always shrank away a little 
 instinctively. She was afraid of his loud voice and 
 blustering manner. Her only desire was to escape 
 his notice altogether. 
 
 " You've not finished, then, Miss Lennard ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Croome, in an aggrieved and dis- 
 appointed voice. 
 
 " Not quite," said Margery timidly ; and went on 
 with her work in a nervous hurry. 
 
 " Not finished ! " echoed Uncle Theophilus, in his 
 fat, comfortable voice. " Why, if Miss Lennard has 
 done all this by herself this evening, I, for one, think she 
 has done wonders ! " 
 
 " Yes, you've made it look something like ! The 
 prettiest tree we've ever had, by George ! " said Mr. 
 Croome, so unexpectedly close to Margery's ear that 
 she fairly jumped. 
 
 " That parcel is too heavy for you, you know," 
 said Uncle Theophilus, seeing her stoop again after 
 a bulky box. " Come, Henry ! Come, Flora ! Many 
 hands make light work ; and I'm sure Miss Lennard 
 has done her share for this evening. She looks tired 
 enough." 
 
 " I thought she would enjoy such interesting work," 
 said Mrs. Croome with some acidity 
 
 30
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 'So I did ! I mean, so I do ! " Margery protested 
 hurriedly. She wished they had not come. Tired 
 as she was, she would rather have finished her work 
 for herself. She felt out of place and awkward in 
 her plain dark serge gown, in the midst of these 
 fine folks in evening dress. 
 
 " How long has it taken you, so far ? " asked Uncle 
 Theophilus, surveying her with little eyes that, if they 
 were somewhat too much like a pig's, were uncommonly 
 shrewd. 
 
 " I began at about seven, I think," said Margery 
 reluctantly. Her head was so tired she really could 
 not talk and work too. The buzz of voices made her 
 giddy. The extra lights which Mr. Croome had 
 switched on she had not dared to indulge herself 
 with more than one dazzled her weary eyes. 
 
 " And now it is nearly ten. How much time did 
 you take off for your dinner supper hey ? " said 
 Uncle Theophilus. 
 
 " I haven't had it yet," faltered Margery. " I 
 didn't like to waste time by going upstairs, when I 
 was in the middle of this " 
 
 " She has had nothing to eat ! " said Uncle Theo- 
 philus, in a voice of extraordinary expression, turning 
 upon Mrs. Croome. It seemed as if the plump gentle- 
 man could imagine no greater tragedy. 
 
 " Well ! It's her own fault ! " said the mistress of 
 the house testily. " Her supper always goes up to the 
 schoolroom at the same time every evening. If she 
 wouldn't give herself the trouble of going up to get it 
 for herself "
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " Oh, come, come, Selina ! It's too bad ! " said 
 Mr. Croome, probably seeing the matter, like his 
 uncle, with a masculine view of its importance ; and 
 further being just sufficiently exhilarated by the best 
 contents of his excellent cellar to take a slightly 
 exaggerated interest in things in general. He rang the 
 bell strenuously. 
 
 " Oh, please ! " faltered Margery, in deep distress. 
 
 But Mr. Croome was already issuing explosive orders 
 to an astonished servant. " Miss Lennard has had 
 no supper ! Take something up to the dining-room for 
 her now, in double-quick time ! " 
 
 " Bring her own supper down from the schoolroom," 
 came Mrs. Croome' s high voice, distinctly. 
 
 " Nonsense ! Of course, it's stone-cold long ago ! " 
 cried Mr. Croome, in a fractious tone. 
 
 Mrs. Croome, well aware that it was, and always had 
 been, cold, was prudent enough to say no more. 
 
 " Some cold game, or something of that sort ; yes, 
 and some of that creamy stuff that Miss Flora had 
 twice of ; and anything else that you can get in five 
 minutes ! " cried Mr. Croome, who only troubled to 
 show himself master in his own house once in a blue 
 moon, but on that one occasion saw to it that his 
 orders were carried out with punctuality and despatch. 
 " And and then two or three of you can come and 
 finish off this tree ! " 
 
 " Come along, Miss Lennard ! " said Uncle Theo- 
 philus ; and poor Margery, with burning cheeks, fol- 
 lowed him meekly enough. She had a final glimpse 
 of Mrs. Croome' s stony face, which added to her misery. 
 
 32
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 If only they would have let her alone ! She would 
 so infinitely have preferred going supperless to bed to 
 being the centre of all this fuss and talk. Mr. Croome 
 and Mr. Privett meant to be kind, very kind ; but she 
 had a dismal foreboding that she would pay dearly 
 for this same kindness later. 
 
 And yet, after all well, after all, Margery was 
 only eighteen, and more tired and hungry than she 
 knew ; and cold pheasant and Charlotte Russe are 
 most uncommon incidents, either at an Orphanage 
 or in the daily fare of a governess, and very raising 
 to the spirits. Besides, it would have been really 
 ungrateful to resist the spell of Mr. Privett' s kindness 
 and attention, and the merriment of his little twinkling 
 eyes, as he told funny stories that needed no answer 
 except laughter. Margery found herself a different 
 person at the end of a few minutes ; it was not long 
 before she was laughing as she had not done for months. 
 A glass of port, which Uncle Theophilus insisted on 
 administering the first she had ever tasted in her 
 life brought the colour to her pale cheeks and an 
 unusual light into her big eyes. She looked a different 
 girl altogether when they went back to the library ; 
 and Mr. Privett, trotting at her side with his bald 
 pink head only just above the level of her shoulder, 
 kept glancing at her with a curious expression. 
 
 The tree was very nearly finished. A couple of 
 men-servants, sulky but cowed, were working un- 
 commonly hard under their master's eye, with his 
 loud voice shouting rather confused and contradictory 
 directions, and rising an extra note or two whenever 
 
 33 3
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 they made a mistake. Flora, yawning in a chair 
 by the fire, threw out an occasional fretful suggestion. 
 Mrs. Croome, sitting very upright opposite her, stared 
 at Margery as she returned with her escort, with hard, 
 sharp eyes that were by no means pleased. 
 
 " There will be nothing more for you to do, Miss 
 Lennard, thank you," she said acidly. " You had 
 better go to bed. Good-night ! " 
 
 " Good-night ! " said Uncle Theophilus, giving her 
 hand a warm clasp in his fat, podgy palm, and beaming 
 at her benevolently. 
 
 Flora nodded carelessly, without speaking. Mr. 
 Croome was far too much occupied with a mistake 
 that had just been made in some arrangement at the 
 very top of the tree, to take the smallest notice of 
 anyone but the delinquent who had made it ; and for 
 that Margery was devoutly thankful. She slipped 
 softly out of the room and up the stairs, very tired, 
 but lighter of heart than she had been for many a 
 day. After all, Christmas was a happy time, wherever 
 it was spent ; those old Christmases at the Orphanage 
 had had much about them that was very pleasant. 
 She hoped that the twins, sleeping now like a pair 
 of angels, would like the tiny presents she had for them. 
 Perhaps her little offerings might not be altogether 
 despised if she gave them the very first thing, before 
 the rush of more notable gifts set in. And she was 
 really looking forward to the lighting of the beautiful 
 tree. Whatever the early part of the day might bring 
 her, the evening at least must hold abundant 
 pleasure and merriment, even for a governess who was 
 
 .34
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 nobody at all. How kind Mr. Privett had been to 
 her ! Margery thought very gratefully of him, as she 
 brushed out her black hair ; but her last thought, as 
 she laid her tired head on the pillow and promptly 
 fell asleep, was a remembrance of the other man who 
 had been kind earlier in the day, and whose gay blue 
 eyes followed her into the land of dreams. 
 
 35 3*
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY 
 
 CHRISTMAS morning dawned bright, clear, 
 altogether charming. The twins were still 
 asleep when Margery slipped out quietly to an early 
 service ; but her return was heralded by voices shrill 
 with ecstasy, and not, as was more usual, with fretful- 
 ness. Amabel was sitting up in bed, examining 
 minutely the doll which she had found tied with a gay 
 ribbon to her bedpost : a very unpretentious doll, 
 for Margery's purse was slender enough, but beauti- 
 fully dressed in the daintiest of simple clothes, all set 
 with faultless tiny stitches. The Orphanage, while 
 bowing to the modern craze for " stiff kets," was old- 
 fashioned enough to teach needlework as a fine art. 
 
 " They all take on and off, with real buttons and 
 things prop'ly sewn on ! " screamed the enraptured 
 Amabel, who had learnt to suspect these intimate 
 details in the course of acquiring a large family of 
 expensive shop- dolls, and who, under all her affecta- 
 tions, had some fragments of the true little-girl spirit 
 left. " Oh, Miss Lennard, you darling ! Did you 
 really do it all yourself ? Then 1 do want to learn to 
 sew, after all ! " 
 
 36
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 Cedric came flying from the inner room and cast 
 himself rapturously upon Margery. 
 
 " You were a brick to remember me saying that no 
 one had ever given me any ! " he cried, with a stick 
 of Plasticine in each hand. " And and you may 
 kiss me, if you like, 'cos it's Christmas ! " 
 
 Margery complied, laughing. " And such a lovely, 
 bright Christmas, too," she said. " But don't either 
 of you begin the day by catching cold ! " for Amabel 
 was also scrambling hastily from her bed, with flying 
 pigtails. " Now, who is going to be dressed first ? " 
 
 " Me ! " screamed the twins in shrill unison ; and 
 Cedric beat a hasty retreat. 
 
 The kindly season seemed to have spread its genial 
 influence all around, even so early in the morning. 
 Dressing, with all its tribulations of tooth-brushes and 
 the combing of tangled curls, was got through with- 
 out a murmur ; and two faces that were actually bright 
 and child-Like appeared one on either side of Margery 
 as they sat at breakfast. 
 
 " I'm so glad you gave us our things early, and 
 didn't put them on the tree with all the rest," said 
 Amabel, feeding her doll with maternal care, and a 
 thorough appreciation of the fact that it was provided 
 with a real baby's bib. 
 
 " Hurry up ! Hurry up ! " cried Cedric, eyeing his 
 box with devouring eyes. He could hardly bear to 
 waste time over mere food, with those entrancing, 
 putty-like sticks lying ready to his hand. 
 
 The post had brought Margery all that she expected 
 in the way of cards and letters from old schoolfellows 
 
 37
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 and teachers ; and more, a little brooch from one of 
 the former, who had married just after leaving the 
 orphanage. So peace and goodwill reigned quite 
 seasonably in the schoolroom, until the appearance 
 of Mrs. Croome, splendid in a rustling gown, whose 
 opulence might be reckoned on to attract attention, 
 even in the fashionable rich church which she was 
 accustomed to patronise. 
 
 " Merry Christmas, mother ! and just look at 
 these ! " shrieked the twins, flinging themselves upon 
 her. Margery could not help wincing a little at the 
 cool, appraising glance which Mrs. Croome bestowed 
 on her poor little presents ; it seemed to her that 
 even the children were aware of it, and that their 
 pleasure in them was less from that moment. 
 
 " Very nice, children ! Very kind of Miss Lennard ! " 
 said Mrs. Croome. " Though I should have thought 
 you had plenty of dolls already, Amabel ; and, Cedric, 
 don't spoil any more clothes with that stuff ! Miss 
 Lennard, I daresay the children have told you that I 
 always take them to church with me on Christmas 
 morning. I have old-fashioned ideas about Christmas, 
 you know," with one of her tight little smiles. " I 
 hold very strongly that it should be quite a simple 
 family festival. I'm sure you agree with me." 
 
 " Yes," murmured Margery. 
 
 " My husband and I simply devote the day to each 
 other and our children ; in fact, we should think it 
 quite wicked to accept outside invitations," said Mrs. 
 Croome virtuously. " I cannot understand the people 
 who dine at clubs and restaurants on such a day, 
 
 38
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 instead of staying happily at home, as we were un- 
 doubtedly meant to do. But, then, as I said, I am 
 an old-fashioned person ! " She gave a little twitch 
 to her skirt, which certainly could have made no 
 similar claim. 
 
 There did not seem anything for Margery to say ; 
 so she stood silent. 
 
 " It should, above all," said Mrs. Croome, " be a 
 day of unity, and thought for others. I always make a 
 point of allowing a certain number of the servants to 
 go out for some part of the day when they can be spared 
 of course, this does not apply to the cook and kitchen- 
 maid, who, naturally, are more occupied than on any 
 other day in the year. But the under-housemaid, 
 who waits on the schoolroom, can quite well be 
 allowed to have the morning off I daresay you will 
 notice that the room has not been dusted ; in fact, 
 I hoped that you might have understood, and " 
 
 " I will dust the room with pleasure, if you wish," 
 said Margery quietly. " Shall I wash up the breakfast- 
 things too ? " 
 
 " You are always so kind, even if you do not under- 
 stand quite at the very outset ! " said Mrs. Croome, with 
 her little thin smile. " Yes, if you will do that, and 
 of course, there are the beds to be made, and so on 
 I don't suggest, by the way, that you should go to 
 church with us, because I know you prefer the Parish 
 Church, where you always go." 
 
 " Yes, thank you," Margery hastened to assent. 
 
 " So please have the children ready in the hall at 
 a quarter to eleven ; and, of course, you will be in 
 
 39
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 quite in time to get them ready for lunch," said Mrs. 
 Croome, and sailed benignantly out of the room. 
 
 It was not exactly the programme that Margery 
 had planned out for herself. She would scarcely 
 have put on her one pretty dress if she had foreseen 
 that she would have to play housemaid. However, it 
 was a small matter to change that and get the rooms 
 in neat order, even if it did involve rather a rush to 
 change again and have the twins ready by church- 
 time. What troubled her much more was that she 
 had intended to have a quiet half -hour with them, in 
 which to implant some few fresh ideas as to the real 
 meaning of the day : for she had been more than a little 
 horrified at their views, as detailed so frankly to her 
 the day before. But this was now, of course, quite 
 out of the question. The very little for which it was 
 possible to find time had to be sandwiched in during 
 the process of dressing, when both were in a fidget 
 to be off. She could scarcely be sure that they even 
 listened to her at all. 
 
 It was quiet and peaceful, if a little lonely, to go by 
 herself to the old-fashioned Parish Church, which had 
 been gradually deserted by half its lawful congregation 
 for the florid attractions of St. Ethelswitha's, ten 
 minutes away. Margery was a little late not through 
 any fault of her own, but because Mrs. Croome had 
 not chosen to put in an appearance until the bells 
 had almost ceased ringing, and it was impossible 
 to say what the twins might find to do if left by them- 
 selves to wait for her. Would they behave well, 
 and be a credit to her ? Margery found herself wonder- 
 
 40
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 ing anxiously. There had been much room for im- 
 provement in their ecclesiastical conduct when they 
 had first fallen into her hands ; but she really hoped 
 that they were a little better by this time. She missed 
 them a good deal. She had grown used to finding the 
 places in their Prayer Books, to the feeling of Cedric's 
 curls rubbing against her shoulder during the sermon ; 
 she hoped that there would be a sermon which they 
 could understand, and hymns which they knew well 
 enough to sing creditably. They were, in fact, in 
 her thoughts more or less all the service through ; and 
 it was perhaps only human to be pleased to find, when 
 they met again, that the twins had swerved from their 
 earlier preference for St. Ethelswitha, and both openly 
 wished that they had gone with her instead. The 
 order of the service had been unusual, and had baulked 
 them in their new and proud accomplishment of 
 finding a certain proportion of places for themselves ; 
 and the Saxon saint had given deep offence by proving 
 too modern for the old hymns that all children love. 
 
 " We didn't have any ' Herald Angels ' at all ! " said 
 Cedric, swelling under a sense of fraud. " Don't want 
 to go there any more ! " 
 
 They were, however, well spoken of for good be- 
 haviour. " In fact," said Mr. Privett, who was of the 
 party, and whose silk hat shone almost as brilliantly as 
 his bald head, " I feel that Miss Lennard ought to be 
 congratulated, for I never saw them so little trouble." 
 
 " You don't know how we behave in church ! " 
 said Amabel pertly. " You never came with us 
 before ! " Whereat Mr. Privett looked, for some
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 reason, ever so slightly foolish. His little bright eyes 
 stole a quick glance at Margery, and then as quickly 
 looked away again. 
 
 " Now real Christmas begins ! " said Cedric, proceed 
 ing upstairs in a series of little hops, supporting himself 
 between Margery and the banisters. 
 
 " Oh, Cedric ! Have you forgotten already what I 
 said while you were getting ready for church ? " said 
 Margery, very gently and timidly. She was extremely 
 shy in all matters connected with religion. It was a 
 genuine ordeal to discuss such subjects, even from the 
 most conscientious of motives ; and the little Croomes 
 were not the sort of children to make her task any 
 easier. 
 
 Cedric's hard little face softened a little, however, 
 as he looked up at her. 
 
 " No, Miss Lennard ; and I did try to think about 
 it in church only it seemed a different sort of Christ- 
 mas there from yours. And it isn't church-time any 
 more now till next Sunday ! " 
 
 " No," Amabel chimed in shrilly. " Now it's turkey 
 and presents and things for all the rest of the day ! 
 Mind you don't eat too much at lunch-time, Cedric. 
 Remember, it isn't our dinner to-day." 
 
 " / shan't forget ! " said Cedric, affronted. " You 
 always forget much more than me ! " 
 
 The point of view amused Mr. Privett vastly, when 
 the twins started lunch with a solemn warning to each 
 other, repeated at intervals throughout the meal. 
 Mr. Croome, who was apt during the daytime to be a 
 trifle dull and heavy in any matter that had no con- 
 
 42
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 nection with business interests, did not grasp the point at 
 all at first, and was inclined to think that his two 
 youngest were sickening for something ; but, having 
 once been made to understand, was consumed with 
 extreme appreciation of the joke, and laughed 
 boisterously about it at intervals all the rest of the 
 time they were at table. Altogether, it was quite a 
 jovial meal, compared with the usual frigid dulness 
 that prevailed when only the ladies of the family were 
 at home. Margery, who sat next to Mr. Privet^ 
 found him a very agreeable change indeed ; for he 
 talked to her quite as if he considered her to be just 
 another guest, like himself, and his fat, merry chuckle 
 was most infectious. She was really sorry, for once, 
 when lunch was over ; whereas her general feeling was 
 pure relief at being able to escape with the children 
 to their own domain upstairs. 
 
 " I always like them to lie down for the afternoon, 
 Miss Lennard, when they are going to be up so late," 
 said Mrs. Croome. " Please put them to bed in about 
 half an hour, and see that they stay there till tea- 
 time." 
 
 " Oh, I say ! We're not babies now ! " protested 
 Cedric, very cross all in a moment. But Amabel 
 accepted the position as being rather flattering. 
 
 " Flora always lies down before a ball. It's quite 
 a grown-up thing to do," she said. " Besides, we've 
 nothing particular to do indoors, and there's nothing at 
 all to go out for, and if we go to sleep it will be the 
 evening quicker ! " 
 
 " / shan't go to sleep ! " growled Cedric, following 
 
 43
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 crossly. But his resolution proved not to be proof 
 against a darkened room and the drowsy comfort of 
 bed on a cold day. For more than ten minutes eager 
 chatter went on between the two rooms, with the 
 word " tree " occurring in every other sentence ; 
 then longer and longer pauses came, and presently 
 Margery, looking cautiously in, saw two peacefully 
 recumbent figures, each with a cheek pillowed on a 
 Teddy bear. 
 
 She was not sorry to have an hour's peace. She 
 had letters to write, in answer to those that had come 
 in the morning ; and after that it was pleasant enough 
 to sit by the schoolroom fire with a book, and give half 
 her attention to that and half to pleasant anticipations 
 of the evening. She was really looking forward ex- 
 tremely, with almost as much pleasure as the children, 
 to seeing that beautiful tree lighted up, and taking a 
 modest pleasure in the work of her own tasteful hands. 
 Her life had always been so monotonous that really 
 this was one of the greatest excitements she had ever 
 known, except for the rather terrible events of prize- 
 giving days at school ; and those had been entirely spoilt 
 for her by natural shyness and dislike of being shown 
 off as a star pupil, who had many prizes to receive, 
 and some dreadfully alarming public performance 
 to go through on the piano, with the coldest of shaking 
 hands. But this evening would have no such terrors : 
 only the amusement of seeing the tree, and watching 
 the distribution and unwrapping of the parcels. It 
 never entered her head that any of them would be for 
 herself in fact, no expectations could well have been 
 
 44
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 more modest than Margery's. She only wanted to be 
 somewhere in the background and watch other people's 
 pleasure ; and in that unexacting manner she reckoned 
 on enjoying herself very much. It did just cross her 
 mind to wonder whether she would possibly be bidden 
 downstairs with the twins to dinner ; but she did not 
 really expect such a thing, or, indeed, greatly wish 
 for it its drawbacks would almost certainly counter- 
 balance its advantages. She would really prefer to 
 have her supper quietly upstairs as usual. The only 
 thing that would be a great and unadulterated joy 
 would be if possibly Mrs. Croome might suggest her 
 going down first into the library to light the candles. 
 She would certainly enjoy that very much indeed. 
 It would be delightful to see everyone come in, and 
 hear exactly what they thought of the first sight of 
 her handiwork. 
 
 The arrival of the schoolroom tea put a sudden end 
 to her meditations : a thorough Christmas tea, with 
 each child's favourite sort of jam, and a large iced cake, 
 with " A Merry Xmas " in pink lettering on the top. 
 The charms of this almost melted Amabel's resolution, 
 and she gazed at it, when she came in from her sleep, 
 with very longing eyes ; but Cedric, who had all the 
 makings of a gourmet of the highest type, was very 
 stern with her. " What's the use," he demanded 
 fiercely, " of having only half your lunch, and then 
 spoiling it all by a big tea ? " 
 
 " But I'm hungry," said Amabel plaintively, with 
 eyes fixed on that entrancing pink lettering. 
 
 " So'm I," said Cedric. " But I'm only going to 
 
 45
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 have two pieces of bread-and-butter, and nothing else 
 at all." 
 
 " Not even jam ? " suggested Margery, much 
 amused. 
 
 " Jam ! " said Cedric scornfully, though his eyes 
 wavered for a moment as they fell on apricot kernels 
 floating in a yellow sea. " Jam when there's turkey 
 coming ! " 
 
 Margery respectfully concealed her feelings, and 
 made no further attempt to beguile the gastronomic 
 hero ; and Amabel, fired by his example, bravely 
 munched bread-and-butter too, and only devoured the 
 dainties with her eyes. But it was a severe trial to 
 the constancy of any juvenile mind, and when Margery 
 sought to console the self-made martyrs by some 
 further reference to their coming reward, Cedric could 
 not bear it. 
 
 " Don't f" he exclaimed. " It's three hours off 
 yet and I feel all hollow inside, and I don't know how 
 I'm ever going to live till then ! " 
 
 " Suppose we did die first, and never had our dinner ! " 
 said Amabel, with appalled, round eyes. And even 
 Cedric's resolution faltered before the terrible suggestion. 
 
 " I suppose we shan't starve, quite, before then, 
 Miss Lennard ? " he said, in a voice that was not so 
 careless as it was intended to be. 
 
 " Certainly not," said Margery, with most reassuring 
 decision : though her voice, for some reason, was 
 perhaps a trifle less steady than usual, so that Cedric 
 looked at her with sharp suspicion. " Come, let's 
 talk about the tree instead ! " 
 
 46
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 " You've seen it, haven't you ? " said Amabel, with 
 a hungry, pathetic sigh. 
 
 " Yes. But not when it was quite finished," said 
 Margery. " And, do you know, I have never seen a 
 Christmas-tree lighted up in all my life ! " 
 
 The twins' attention was fairly diverted by this 
 astounding statement. Amabel's shrill surprise was 
 quite ear-piercing, and Cedric began an insistent 
 catechism of "But why, Miss Lennard ? Why?" 
 It took them quite a long time to realize that there 
 were in existence many children who never had a 
 Christmas-tree, either at their own homes or at other 
 people's parties. When that remarkable fact had 
 fairly sunk in, both were all eagerness to describe what 
 Margery might expect to see, and dilate upon its 
 glories, and impress upon her the knowledge that 
 their tree was always vastly superior to any other that 
 they ever met with elsewhere. 
 
 By that time tea was over, and the hands of the 
 clock were discovered to have moved on really a 
 delightfully appreciable piece. Amabel began to 
 fidget to be dressed for dinner at once ; and Margery 
 was driven to put her off as long as possible by a series 
 of stratagems, knowing only too well what would be 
 the condition of best garments, if they were worn in the 
 schoolroom for an impatient hour or so before going 
 downstairs. It was no easy matter to manage, and 
 she was quite as much relieved as the twins when at 
 last the time came when it was admissible, if one 
 spread out each duty of the toilet sufficiently, to begin. 
 So she brushed Amabel's long locks until they looked 
 
 47
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 their very best, and dealt faithfully with Cedric's every 
 curl, and insisted on the most intimate attention being 
 paid to foolish and irritating details, such as the 
 cleanliness of one's nails ; and was quite ready, after 
 such an exhausting two hours, to echo their sighs of 
 relief when at last they could fairly be allowed to go 
 down. It was an additional relief, moreover, that no 
 summons had come for her also to dine downstairs. 
 Now, if only a message would come bidding her to 
 undertake the lighting of the Christmas-tree candles, 
 she would have nothing left to wish for. 
 
 The thought was in her mind, and she was still busy 
 putting away the twins' Sunday clothes, when a 
 rustling outside, and the sharp opening of the door, 
 heralded Mrs. Croome's entrance. Margery turned* 
 with a smile of expectation on her lips, to greet the 
 gorgeous vision. Mrs. Croome was shimmering in 
 splendour from the diamond osprey in her hair to the 
 pointed golden shoes on her feet ; she wore a brand- 
 new gown of gold brocade, and a brand new diamond 
 necklace which had been her husband's Christmas 
 present. 
 
 " What ! Have the children gone down already ? " 
 she said, with a sharp glance at the clock. 
 
 " They were so very anxious to go, and it 
 was only five minutes too soon," said Margery 
 humbly. 
 
 " Well, I hope they are in no mischief ! " was Mrs. 
 Croome's cold rejoinder. " I only looked in on my 
 way down, Miss Lennard, to say that, of course, they 
 will be quite late coming to bed to-night. You need 
 
 48
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 not be surprised if you do not see them again before 
 midnight ! " 
 
 Something in Margery's face seemed to make her 
 ever so little uncomfortable. Her hard eyes flickered. 
 There was almost a suggestion of embarrassment in her 
 tone as she went on : 
 
 " You will have quite a nice little holiday from 
 them you know, I told you this morning that I always 
 like all my household, whenever it is practicable, to 
 have a little time to themselves on Christmas Day. 
 Good-night ! " 
 
 The door closed sharply again. At the very last 
 she had not seemed able to meet Margery's wide-eyed, 
 astonished, grieved gaze at all. 
 
 For a couple of minutes the girl stood quite still, 
 just as she had been left. Then she went dumbly into 
 the adjoining room, and threw herself face downwards 
 on her bed. It was probably ridiculous to take such a 
 disappointment so hard ; but Margery was only 
 eighteen, after all, and so few pleasures came in her 
 way that she had built upon this one to quite an 
 unreasonable extent. It had never occurred to her 
 that she was to be shut out altogether from the 
 evening's amusement ; and, after all, her highest 
 hopes had in all conscience been modest enough 
 only to light the candles and then watch other people 
 enjoying themselves. She quite understood that this 
 was Mrs. Croome's method of making her pay for the 
 kindness of Mr. Privett and Mr. Croome last night. 
 
 She lay quite still until she was chilled through, and 
 there was the sound of a jingling tray being put down 
 
 49 4
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 in the schoolroom. Then she got up, and brushed her 
 hair and washed her hands, preparing philosophically 
 for her solitary supper. After all, it was very foolish 
 to mind so much, especially as there was no help for 
 it. Her evening would be dull and lonely, of course, 
 when she had hoped for something different ; but by 
 the next morning it would all be over, just as it would 
 have been if it had been a time of thorough enjoyment. 
 The school in which she had been brought up by which 
 is implied no reflection on the excellent Orphanage 
 teaches its pupils an astonishing amount of stoicism 
 quite early in life. She had a book to read which 
 interested her. She had spent plenty of quiet, cosy 
 evenings by no means unhappily over the schoolroom 
 fire before now, and this one would be no exception 
 to the general rule. Besides, it would have its little 
 superiority, after all. The smell of the Christmas 
 dinner was rising up from below in the most savoury 
 and appetizing fashion ; and Margery really was, when 
 all was said and done, only a schoolgirl, with a fine, 
 healthy appetite that had never been spoilt by 
 luxuries. 
 
 She went back into the schoolroom with quite a 
 remnant of interest in life, after all, and put out her 
 hand to take off the cover and see what had been sent 
 her. 
 
 There was no cover to take off. 
 
 There were two little slices of cold mutton on one 
 plate, and a piece of bread on another. There was 
 half a cold rice-pudding ; and there was a glass of 
 water. 
 
 50
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 Kitchen and servants' hall are quick enough to note 
 and follow the example of the drawing-room. The 
 powers that ruled the basement had not approved, 
 any more than their mistress, the manner in which 
 Margery had been pampered the night before, and 
 were quite as ready to point their moral. 
 
 The fire had burnt quite low, and there was nothing 
 in the coal-box but a little dust. Margery had noticed 
 this earlier in the day, but had not thought it worth 
 while to ask for a fresh supply, since she and the 
 children would be spending their evening downstairs. 
 She knew by experience that it was quite useless to 
 ring the schoolroom bell was never answered. She 
 sat down quite suddenly in the nearest chair, and 
 burst into forlorn, childish tears. 
 
 Downstairs the Christmas dinner progressed like 
 other Christmas dinners. The twins, avenging them- 
 selves for their day's abstinence, ate and drank glut- 
 tonously of everything rich and tempting that came 
 in their way. Flora, for all her fine-lady airs and 
 graces, was not so far behind them when it came to 
 actual execution. Mr. Croome reached even earlier 
 than usual the stage of glazed eyes and empurpled 
 cheeks. Mrs. Croome, her sharp eyes everywhere to 
 see that nothing was lacking it was a very fine Christ- 
 mas dinner indeed, with everything in profusion that 
 the greediest heart could wish enjoyed her meal with 
 a satisfaction that was by no means impaired by the 
 recollection of the girl upstairs. Only Mr. Privett, 
 in fact, spared her a thought at all. 
 
 5i 4*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " What has become of Miss Lennard, hey, Selina ? " 
 he asked, with something of disappointment in his 
 tone. 
 
 " Miss Lennard never dines downstairs," said Mrs. 
 Croome a little stiffly. 
 
 " Not even on Christmas Day ? " suggested Mr. 
 Privett rather drily. 
 
 " I always think a strictly family party like this 
 is the most uninteresting thing in the world for an 
 outsider," said Mrs. Croome, airing her theories afresh 
 with composure. " I supposed it would really be more 
 change for her to be free of the children altogether, 
 so I gave her a holiday for the evening." 
 
 " Oh ! of course, if she has her own friends to go to, 
 that's all right," said Uncle Theophilus. 
 
 Mrs. Croome said nothing. There was no embarrass- 
 ment in her manner as she helped herself to more 
 bread sauce. 
 
 " Why, won't Miss Lennard be coming down to see 
 the tree ? " burst out Cedric in accents of bitter dis- 
 appointment. " Oh, and we told her all about it, and 
 she had never seen one all lighted up, and she was 
 looking forward to it so ! " 
 
 " Christmas-trees don't mean so much to grown-ups 
 as to you young shavers, you know," said Uncle 
 Theophilus good-naturedly. " You mustn't grudge 
 Miss Lennard a little time with her own friends. It 
 means more than a tree to her, I daresay." 
 
 The tree turned out an unqualified success, like the 
 dinner. It shone and sparkled almost as brilliantly, 
 in the light of its many candles, as the mistress of the 
 
 52
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 house ; its decorations left nothing to be desired, and 
 Margery's taste received abundant commendation. 
 Only Uncle Theophilus, in one small matter, infringed 
 the accustomed etiquette ; for he was observed, with a 
 pair of shining scissors, removing an unostentatious 
 little parcel from an inconspicuous branch. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Theophilus, you mustn't do that ! " 
 reproved Amabel, who had been a stickler for the 
 conventions from her cradle. " We don't take our 
 own things ; we wait for them to be given to us ! 
 No one touches anything except mother, and she 
 always begins at the top of the tree, and works 
 down ! " 
 
 " Sorry, Amabel. I won't touch anything else, I 
 promise," said Uncle Theophilus penitently. But he 
 did not offer to replace what he had already taken. 
 
 The presents gave universal satisfaction. Those 
 from Uncle Theophilus, in particular, were of so entirely 
 fascinating a character that even Flora became almost 
 girlish and natural in her enthusiasm ; and Amabel 
 was moved to tears by the reflection that he was to 
 depart the next day. 
 
 " Never mind ! I'm coming back very soon," he 
 told her consolingly. 
 
 " That's good news ! " said Mr. Croome heartily. 
 
 " Thank you," said Uncle Theophilus. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! You can't come too often to please 
 us, dear Uncle Theophilus ! " cried Mrs. Croome, in a 
 manner as nearly gushing as it was in her to achieve. 
 
 " You're very kind, Selina," said Uncle Theophilus; 
 but his tone, in this last sentence, had a certain curious 
 
 53
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 quality in it which made Mrs. Croome vaguely uncom- 
 fortable, she had not the faintest idea why. He was 
 eyeing her, too, rather oddly as he spoke, and feeling 
 in his waistcoat pocket, as if he had put something 
 away there, and wished to make quite sure that it was 
 safe. 
 
 The evening passed away with all seasonable merri- 
 ment, and Mr. Privett, in spite of being very decidedly 
 the oldest there, was the life and soul of the party 
 so much so, in fact, that it was quite disconcerting 
 when, at about eleven o'clock, he declared suddenly 
 that he was tired and would be glad to go to bed. 
 Even Amabel and Cedric had only just begun to 
 declare, with quite unnecessary vehemence, that they 
 were not in the least sleepy, and to excuse their furtive 
 yawns on any other plea than that of weariness. But 
 Uncle Theophilus was not to be moved by any 
 petitions, and being nothing if not prompt, wasted no 
 undue time over saying good-night, and was out of the 
 room before some of the party quite realized what had 
 happened. 
 
 The very best spare room, with the inlaid mahogany 
 furniture and the real china on the washstand, was 
 none too good for the rich uncle ; and to reach all 
 that magnificence he had only to mount the first flight 
 of stairs and turn into the nearest doorway. It was 
 therefore quite unnecessary for him to go on up the 
 second staircase and traverse all the long passages 
 that led to the schoolroom. Yet so he did, imme- 
 diately after he had left the library ; and, the house- 
 
 54
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 hold being all busily occupied in keeping Christmas, 
 he met no one. 
 
 The schoolroom door was ajar, and he pushed it 
 gently open. 
 
 The fire was quite out, and the room very cold. 
 Under the unshaded electric light Margery sat asleep 
 in a low chair by the fender, her book slipped from 
 her fingers, and traces of tears on her cheeks. She 
 looked pale and tired, and pinched with cold, and very 
 young. 
 
 Mr. Privett's button mouth shut very tightly indeed ; 
 his cherubic face assumed a stern expression. He took 
 from his waistcoat pocket a little parcel, inscribed in 
 a neat, legible hand : " Miss Lennard ; with kind 
 regards and best wishes from T. P.," and put it very 
 carefully on her lap. Then he looked round, noting 
 all details of the room attentively. The unfilled coal- 
 box did not escape his notice. He went to the table, 
 and observed with special attention the untasted, 
 forlorn supper which Margery had not had the heart 
 to touch. 
 
 " Confound Selina ! " said Uncle Theophilus. But 
 he used a shorter word, and one beginning with a 
 different letter. 
 
 55
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ONE OF OUR LARGE PARTIES 
 
 " T DON'T know what to wear ! " said Flora, hovering 
 1 uncertainly from one side to the other of her 
 bed, which was strewn with finery. " Do, do tell 
 me your real opinion, Miss Lennard ! You see, the 
 pink is quite new ; but then I always think I never 
 had a frock that suited me so well as the white crepe. 
 Then there's the green with the beetle- wing embroidery, 
 
 of course " 
 
 Margery stood considering the knotty point 
 seriously, her hands behind her back. It was only 
 now and then that she was called into Flora's con- 
 fidence, when no other more worthy adviser could be 
 found. She always enjoyed these rare occasions. 
 Flora's room was so warm and pretty, with its per- 
 petual fire and its dainty decorations ; and it was also 
 interesting to see and handle the wonderful clothes 
 that otherwise only existed for a governess on the 
 other side of plate-glass windows. 
 
 " You see, it really is more than usually important ! " 
 said Flora. " I don't like to wear an old frock at one 
 of our large parties and, of course, I have worn the 
 white quite three or four times. On the other hand, 
 
 56
 
 One of our Large Parties 
 
 I don't think gentlemen notice that sort of thing very 
 much ; and I do want to look my very best to-night ! 
 Because this is the first time he's been here." 
 
 " Who ? " said Margery, seeing, from Flora's pause, 
 that the question was expected of her. 
 
 " Mr. Holyer," said Flora, with a conscious flutter. 
 " Denzil Holyer. Don't you think it is a fascinating 
 name, Miss Lennard ? Oh, I should like you to see 
 him ! He's the only perfectly handsome man I ever 
 saw in my life. I met him first at the Samuelsons', 
 you know, and I heard Mrs. Samuelson saying some- 
 thing about there being so many pretty girls there ; 
 and old Lady Marcus answered in her loud voice : 
 ' There's only one really beautiful person here to-night, 
 and that's that young Holyer fellow ! ' Mrs. Samuelson 
 was so annoyed," said Flora, giggling. " For, of course, 
 she was only fishing for a compliment for Beata ! " 
 
 " What is he like ? " Margery inquired with some 
 interest. 
 
 " Oh, very tall, and fair, with the loveliest blue eyes. 
 I suppose I ought to like dark men best, being fair 
 myself," said Flora self-consciously. " At least, so 
 Horace Holyer says " 
 
 " But I thought you did like Mr. Horace Holyer 
 better than anyone," said Margery judicially. She 
 had no experience at all in these matters, and her 
 theories were old-fashioned. Flora's point of view, 
 therefore, was a constant perplexity to her, whenever 
 she was allowed a glimpse of it. 
 
 " So I did before I saw Denzil Holyer ! " said Flora, 
 with a petulant twist of her shoulders. " That's why 
 
 57
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyef 
 
 Horace is so angry ; they are cousins, you see. It 
 really is very interesting when men care enough to be 
 angry, isn't it, Miss Lennard ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Margery simply. " I don't 
 know any men, you see." 
 
 " How extraordinary that must be ! " said Flora, 
 opening wide light eyes at her, after a moment's pause 
 in which to assimilate the astounding idea. But other 
 people's affairs were not apt to afford her more than 
 a fleeting interest, and she went on again almost 
 immediately. " Besides, you see they are both in 
 well, in a better position than ours, of course. And 
 I don't need to think about money besides, I always 
 said, even if we weren't rich, that I'd rather marry for 
 position than money. Wouldn't you ? " 
 
 " I suppose I should wait until I fell in love with 
 someone," said Margery. 
 
 Flora's laughter rang so shrill that it recalled her 
 little sister's. 
 
 " Miss Lennard ! Do you mean to tell me, honestly, 
 that you would refuse a really good match say, a 
 very rich man just because you didn't happen to care 
 for him personally ? " 
 
 " Of course I should," said Margery ; but she 
 flushed distressfully at Flora's derision, and added, 
 with a little dignity : " Though it is a cheap enough 
 thing for me to say, of course, since I don't think it 
 likely that anyone will ever want to marry me at all." 
 
 The question was quite without interest for Flora, 
 when she had fairly had her laugh out at Margery's 
 extreme simplicity. The love-affairs of a mere 
 
 58
 
 governess, supposing their possible existence at any 
 present or future time, were naturally quite immaterial 
 to her ; and she returned to the real matter of 
 importance. 
 
 " I don't know what to wear ! " she cried again with 
 real vexation. " And you aren't a bit of good, Miss 
 Lennard ! I've a sort of feeling that he would like me 
 best in the white ; and yet I got the pink expressly 
 on Beata Samuelson's account, because we were ad- 
 miring the stuff together, and she said she couldn't 
 afford it, and I should hate her to think that I had 
 nothing but an old thing to wear " 
 
 " I should think," said Margery deliberately, " that 
 you will have to decide for yourself whether you want 
 most to annoy her or to please Mr. Holyer. I'm sorry 
 that I can't be of any help to you there. Now I must 
 go back to the children." For Cedric and Amabel, 
 having apparently over-eaten themselves even more 
 than usual at their Christmas dinner, had not escaped 
 with the usual mild penalty of a Boxing Day of sick- 
 ness, but had been expiating their greed in bed ever 
 since, with the doctor in attendance. They were, of 
 course, however, to get up to-day and go downstairs 
 for the earlier hours of the party, acquiring inci- 
 dentally any ices and champagne-cup that might come 
 their way. Margery, horrified, and foreseeing a second 
 edition of the past week, had tried secretly to get the 
 doctor to put his veto on this ; but he had merely 
 shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with a smile 
 that Mrs. Croome had certainly never seen. 
 
 "It's not for you or me, Miss Lennard, to stand 
 
 59
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyet 
 
 against a mother's instinct as to what is best for her 
 children," he said ; adding, very drily : " Besides, 
 from a professional point of view, it is all to my interest 
 not to interfere ! " And Margery had laughed per- 
 force ; but it vexed her sorely to see the white-faced, 
 fretful pair setting off on their way downstairs, and to 
 know that all the work of her patient care and nursing 
 would be undone before she saw them again. 
 
 " I'm glad it's Music, and not Dancing," Cedric 
 had observed to her as she brushed his curls. " There's 
 always more to eat then because we don't stay up 
 for the real supper, and to-night there isn't any real 
 supper. But Amabel likes Dancing best." 
 
 " I don't ! " snapped Amabel, very cross and 
 peevish. She was the less robust of the two, and, in 
 her case, the effects of Christmas Day had by no means 
 worn off yet. " I wouldn't dance to-night for any- 
 thing." 
 
 " That's only because you've been sick," said Cedric. 
 
 " Not a bit sicker than you so there ! " cried 
 Amabel. 
 
 " She was sicker than me wasn't she, Miss 
 Lennard ? " appealed Cedric urgently. 
 
 But Margery declined to be drawn into this contro- 
 versy. She hastened to suggest, instead : " Well, 
 don't either of you eat too many sweet things to-night, 
 or you may have some more days in bed ! " 
 
 " What's the good of going to a party if we don't eat 
 things ? " said Cedric indignantly. 
 
 Margery did not attempt to pursue the useless 
 subject. She only set the door ajar, after they had 
 
 60
 
 One of our Large Parties 
 
 gone, so that she might hear the music in the distance. 
 There was a very famous new singer coming to-night 
 whom she would like dearly to hear. For Margery 
 was musical to the tips of her fingers, and loved singing 
 all the better because she herself had no voice worth 
 mentioning. She could hear quite distinctly the 
 roll of carriages and motors outside, and the buzz 
 and flutter of arrivals ; and she wished very much 
 that the house was so built that she might, without 
 danger of discovery, have watched from the landing 
 the stream of guests flowing in. But it would have 
 been too dangerous, and the risk of subsequent dis- 
 grace too serious. So she sat in the schoolroom, her 
 fingers flying over some needlework for the children, 
 and her ears all alert for the first sound of the great 
 singer's voice. 
 
 It was only some twenty minutes later that foot- 
 steps hurrying up the stairs heralded the very un- 
 expected appearance of Flora ; a most agitated Flora 
 in a white gown, with flushed cheeks and perturbed 
 eyes. 
 
 " Miss Lennard ! Have you an evening dress of any 
 sort ? " she cried without preliminary. 
 
 Margery stared at her in amazement, hardly able 
 to believe her ears. She had expected some un- 
 pleasant news about the twins' behaviour or state 
 of health : certainly not this extraordinary question. 
 
 " Yes -just a plain black one," she said at last. 
 
 " Oh, it's no matter what it's like thank goodness 
 you have one at all ! " cried Flora, with a gasp of 
 relief. " For you are so tall that, of course, nothing 
 
 61
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 of mine would have been the least good. Just put it 
 on as fast as ever you can and come downstairs ! " 
 
 " But I don't understand " said the bewildered 
 
 Margery. 
 
 " Oh, what does it matter ? Only be quick ! " 
 cried Flora, taking her arm and pushing her towards 
 the bedroom. " I'll explain while you change. The 
 most awkward thing has happened. Madame Biandina, 
 who is singing to-night, you know, of course brought 
 her own accompanist with her, and he has just stupidly 
 slipped on the stairs and hurt his wrist, so that he 
 can't possibly play ! Isn't it dreadful ? She is 
 furious, and she knows so little English ; and there's 
 no time to send for anyone else, for she is going on 
 directly to another house. So do hurry and come down 
 to play for her, or perhaps she won't sing at all these 
 big stars do just as they like ! And, of course, she 
 simply makes the evening for us, and she is most 
 awfully expensive ! " 
 
 " Oh, I can't ! " protested poor Margery, trembling. 
 
 " Can't ! You must ! " said Flora positively. " Why, 
 what's the good of mother's getting a governess with 
 all sorts of musical letters after her name if she can't 
 do a little thing like this ? " 
 
 Margery said nothing for a minute, only busied her- 
 self in getting out the plain black gown that had hung 
 undisturbed ever since her arrival at Canning Place. 
 She was always terribly nervous of playing before a 
 large audience, "and the account of the "furious" 
 prima donna was anything but an encouragement. 
 On the other hand, the scorn of Flora's tone was 
 
 62
 
 One of our Large Parties 
 
 stinging ; and, after all, the Croomes had a right to 
 make this sort of demand on her only it had never 
 occurred to her that she would be called upon for 
 anything so formidable as this. She waited until she 
 could be sure of speaking steadily, and then said, 
 in a cold and quiet voice : " If you will be kind enough 
 to send up Madame Biandina's music, I shall be glad 
 to try it over before I come down. I suppose you 
 don't happen to know what she is singing ? " 
 
 " Not a bit Italian things, of course," said Flora 
 carelessly. "I'll send it up if you like only do 
 be quick ! She wants to sing at ten o'clock exactly. 
 You'll only have five minutes to practise. Is it worth 
 while ? " 
 
 " Quite worth while, please," said Margery, in so 
 unexpectedly decided a tone that Flora stared at her 
 in surprise, and went away without another word. 
 
 The music was brought up by a much-aggrieved 
 footman, who did not consider it his place to wait on 
 the schoolroom, just as Margery finished dressing ; 
 and with it the request that Miss Lennard would be 
 absolutely punctual. Margery took the little roll 
 with a hand that could not well have been colder, 
 but was at least no longer trembling. One quick 
 glance told her the worst, which was no more than 
 she had expected. The music was quite unknown 
 to her and extremely difficult ; moreover, it was 
 scratched and scrawled ah 1 over with pencil notes of 
 the owner's own private fancies, which might have 
 been quite intelligible to her usual accompanist, but 
 called for actual study on the part of a novice. 
 
 63
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Margery hummed the airs quickly through to her- 
 self, and then sat down at the little schoolroom piano, 
 her watch beside her. She had dressed at railroad 
 speed ; nevertheless, the time left to her was scarcely 
 better than nothing. It seemed to her that she had 
 never played so many false notes, never slurred so 
 many chords, never met with such incessant changes 
 of key and time in any music ; but at least she found 
 out where the chief pitfalls lay, and that was some- 
 thing to the good. At five minutes before the hour, 
 she took up the music and walked down the long stair- 
 case, with her face quite white and her hands and step 
 quite steady. 
 
 " Oh, there you are, Miss Lennard ! Only just in 
 time ! " said Mrs. Croome's voice, sharp and agitated, 
 from a little side room. " Madame is resting in here. 
 Of course, she is very much upset. I do trust you 
 will not make any mistakes ! Madame, this is Miss 
 Lennard, who will play for you as well as she 
 can." 
 
 " If she do not, I bite her ! " cried the great singer, 
 in a quick, vivacious voice ; and Margery found her- 
 self confronted with a short, plump, plain person, in 
 a very low gown of vivid green. But the voice was 
 not unkind, and the sharp black eyes looking up at 
 her were more than half amused. Margery gripped 
 her courage in both hands and replied with a little 
 hesitation in sufficiently fluent Italian. 
 
 " Madame will forgive the faults I cannot help. I 
 do not know the music ; but I will do my best." 
 
 " A-a-ie ! " shrieked Madame Biandina, relapsing 
 64
 
 One of our Large Parties 
 
 into her own language with vast relief and pleasure. 
 " You speak Italian ? " 
 
 " My mother was Italian," said Margery timidly. 
 " But I fear I have forgotten I was only a child " 
 
 " But you understand me hein ? Dio mio, you are 
 only a child still though of a thinness and tallness ! " 
 Madame Biandina's plump brown hands shot up in 
 the air, to express her astonishment and Margery's 
 height simultaneously. " Now I can explain. See 
 
 here and here " She turned over the music 
 
 rapidly, dabbing down a forefinger here and there on 
 the hieroglyphics for emphasis. " Now, then you 
 understand ? We are already late, and I have to go 
 on elsewhere." 
 
 The back of Margery's ordeal was broken ; but still 
 it was sufficiently formidable. The great bright 
 double rooms seemed to swim before her eyes as she 
 went in ; the buzz and clatter of voices made her giddy. 
 It was a relief to slip into her place before the piano, 
 and to feel, with the striking of the first chord, that at 
 least the suspense was over. 
 
 And, after all, she had never played an accompani- 
 ment better in her life. It was not so terrible as a 
 solo performance ; she felt all the time that no one 
 was thinking about her at all, which was the greatest 
 comfort. Fortunately, she had always been fond of 
 accompanying, and had done a great deal of it. She 
 played on with increasing confidence, and the wonder- 
 ful voice of the singer helped her to forget nervousness 
 in admiration. She could almost have found it in her 
 heart to be sorry when the last of the beautiful notes 
 
 65 5
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 was sung and Madame Biandina was bowing her little 
 famous curt farewell, previous to departing. It was 
 not till then, when the strain was over and well over, 
 that Margery realized how severe it had been. She 
 was trembling all over as she rose from the piano, 
 and could hardly hear Madame Biandina' s little gracious 
 word of thanks and approval. The buzz of chatter 
 had risen all round once more. Margery felt as if it 
 were beyond her powers to cross the vast expanse of 
 floor that lay between her and escape. 
 
 " You look so tired. Come and have something to 
 eat ! " said a voice over her head ; and, looking up 
 she met a pair of kind blue eyes smiling down at her. 
 
 It was quite a different and comparatively simple 
 affair to cross the room with this very efficient pro- 
 tector, though it had its strangeness, too, for Margery 
 had never before in all her life had her hand on a man's 
 arm. She was still trembling all over, and realizing 
 how very frightened she had been. It was an untold 
 relief to find herself established at a little table in a 
 cosy and quiet corner of the dining-room, where she 
 could hardly be seen at all by the few people already 
 there. 
 
 " What will you have ? " her escort inquired ; 
 adding confidentially : " or shall I go and forage, and 
 see what looks best ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, please ! " said Margery, much relieved to 
 be spared the alarm of deciding ; and while he was 
 standing at the long buffet inspecting its load of deli- 
 cacies, she had time to observe how very tall he was, 
 and how he dwarfed the one or two men near him. She 
 
 66
 
 One of our Large Parties 
 
 had never before seen the arrangements for a party at 
 the Croomes', and she looked about her now with 
 much interest at the transformed room ; and thought, 
 very much surprised, as she scanned the vast array of 
 dishes which her escort was observing at his leisure, 
 that the twins had been immensely mistaken in saying 
 that there would be "no supper." 
 
 " It's much the best plan to get in early, before the 
 rush don't you think so ? " said the tall young 
 man, coming back. " I've brought you this ; I'm 
 sure you want it ! " and he put before her a small 
 fizzing tumbler, containing what Margery in her 
 ignorance considered to be rather yellow lemonade. 
 "Is it true that you really had to play those ghastly 
 accompaniments at sight ? " 
 
 " Oh, were they very bad ? " faltered Margery. 
 
 " No, simply splendid ! That was why I asked, 
 because I knew they must have been so jolly hard. 
 I'm much too great a duffer to play myself," he went 
 on cheerfully, " but I've a sister who plays most 
 awfully well, so I know a little about it from hearing 
 her." 
 
 " I'm so glad they were not too bad," said Margery, 
 with a great sigh of relief. " I was most dreadfully 
 frightened ! " 
 
 " You hid it very well, then," he said with approval. 
 " By the way, how is it you have never been in the 
 Gardens again ? " 
 
 " The ch.ldren have been ill. We have not been out 
 at all since Christmas Day," said Margery ; and 
 wondered, with much simplicity, how he knew. 
 
 67 5*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " The little chap was the worse for his wetting, then ? 
 I'm sorry " 
 
 " Oh, no ! Nothing so interesting, I'm afraid," said 
 Margery. " It was only the result of a great Christmas 
 dinner." 
 
 " Little pigs ! " said the tall young man, and he 
 threw back his head, and laughed in a hearty, boyish 
 fashion. " Well, I'm afraid, if that was their com- 
 plaint, that there will probably be a relapse. They 
 came in five minutes ago no, don't turn round ! 
 they haven't seen you and I can't see what they've 
 got now ; but they started off on caviare and foie 
 gras." 
 
 " Oh, I must go and stop them ! " cried poor Margery 
 in horror. " They will be really ill again the doctor 
 said they were to have the very plainest food till they 
 were quite well ! " She half rose from her seat, and, 
 with the sight of her charges, a sudden realisation of 
 the position of things came over her, and she blushed 
 scarlet. " Besides," she added hastily, " I I didn't 
 think of it before, but I don't suppose Mrs. Croome 
 would expect me to be here at all ! " 
 
 " Why not ? " asked her companion, fixing his blue 
 eyes on her attentively. 
 
 " Well, I was only fetched down to play the accom- 
 paniments, you see I never expected to be here at 
 all," Margery explained simply. " I'm only the 
 children's governess ; of course, I don't come down for 
 parties. Why, this is the first time I've worn an 
 evening dress since I came ! " 
 
 " What do you do in the evenings, then ? " 
 68
 
 One of our Large Parties 
 
 " I sit in the schoolroom, of course, after I have put 
 the children to bed." 
 
 " Do you spend all your time with those two awful 
 imps, then ? " 
 
 " Well, it's what I am here for," said Margery, rather 
 surprised at the question. " We come down for lunch 
 unless there are visitors. Of course, then we have 
 our dinner in the schoolroom." 
 
 He said nothing for a minute, and then remarked, 
 very unexpectedly and abruptly : " I'm glad of 
 that ! " 
 
 " Why ? " said Margery, looking at him with eyes 
 that were astonished and hurt. It seemed unkind to 
 grudge her a few breaks in the monotony of her usual 
 life. 
 
 He looked expressively round the room, which was 
 by this time filling fast. 
 
 " The people here aren't your sort or mine," he 
 said briefly. " I was let in for coming to-night, and 
 couldn't well get out of it ; but it's the first and last 
 time ! I should be sorry to think that you were 
 always being mixed up with a crew like this. Why 
 did your people let you come here at all ? " 
 
 " I haven't any people," said Margery. " My father 
 died when I was eight years old ; he was a curate, 
 and had no money at all. I've been at Binstead 
 Orphanage ever since. This is my first situation 
 and I was thought very lucky to get it. You see, the 
 market for teachers is so very much over-stocked." 
 
 " I see," said her companion, after a brief pause ; 
 and the eyes that could be so merry looked at her 
 
 69
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 very gently, as she brought out her little catch-phrase 
 with perfect seriousness. But Margery did not notice 
 them. She was looking round the room, trying, in a 
 puzzled fashion, to understand what he had said about 
 this gay company, and finding it very difficult with 
 no standard of comparison. They all struck her as 
 looking extraordinarily rich. The dresses of the 
 ladies were wonderful, and the room seemed to twinkle 
 with diamonds. The men wore blazing studs. As a 
 rule, they were inclined to be fat and to talk in loud, 
 self-confident voices. A great many of them had very 
 conspicuous noses. 
 
 " Well do you see what I mean ? " said Margery's 
 companion, watching her curiously. 
 
 Margery looked back at him. 
 
 " I can see that you are somehow not the same," 
 she said, with the most perfect simplicity. " But I 
 don't know what the difference is I never saw any 
 people at all, you see, outside the Orphanage, before 
 I came here. Of course, I know that / am quite 
 different," and she looked down at her black gown 
 and coloured a little. It had only just occurred to her 
 what a poor figure she must cut among all these fine 
 feathers. The dress had seemed quite unimpeachable, 
 in its modest way, when it was made ; but now she 
 saw plainly enough that it hung quite differently from 
 any other garment there. Also, she knew quite well 
 for schoolgirls are prone to discuss with extreme frank- 
 ness each other's good and bad points that she did not 
 look her best in evening dress. Her arms and neck 
 were painfully thin, and she had no means of disguising 
 
 70
 
 One of our Large Parties 
 
 the fact as a very scraggy lady close by had done 
 with large solid lumps of jewellery manufactured out 
 of rubies and little gold chains. Margery had no 
 ornaments at all, except the little brooch that had 
 come to her on Christmas Day. 
 
 " I should think you were different ! " said the young 
 man, laughing again in his boyish way. 
 
 "I I'm sorry," said Margery very meekly; and 
 again she thought him, for all his previous kindness, 
 just a little cruel. 
 
 " Sorry ! " he repeated after her, with such an 
 expressive glance of amusement at the lady with the 
 rubies that Margery suddenly realized, with an odd 
 little jump of her heart, that he had not meant any 
 unkindness at all. For the first time she felt a curious 
 shyness of him. It struck her unexpectedly that she 
 had only spoken to him once before in her life. And 
 as if the same thought had occurred simultaneously 
 to him, he leaned forward quickly and said : " Do 
 you know that we don't know each other's names ? " 
 
 " My name is Margery Lennard," said Margery. 
 
 " And mine is Denzil Holyer," he replied. 
 
 "Oh!" said Margery. "Oh!" and looked at him 
 with large eyes that were suddenly full of fright. The 
 enormity of her present conduct suddenly showed itself 
 to her in the most glaring colours. If Mrs. Croome were 
 to see her here or, worse still, Flora ! 
 
 She rose hurriedly, saying that she must go to the 
 children at once and take them to bed. 
 
 " But they are perfectly happy," he remonstrated. 
 " Besides, what is the matter ? "
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Margery flushed crimson. She could not explain, 
 perhaps even to herself, why the knowledge of his 
 identity seemed to have made her offence so evident 
 in her own eyes. She certainly could not say anything 
 about the confidence with which Flora had favoured 
 her. 
 
 " I am sure Mrs. Croome does not expect me to be 
 here," she faltered. " I ought never to have come 
 I ought to have gone upstairs again as soon as Madame 
 Biandina had gone ! " 
 
 "As a matter of fact," he replied, "Mrs. Croome 
 came in ten minutes ago, and is quite safe at a table 
 at the other end of the room. She can't possibly see 
 you here -even if she is such a brute as to object to 
 your having something to eat." 
 
 " But there's Miss Croome too," said Margery; and 
 her eyes added that this alternative was the more 
 formidable of the two. 
 
 " Does she also resent your being fed ? " he asked 
 drily. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I don't think she would mind about 
 that ! " was Margery's guileless answer. 
 
 Perhaps the inference was fairly obvious ; perhaps 
 the young man had already his own opinion of Flora 
 Croome. His blue eyes gave an odd, quick flash that 
 was not meant for Margery at all ; and then he said, 
 quite gently : " Perhaps you had better go and fetch 
 the children, after all. I don't want to get you into 
 trouble. Good-night ! " 
 
 " Good-night ! " said Margery, with an odd mixture 
 of disappointment and relief, as his tall form turned 
 
 72
 
 One of our Large Parties 
 
 away towards the curtained doorway. Perhaps 
 Cinderella felt the same when midnight ended her 
 hour of pleasure, and she had succeeded in avoiding 
 any encounter with her sisters. 
 
 " No, no no, Miss Lennard ! " shrieked the twins 
 in unison, when she came up to the little table where 
 they were still eating greedily. Margery shuddered, 
 as she surveyed the traces of the highly unsuitable 
 food which they had already consumed what would 
 the doctor have said to lobster salad ? and the heaped- 
 up plates before them. Two fat, oldish men were 
 sitting with them, aiding and abetting, and suggesting 
 fresh enormities. They looked up at Margery with 
 curious eyes, appraising her at a glance. 
 
 " Don't be hard-hearted ! " said the younger of the 
 two familiarly. " I'm sure these youngsters don't get 
 such a chance every day." 
 
 " You run away and enjoy yourself for a little 
 longer, and let them do the same in their own way," 
 said the other man. He was sitting facing down the 
 room, so that Margery and her companion must have 
 been in the direct line of his eye ; and his look was 
 intended to convey the fact. 
 
 Margery stiffened, looking taller than ever in her 
 severe, unbecoming black dress. Her young face 
 turned very white. 
 
 " It is the children's bedtime. They were not to 
 stay up later than half -past eleven," she said, and she 
 looked at the two men squarely with her great eyes. 
 " Come, Amabel and Cedric ! You both heard what 
 your mother said, and you must come at once." 
 
 73
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 She did not speak at all sharply; but there must 
 have been something unusual in her tone, for the 
 twins made no protest at all, slipping sulkily from 
 their seats and preparing to follow her. Their com- 
 panions said nothing, either ; but one of them looked 
 a trifle ashamed, and the other more than a trifle angry. 
 
 And, after all, virtue proved its own reward ; for 
 five minutes' more delay would have brought about 
 the very encounter that Margery had most dreaded. 
 Flora Croome must have come into the room just after 
 she herself had gone to fetch the children ; for, as they 
 made their way to the doorway, they passed close to 
 a little group that stood near it Flora, at her most 
 vivacious and coquettish ; Denzil Holyer, with his 
 back to them as they went by, so that Margery could 
 not see how he responded ; and a short, slight young 
 man, with extraordinarily quick and restless light 
 eyes. Margery had noticed him vaguely, passing her 
 and Denzil as they sat at supper, and bestowing on 
 them one glance that seemed to illuminate every detail 
 of their appearance like a flashlight. That same quick 
 glance was flitting now from Denzil to Flora and back 
 again, and round the room, noting every detail of face 
 and dress and figure, or, at least, appearing so to do. 
 Even the insignificant trio of children and governess 
 was not exempt in its modest progress towards the 
 door. 
 
 74
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TWO'S COMPANY 
 
 T said much for the constitutions of the twins that 
 
 their egregious supper had no apparent effect upon 
 them, beyond a certain increased fractiousness the next 
 morning. 
 
 " Party last night, I suppose ? " said the doctor, 
 preparing to cut his visit as short as possible, after 
 one glance at them. 
 
 " Yes," said Margery briefly, meeting his half -amused, 
 half-disgusted eyes with complete sympathy. 
 
 " Take them out as soon as possible, for goodness' 
 sake!" said the doctor; and retired hastily from the 
 presence of the snapping, snarling pair. 
 
 Margery was glad enough to obey. She had felt 
 the confinement to the house more than a little during 
 the past week, and there was some faint hope that a 
 little fresh air might lead to better tempers. 
 
 " Surely you're not going to take them out, Miss 
 Lennard, on such a bitter day ? " said Flora, coming 
 shivering and yawning into the schoolroom. 
 
 " The doctor said so," Margery replied with decision. 
 
 " Oh, well, then I suppose you must. But what a 
 nuisance, when I particularly wanted to talk to you I " 
 
 75
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " We must go at once, I think, while the sunshine 
 lasts," said Margery, not very reluctantly. She was 
 not in the least inclined for another confidential talk ; 
 she was, on the contrary, anxious to hurry the children 
 through their dressing as fast as possible, seeing that 
 Flora seemed disposed to linger in the schoolroom. 
 
 " Did you see a certain person last night ? " the 
 latter inquired with ostentatious carelessness. " I 
 don't know if you noticed he was talking to me just 
 when you were taking the children to bed ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Margery. 
 
 " What did you think of him ? " Flora inquired 
 further, playing with her rings. But Margery was 
 saved the trouble of replying by Amabel, who broke 
 in after her pert fashion : 
 
 " You needn't talk in that silly way, Flora, as if 
 you thought we shouldn't know who you mean ! 
 You're talking about him what pulled Cedric out of 
 the pond." 
 
 " Isn't it a romantic coincidence ? " said Flora, with 
 a little extra colour, and self-conscious eyes on Margery. 
 
 " I don't know what that is ? " suggested Amabel, 
 her head on one side like an inquisitive magpie. 
 
 " You weren't meant to ! " said Cedric, in blunt 
 parenthesis. 
 
 Margery half smiled. " I'm not sure that I quite 
 understand, either," she said a little stiffly. 
 
 " Why, that it should be Denzil Holyer who saved 
 Cedric's life in that horrid accident ! " said Flora, 
 who had always previously referred to the adventure 
 as " that naughty boy's silly little wetting." 
 
 76
 
 Two's Company 
 
 " Oh ! " said Margery, and waited a minute. " Yes, 
 I suppose it is a coincidence," she said very quietly, 
 as she buttoned Amabel's coat. " Come, children ! 
 You are both quite ready now." 
 
 It was a relief to leave the house behind her : partly 
 just for the change, after so many days' imprisonment, 
 partly because she did not at all want to discuss Denzil 
 Holyer with Flora. Remembering what he had said 
 as to the circumstances of his being at the Croomes' 
 party at all, such discussion was likely to lead to 
 difficulties. 
 
 It was a very bright cold winter morning. The 
 crisp air was altogether a delight to Margery, but it 
 made the fretful children more fretful still. Amabel 
 complained that the wind gave her a headache ; Cedric 
 whined about cold hands. Both together insisted on 
 walking slowly, with dragging feet, in spite of all 
 Margery's suggestions that a brisk run would make 
 them feel better at once. They wanted to go and 
 look at shops; and half-way there, it struck them 
 that they would have to face the wind all the way, 
 and that the Gardens would be, on the whole, less 
 disagreeable. So to the Gardens they repaired, and 
 Amabel immediately shed tears of crossness and dis- 
 appointment because her friend with the black eyes 
 was nowhere to be seen. It was a very weary morning. 
 The twins, quarrelling snappishly over every fresh 
 subject that poor Margery sought to introduce, were 
 on^y of accord when the question was one of occupa- 
 tion. They would not sit down, even for five minutes. 
 on a perfectly sheltered and sunshiny seat, because it 
 
 77
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 was so cold. They would not run about, because 
 Amabel had a headache and Cedric thought that he 
 was going to have a chilblain. They did not want to 
 listen to any stories, or talk about the party last night, 
 or take an interest in anyone or anything. They would 
 only drag round and round the paths, exasperatingly 
 just a step behind Margery, with their little cross, 
 white faces getting all the time whiter and crosser. 
 
 " Why, what a funeral procession ! " said a sudden 
 voice behind them such a different voice, full of 
 merriment and good-nature and all that was agreeable, 
 that Margery's heart rose with a bound, and the 
 children, wheeling round, actually smiled for the first 
 time that morning. 
 
 It was Denzil Holyer, looking as if he came from 
 quite a separate world from theirs : a world where 
 everyone was handsome and good-humoured, and 
 where quarrelling and fretfulness were unknown. The 
 effect of his coming was like white magic. In five 
 minutes the apathetic twins were actually running 
 races he had declared racing to be an infallible cure 
 for chilblains and headaches alike, and had quite 
 seriously offered penny prizes : such an extraordinary 
 offer for children who, like men-servants, were in the 
 habit of receiving only golden tips, that the very 
 piquancy and novelty startled them into something 
 approaching good temper. The effect on Margery was 
 to make her look all of a sudden some ten years nearer 
 eighteen than she had before his arrival. 
 
 " You've had rather a trying time, I should imagine," 
 78
 
 Two's Company 
 
 he suggested. " I thought you would after last night, 
 and I came round this morning to see." 
 
 " It was very good of you," said Margery, with 
 heartfelt gratitude. 
 
 " Don't you ever get out of the house without these 
 imps ? " asked Denzil. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Margery, surprised at the supposi- 
 tion. " At least," for she was one of the most strictly 
 truthful souls alive, " at least, only once a month, you 
 know, to an early service." 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Denzil, drawing a long breath 
 and looking at her with genuine compassion. " I 
 should think, from what I saw this morning before I 
 came up with you, that you must absolutely dread going 
 out ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Margery sincerely. " They are 
 very seldom like this. Besides, it is much worse when 
 we have to stay indoors." 
 
 Denzil looked at her, and looked away again, and 
 then sat for a moment quite silent, digging the point 
 of his stick into the gravel of the path. Then, with 
 some suddenness, he began to talk in a gay, inconse- 
 quent fashion that seemed to have no other end than 
 to make Margery laugh. It was a sort of talk that had 
 never come her way before, and it succeeded in its 
 apparent purpose to a marvel. Margery felt herself 
 a child again not the serious, sad little girl who had 
 gone at eight years old to the Orphanage, leaving father 
 and mother side by side in the village churchyard ; 
 but a child such as she had read of in books and seen 
 in the Gardens, a merry creature for whom life seemed 
 
 79
 
 The RealjMrs. Holyer 
 
 to be made up of amusement. Denzil was so hand- 
 some, so gay, so kind. Innocent as she was, Margery 
 was not blind to the interested looks of sympathy or 
 curiosity that were cast at them by the passers-by. 
 She knew that her companion was extremely good- 
 looking, and that he paid no attention to anyone but 
 herself and the children. Just once the cold thought 
 flashed across her of Mrs. Croome's excessive anger 
 if she could see for surely this was worse than any 
 chance conversation with a little Swiss governess! 
 But with the thought there arose suddenly in Margery 
 quite a new quality of self-assertion. The children 
 were certain to tell ; she was sure to get into deep 
 disgrace well, so let it be ! The gods themselves 
 cannot take back their gifts. Mrs. Croome might be 
 all-powerful ; but even she could not rob Margery of 
 the memory of this wonderful morning. 
 
 The colour came into the girl's cheeks and the 
 light into her eyes ; she had never looked so nearly 
 handsome. Denzil, looking curiously at her defiant 
 little smile, suddenly left off talking nonsense and began 
 to speak in quite a frank and simple way about him- 
 self. He had been sent away from home, it appeared, 
 in something very like disgrace, for the absurd reason 
 that he had come down from Cambridge without 
 distinguishing himself in any way, and without 
 any ambitions at all concerning his future. 
 
 " My father can't understand why he has been 
 afflicted with a son who isn't clever, and that's why 
 he can't bear me. They call us the ' Ugly Holyers,' 
 you know. And I assure you, Miss Lennard, that we 
 
 80
 
 Two's Company 
 
 have gone on from one generation to another getting 
 uglier and cleverer, until our family portrait gallery 
 is enough to make that fellow Ruskin turn in his 
 grave ! " 
 
 Margery laughed. But she could not keep the 
 astonishment out of her eyes as she looked at him, 
 and he responded to it quite frankly. 
 
 " Oh, I'm a freak ; and, as I said, my father can't 
 stand it. And unluckily my brother, who has a 
 double allowance of brains and is a thorough Holyer 
 in every way" Denzil grinned a little "is so 
 delicate, poor chap, that he can't make any use of 
 them. So they are trying to make up their minds 
 at home what to do with me, and I'm staying with 
 my cousin Horace. Have you met him ? " 
 
 " I don't ' meet ' anyone ; but I think I know him 
 by sight," said Margery, remembering the short young 
 man with the quick light eyes. And then she sat 
 and looked at her companion with serious wonder. 
 She knew so well how her own sex was hampered at 
 every turn in the struggle for life when it had to fend 
 for itself. Men had always seemed to her such enviable 
 beings, with everything made easy for them, and every 
 trade and profession lying ready to their hands. And 
 yet here was one of them throwing away with both 
 hands the goods the gods provided ; simply because, 
 with all his charm and beauty, it seemed that he was 
 lacking in some vital quality which goes to make the 
 man. Perhaps it was that she knew, without knowing 
 it, that she was strong just where he was weak ; 
 perhaps it was only that the very weakness appealed 
 
 81 6
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 to the motherliness lying at the core of every 
 woman's heart be that how it might, of a sudden 
 Margery found herself looking at him with new eyes : 
 found, indeed, with a curious shyness that puzzled 
 her extremely, that she could not meet his eyes any 
 more. 
 
 " I suppose it will end in Canada," he said too 
 lightly, too easily. " And I'm not sure that that 
 won't suit me better than anything this side of the 
 water. I shall be better away from my people ; it's 
 not pleasant to have it eternally rubbed into you that 
 you are a disappointment ! " 
 
 " No," said Margery very low. 
 
 " Here come the darling children back again ! " 
 he cried gaily, in quite another voice. " What on 
 earth can I find for them to do now ? My imagination 
 has given out." 
 
 Margery smiled, but she rose from the seat. 
 
 " I'm afraid there is no need to invent anything 
 more," she said. " It is time for us to go home." 
 
 " Oh, not yet ! " pleaded Denzil, with the most 
 flattering dismay. 
 
 " Yes, we must not be late for dinner," said Margery. 
 " Come, children ! " 
 
 " Oh, not yet ! " the twins echoed Denzil in equally 
 afflicted tones. " Just one more race, Miss Lennard ! " 
 
 But Margery was quite firm, and they had learnt by 
 experience that what she said had to be done. So 
 with pouts and snarls and thunderous looks they gave 
 in, and Denzil walked with them as far as the 
 gate. 
 
 82
 
 Two's Company 
 
 " Come again to-morrow ! Do, do come again to- 
 morrow ! " cried Amabel, clinging to his hand. 
 
 " If Miss Lennard will let me," said Denzil ; and 
 shot a challenging glance at Margery. 
 
 " The Gardens are quite free," said Margery, with a 
 bright colour and a laugh that were equally unnatural. 
 " I have no right to prevent you ! " 
 
 " Then I may come ? " Denzil persisted. 
 
 " Yes," said Margery ; and she looked straight at 
 him, and then dropped her eyes with remarkable 
 suddenness. 
 
 The hard pavement might have been the Elysian 
 Fields ; she listened smilingly to the twins' cross 
 chatter as if it had been the most enchanting music. 
 She was no longer afraid of Mrs. Croome. Whatever 
 scolding she might have earned, her morning had been 
 worth it ! 
 
 But, most incredibly, there was no scolding at all ; 
 there was even something faintly like approbation. 
 The twins ran in open-mouthed to pour out their 
 morning's adventures to their mother and Flora, who 
 both happened to be in the hall, and Mrs. Croome 
 listened with an extraordinary graciousness, while 
 Flora blushed and bridled. Margery, astonished, 
 looked on with large eyes of amazement ; and then, 
 suddenly understanding, could have laughed aloud. 
 That anyone should imagine Denzil Holyer thinking 
 twice of Flora Croome ! The idea caused her no pain ; 
 it was simply incredibly ridiculous she did not need 
 any recollection of what he had said to her at the 
 party to assure her of that. She did not undervalue 
 
 83 6*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Flora's attractions in the least. To many men, doubt- 
 less, she might be full of charm ; but not to Denzil 
 Holyer. True, Margery had only spoken to him three 
 times in her life ; but she seemed to know him so well, 
 that she could answer for him with absolute confidence. 
 It was not that she thought him perfect she was 
 quite well aware of at least one defect in him ; but she 
 felt that he was miles above Flora Croome. 
 
 " I am always glad when you take the children to 
 the Gardens," said Mrs. Croome, with astounding 
 graciousness, apparently forgetting that a week ago 
 she had almost forbidden them ever to go there again, 
 thanks to Cedric's accident. " Especially since they 
 have not been well, they are much better out of the 
 draughty streets. Please keep them to the Gardens 
 for the present, Miss Lennard." 
 
 " Very well," said Margery meekly, and cast down 
 her eyes lest Mrs. Croome should see the amusement 
 and pleasure in them. It was agreeable to be com- 
 manded to do the very thing she most desired. 
 
 But alas for premature rejoicing ! As they went 
 downstairs the next morning on their way out a 
 little earlier than usual, for the twins were all eager- 
 ness to meet Denzil again Flora came out of her room. 
 It was her first appearance that day ; but she was 
 dressed to go out, and dressed for conquest. Margery 
 glanced, with a suddenly sinking heart, at her huge 
 feathered hat, her wonderful red tailor-made, and her 
 agonizingly pointed patent leather shoes of a new- 
 ness and gloss that dazzled the eye. 
 
 " I think I'll come out with you this morning," 
 84
 
 Two's Company 
 
 said Flora, with elaborate carelessness and a heightened 
 colour. 
 
 Fortunately Margery was spared the difficulty of 
 finding a reply at once polite and truthful, for the 
 twins responded in hasty wrath. 
 
 " Why ? You never do ! " said Cedric. staring at 
 her with a frown. 
 
 " And we don't want you now ! " said Amabel point- 
 blank. 
 
 " Children ! children ! Don't be rude," reproved 
 Margery. 
 
 " It doesn't matter," smiled Flora, buttoning her 
 tight gloves with some difficulty. " Now, run on 
 ahead, you two ! " 
 
 The twins crossly complied. But, to Margery's 
 relief, they kept turning back every few yards to 
 make a remark or ask a question, invariably about 
 Denzil Holyer and the likelihood of seeing him. So 
 Flora could only discuss the subject in disguised 
 phrases. 
 
 "Did he say much about me?" she inquired 
 consciously. 
 
 " No," said Margery. 
 
 But Flora's complacency was not to be thus easily 
 discouraged. " Isn't it funny that they never do / " 
 she said. " I always think it is quite one of the signs 
 don't you, Miss Lennard ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid I have no experience," said Margery. 
 
 " Oh, of course not ! Besides, if he was playing 
 games with the children all the morning, of course he 
 would not have much time to talk to you I " 
 
 85
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Margery was glad that the twins, sometimes super- 
 fluously truthful, were at the moment out of ear- 
 shot ; for nothing would have better pleased Amabel's 
 impish precocity than to disabuse her elder sister of 
 this idea. It struck Margery as slightly amusing that 
 Flora was assuming the impossibility of Denzil's taking 
 the smallest interest in her, the governess, while she 
 knew for a certainty that he had no thought at all 
 of Flora. It would have seemed a thing incredible 
 to that young woman to be jealous of her companion, 
 who was not even pretty " very plain," Flora 
 would have described her and was most unnoticeably 
 dressed in very inexpensive clothes. Whereas Flora 
 herself was a sufficiently conspicuous figure, and 
 pleasantly conscious of the fact. Bright red was 
 very becoming to her complexion ; the black feathery 
 hat served to set off cunningly the abundant coils and 
 curls of her flaxen hair. People looked at her a good 
 deal, whereas they never wasted a second glance on 
 Margery. As they turned into the Gardens, she was 
 in a little pleasant flutter of vanity and excitement. 
 
 " Oh, you do suppose he will be there, don't you ? " 
 she whispered to Margery, looking eagerly round. 
 And then, a moment later : " Oh, there he is ! " 
 
 Margery had seen him from the first, but she did not 
 say so. 
 
 " Isn't he divine ! " murmured Flora ecstatically. 
 
 " He is very good-looking," said Margery. 
 
 " Oh, he sees us ! He's coming ! " cried Flora, in 
 little agitated jerks. " Oh, Miss Lennard, you can't 
 think how I feel ! Is my hat straight ? " 
 
 86
 
 Two's Company 
 
 " Yes. And he will hear what you say if you are 
 not careful," said Margery, very quietly indeed. She 
 had seen, what Flora apparently had not, his quick 
 start and look of pleasure, followed immediately by a 
 very different expression. As they met, the blue eyes 
 flashed a reproachful: " Why?" And " It's not my 
 fault I couldn't help it ! " pleaded the grey eyes in 
 response. 
 
 Flora was prepared to enjoy herself immensely, 
 and her methods were quite simple and without finesse. 
 
 " I must thank you for all your kindness to my 
 little brother and sister," she said coquettishly ; and her 
 tone and emphasis gave her hearers abundantly to 
 understand that she put down the kindness to the 
 relationship. " But, really, I can't allow them to 
 impose upon your good-nature again to-day. I was 
 quite sorry for you, when I heard what yesterday 
 morning's programme had been ! " 
 
 " There was no need for you to be sorry," said 
 Denzil. His voice was stiff and cold ; his eyes met 
 Margery's. 
 
 " Well, I can't let the same thing happen again 
 to-day ! " cried Flora, quite unconscious how much 
 more she might have meant her words if she had 
 known a little more. " Now, children, run away with 
 Miss Lennard ! You mustn't stand about. It's far too 
 cold." She sat down on a convenient seat. 
 
 " Then it's too cold for you to sit, either ! " said 
 Amabel, pertly and pertinently. 
 
 " / haven't been ill," said Flora, colouring a little, 
 and not looking best pleased. " Run away ! " 
 
 87
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " I don't know why you've come out with us this 
 morning at all," said Cedric, in fierce displeasure. 
 " You never do, and I'm sure nobody wants you ! " 
 
 " Don't be rude, Cedric," reproved Margery quietly ; 
 and carried off the reluctant pair in that decided way 
 of hers which admitted of no discussion. 
 
 " Please don't stand over me to talk ! " said Flora, 
 looking up at Denzil, standing very tall and unsmiling 
 beside her. " It's such a strain to talk up to such a 
 height." 
 
 Denzil perforce sat down. 
 
 With scrupulous care, Margery kept the twins, 
 sorely against their will, at a respectful distance, and 
 put forth all her powers to amuse them : an uphill task, 
 for they never ceased their lamentations at being 
 separated from yesterday's companion. So scrupulous, 
 in fact, was Margery, that she would not even look 
 towards that distant seat. Only once her eyes be- 
 trayed her ; and then she saw, with a leap of her heart, 
 that Flora was chattering fluently, coquettishly, un- 
 tiringly, and that Denzil sat beside her, a little way 
 off, quite stiff and upright. She knew, without look- 
 ing, that he glanced across several times to her and the 
 children ; but she would not go back. Even at the 
 last moment, when it was time to go home, she turned 
 down a side-path that led out of the Gardens by 
 another way. But this proved too much ! Amabel, 
 without warning, flew from her side and stood flushed 
 and tearful before the pair on the seat. 
 
 " We've got to go home now and you've never 
 played with us at all I " she wailed.
 
 Two's Company 
 
 "I'm sorry," said Denzil ; and he rose quickly, with 
 something suspiciously like relief. 
 
 " You'll come to-morrow ? Do ! do ! " implored 
 Amabel, seizing his hand. Oh, blessed freedom of 
 speech, wherein eight is so far superior to eighteen ! 
 
 Denzil half glanced at Flora, flushed and smiling ; 
 did not look at Margery at all. " No," he said 
 deliberately. "I'm afraid I shall be prevented 
 from coming to-morrow. Some other day, perhaps, 
 Amabel ! " 
 
 " How disappointed he was, to have to say 
 ' No ! ' ' said Flora with renewed complacency, as 
 she and Margery followed the children. " Did you 
 see how he looked at me when he said it, Miss 
 Lennard ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Margery. 
 
 They were not honoured with Flora's company 
 the next day, but on the day following she came 
 out with them again, in spite of strenuous opposition 
 on the part of the twins. 
 
 "You aren't coming again?" said Cedric, staring 
 at her with a fierce frown. 
 
 " Because nobody wants you ! " said Amabel. 
 
 But Flora, unprovoked, only smiled, and answered 
 sweetly : " Really, Amabel ? " in a tone which implied 
 that she was of another opinion. So she accompanied 
 them to the Gardens, smiling and expectant ; returning 
 by herself some half-hour later, very cross indeed. 
 Friday is proverbially an unlucky day, and Denzil 
 Holyer had not appeared at all. 
 
 The same programme was repeated on Saturday ; 
 
 89
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 and really Margery deserved a large share of pity, for 
 three crosser companions could not well have been 
 found for her. " He must be ill ! " said Flora, as she 
 prepared to flounce away in high displeasure. " Don't 
 you think so, Miss Lennard ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? " said Margery. But she spoke 
 rather faintly, and with some confusion ; for she had 
 caught a glimpse in the extreme distance of some- 
 one who might quite credibly have been Denzil, wait- 
 ing and watching, and, immediately after their arrival, 
 beating a retreat in haste. 
 
 It was a relief that the next day was Sunday. There 
 would at least be one day's respite before another visit 
 to the Gardens even more, perhaps, for the weather 
 seemed to have broken. It was a wet and stormy 
 morning on which Margery went out to the eight 
 o'clock service, battling with the wind in great haste, 
 after the usual difficulties with the second house- 
 maid ; for that young woman considered herself put 
 upon in being expected to keep an eye on the twins 
 for an hour, merely because the governess wished to go 
 to church. 
 
 The Parish Church was very dark on this wet winter 
 morning, and the congregation scanty. Margery was 
 so very nearly late, that she was relieved to hear some- 
 one come into the church just after her someone who, 
 oddly enough, foUowed her into the same pew. It 
 was Denzil Holyer. 
 
 After the first momentary glance in which their eyes 
 met, he did not look at her at all, but followed the 
 service in a perfectly reverent and quiet fashion. 
 
 90
 
 Two's Company 
 
 They came out side by side, and then he turned to 
 her with a boyishly frank apology. 
 
 " I hope you didn't mind, Miss Lennard ? " 
 " Mind ? " stammered Margery. 
 " My coming to meet you," said Denzil. " I thought 
 from what you said once that this was the only 
 possible chance." 
 
 It was a pouring wet, raw, thoroughly disagreeable 
 January morning. The wind tore at their umbrellas 
 and drove the rain into their faces. But Margery 
 thought that she had never known such a delightful 
 day, and could have wished her homeward path a 
 dozen times its actual short length. They seemed 
 hardly to have left the church door behind them before 
 they were pausing, by mutual unspoken consent, to say 
 good-bye at the corner of Canning Place. 
 
 " Look here must I wait another month before I 
 can speak to you again ? " said Denzil. 
 Margery murmured something quite incoherent. 
 " Is it quite impossible for you ever to have even an 
 hour's respite from those children ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, I couldn't ask for that ! " said Margery, 
 frightened at the bare suggestion. " It would be 
 inconvenient for Mrs. Croome and and she would be 
 
 so surprised " 
 
 Denzil paused, with a knitted brow. 
 " Well, then is there any morning when you are 
 quite sure that Miss Croome will not come out with 
 you ? " he inquired frankly. 
 
 If Flora could have heard ! The colour flew to 
 Margery's face. 
 
 9 1
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " I I know she can't come on Tuesday week," she 
 stammered, with an awful feeling of guilt. " She is 
 going to be photographed 
 
 " Tuesday week what a long way off ! " said Denzil 
 discontentedly. " Well till Tuesday week, then, Miss 
 Lennard ! You'll be sure to go to the Gardens ? " 
 
 " Yes," faltered Margery ; and ran up the steps of 
 the Croomes' house with cheeks aflame. 
 
 92
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A BUSINESS PROPOSAL 
 
 " T\7THAT an extraordinary thing," said Flora 
 W crossly, " that he should have come to the 
 Gardens the only day that I have not been there 1 " 
 
 Margery looked down, hoping that her guilt did 
 not show in her face. 
 
 " The children say that he was talking to you for 
 quite a long time," Flora pursued, with astonishment 
 and annoyance. " Was he very much disappointed not 
 to see me ? What did he talk about ? " 
 
 Margery cast wildly about for an answer. Not that 
 Denzil Holyer had said anything to her that might 
 not have been repeated upon the house-tops ; but 
 Flora would certainly be surprised to hear that he 
 had talked of almost nothing except his own people 
 and his own prospects. 
 
 " He he said that he expected to be in London for 
 some time longer," stammered Margery, very lamely, 
 at last. 
 
 " What a funny thing to tell you!" said Flora. But 
 she was interested and slightly appeased. " After 
 all," she said, after a minute's reflection, " I don't 
 know that it was so very funny. Of course, he knew 
 
 93
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 that you would pass it on to me, and that I should 
 understand that he meant I should see him again before 
 so very long. I suppose he hardly would have sent 
 me a direct message through you ! " She smiled with 
 revived complacency, and Margery breathed again. 
 
 She did not know when she would have another 
 chance of seeing Denzil ; she had had no suggestion 
 to offer to his urgent requests. But she had been 
 brought up to be content with very little, and, in her 
 estimation, yesterday had counted for much. She 
 never thought to ask herself where these semi-clan- 
 destine meetings were to lead to. Enough that 
 for the present they were the pleasantest things she 
 had ever known, and she neither asked nor expected 
 anything more. 
 
 " Why are you laughing like that, Miss Lennard ? " 
 asked Cedric suddenly, at the close of a hopelessly wet 
 afternoon. 
 
 " I'm not I didn't know I was," said Margery, 
 starting a little, roused from her dream of yesterday 
 morning. 
 
 " You were. I don't believe you were thinking 
 about us at all ! " said Cedric sullenly. He and Amabel 
 were in one of their worst restless moods, having been 
 kept in all day by the rain, and at another time Margery 
 would have found them hard to bear with. But now 
 she seemed to be serenely above all such annoyances ; 
 even Flora's crossness at luncheon and Mrs. Croome's 
 vague displeasure had no power to touch her. AD 
 the same, she drew a deep breath of relief when, at 
 about half-past seven, she had the squabbling twins 
 
 94
 
 A Business Proposal 
 
 safely in bed, and could sit down in peace a peace 
 that was none too secure, for Amabel had gone to bed 
 in open defiance, announcing that she should not sleep 
 at all for hours ; and that threat had been made good 
 more than once before, when the excitable, pampered 
 child had succeeded by dint of sheer wilfulness in 
 keeping wide awake until the small hours, to Margery's 
 unutterable weariness. 
 
 At present, however, all seemed to be calm in the 
 night-nursery ; and Margery knew that she was not 
 likely to be disturbed in any other way, for Mr. and 
 Mrs. Croome and Flora were dining out. She sat quite 
 still, looking into the schoolroom fire, and going over 
 in her mind every word that had passed between her 
 and Denzil yesterday such trivial words from the 
 point of view of anyone else : full, for Margery, of all 
 that was delectable in the world. And yet, all the 
 time, she knew quite well that Denzil was not in the 
 least clever, and realized dimly that she herself was 
 the stronger of the two : and it made no difference 
 at all. 
 
 She was roused from her blissful reverie by the 
 unexpected sound of footsteps outside, and came back 
 with reluctance to the world of real life. She looked 
 up in surprise at the clock for surely the time could 
 not have gone so quickly that Flora was back already. 
 But no ; it was only a little after nine o'clock. Her 
 supper was already on the table. There was no other 
 reason for anyone to come near her. As she turned 
 with some slight curiosity to the door, it was opened 
 by Mr. Privett, rubicund and beaming. 
 
 95
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Lennard ? " he said, rubbing 
 his hands together and smiling benevolently at her. 
 " I've taken Mrs. Croome at her word, you see, and 
 come back without warning ! " 
 
 " Oh, and they are all dining out ! They will be 
 so sorry," exclaimed Margery. 
 
 " No matter ! no matter ! I shall see them soon 
 enough," said Uncle Theophilus, who did not, indeed, 
 seem at all distressed by the news. " May I sit 
 down ? " 
 
 He took the chair opposite Margery, and began 
 rubbing his plump hands over his fat knees, as if he 
 liked his situation very well. Margery remembered 
 that she had something to say to him, and said it 
 hurriedly, colouring a little. 
 
 " I have never seen you to thank you for the lovely 
 hatpins you gave me at Christmas, Mr. Privett. It 
 was so very kind of you ! " 
 
 " Tut, tut ! Nothing at all but I'm glad you 
 liked them," said Uncle Theophilus, looking gratified. 
 
 " Indeed I did ! They were beautiful," said Margery 
 sincerely. 
 
 " Glad to see that you've a better fire than you had 
 that night," said Uncle Theophilus ; and he rose and 
 inspected the tray on the table with no particular 
 favour. " Do you never eat your supper, Miss 
 Lennard ? " he inquired judicially. 
 
 " Oh, was it you yourself who came up that night ? " 
 cried Margery, blushing and very much confused. 
 She had never had any explanation of the advent of 
 that mysterious present ; but certainly she had never 
 
 96
 
 A Business Proposal 
 
 imagined that the donor had brought it up to the 
 schoolroom in person. 
 
 " And found you asleep and not looking particularly 
 happy," nodded Uncle Theophilus. " Are you happy 
 here, Miss Lennard ? " 
 
 . Margery considered the point in her grave fashion. 
 She had not been brought up to expect much happiness, 
 or to think much about it. One did one's duty with 
 all possible diligence. If things went well, one was 
 grateful and content ; if they went badly, one was 
 regretful but still, as far as might be, content, because 
 they might easily have been worse. The world, so far 
 as Margery was acquainted with it, was rather a grey 
 place or had been, until the coming of Denzil Holyer. 
 It was the thought of him that made her stammer a 
 little in her answer. 
 
 " Yes," she said. " I am quite happy, thank 
 you." 
 
 "I'm sorry to hear it," said Uncle Theophilus. 
 " Yes, sorry f" he repeated emphatically, meeting her 
 surprised eyes. " Because I had an idea that you 
 were not any too well treated here, and, as a matter of 
 fact " 
 
 He paused so long that Margery felt obliged to 
 speak. 
 
 " I was thought very fortunate to get this situa- 
 tion," she said. " I should probably find it very 
 difficult to secure another as good." 
 
 " I came here to-night I knew they were all going 
 to be out," said Uncle Theophilus, very fast and 
 incoherently, " to offer you something better or, at 
 
 97 7
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 least, I hope you'll think it better ! Will you marry 
 me, Miss Lennard ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Margery a little cry of astonishment 
 and dismay that seemed forced from her. She looked 
 at Mr. Privett opposite, very red and hot, wiping his 
 shining bald forehead, and could not believe her own 
 ears. She, on the contrary, was cold to her finger- 
 tips. The familiar schoolroom seemed all at once 
 odd and strange ; the things in it were whirling round. 
 The only stationary thing in the world was the little 
 round man in the chair opposite. It was astonishing 
 what trivial, unconnected things flashed into her mind 
 things which had no relation at all to the matter 
 in hand. The fire, which had grown hollow, fell in 
 with a crash. The night-nursery door gave a creak 
 Margery remembered that she had meant to oil 
 it. 
 
 " Well, my dear ? " said Mr. Privett. His tone was 
 confident. He leaned forward, and put his plump 
 hand on hers ; and that touch, with the familiar epithet, 
 broke the spell, and brought Margery with a rush back 
 to the reality of things. 
 
 " Oh, you can't mean it ! " she exclaimed. " I I 
 must have misunderstood what you said! " 
 
 " No, you didn't," said Mr. Privett, who was quite 
 calm again now, and smiling as ever. " I asked 
 you to marry me. There's nothing doubtful about 
 that ! " 
 
 " Oh, but but it's impossible ! " Margery gasped. 
 " I hardly know you ! And I'm not even pretty 
 you can't want to marry me ! "
 
 A Business Proposal 
 
 Mr. Privett still held her hand, beaming at her 
 reflectively. He seemed flattered by her incredulity. 
 
 " Don't worry yourself about that, Miss Lennard," 
 he said soothingly. " I assure you that I'm not in 
 the habit of doing things with my eyes shut. No, I 
 don't consider you pretty you don't mind my saying 
 so, do you, since you said it first ? " 
 
 Margery smiled very faintly. She did not mind 
 that particular point at all, but she did mind the whole 
 situation very much indeed. 
 
 " But I'm a business man, my dear," Mr. Privett 
 went on confidently, " and I bring my business prin- 
 ciples into private life. I've always made a practice 
 of if you'll excuse my putting it in that way of 
 buying low and waiting for the rise waiting for the 
 rise. Ha! ha!" 
 
 This time Margery did not smile at all. The business 
 simile, far from amusing her, brought the hot blood to 
 her face, and she tried to take her hand away; but 
 Mr. Privett held it firmly in his fat clasp. 
 
 " And when I say waiting for the rise, Miss Lennard, 
 I mean that, though you mayn't be much to look at 
 now, when you're eighteen ? nineteen ? I fancy 
 that in a few years' time you may be a very fine woman. 
 Pretty bits of pink and white, like Flora here, don't 
 wear. When you are both thirty, no one will look at 
 her, while you will probably be better worth looking 
 at than you ever were before a very creditable wife 
 to sit at the head of any man's table. At present, 
 
 you see, you're much too thin " Mr. Privett looked 
 
 at her appraisingly. 
 
 99 7*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Margery snatched her hand away and started up. 
 She was only sure of one thing that she never intended 
 to sit at the head of Mr. Privett's table. 
 
 " You are very kind," she said in a choking 
 voice. 
 
 " Not a bit not a bit," beamed Mr. Privett. " I 
 don't wonder that you are a little surprised you won't 
 be the only one, I imagine ! " He laughed fatly. " But 
 I like you, Miss Lennard I do, indeed and I assure 
 you that I am not acting in a hurry. I've thought it 
 over well. You took my fancy in a way of your own, 
 the very first time I saw you ; for, even though you 
 own yourself that you are not pretty, you've got a 
 look of of breeding that I don't often see among the 
 ladies I meet. Besides, to be just," said Mr. Privett 
 magnanimously, " I'm quite aware that there is some- 
 thing to be said on your side of the question, too. I 
 don't make any pretence of being anything very grand 
 in the way of birth myself, if you care for that sort of 
 thing ; and I don't try to hide that I am several 
 years older than you." He eyed Margery a trifle 
 suspiciously, as if to see whether she was ready to 
 accept " several " as a synonym for " forty-five." 
 
 " Oh, it's not that ! " Margery began to exclaim. 
 
 " Very good of you to say so, my dear," resumed Mr. 
 Privett promptly, with some slight relief. " I'm quite 
 well aware that I don't look my age ; and at times I 
 have the spirit of a boy still ! I rather think that we 
 shall get on together admirably." 
 
 This was terrible. Margery broke in hastily, 
 desperately : 
 
 100
 
 A Business Proposal 
 
 " Oh, don't, please don't ! For I'm afraid I can't 
 marry you at all ! " 
 
 " Not marry me ? " said Mr. Privett, very 
 blankly. 
 
 " I I don't love you," said Margery, in a miserable 
 little voice. 
 
 Mr. Privett winced a little, and looked relieved and 
 hurt and amused, all at once ; but the amusement 
 was very slight. Then he laughed rather sharply. 
 
 " I'm a plain business man, my dear," he said, " and 
 I'm making you a plain business proposal : which, 
 upon my word, I didn't expect you to refuse ! I may 
 not be so young as I was, or so very handsome, perhaps, 
 and anybody who likes to ask may find out that my 
 father started life as an errand-boy ; but I'm as hale 
 and hearty as many a young man, and I fancy I could 
 buy up half your aristocratic friends and never feel 
 the loss. I'll do my best to make you a good husband ; 
 and you shall have more money to spend in a month 
 than you've ever had in your life ! " 
 
 " Oh, please, please don't talk like that ! " Margery 
 cried miserably. " I don't know what you mean by 
 talking about aristocratic friends ; my father was only 
 a poor clergyman. And, indeed, I think you are so 
 kind, and I like you very much ; and I wish you 
 wouldn't talk about money that has nothing to do 
 with it. But I really can't marry you." 
 
 The night-nursery door was creaking again. Mr. 
 Privett turned suddenly and swore at it : which made 
 Margery jump, for she had never met with that parti- 
 cular verb in real life before. When he turned to her 
 
 101
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 again, his round, cherubic face was wearing quite a 
 new expression. 
 
 " Now, no shilly-shallying nonsense, Miss Lennard ! " 
 he said very sharply. " I'm not a boy to be played 
 with for your amusement. I want a final answer, 
 once for all. If you refuse me now, it's the last chance 
 you'll get I shan't ask you again. Do you understand 
 that ? " 
 
 " I quite understand ; and I certainly hope that you 
 will never ask me again/" said Margery, with a very 
 serious dignity. 
 
 " And you refuse ? " Mr. Privett rapped out, as if 
 he could not believe his own ears. He leaned forward, 
 staring at her, his hands on his knees. His prominent 
 eyes looked almost ready to start out of his head. 
 
 " I am very sorry if I hurt you, because you have 
 been so kind to me," said Margery, and her voice 
 shook a little. " But, indeed, Mr. Privett, I never 
 thought of such a thing; and I cannot possibly marry 
 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Privett got up suddenly, knocking over his 
 chair. He was not a dignified little man at the best 
 of times ; now, in his anger and haste, he was even 
 less so than usual. 
 
 " I didn't know that there was a girl in the world 
 foolish enough to refuse thirty thousand a year ! " he 
 said in a voice that was like the snarl of a cross dog. 
 " Well, I shan't wait for Mrs. Croome. There is no 
 occasion, in fact, for her to know that I have been 
 here at all oh, I suppose that is too much to ask, 
 though ! It isn't every woman in the world who can 
 
 102
 
 A Business Proposal 
 
 boast of having made a fool of Theophilus Privett ! 
 You ought to thank me for having provided you with 
 a fine joke, Miss Lennard ! " His little, furious, 
 suspicious eyes glared at her. 
 
 Margery was standing too ; and by this time she also 
 was angry. 
 
 " There is not the smallest chance of my telling Mrs. 
 Croome," she said coldly. " If you can think that of 
 me, I am surprised that you should have cared to ask 
 me to marry you ! " 
 
 She stood a great deal taller than he was, and very 
 straight. Her large eyes opened and flashed, as perhaps 
 they had never done in her life before. Into Mr. 
 Privett' s angry glance there crept suddenly admiration, 
 regret, even a touch of a curious cringing fear. It is 
 possible that, if Margery had offered the slightest 
 encouragement, he might have been induced to eat 
 his words of five minutes before, and propose to her 
 again. She, however, walked straight over to the 
 door, opened it, and held it for him to pass out. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mr. Privett ! " she said ; and looked at 
 him very directly under her level dark brows. 
 
 Mr. Privett said nothing at all : but he crept out 
 past her with an extraordinary quietness and meekness, 
 and he looked very small. 
 
 As for Margery, she went back to the fireplace, and, 
 leaning on the high mantelpiece, laughed hysterically. 
 It seemed such an absurd impossibility that she should 
 have refused to share thirty thousand a year ! She 
 could hardly believe that that extraordinary little 
 scene had taken place at all. 
 
 103
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 The night-nursery door creaked again unobserved. 
 A little impish face, with a very wide-open pair of 
 eyes, peered cautiously round the corner, taking in 
 everything Margery standing by the fireplace, the 
 untouched supper, the overturned chair. It was not 
 for nothing that Amabel had succeeded in fulfilling her 
 threat of keeping herself awake. But when Margery 
 went to bed some half-hour later, her small companion 
 was lying quite still, with eyes firmly shut, and the 
 bed-clothes drawn decorously up to her pointed chin. 
 
 104
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 AMABEL AS A PERSON OF IMPORTANCE 
 
 " VtTTHAT do you want, Amabel ? No, you know 
 W quite well that I can't have you in my 
 room at this time in the morning ! " cried Mrs. Croome 
 sharply. " Go back to Miss Lennard. What is she 
 thinking about to let you run away from her like 
 this ? " 
 
 The Croome twins were not in the habit of obeying 
 unless it seemed good to them. Amabel sidled, unper- 
 turbed, into her mother's room, and looked up at her 
 with her sharp, precocious glance. 
 
 " I've something important to say to you," she 
 observed calmly. " Please send Juliette away ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried Mrs. Croome, turning back to 
 her dressing-table and speaking very crossly indeed. 
 " What a ridiculous child you are, Amabel ! Say 
 what you have to say, and then run away at once." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind ! " Amabel returned cheerfully. 
 " Only I thought Uncle Theophilus might." 
 
 " Uncle Theophilus ! " said Mrs. Croome. 
 
 " Since he was so very anxious that you shouldn't 
 know he was here last night," Amabel pursued, un- 
 ruffled. 
 
 105
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Mrs. Croome started. Her sharp eyes, meeting her 
 maid's sharper eyes in the glass, saw something there 
 a sly, half-suppressed amusement and curiosity that 
 changed her tone very rapidly. 
 
 " Go and fetch my letters, Juliette, and come back 
 in ten minutes," she commanded. 
 
 " Bien, madame ! " said the watchful Juliette ; 
 and slipped, cat-footed, out of the room. Uncle Theo- 
 philus might have bribed the men-servants to say 
 nothing to their master and mistress of his evening 
 visit, but he had no power over the tongues and 
 imaginations of the servants' hall. 
 
 " Now, Amabel what do you mean ? " said Mrs. 
 Croome. 
 
 " Only about Uncle Theophilus being here and not 
 wanting you to know," said Amabel, in a little irritating 
 sing-song. " I thought you ought to know, you see." 
 
 " Here last night ! and not wanting me to know ! " 
 cried Mrs. Croome. " Nonsense, child ! You must 
 have dreamt it ! Of course he would have waited till 
 we came in and, if he was here, how should you know 
 about it ? " 
 
 " Because he was in the schoolroom all the time," 
 Amabel explained affably. 
 
 "In the schoolroom!" Mrs. Croome exclaimed, in 
 astonishment and indignation. " But you were in bed 
 before we went out ! " 
 
 " He didn't want us," said Amabel. " He wanted 
 Miss Lennard. He asked her to marry him." 
 
 " Asked Miss Lennard " The words died away 
 
 on Mrs. Croome's paralyzed tongue. 
 
 1 06
 
 Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 Amabel nodded, and proceeded to poke about among 
 the little mysterious pots and bottles that crowded the 
 dressing-table a forbidden joy, of which she shrewdly 
 availed herself at this crisis, when Mrs. Croome's 
 thoughts were otherwise occupied. 
 
 " Amabel, you you must have been asleep and 
 dreaming ! " said Mrs. Croome feebly. 
 
 " No ! " said Amabel, placidly continuing her explor- 
 ations, and shaking the long curls backwards and for- 
 wards for emphasis. " I was standing at the night - 
 nursery door all the time. They thought I was asleep. 
 But I knew you ought to know ! Besides, it was very 
 interesting." 
 
 " Tell me exactly what happened," said Mrs. Croome, 
 rather faintly still. She could hardly bring herself 
 to believe the astounding tale ; but, at least, she had 
 better hear it. 
 
 " Will you take me to tea at Fuller's if I tell you ? " 
 inquired Amabel. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " 
 
 " And let me have as many sweets as I like to bring 
 home and choose the kinds myself ? " 
 
 " Yes ! Go on ! " cried Mrs. Croome. 
 
 Amabel sat down in the largest available chair, 
 spread out her skirts, raised her elfish eyes to her mother's 
 face, and proceeded to unfold her tale. When she 
 chose, and when there was no question of lessons, she 
 had a remarkably retentive memory. The conversa- 
 tion between Margery and Mr. Privett was repeated 
 almost word for word, including with immense gusto 
 the latter's explosive remark when the door creaked. 
 
 107
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " I was afraid they'd find me out then," said Amabel 
 frankly. " But I don't think they ever thought of 
 anything but just themselves ! " 
 
 Mrs. Croome held her breath with horror as she 
 listened; but the end of the story was so unexpected 
 that her astonishment broke out into words : 
 
 " Amabel ! Do you mean to say that she went on 
 refusing him ? " 
 
 " I've told you just what they said ! " answered 
 Amabel, affronted. 
 
 " But was that all ? You are sure ? " Mrs. Croome 
 could hardly believe her ears. 
 
 " I'm quite sure ! " said Amabel, with her pointed 
 chin in the air. 
 
 Mrs. Croome rose hastily, in a whirl of wrath and 
 excitement. Perhaps all was not lost even yet 
 if she acted promptly. 
 
 " Ring the bell for Juliette ! " she cried. 
 
 " I expect she is just outside the door," said Amabel, 
 with the calm that is born of experience. " She 
 generally is when you have anyone in here talking 
 besides, I heard her trying not to sneeze a minute ago." 
 
 She ran to the door and opened it, calling for Juliette 
 in her shrill voice. The answer came certainly from 
 a little distance, but with such evident suppressed 
 fury that Juliette might quite conceivably have been 
 near enough to hear at least the last remark. Her glare 
 at Amabel, as she came in, would have withered a more 
 susceptible person ; but Amabel merely jerked her 
 impertinent head at her, and grinned precociously. 
 
 " Tell Miss Lennard to come here at once 1 " said 
 108
 
 Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 Mrs. Croome : and Juliette departed in silence to give 
 the message as offensively as she could partly to 
 wreak the vengeance that she dared not wreak on 
 Amabel ; partly because it was abundantly evident 
 that a governess in disgrace was a perfectly safe 
 person to treat with contumely. 
 
 Margery was seated quietly at the schoolroom table 
 with Cedric, setting him a copy. She did not take any 
 notice of Juliette's tone, having found by experience 
 that that was the simplest and best method. Nor did 
 she feel any great degree of uneasiness for, since she 
 believed that she and Mr. Privett shared their secret 
 between them, it seemed impossible that any echo of 
 last night's scene should have reached Mrs. Croome. 
 Probably this summons had to do with nothing more 
 serious than the inexplicable disappearance of Amabel 
 from the schoolroom. 
 
 " Shut the door, Miss Lennard ! " said Mrs. Croome 
 explosively. " Now I should like to know what you 
 have to say for yourself ! " 
 
 " I I beg your pardon ? " said Margery, astounded. 
 
 Mrs. Croome was standing in the middle of the large 
 room, actually trembling with rage ; and Margery, 
 who had never before been privileged to see her patroness 
 with her toilet uncompleted, could not help observing 
 with interest the beautiful wavy hair that lay, debased 
 from its usual lofty position, on the dressing-table. But 
 if Mrs. Croome was lacking in some of her ordinary 
 claims to admiration, the extreme anger of her face 
 and voice made her more than ever a person to be 
 reckoned with. 
 
 109
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " Don't pretend innocence, you designing creature ' 
 she cried. " You know well enough what I mean 1 " 
 
 " Indeed, I do not, Mrs. Croome," said Margery, 
 turning rather white. 
 
 " Do you dare to tell me," cried Mrs. Croome, " that 
 you did not see my uncle, Mr. Privett, last night ? " 
 
 " I have no intention of denying it," said Margery. 
 
 " And you consider it suitable even respectable" 
 said Mrs. Croome, with withering emphasis, " to receive 
 gentlemen visitors alone, in the middle of the night, 
 upstairs in the schoolroom when you know that 
 everyone is out ? " 
 
 Margery's head went up. She looked straight at 
 Mrs. Croome. 
 
 " Mr. Privett came just after nine o'clock," she 
 said coldly. " No one could have been more sur- 
 prised to see him than I was." 
 
 " I daresay I daresay ! " sneered Mrs. Croome. 
 " You would like to tell me also, I suppose, that every- 
 thing that passed between you was a great surprise to 
 you that you had never tried to lead him on " 
 
 The colour flew to Margery's cheeks. 
 
 " It was probably not the first visit that he had paid 
 to the schoolroom late in the evening ! " said Mrs. 
 Croome. 
 
 Margery opened her lips in indignant denial, and 
 then closed them again, colouring more than before. 
 She had suddenly remembered that Mr. Privett had 
 been guilty of that offence once before, on Christmas 
 night, when he brought up his kind little present. 
 True, on that occasion she herself had been asleep and 
 
 no
 
 Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 quite unconscious of his visit, but Mrs. Croome was not 
 likely to believe that. 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to tell me that you had 
 no idea of what he came up to say to you 1 " said Mrs. 
 Croome, watching her like a cat with a mouse. 
 
 " I had not," said Margery sincerely. 
 
 Mrs. Croome laughed a very unpleasant laugh 
 indeed. 
 
 " And yet, in spite of all your innocence and all 
 your surprise, I gather that you were going to keep me 
 in ignorance of all this 1 " 
 
 " Certainly I did not mean to tell you," said Margery 
 indignantly. " It would have been most unfair to Mr. 
 Privett ; and I cannot imagine how you came to know 
 anything about it." 
 
 " Unfair to Mr. Privett oh, certainly 1 " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Croome. " Yes, I have no doubt that you are 
 very considerate for Mr. Privett 1 Not a thought 
 of me for whom it really is of some small consequence 
 to know what sort of person I have taken into my house ! 
 Yes, I daresay you do wonder how the truth came to 
 my ears. I should have known nothing about it if 
 it had not been for that innocent child there, who was 
 left in your charge under the impression the mistaken 
 impression, Miss Lennard that you were a per- 
 fectly suitable person to have the care of young 
 children I " 
 
 She pointed dramatically to Amabel, who emerged 
 at this point from an enjoyable retirement behind the 
 dressing-table, where she had taken full advantage 
 of her mother's preoccupation. Unfortunately, how- 
 
 in
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 ever, the effect of her entrance on the scene was rather 
 spoilt by the elaborately rouged cheeks and coal-black 
 eyebrows with which she had been endowing herself 
 unperceived. Mrs. Croome's wrath was by no means 
 lessened by this unexpected revelation of the secrets 
 of the prison-house. 
 
 " Amabel, how dare you ! " she exclaimed. " Go 
 at once to Juliette, you naughty, naughty child ! 
 and ask her to make you presentable again." 
 
 " It's not Juliette's place to wash me," said Amabel 
 pertly. " Miss Lennard must come 1 " 
 
 " I have not done with Miss Lennard," said Mrs. 
 Croome grimly. " Go at once, Amabel ! " 
 
 Amabel, recognizing for once that her mother's tone 
 meant instant obedience, and yet very loath to leave 
 so interesting a scene, trailed slowly out of the 
 room. 
 
 " And now, Miss Lennard what have you to say 
 for yourself ? " demanded Mrs. Croome, with exactly 
 a cat's pounce upon the mouse that has escaped her 
 paw for a moment. 
 
 " I have nothing to say," answered Margery, holding 
 up her head proudly. " Since you seem to know all 
 about it, Mrs. Croome, I am quite willing to own that 
 Mr. Privett asked me to marry him last night. But 
 I cannot see that I am to blame in any way." 
 
 " You cannot see that you are to blame ! " Mrs. Croome 
 repeated slowly and gaspingly, as if the audacity of 
 the defence had literally taken her breath away. " You 
 deliberately lead on and inveigle my uncle my uncle, 
 Mr. Privett into proposing to you, and then you say 
 
 112
 
 Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 that you are not to blame ! Your conduct has been 
 shameful, Miss Lennard shameful, designing, and most 
 underhand ! " 
 
 Then Margery lost her temper the most foolish 
 thing that she could have done ; but, after all, she 
 was only eighteen. 
 
 " I did not lead him on ! I was not underhand 1 " 
 she exclaimed. " I never dreamt of his thinking of 
 such a thing. Why should I ? And certainly I never 
 wanted him to propose to me. I would not marry him 
 if he asked me a hundred times ! " 
 
 The storm was upon her. Perhaps this last assertion, 
 in its evident sincerity, had relieved Mrs. Croome's 
 mind of some lingering, alarming doubt, which had 
 in some slight measure served to bridle her tongue. 
 At any rate, she made now no further effort to restrain 
 herself in any way, but let loose the full tempest of her 
 wrath. Margery stood astounded. She had never 
 heard such a flow of violent language ; she did not 
 even know, occasionally, exactly what Mrs. Croome 
 meant. But, feeling in herself the consciousness of 
 innocence, and being no coward, she merely waxed 
 indignant, after the first shock was over, and was 
 finally moved to a speech of supreme unwisdom. 
 
 " Your conduct has been abominable it could not 
 have been worse 1 " was Mrs. Croome's last outburst 
 before she was forced to pause for breath. 
 
 " Then you would have preferred me to accept Mr 
 Privett ? " said Margery. 
 
 An awful pause followed ; and Margery, realizing her 
 folly, could almost have brought herself to be sorry for 
 
 113 8
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 the impertinence, if her pride had not been too sorely 
 wounded by the lash of Mrs. Croome's tongue. At 
 least, her unguarded speech had put an end to the 
 storm of vituperation. When Mrs. Croome spoke again, 
 it was with a slow, heavy and cold anger, which Margery 
 had in some small degree experienced before : less 
 violent, but hardly less alarming. 
 
 " Of course, after this, Miss Lennard, you quite 
 realize that I can keep you no longer." 
 
 " Certainly ! " said Margery, with her head up, but 
 dismay in her heart. 
 
 Mrs. Croome considered her for a moment or two, 
 apparently weighing something in her mind. To tell 
 the truth, her first intention had been to dismiss Margery 
 on the spot. But, since the girl had so passionately 
 declared that nothing would ever induce her to accept 
 Mr. Privett, it seemed an unnecessary and certainly 
 inconvenient precaution. Mrs. Croome had all a rich 
 woman's dislike to paying for services that she had not 
 received ; she also had had time to realize how very 
 tiresome it would be for her to have the twins on 
 her hands until Margery could be replaced. 
 
 " I shall be obliged, Miss Lennard," she said, there- 
 fore, with the same deadly calm, " if you will take a 
 month's warning from to-day." 
 
 " Certainly ! " said Margery again. She was too 
 inexperienced in her profession to understand that the 
 phrase was an intentional slight. 
 
 Mrs. Croome glanced at a coloured calendar on the 
 wall. 
 
 " That will make it the thirteenth of February- 
 114
 
 Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 Friday," she said with precision. It would have been 
 highly inconvenient to her, in filling Margery's place, 
 if there had been any misunderstanding as to calendar 
 or lunar months. 
 
 Margery looked at the calendar also, and said briefly : 
 'Yes." 
 
 " And now," said Mrs. Croome, "it is quite time for 
 the children to go out ! " 
 
 Margery turned to go. 
 
 " One moment, Miss Lennard ! " said Mrs. Croome. 
 
 Margery turned where she stood, near the door, 
 and looked back at her. 
 
 " You will naturally understand, of course," said 
 Mrs. Croome, with a slight twist of her thin lips, too 
 unpleasant for a smile, " that it will hardly be advisable 
 for you to refer your next employer to me for a 
 character ! " 
 
 " Thank you ! " said Margery, with her head still 
 up ; and left the presence, very white, and with dis- 
 may beginning rapidly to take the place of anger 
 in her heart. It all meant so little to Mrs. Croome : 
 a passing unpleasantness, a brief time of discomfort 
 while she found a new governess and the twins settled 
 down again. But for Margery herself the whole 
 business meant something very serious indeed some- 
 thing that might prove an almost insuperable barrier 
 to her securing another engagement. 
 
 " Why do your hands shake so, Miss Lennard ? " 
 Cedric inquired as she fastened his coat. 
 
 Amabel, already dressed, pursed up her lips mys- 
 teriously. " Hush ! " she said. " It's because of 
 
 115 8*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 you know what I told you, Cedric. Don't ask 
 questions ! " 
 
 It seemed to Margery almost the last straw that 
 the children should be interested spectators of her 
 disgrace. She knew, as she passed through the hall 
 with them, that all the servants also were perfectly 
 well aware of what had happened ; she could discern 
 a difference even in the manner never too polite to 
 her of the man who held open the door for them to 
 go out. The prospect of a month of this, with no 
 settled arrangements at the end of it for her future, 
 seemed more than she could bear. The bright coldness 
 of the day, which at another time would have 
 exhilarated and cheered her, now made her shiver 
 forlornly. It was an aggravation of her misery that 
 the children, excited by such an eventful morning, 
 were gay and lively, chattering merrily, asking a 
 thousand questions. The short walk to the Gardens 
 was a weary trudge that might have been ten miles. 
 Once there, she sat down on the first convenient seat, 
 feeling as if she had lived through any number of 
 hours since the beginning of the day. 
 
 " Surely I can't be in luck again ? " said a voice 
 behind her a kind, merry voice, which changed 
 suddenly as Margery, starting, turned her white face 
 into view. " Miss Lennard ! " said Denzil Holyer. 
 " What is the matter ? " 
 
 The children, overjoyed at sight of their friend, 
 were racing up. Margery felt that Amabel, at least, 
 was open-mouthed to tell of last night's adventure, 
 and felt, also, that she could not bear it. " Oh, please, 
 
 116
 
 (Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 please make them go away ! " she said; and the forlorn 
 tears streamed suddenly down her cheeks. 
 
 Denzil rose gallantly to the occasion. He stood 
 between her and the children, screening her from their 
 inquisitive eyes, and impressively took something 
 a small thing from his pocket. 
 
 " What's that ? " cried Amabel, effectual^ diverted 
 for the moment. 
 
 "It's my pencil-case," said Denzil; and held it 
 reflectively, as if considering. 
 
 " Let me hold it ! Let me hold it ! " screamed the 
 twins in concert. It was a very remarkable possession, 
 at least from their point of view, having a cunning 
 screw to lengthen or shorten it, which fascinated Cedric, 
 and a piece of amber set in the end, which was very 
 precious in Amabel's eyes. They had been allowed 
 to look at it once or twice as a special favour. 
 
 " No," said Denzil ; and he still held it reflectively, 
 making the amber shine in the winter sunshine, and 
 giving the screw an enchanting little twist. " Nobody 
 is going to hold it this morning ; but one of you is going 
 to have it to keep." 
 
 " Oh!" the twins chorused breathlessly. "But 
 which of us ? " 
 
 Denzil paused again possibly for effect ; possibly 
 because he was inventing his answer. 
 
 " You see those two trees in the next path but 
 one?" he said. "Well, whiche/er of you can hop 
 from one of those to the other tehall have the pencil- 
 case as a prize." 
 
 " Oh, come quick ! " cried Amabel, dancing with 
 117
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 excitement. " And you will come and see which of 
 us does it best, Mr. Holyer ! " 
 
 " No," said Denzil, with whose plans this did not 
 match at all. " I put you on your honour, mind. 
 You are to take turns, and the one who isn't hopping 
 is to watch the one who is. If you put the second 
 foot down at all, that spoils your chance you must 
 wait for your next turn. If you quarrel, there will be 
 no pencil-case for either of you. Now, then, off you 
 go!" 
 
 The twins were gone before he had finished speaking. 
 Almost as quickly, Denzil turned to Margery and sat 
 down by her. She was hastily wiping away her tears, 
 and half laughing through them. 
 
 " How clever you are ! I'm so sorry I do beg your 
 pardon for being so silly," she said. 
 
 " Now, tell me what is the matter, please," said 
 Denzil ; and his pleasant voice sounded all at once that 
 of a man. 
 
 " Mrs. Croome has dismissed me," said Margery with 
 a catch in her breath. 
 
 " Why ? " said Denzil. 
 
 Margery hung her head, and turned as red as she had 
 been white before. After all, she would rather tell 
 him herself than let him have a garbled account 
 from the twins or anyone else ; and accordingly she 
 faltered out her brief, confused statement. If she 
 had looked at him, she would have noticed a curious 
 change in his face to match the change in his 
 voice. 
 
 There was a little pause when she had finished. 
 118
 
 Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 " Perhaps you are sorry for the answer you gave 
 last night ? " he suggested carefully. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Oh, no ! " Margery looked up quickly 
 with candid eyes. 
 
 " Or you don't want to leave Mrs. Croome ? " 
 
 " It's not that," said Margery. " But she says that 
 she will give me no reference at all. It will make it so 
 difficult I think perhaps impossible for me to find 
 another situation. And and there are difficulties 
 enough, without that ! " Her voice, unexpectedly 
 treacherous, faltered and broke. 
 
 " Don't don't cry any more I can't bear it ! " 
 said Denzil. " Miss Lennard Margery I love you 
 oh, you must know that I love you ! Will you marry 
 me to-morrow next week ? " 
 
 Margery could only look at him, breathless and 
 speechless. 
 
 " I won't have you at the mercy of any more wretched 
 old women ! " he cried. " I've stood it long enough, 
 and Mrs. Croome shall be the last of them ! Oh, 
 Margery, don't you care for me a little ? " 
 
 Margery found herself trembling violently. She 
 could only go on looking at him and listening, and 
 wonder when she would wake up from this extraordinary 
 dream. 
 
 " Don't you care even a little ? " said Denzil; and 
 the distress and trouble in his tone gave her voice 
 suddenly back to her. Of course she cared much 
 more than a little ; and with great simplicity she told 
 him so. And quite suddenly it was not a dream any 
 more, but a wonderful, incredible, glorious reality. 
 
 119
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 She looked round her at enchanted Gardens. There 
 had never before been such a bright, clear, heavenly 
 winter morning. The world was the same, and yet 
 new, strange, delightful. She was engaged to Denzil 
 Holyer ; and Denzil, with all possible seriousness and 
 earnestness, was urging her to marry him the very day 
 she left Mrs. Croome. 
 
 " Oh, I couldn't it is too soon ! " said Margery, 
 half scared. 
 
 " Why too soon ? " cried Denzil. " It's a month 
 off far too long, 7 think ! What is there to wait 
 for, except to get a ring and a licence ? Why, if there 
 is a whole month to wait, we can be married by banns, 
 if you like and I'm sure that always seems long 
 enough ! " 
 
 Margery sat silent, with a breathless feeling. She 
 looked away at the unconscious Croome twins, in their 
 conveniently distant path. Amabel was hopping 
 steadily and successfully. Cedric watched her triumphal 
 progress with anxious, grudging eyes. 
 
 " You can't find any objection, you see, when you 
 come to try," said Denzil. " The only possible thing 
 is your being under age. Is there anyone who can 
 object ? " 
 
 Margery shook her head. Her only relation was a 
 distant cousin, who had no sort of jurisdiction over 
 her; and she had to own as much. 
 
 " Well, then ! " cried Denzil with complete triumph ; 
 but almost as he spoke a change came over him. The 
 light died out of his face, the eager confidence of his 
 manner was gone. His very voice was different, as 
 
 120
 
 Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 he said bitterly and half to himself : " What a fool 
 I've been ! What a fool ! " 
 
 " What is it ? " said Margery, frightened. 
 
 " Only that I haven't a sou in the world except 
 what my father allows me ! " said Denzil. 
 
 Margery sat aghast. An allowance represented to 
 her some twenty or thirty poundSj and she had quite 
 a practical knowledge of the expenses of a very modest 
 way of life. 
 
 " If only I'd been born with brains ! " groaned 
 Denzil. " There's my cousin Horace, only two 
 years older than I am, and quite decently off 
 already." 
 
 " But you said that you were only waiting to settle 
 what you meant to do ! " said Margery. 
 
 " Of course. And I must settle now, as fast as 
 possible," said Denzil. " But in the meantime 
 
 " It means waiting a little," suggested Margery. 
 
 " I can't wait ! I won't wait ! " Denzil exclaimed. 
 " I'm not going to have you slaving out your life again 
 for anyone, Margery, now that you belong to me. I 
 don't approve of women working you shall never earn 
 another penny in your life ! " 
 
 " But if we must wait ? " said Margery, gently and 
 patiently. 
 
 " I suppose we could not possibly manage on my 
 allowance," said Denzil with an anxious frown. 
 
 " How much is it ? " Margery inquired seriously. 
 
 " My father allowed me four hundred at Cam- 
 bridge " 
 
 " Four hundred ! Pounds t " 
 
 121
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 In the midst of his perplexity and worry Denzil 
 had to laugh at her petrified face. 
 
 " You've had all that to spend every year just 
 for yourself ? " she exclaimed with awe. 
 
 " It didn't seem to go so very far," groaned Denzil. 
 " I had an awfully jolly time but, by Jove ! there's 
 uncommonly little to show for it ! I haven't any debts 
 worth mentioning, thank goodness. Could we manage 
 on it, Margery just for a time ? " 
 
 " It seems to me a very large income indeed," said 
 Margery, with intense seriousness. 
 
 " You blessed innocent ! " laughed Denzil ; and his 
 gay humour came back in a flash. " Why, then, we're 
 all right, Margery ! But what on earth my father would 
 say, I can't imagine ! " 
 
 " Don't you mean to tell him that we are going to 
 be married, then ? " asked Margery. 
 
 " My darling girl, you don't know my father though 
 I'm sure you and he will get on famously when you do 
 meet. If he heard that I was contemplating matrimony 
 on my allowance, without anything settled to do, I 
 assure you that he would cut off the allowance that 
 instant, and lucky for me if he didn't cut me off with 
 a shilling, too ! That has always been his system 
 with all of us all our lives if we didn't please him ; 
 he just cut off supplies altogether until we repented." 
 
 " Oh, but you must not ran the risk of making him 
 angry on account of me I " cried Margery, with anxious 
 eyes. 
 
 " My dearest goose, there is no risk at all," Denzil 
 assured her comfortably. " Do you suppose that we 
 
 122
 
 Amabel as a Person of Importance 
 
 can't be quietly married without telling all the world ? 
 It is not even as if we should have to keep it a secret 
 for so very long. In a month or two I shall cer- 
 tainly have settled down with something definite 
 to do, and then, of course, there need be no secret any 
 longer." 
 
 " But won't your father be very angry then ? " 
 Margery persisted anxiously. 
 
 " I don't mind if he is, when once I am independent," 
 said Denzil. " We have never got on well together 
 I don't expect ever to please him." 
 
 " Oh, but, if it is only a question of waiting a month 
 or two, do let us wait ! " pleaded Margery. 
 
 But Denzil was hurt a little, genuinely : a great 
 deal, in appearance, when he found how that little 
 troubled her. He protested that she did not love 
 him, if she could actually wish to wait when there was 
 no reason for waiting ; and so worked on her feelings 
 that at last, very reluctantly, she gave in. She did 
 not approve ; she was anxious, uneasy, anything but 
 satisfied. The whole scheme was foreign to her own 
 natural instincts ; but she was prepared to make very 
 great allowances for Denzil, simply because he was 
 Denzil. Besides, for all her prudent fears and scruples, 
 there was an undeniable attraction about the romance 
 of the thing, coming like a flash of lightning into the 
 midst of the decorously dull life that was all she had 
 ever known. 
 
 The twins came tearing up how unsuspicious of the 
 drama that had been enacted in their absence ! 
 
 " I've won ! I've won ! " screamed Amabel shrilly. 
 123
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " I nearly won," said Cedric, with tears in his voice. 
 " I did put my foot down once but it was a very 
 little once ! " 
 
 " Here you are, prize-winner ! " cried Denzil gaily. 
 His blue eyes shone, and his handsome face was flushed 
 with excitement, as he took out the pencil-case, and 
 presented it to Amabel with a tremendous bow of 
 mock ceremony. " And here you are, second prize- 
 winner ! " he added, turning to Cedric with his pen- 
 knife ; at sight of which the youth's crestfallen face 
 beamed out into rapturous joy and incredulity. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " the twins exclaimed in ecstatic 
 chorus. And Denzil laughed in answer, after such 
 a fashion that Amabel looked up at him sharply with 
 her shrewd eyes. 
 
 " You look as if you had won a prize too," she 
 observed. 
 
 " So I have ! " said Denzil. 
 
 124
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE LAST OF MARGERY LENNARD 
 
 " TT will not be at all convenient!" said Mrs. 
 
 1 Croome. 
 
 " I am sorry. But I am afraid I must still ask 
 you to spare me for a little time on Wednesday 
 evening," said Margery ; and though she spoke quite 
 politely, she spoke firmly too, and her eyes were brave, 
 and there was almost a smile on her face. Mrs. Croome 
 looked at her uneasily, and then looked again, baffled. 
 This was not the silent, subdued girl whom she knew 
 as the twins' governess ; nor the scared and sorrowful 
 person who ought to have been lamenting herself 
 grievously ever since her dismissal. From the change 
 in her since that day it might almost have seemed 
 unpardonable thought ! that she was glad to 
 go- 
 
 " Well, if you must I suppose it is to see about 
 another situation ? " said Mrs. Croome, with a sharp 
 glance and an unpleasant little laugh. 
 
 " I have found another situation, thank you," said 
 Margery serenely. " But I have to arrange one or 
 two things about it, and some shopping to do." 
 
 ' You have found a situation already ! " said Mrs. 
 125
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Croome, with a very hostile glance out of her hard 
 little eyes. 
 
 Margery, looking at her placidly, said : " Yes." 
 
 Mrs. Croome had nothing to say ; but she was 
 obviously very much annoyed. 
 
 " Oh, well, I suppose you will have to go ! after 
 the children are in bed, of course," she said ; and turned 
 to imply that the interview was at an end. 
 
 Margery stood her ground quite mildly, but 
 decidedly. 
 
 " I am sorry," she said, " but that will not give me 
 time enough. The shops will be closed." 
 
 " Well ! Perhaps you will be kind enough to tell 
 me what you expect ! " said Mrs. Croome sharply. 
 
 " I shall be very much obliged if I may go as soon 
 as the children go down to the drawing-room after tea," 
 said Margery. 
 
 " And who will put them to bed, pray ? " cried Mrs. 
 Croome. 
 
 " I believe Sophia used sometimes to do it before 
 I came," said Margery, who had only recently found 
 out that her predecessor had been, comparatively 
 speaking, a person of leisure. "If you will let her 
 take my place for that one evening, I shall be very 
 much obliged." 
 
 " Really, you seem to have made all your own 
 arrangements ! " snapped Mrs. Croome. But she did 
 not see her way, somehow, to treating this new Margery 
 in quite the fashion of a week ago. " Oh, well, I 
 suppose I must let you go but remember that it 
 is not to occur again before you leave ! " 
 
 126
 
 The Last of Margery Lennard 
 
 " What time do you wish me to come in ? " asked 
 Margery quietly. 
 
 " I don't care what time you come in," said Mrs. 
 Croome. " Really, I think your own right feeling 
 might settle that for you, Miss Lennard ! " 
 
 "Thank you," said Margery; and shut the door 
 very gently after her. 
 
 How slowly the time crept by on its way to that 
 Wednesday evening ! But Margery went through her 
 usual tale of duties quite regularly and conscientiously, 
 and no one could have told that she was counting days 
 and hours, and finally even minutes. She knew that 
 Amabel's astute eyes were upon her, and she was at 
 pains to guard her secret well. No tone could have 
 been more matter-of-fact than that in which she told 
 the much- annoyed twins that she was going out to do 
 some shopping, and would not be in at their bedtime. 
 No feet could have run more lightly down the hall 
 steps ten minutes later, and hastened to the corner at 
 which Denzil was waiting for her. 
 
 It was a wonderful evening : an evening to which 
 Margery often looked back in after days, with a wistful 
 surprise at the amazing youthfulness of the boy and 
 girl who went shopping together. For the shopping 
 was no mere excuse, but a very serious ceremony 
 no less than the purchase of Margery's wedding clothes. 
 Denzil insisted, and would take no denial, that she 
 should buy her hat at a certain shop in Bond Street, 
 where he remembered that his sister had been in the 
 habit of dealing before she went to India. But having 
 
 127
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 once passed the portals in the gayest of spirits, he was 
 so instantly subdued by the awful presences in black 
 satin who received them, and addressed Margery as 
 " Moddam," that he could not be grateful enough to 
 her for extracting him and herself, three minutes later, 
 on the plea that the hat she had admired in the window 
 was unbecoming when tried on. 
 
 " My dear, I could not possibly have afforded any- 
 thing there ! " said Margery in her grave way. 
 
 " What an awful place ! " said Denzil with a gasp 
 of relief. " But you must have a good hat, Margery 
 you'll only be married once, I hope ! Oh, yes, I know 
 that we are going to be frightfully economical ! I assure 
 you that I haven't spent an unnecessary sou since I 
 saw you last." He immediately illustrated this praise- 
 worthy attitude by suddenly buying her, at vast 
 expense, a bunch of lilies-of-the- valley, which, as Mar- 
 gery almost tearfully protested, she would not dare 
 to take back to Canning Place. 
 
 They bought the hat subsequently at a much more 
 modest establishment, and then had a long argument 
 as to the colour of Margery's wedding-dress. She had 
 had visions of a sober dark coat and skirt, while Denzil 
 pleaded strenuously for white, because all brides should 
 wear white, and his sister had looked so fine in hers. 
 
 " But, Denzil ! White in February ! " Margery pro- 
 tested strenuously. " It would be absolutely spoilt 
 if the day were wet ! " 
 
 " It's not going to be wet," said Denzil. " A bride 
 must have sunshine, for luck." But having argued his 
 point of view with exceeding obstinacy for five minutes, 
 
 128
 
 The Last of Margery Lennard 
 
 he gave way quite suddenly, and they compromised on 
 blue : which, as Denzil grudgingly admitted, was also 
 a lucky colour. 
 
 " How superstitious you are ! " laughed Margery. 
 
 "So is everyone, more or less," Denzil maintained. 
 " Do you realize what an awfully unlucky day we 
 have for our wedding Friday, the thirteenth ? I 
 suppose Mrs. Croome wouldn't let you off a day 
 earlier ? " 
 
 " I'm sure she would not," said Margery; whereupon 
 Denzil fell into the depths of gloom for some three 
 minutes, and then quite suddenly became his usual 
 gay self again without the slightest warning. 
 
 They dined together, in accordance with Denzil' s 
 economy, at a quiet little restaurant : very early, in 
 order to avoid .anyone who might possibly know him ; 
 and as they dined they discussed their plans. It was 
 the most fortunate thing in the world that Denzil had 
 once been told of an ideal West Country farmhouse, 
 extraordinarily cheap, and set in the midst of glorious 
 scenery. He had already written about rooms, and he 
 now produced the answering letter, to amuse Margery 
 with the odd spelling. 
 
 " But I don't understand," said Margery, reading. 
 " Didn't you write yourself ? Who is Mr. Vane ? " 
 
 " Oh, I forgot to explain ! " said Denzil easily. 
 " You see, the only drawback to going there is that it's 
 very near my own part of the world. I've never been 
 there myself, and there's no reason why they should 
 know me, but my name is familiar enough down there, 
 and there's just the chance that it might get round to 
 
 129 9
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 my father. So I thought it would be safest to go 
 incognito, like a royal holiday ! Vane really is one of 
 my names, you know. You don't mind, do you, 
 dearest ? " 
 
 Margery did mind ; for where is the bride who does 
 not look forward with shy pleasure to the thought of 
 hearing herself called by her new name ? 
 
 " But we shall be married in our own names ? " 
 she said rather anxiously. 
 
 " You darling goose, of course we shall ! Haven't 
 I been round to put up the banns this very day ? " 
 cried Denzil, with a shout of laughter. Whereat 
 Margery, blushing extremely, forgot to mind any more. 
 After all, it was a very small matter, and for a very 
 short time ; since she had given in to a secret wedding, 
 it would certainly be foolish to run any risk of being 
 found out. Certainly, too, the romance of the whole 
 thing would gain by their masquerading for a time 
 under another name. Besides, Denzil had taken such 
 pains over all his plans, and was so excited and eager 
 over them, that she could hardly have had the heart 
 to object, whatever her own private wishes had been 
 
 He plunged immediately into questions of high 
 finance. 
 
 "It's lucky that this is the beginning of the quarter 
 I'm generally a pauper by the end of February ! " 
 
 " Oh, Denzil ! But how will you manage when there 
 are two of us ? " said Margery, with alarm in her 
 prudent soul. 
 
 " Oh, that will be all right ! I'm being economical 
 now, you see," smiled DenziL " Besides, you had 
 
 130
 
 The Last of Margery Lennard 
 
 better hold the purse-strings, Margery. You'll make 
 the money go twice as far as I should. And that 
 reminds me that I've something for you." 
 
 He produced, in the calmest way, a little crackling 
 roll of paper, which had been crumpled carelessly into 
 his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 " It's just over a hundred pounds, I think," he said, 
 handing it over casually to her. " A little legacy that 
 was left me when I was a small chap ; it was invested 
 for me then, and I wasn't to have it till I came of age, 
 and then I forgot all about it till now, when I was 
 racking my brains for a little ready money." 
 
 " Denzil ! " cried Margery in horror. " Do you mean 
 to say that you have been going about all day with all 
 that money in your pocket ? " 
 
 " No reason for anyone to know about it," said 
 Denzil, with his gay laugh. " Anyhow, I make it over 
 to you now, Margery all my worldly goods, you 
 know ! " 
 
 " But I don't know what to do with it ! " said Mar- 
 gery, looking at the crisp notes with fear and alarm. 
 Finally she was induced to put them away in the 
 inside pocket of her coat ; but they kept coming into 
 her mind all the rest of the evening at intervals, and 
 her hand was continually slipping in to feel for their 
 safety. 
 
 " What time have you to be back ? " Denzil asked 
 suddenly, as they left the restaurant. 
 
 Margery laughed a little as she quoted Mrs. Croome's 
 remarks on the subject. 
 
 " Plenty of time for a theatre, then ! " said Denzil 
 131 9*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 gaily ; and had hailed a passing hansom and established 
 Margery therein, before she quite knew what was 
 happening. 
 
 They went in the Upper Circle a place which 
 seemed, in Denzil's eyes, about as effective for purposes 
 of concealment as the fairy-tale cloak of darkness ; and 
 from that altitude Margery laughed and cried over 
 " Quality Street," and enjoyed herself so much that 
 she even forgot the burden of wealth in her pocket. 
 Denzil enjoyed it too. " One really sees quite decently 
 from up here ! " he said, with frank surprise. But he 
 watched Margery more than the stage. 
 
 " You've never been in a theatre before, or down 
 in Devonshire, or seen anything at all ! " he said, with 
 a sudden tenderness and earnestness, between the 
 acts. " You poor little girl ! What a hard time you've 
 had ! And how I shall enjoy doing everything over 
 again with you, Margery ! " And he clasped a little 
 closer the hand that, after the time-honoured manner 
 of lovers, he was holding under cover of the programme. 
 
 The wonderful evening slipped by all too swiftly ; 
 and Margery, with a sigh of regret, found herself, with 
 her hand on Denzil's arm, emerging with the crowd 
 into a wet street, and, horrified, heard a clock near 
 striking half-past ten. 
 
 " Oh, Denzil ! I had no idea it was so late ! " she 
 exclaimed, in alarmed Cinderella accents. 
 
 As she spoke, a man in the crowd, some little distance 
 off, turned and looked at her. 
 
 " Plenty of time, darling ! " said Denzil, laughing at 
 her face of dismay. And he slipped her deftly into a 
 
 132
 
 The Last of Margery Lennard 
 
 waiting taxi, and a moment later they were gliding 
 very fast along the wet and slippery streets. 
 
 " Denzil, did you see your cousin ? " Margery 
 asked. 
 
 " What, Horace ? " said Denzil. " Oh, weren't you 
 mistaken, Margery ? " 
 
 But Margery shook her head. There was no mis- 
 taking those quick light eyes ; they had looked straight 
 into hers with an unsmiling amusement that vaguely 
 displeased her. 
 
 " Oh, well, I daresay he didn't see us," said Denzil 
 easily. " Besides, what if he did ! Theatre-going 
 isn't a sin. It's only our guilty consciences that 
 remind us of those banns that I put up this morning 
 and, as I've never in my life known Horace go to 
 church, he isn't likely to find us out that way ! Con- 
 found the quickness of these taxis ! Here we are at 
 the corner already ! " 
 
 He kissed Margery quite unblushingly under the eye 
 of a passing policeman, and helped her out with 
 immense care, as if she were something extremely 
 fragile, instead of a tall young woman, brought up to 
 be as independent as possible. Then he stood looking 
 after her until she was safely inside the Croomes' 
 hall-door, after a considerable wait outside first in 
 the rain, because the servants' hall did not approve 
 of evenings out for the governess. For prudence' sake, 
 it was hardly likely that they would have a chance of 
 meeting again before their wedding day. 
 
 The days of Margery's last month in Canning Place 
 went very slowly by. She was made to feel with great 
 
 133
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 distinctness that she was in disgrace ; and in one way, 
 at least, this was a relief, for she could not have borne 
 any more confidences about Denzil from Flora. The 
 children lamented her going in quite a flattering fashion ; 
 but, childlike, they were much excited by the prospect 
 of someone new, and Margery could not but feel that 
 her place would be very quickly filled and she herself 
 forgotten. It was wonderful to think that in the future 
 she would be with someone to whom she was really 
 necessary, and not a mere temporary convenience. 
 
 It was strange to be living in the midst of a house- 
 hold where not one person had an idea that she was 
 within three weeks of her wedding day ; but Margery 
 was used to loneliness and independence. Another 
 woman than Mrs. Croome might have considered 
 it her duty to make some small inquiry into the future 
 of the homeless girl who was leaving her in disgrace ; 
 but she, beyond showing a little vexed curiosity about 
 the " situation " which was accepting Margery without 
 a reference, took no interest at all in the matter. Her 
 only anxiety, indeed, seemed to be to make Margery 
 understand, in a dozen petty ways, that her offence 
 was neither forgiven nor forgotten ; and in so doing, 
 all unknown to herself, she removed one very real 
 difficulty from the girl's path. For Margery had 
 thought with dread of the twins' quick ears in church ? 
 and had been honestly thankful when one snowstorm 
 and one very bad cold had kept them in on two 
 successive Sundays. To be sure, they did not by any 
 means listen to the service with flawless attention ; 
 but there is always an interest in the hearing of banns, 
 
 134
 
 The Last of Margery Lennard 
 
 and the vicar's voice was clear. So, when the third 
 Sunday dawned bright and fine, and the children were 
 perfectly well, Margery's heart failed her, and she 
 tried in vain to think of any reasonable excuse for 
 taking them to another church. She might have done 
 so, indeed, at any other time without a qualm. But 
 now a guilty conscience pictured to her an outbreak 
 of stubbornness and curiosity, communicated to others 
 of the household, and leading to the discovery of her 
 secret. 
 
 It was here that Mrs. Croome's petty spite did her 
 victim good service. For when Margery and her 
 charges, equipped for church, reached the hall that 
 Sunday morning Margery in sore perplexity what 
 to do Mrs. Croome sailed down also in church-going 
 bravery, and said coolly : " By the way, Miss Lennard, 
 I should prefer to take the children with me to-day." 
 
 The twins clamoured in remonstrance. " We want 
 to go with Miss Lennard ! It's her last Sunday ! " 
 
 " I am quite aware of that," said Mrs. Croome ; and 
 her voice told Margery that this was intended as a 
 final punishment. 
 
 " Very well," she said meekly; and she kept her eyes 
 down, that Mrs. Croome might not see the relief in them 
 which answered excellently, since the good lady 
 conceived them to be full of tears, and accordingly sallied 
 forth well pleased, with a cross, protesting twin on 
 either side of her. 
 
 Margery slipped into the church with her face on 
 fire, and took her usual modest seat with a feeling that 
 every eye must be upon her. How long the first part 
 
 135
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 of the service seemed ! and yet how willingly, some 
 half-hour later, would she have prolonged the Second 
 Lesson to double its length ! It was over at last. The 
 vicar was back in the reading-desk and opening his 
 book and Margery's head went down and down. 
 
 " I publish the Banns of Marriage between Richard 
 Denzil Vane Holyer, bachelor, of the parish of St. 
 Nicomede, and Margarita Lennard, spinster, of this 
 parish " 
 
 Margery's heart beat so that she could scarcely 
 breathe ; she was not red now, but white, and cold 
 to the finger-tips. A mad fancy seized her that 
 someone possibly that alarming father of Denzil' s 
 would get up and forbid the banns. But no one, 
 curiously enough, seemed at all moved by the great 
 announcement ; and the vicar, peremptorily remarking 
 that this was the last time of asking, closed his book 
 and gave out a hymn. And Margery, dumb through 
 the singing, fell on her knees afterwards and prayed 
 very earnestly and quite oblivious of all petitions for 
 the King and Queen and all the Royal Family that 
 she might be a good wife to Denzil. 
 
 Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday passed, as if they 
 had been quite ordinary days, instead of the very last 
 of Margery's single life. On Thursday Mrs. Croome 
 said stiffly to her : "I suppose, Miss Lennard, that 
 one day more or less will make no difference to you. 
 I find that the new governess whom I have engaged 
 cannot come till Saturday. I shall be glad if you will 
 arrange to stay till then." 
 
 Margery looked at her, with a curious, still smile 
 136
 
 The Last of Margery Lennard 
 
 in the depths of her clear eyes, that Mrs. Croome found 
 most irritating and incomprehensible. 
 
 " I am sorry," she said, " but it is quite impossible ! " 
 
 " Surely you are not going direct to your new 
 situation ! " snapped Mrs. Croome, very much put 
 out. 
 
 " Yes," said Margery ; and the smile spread, very 
 faintly, to her lips. 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, you are remarkably lucky ! " said 
 Mrs. Croome venomously. " At any rate, I imagine 
 it will be all the same to you if you do not go till the 
 afternoon ; in fact, if you could stay till the children's 
 teatime, it would suit me best." 
 
 Margery almost laughed. If Mrs. Croome had known 
 the impossibility of what she asked ! 
 
 " I am afraid I must keep to the plans I have already 
 made," she said. " I have rather a long distance 
 to go." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Mrs. Croome again, and this time 
 with barely concealed rage. " Oh, well, if you do not 
 choose to be obliging, of course there is nothing more 
 to be said ! " 
 
 It was additionally annoying for her that Margery 
 was now so nearly out of her clutches that she had 
 practically no means of wreaking vengeance on her. 
 In fact, the only thing left in her power was to arrange 
 that there should be no ceremony of farewell at all. 
 And to this end, at great inconvenience to herself, she 
 took Flora and Amabel out shopping at an abnormally 
 early hour, first seeing off the reluctant Cedric for a 
 walk with the equally reluctant Sophia. 
 
 137
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 She could not, had she but known it, have served 
 Margery's turn better. There was no one to see her 
 come down in her new blue gown, wearing the hat that 
 she and Denzil had chosen together ; no one to comment 
 on her white face and bright eyes and shaking hands. 
 As for directing the cabman to drive to Paddington, 
 that could have conveyed nothing to anyone. 
 
 At Paddington Denzil met her : very handsome, very 
 serious, very silent. It was a matter of two minutes 
 to bestow Margery's modest luggage in the cloak-room, 
 with directions that it would be wanted again in an 
 hour. They hardly said a word to each other, but 
 they held hands tightly, like two frightened children, 
 as they drove from the station back to the church. 
 They were a minute or two late, and the vicar was 
 in a hurry, and too preoccupied to take any particular 
 notice of the tall young couple who had come quite 
 alone to be made man and wife. A very old verger 
 gave the bride away, and acted as witness; and Mar- 
 gery, with a dazed feeling, found herself, after an 
 extraordinarily brief interval, in the vestry, signing her 
 maiden name for the last time with a very trembling 
 hand. She turned to go. 
 
 " Your certificate Mrs. Holyer ! " said the hurried 
 vicar, with a hurried little smile, writing hastily. 
 And Margery, scarlet, took the little paper and carried 
 it out in her hand ; and once outside the church, found 
 herself saying absurdly to her husband, as the first 
 remark of her married life : " Will you take it, please, 
 Denzil ? I haven't any pocket ! " 
 
 " I-et me have it at once ! It will never do to lose 
 138
 
 The Last of Margery Lennard 
 
 your marriage lines, you know," cried Denzil, with a gay, 
 excited laugh ; and he put it away with exaggerated 
 care in his breast pocket. Quite suddenly he had 
 regained all his usual lightheartedness ; but with it 
 there was a new tenderness and consideration, which 
 Margery felt very gratefully. 
 
 Once in the train a reserved first-class carriage, 
 to Margery's extreme horror : " But we shall only be 
 married once ! " said Denzil he pointed out to her, 
 with vast amusement, the labels on his dressing-case 
 and her handbag, whereon he had written " Vane " in 
 the largest of letters. 
 
 " It isn't everyone who can boast of having had 
 three surnames in one day ! " he cried, laughing ; and 
 then, with one of his quick changes, took her hand and 
 kissed her very gently, and said : " My darling wife ! "
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 ARCADIA 
 
 TT^ERHAPS honeymoons, like nations, are most 
 A blessed when they have no history. Cer- 
 tainly Denzil's and Margery's could not have been 
 more eventless or happier. The wet month of February 
 vouchsafed for them to dry her tears, and gave them 
 a fortnight of mild and perfect weather, during which 
 they explored the country for miles round with vast 
 contentment. Margery had never in her life before 
 met with any lovely scenery. Her enjoyment was as 
 simple and rapturous as a child's ; and Denzil, delighted 
 with her delight, was quite as happy. The farm was 
 a queer old rambling house, too small, luckily for 
 them, to take in more than one set of lodgers at a 
 time ; and the landlady, Mrs. Strong, proved to be 
 an excellent and sympathetic person, absolutely square 
 of figure, and surely one of the least inventive cooks 
 in the world. Denzil, laughing, ate an unvarying 
 succession of mutton chops with perfect satisfaction 
 they proved immediately that to go farther was to 
 fare worse and made up for doubtful puddings by 
 unlimited bread and jam and clotted cream. He was 
 the most charming companion possible ; always light 
 
 140
 
 Arcadia 
 
 of heart and sunny of temper and easily pleased. Only 
 once, in fact, did Margery ever see him put out, and 
 then over the most foolish, trivial thing only because 
 she spoke of having been in church when their banns 
 were read. 
 
 " But you ought not to have gone it is most horribly 
 unlucky ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Is it ? I didn't know," said Margery, not much 
 impressed. 
 
 " Horribly unlucky ! " he repeated. " If only you 
 had stayed away ! At any rate, I'm glad that I didn't 
 know of it before we were safely married ! " 
 
 The fine February gave place to a stormy, roaring 
 March, and their long walks were out of the question. 
 Heavy sleet beat against the windows of the little farm, 
 and folded the moors in swathes of mist and water ; 
 fierce winds raged and tore round corners, and shrieked 
 in at doors, and howled in chimneys. Denzil taught 
 Margery to play piquet, and was as happy and con- 
 tented as ever even when, after a very short time, she 
 learned to play better than he did. He looked absurdly 
 tall in the cramped little rooms, but never seemed to 
 feel their smallness. He read extracts from Mrs. 
 Strong's library which was limited, and consisted 
 chiefly of old bound magazines of a sentimental order 
 aloud to Margery, and shouted with laughter over 
 them. There was a crazy old piano in the little 
 sitting-room, with half a dozen notes dumb ; and on 
 this he strummed happily by the hour together, vamp- 
 ing very primitive accompaniments to " Ten Thousand 
 Miles Away " and similar songs, and singing them with 
 
 141
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 a will and a very pleasant untrained voice. Putting 
 what he always called " brains " out of the question, 
 it seemed as if the fairies at his cradle had endowed 
 him with every good gift in the world, except the gift 
 of ambition. 
 
 For, as the days slipped easily and pleasantly by, 
 with increasing swiftness, he said never a word of any 
 occupation. On fine days, they wandered as far 
 afield as possible, bringing back with them amazing 
 appetites for Mrs. Strong's monotonous fare. On wet 
 days they amused themselves as aforesaid, with 
 entire success. On doubtful days, when it was not 
 safe to venture too far away, they strolled about the 
 little village, and Denzil made friends with every child 
 and cat and dog that came in his way. They went to 
 the little old village church on Sundays, and Denzil 
 said that the parson was an uncommonly ugly chap, 
 but looked quite a decent sort. When the said parson 
 called on them, after they had been the best part of 
 a month in the place, Denzil greeted and entertained 
 him most affably, smoked and chatted with him, and 
 walked back with him as far as the Vicarage ; and 
 then, coming back, said to Margery : " Quite a nice 
 fellow and he's got an uncommonly nice cat ! But 
 I hope he won't come again. We don't want anyone 
 but ourselves ! " 
 
 It was the jolliest little village, Denzil declared, in 
 the world ; and with something very like seriousness 
 he debated the advisability of their buying a cottage 
 there, and settling down for the rest of their lives. 
 " I don't believe we could be happier anywhere else ! " 
 
 142
 
 Arcadia 
 
 he cried, and fell to planning, with immense detail, 
 how they would have a big fuchsia on each side of 
 the gate and jasmine climbing all over the front, exactly 
 like the charming cottage where the schoolmistress 
 lived. " Wouldn't you like that, Margery ? " he 
 added. 
 
 Margery hesitated. It had been on her conscience 
 for many days past that this pleasant, lazy existence 
 ought not to go on much longer. And yet it was 
 so pleasant, and Denzil was so entirely happy, that 
 she had not had the heart to start the subject. Now, 
 however, with this obvious opening, she shirked her 
 duty no longer. 
 
 " It is the dearest little place," she said. " But you 
 would not find anything to do here, Denzil, would 
 you ? " 
 
 " Do you see too much of me ? " Denzil inquired 
 pathetically. " Do you want me to be away from you 
 for hours every day ? Aren't you happy, Margery ? " 
 
 ' You know I am happy," said Margery, with tears 
 in her eyes ; and could bring herself to say no more. 
 For, indeed, she was entirely happy. She had been 
 brought up to be content with so little, and now she 
 had so much. It seemed the basest ingratitude to 
 let Denzil imagine that she was not absolutely satisfied 
 with him, and with all that he had done for her. 
 
 The days slipped on again, until March was nearly 
 over ; and it was none of Margery's doing when at 
 last their life in Arcady came to an end. 
 
 Denzil had his letters forwarded from his club to 
 the post-office in the nearest town, some three miles 
 
 143
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 away, and would go to fetch them whenever the fancy 
 took him. One very wet afternoon, when they had 
 been kept in by ceaseless rain for a couple of days 
 past, he suddenly announced his intention of going 
 over. 
 
 " It's more than a week since I went last," he 
 observed casually, " and one never knows that there 
 might not be something important ! But you'd better 
 not come, Margery. It's raining cats and dogs, and 
 not fit for you to be out." 
 
 They had hardly been separated for so long since 
 they were married, and Margery felt quite forlorn when 
 he was gone, and she found herself left to her own 
 devices. There was, indeed, very little for her to do 
 alone. There had been so much bad weather latterly 
 that she had finished all the sewing she had with her, 
 and exhausted Mrs. Strong's resources as far as books 
 went. She could write no letters, since none of her 
 friends knew of her marriage ; and she was waiting 
 to send them the news until she could do so in her 
 own new name. So the time dragged ; and she was 
 watching for Denzil at the window long before there 
 was any possibility of his return. 
 
 The road curved up and up from the gate of the farm 
 towards the Moor. She could see anyone who came 
 half a mile off ; but the rain was still coming down 
 in such blinding torrents that it was not easy to make 
 out with any distinctness what manner of person it 
 was who was coming. So, though she was watching 
 Denzil' s advance for ten minutes or more, she was 
 not certain it was he until he was quite close. Indeed, 
 
 144
 
 Arcadia 
 
 she had almost decided that it was someone else, 
 because the step and the carriage were hardly like 
 Denzil's. 
 
 " How tired he must be, to be walking like that 1 " 
 she thought anxiously. " I expect he is wet through ! " 
 And she went out hastily to the door to meet 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, Denzil, are you quite drenched ? " she cried, 
 with a hand on his arm. " Oh is anything the 
 matter ? " 
 
 Denzil took off his wet mackintosh and dripping 
 cap in silence, and hung them up ; then he followed her 
 into the little sitting-room, and sat down heavily in 
 the first chair he came to. 
 
 " There's a letter from my father," he said. " Here 
 you had better read it." 
 
 Margery took it, trembling. But the writing was 
 very crabbed, and perhaps her eyes were not too clear. 
 She could read the first two or three lines with a little 
 difficulty, but as it went on it grew increasingly 
 illegible, until it ended in a mere scrawl of a 
 signature. 
 
 " I can't make it out," she said in a shaking voice. 
 " Is there something about about Jamaica ? " 
 
 " He wants me to go there," said Denzil. 
 
 " To Jamaica 1 Oh, Denzil ! What for ? " 
 
 " There's some property that belonged to my mother 
 a plantation. He's been bothered about it for a 
 long while thinks it isn't being properly managed. 
 Now he wants me to go out and see about it." 
 
 " For good ? " 
 
 145 10
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " No 1 I wish it were for then I could take you, 
 Margery." 
 
 There was a silence. Then : " How long shall you 
 be away ? " asked Margery very quietly. 
 
 " I don't know I don't even know how long it 
 takes to get there ! " said Denzil in a voice that was 
 sharp with unhappiness. " See what a duffer of a 
 husband you've got, Margery ! You see, he makes it 
 a sort of test says that if I can manage this well, 
 he'll have some confidence in me for the future and 
 will see a little what I'm fit for. Perhaps I should be 
 gone three months." 
 
 Margery was sitting the other side of the little table, 
 and she knew that Denzil could not see how she was 
 twisting and wringing her hands. With that safety- 
 valve she could keep her voice steady and her face 
 quiet. 
 
 " Oh, that is not so very long, Denzil ! " she said. 
 
 " Not so very long ! " Denzil repeated blankly. 
 " Margery ! It seems to me half a lifetime to be away 
 from you 1 " 
 
 " But surely it is worth it if your father makes 
 such a point of it, and that means so much to you ? " 
 
 " Don't you care ? " said Denzil, staring at her with 
 pathetic eyes and deep reproach in his voice. 
 
 " Care ? Oh, Denzil ! " said poor Margery ; and 
 suddenly forgot to be brave and burst out sobbing. 
 
 Denz.l was by her side in a moment kneeling on 
 the floor, with his arms round her. 
 
 " Don't, darling, don't ! I'm sorry I didn't mean 
 it I " he cried incoherently. " Oh, don't cry like 
 
 146
 
 Arcadia 
 
 that, Margery ! I can't bear it ! We can't go on with 
 this. I'll write back at once and tell my father that 
 we are married, and if he is going to be angry, he must 
 be." 
 
 But Margery pulled herself quickly together at that. 
 She had disliked the idea of secrecy heartily enough 
 at first ; but, having once given in to it, she had no 
 intention of being faint-hearted with regard to any 
 of the disagreeables involved 
 
 " No, Denzil, you must not do that," she said firmly. 
 " It would be too foolish, when we have gone as far 
 as this without being found out. No you must 
 go, and do the very best you can, and wait to tell your 
 father until you come back ; and then I hope he will 
 be so pleased with what you have done that he will 
 forgive you for marrying me.' 
 
 " I can't and won't go away from you ! " said 
 Denzil, with the obstinacy that is born of irresolution. 
 
 " You must, dear," said Margery, very gently. 
 
 The discussion that followed was a very trying and 
 miserable affair. It was so difficult to convince Denzil, 
 or keep him to one point of view for five consecutive 
 minutes. When Margery, by dint of untiring persua- 
 siveness, had made him see and own that the only 
 possible wise course was for him to go, he broke her 
 heart by turning suddenly upon her and asking if she 
 really wanted to be rid of him. " But I know you 
 don't, dear ! " he would add, brought to quick penitence 
 by the sight of her distress ; and then would vow 
 that nothing in the world should take him from her 
 his future, and the question of finance, and every' 
 
 147 10*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 thing else might go ! But when Margery, at that, 
 tearfully and sorrowfully asked him what he meant 
 to do instead, he only looked at her with mournful 
 eyes and had nothing to suggest. And so at last, with 
 infinite patience and endless repetition, Margery 
 brought him to own that she was right or, rather, 
 not to attempt any further assertion that she was 
 wrong. Even then her hard-won victory was almost 
 lost because her heart failed her as she looked at 
 him, so big and handsome, so very dear to her, so 
 exceedingly unhappy. It took no small amount of 
 courage in Margery then to prevent herself from crying 
 out that she could not bear to let him go, and that 
 nothing mattered if they could only keep together. 
 
 " But if I do go what is to become of you ? " 
 he asked suddenly. 
 
 " Why, I can stay here, of course, while you are 
 away," said Margery, with a bravery that she was 
 very far from feeling. All through their discussion 
 she had said " When you go," where he had said " // 
 I go." 
 
 But Denzil was up in arms at once against this 
 proposition, declaring that it was impossible. The 
 farm was too lonely, the village too dull. She certainly 
 could not stay there for three months with no com- 
 panionship but that of the excellent Mrs. Strong. 
 
 Margery humoured him as she would have humoured 
 a child. Indeed, she herself was none too much in 
 love with the prospect. The place, at every turn, 
 would be full of memories of their happy time together^ 
 and that would add painfully to her loneliness. 
 
 148
 
 Arcadia 
 
 " I daresay I could get a temporary post of some 
 sort for just the time you are away," she said rather 
 half-heartedly, for it would be hard to go back to the 
 house of bondage after six blissful weeks of liberty. 
 
 But then Denzil was indeed indignant. The idea 
 of his wife his wife going out as a governess ! He 
 stormed at the suggestion so angrily that Margery 
 was obliged to laugh in the midst of her sadness. 
 
 ' You shall never do another stroke of work or earn 
 another penny as long as you live ! " he declared 
 fiercely. 
 
 " But what am I to do ? " asked Margery. 
 
 " I don't know ! " Denzil knitted his brows and 
 walked about the tiny room two strides one way and 
 a stride and a half the other. Then, turning suddenly 
 upon her, he began to wheedle. " You see, there is 
 no way out of it, darling. I must give up going, and 
 stay at home to take care of you ! " 
 
 " Oh, Denzil, -please don't begin all over again, 
 when we have just made up our minds ! " cried 
 Margery in alarm and dismay. She could not bear 
 a repetition of the last painful hour ; she could not even 
 be certain that her own resolution would hold out 
 if it were subjected to another trial. 
 
 " Well, I can't leave you here alone or let you go 
 out as a governess ! " Denzil declared obstinately. 
 
 Margery went and stood by the window, looking 
 out into the rain and thinking hard. She passed slowly 
 in review the friends she had made at the orphanage ; 
 but most of them were, as she had been, earning their 
 own living and it has to be a very intimate friend 
 
 149
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 on whom one can quarter oneself for three months 
 at a time. 
 
 " Before I went to Mrs. Croome," she said slowly 
 at last, " I had the chance of going to my cousin, Mrs. 
 Jannaway, to teach her little girl. Would you mind 
 that ? " 
 
 " What sort of a cousin is she ? " asked Denzil 
 grudgingly. 
 
 "It is really her husband who is my cousin the 
 only relation I have," Margery explained. " I was 
 half engaged to Mrs. Croome when she wrote to ask 
 me, or most likely I should have gone to her." 
 
 " I'm glad you didn't or how should we ever have 
 met ? " said Denzil, flying from the distasteful subject 
 at a tangent. But Margery, not to be diverted, went 
 on earnestly : 
 
 " I don't know her at all. But I remember her 
 husband a little at my father's funeral, and he was 
 very kind. They live quite in the country. I thought 
 perhaps you would not mind my teaching little Phyllis, 
 as she is a relation." 
 
 Denzil turned the matter over in his mind with 
 obvious reluctance. He did not want to agree to any- 
 thing; but there was no very outstanding objection 
 to this plan. 
 
 " I daresay, of course, that they found someone 
 else long ago to teach her, and would not want me 
 now," said Margery. 
 
 Denzil brightened immediately. " Well, let's leave 
 it at that ! " he cried. " You write to her and see 
 if she wants you still it's quite likely, as you say, 
 
 150
 
 Arcadia 
 
 that she won't. And in that case I can't possibly 
 go ; so that will settle the question ! Oh, you aren't 
 going to write at once, surely f " 
 
 " Yes," said Margery briefly, already beginning to 
 write ; but she had hardly put down the address and 
 date before she stopped as quickly. 
 
 " Denzil how am I to write to her ? In what name, 
 I mean ? " 
 
 Denzil whistled softly. " I never thought of that ! " 
 he said. 
 
 " I don't like to sign myself ' Vane,' " said Margery, 
 looking up at him with her candid eyes. " She would 
 think it so extraordinary afterwards when I had to 
 tell her that it was not my real married name. And 
 yet it would hardly be safe to tell her, I suppose even 
 as a secret " 
 
 " Oh, that would never do ! " said Denzil hastily. 
 " Once let anyone get wind of it, and I'm morally 
 convinced that it will get round to my father ! Why 
 should you tell her that you are married at all ? " 
 
 " Denzil ! " 
 
 " Well, why should you ? " Denzil pursued earnestly. 
 " It's for such a little time and it's impossible for 
 her to find out in any way ! I really do think it would 
 be the best plan, Margery ; it would save no end of 
 bother. Then, when I come back, I'll come and claim 
 you, and it will be a tremendous joke ! " 
 
 " I shouldn't like it," said Margery unhappily. 
 " It seems so deceitful " 
 
 " Well, we've been pretty deceitful all through, if 
 it comes to that," said Denzil easily.
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " Not like this 1 " said Margery quickly. " We've 
 kept the secret about our being married, but we haven't 
 told any lies about it ! As for calling ourselves 
 Vane here, it doesn't make the smallest difference 
 to Mrs. Strong what our name is." 
 
 " Well, what else can you suggest ? " said Denzil. 
 
 Margery had no other suggestion to make ; but she 
 had thought of another objection. " I should have 
 to take off my wedding-ring," she said. 
 
 " And that's beastly unlucky ! " groaned Denzil, 
 apparently much more moved by this argument than 
 by the last. " Oh, Margery, it all just comes back to 
 the same thing, whichever way we look at it I can't 
 leave you ! We'll let Jamaica go to pot, and I'll find 
 a nice, respectable crossing to sweep ! " 
 
 " No," said Margery, recalled to resolution by that. 
 " No ! If there's no help for it, I suppose we must 
 keep our secret so. At any rate, I can sign my letter 
 to her simply ' Margery ' ; and then, if she doesn't 
 want me, there is no harm done any way." 
 
 " Let's trust she won't ! " said Denzil. " By the 
 way, you will have to prepare Mrs. Strong's mind for 
 a letter addressed to Miss Lennard." 
 
 So Margery wrote briefly, and Denzil went out in the 
 rain again to the post ; and then they settled down to 
 wait for an answer. And sometimes Denzil would 
 be certain that it would be a negative answer and 
 that he would not go to Jamaica at all ; and then he 
 would be jubilant. And sometimes he would expect 
 an affirmative answer, and then he was in the depths 
 of despair. And sometimes, passing lightly over all
 
 Arcadia 
 
 intervening difficulties, he would draw a fantastic 
 picture of his return from Jamaica, successful and 
 triumphant, armed with an enthusiastic letter of 
 approval from his father to Margery ; and of his arrival 
 at the Jannaways' to claim his wife, with all possible 
 dramatic detail. He was so ridiculous over this 
 imaginary scene, and brought himself so quickly to 
 believe in its probability, that he made Margery laugh 
 again and again, though there was little merriment in 
 her anxious heart. 
 
 " And it's keeping your father waiting all this time 
 for an answer ! " she said. 
 
 " It's lucky I fetched the letter when I did ; it had 
 only been there two days," said Denzil easily. " And 
 he's given me a fortnight's law, as he calls it : says 
 he doesn't know where I am by Jove ! if he did ! 
 or what my engagements are. In any case, fortu- 
 nately he doesn't expect to see me. He's at Mentone 
 with my brother, and seems to be afraid to leave him. 
 It looks as if the poor beggar is really bad this time." 
 His careless face grew suddenly grave ; he sat looking 
 out of the window, and whistling a sad little tune 
 under his breath. 
 
 A day or two passed the day when it would first 
 have been possible to receive an answer from Mrs. 
 Jannaway ; the day when the answer surely ought to 
 have come ; the day when it actually did come. Denzil 
 and Margery, coming in at dusk from a long ramble 
 over the moor, found a dreadful white envelope awaiting 
 them on the little round table in their sitting-room. 
 Margery was almost equally white as she took it up. 
 
 153
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Denzil went straight to the window, and stood there 
 with his back to her. 
 
 " Well ? " he said breathlessly, a moment after she 
 had torn open the envelope with shaking hands. 
 
 " She she wants me to go," said Margery in a dull 
 voice; and never knew, till that instant, how earnestly 
 she had been hoping that the reply would be in the 
 negative. 
 
 " Read it to me," said Denzil, sitting down, and 
 shading his face with his hand from the dim light that 
 came in at the little window. 
 
 " It's a very kind letter," said Margery ; and read 
 it aloud in a pitiful voice that shook. 
 
 "A bit gushing," was Denzil's brief comment, 
 ending suddenly, as if he had more to say but did not 
 find it easy to say it. 
 
 " Some people are like that," said Margery; and she 
 read the letter through for the third time to herself, 
 lingering, with a little wonder, on " Dearest Margery " 
 at the beginning, and " Your loving cousin, Dora 
 Jannaway," at the end. 
 
 " It's a very kind letter ! " she said again, with a 
 forlorn bravery ; and then, looking across at Denzil, 
 saw that his head was down on the little round table 
 and his broad shoulders shaking. And at that dreadful 
 sight all her courage melted. 
 
 " Oh, Denzil ! oh, Denzil ! " she said, with a piteous 
 little cry. 
 
 Denzil sprang up, and caught her in a rough, tight 
 clasp that hurt, and yet was consoling. " It's no 
 use I can't go away and leave you, Margery ! " he 
 
 154
 
 Arcadia 
 
 said thickly ; and, boy-like, tried to hide even from her 
 that his face was wet. 
 
 " Oh, Denzil, it's dreadful ! But you must go," 
 sobbed Margery, clinging to him ; and they cried to- 
 gether like a couple of children. After all, they had 
 only forty years between them. 
 
 155
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE JANNAWAYS 
 
 G pardon, miss ! For Mr. Jannaway's ? " 
 " Yes," said Margery. 
 
 " This way, please, miss, then. The carriage is just 
 outside." 
 
 Margery followed wearily out of the small, ill-lit 
 country station, and climbed into a smart high dog- 
 cart, and sat waiting, quite passive, for the arrival 
 of her luggage. She had parted hours ago from Denzil 
 a hurried, miserable parting, with Liverpool Street 
 roaring round them and since then the world had been 
 more or less of a blank to her. She had seen nothing 
 of the flat East Country landscape upon which her 
 eyes were fixed ; she had eaten nothing, and spoken 
 no word to anyone. It seemed as if years had passed 
 since they had taken their farewell of Mrs. Strong, in 
 the very early morning, and started upon their long 
 journeys : longer for Denzil than for Margery, since he 
 had been summoned in haste to Mentone by news of 
 the very serious illness of his brother. So Margery 
 was robbed of the last few dear days upon which she 
 had hungrily counted, and, now that the dreadful 
 parting was fairly over, could almost find it in her 
 
 156
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 heart to be glad, for the strain of the past week had 
 been very hard to bear. If every man must eat his 
 peck of dirt before he dies, so surely must every woman 
 drink her cup of tears ; and Margery felt as if she had 
 drunk most of hers at a draught which was, of course, 
 foolish and narrow-minded, since there must be many 
 worse trials in life than separation from a husband 
 even so new and dear a husband for three inter- 
 minable months. 
 
 She had not a word to say to the man who drove her, 
 or any idea as to the length or shortness of the drive, 
 or any impression of the country through which she 
 passed ; which, to be sure, was not too easy to see 
 in the fading light of the April evening. Only at last 
 she realized dimly that her journey was over, the dog- 
 cart standing still, and someone running out from an 
 open front door to greet her. 
 
 " Oh, Margery, dear, you must be simply worn out ! " 
 the very softest voice in the world was exclaiming. 
 Two soft, plump hands clasped Margery's cold fingers. 
 A very small person stood enthusiastically on tiptoe 
 to kiss her, French fashion, on both cheeks. 
 
 " Come in quickly f" cooed the soft voice; and one 
 of the soft hands, passed through Margery's unresisting 
 arm, pulled her urgently in. 
 
 The dazzle of lamplight and firelight was almost 
 blinding after the pale dusk outside. Margery suffered 
 herself to be led in and installed in a chair that was 
 deep and cosy, beside a cheerful fire that was agreeable 
 enough, for it was a chilly evening. How gladly she 
 would have shut her eyes and never opened them again 
 
 157
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 that night ! But that would never do ; she must not 
 give rise to any suspicion that anything ailed her 
 except weariness. With a great effort she pulled her- 
 self upright, and opened her tired eyes. 
 
 " Now don't talk ! " the soft voice insisted. " You 
 look a perfect wreck so white, and such great saucers 
 round your eyes ! Oh, Margery, how tall you are ! 
 You make me feel a perfect dwarf." 
 
 Margery forced a very faint smile to her lips. 
 
 " See, you shall have your tea there we don't 
 have late dinner when we are by ourselves, and, of 
 course, we shall not treat you as a stranger ! I had it 
 all ready, thinking you would be cold and tired. I 
 wish I could have met you ; but I make a point of 
 never being out when Phyllis goes to bed. And 
 Herbert was so very sorry that he could not go to the 
 station, either. He had an important meeting, which 
 he could not miss." 
 
 " You are very kind, Cousin Dora," said Margery; 
 and, revived a little by the hot tea, looked across at 
 her unknown hostess with eyes more alive to take 
 in impressions the impressions of a very tiny, trim 
 figure, flitting round the table, and a very pretty face 
 bending over the teapot. She was vaguely surprised to 
 find Mrs. Jannaway so young not so much older 
 than herself, it would seem ; and yet that was im- 
 possible in the mother of a daughter old enough to 
 need a governess. 
 
 " Now, do you feel rested enough to come to the 
 table and have something to eat ? " said Mrs. Janna- 
 way ; and Margery rose, towering over her little hostess. 
 
 158
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 The room seemed large, after the little Devonshire 
 farm a very pretty, old-fashioned room, with brown 
 beams across the ceiling. The table was daintily laid, 
 with abundance of good country provender, for which 
 Mrs. Jannaway saw fit to apologize gaily. 
 
 " You have not been used to this sort of humble 
 food at the Croomes' ! " she said, helping Margery to 
 perfectly cooked eggs and bacon, and pouring thick 
 cream into her cup. 
 
 " Indeed, no ! nothing half so good ! " said Margery 
 sincerely ; and found, to her surprise, that she was 
 actually smiling in quite a natural way. True, her 
 heart was aching so for Denzil that she dared not think 
 of him ; but now that her intense weariness and 
 hunger were lessened, the world was by no means so 
 black a place as it had seemed some half-hour before. 
 It was possible to look about her with interest, to talk, 
 and to consider her hostess afresh. Seen at close 
 quarters, Mrs. Jannaway did not appear so fabulously 
 young, after all somewhere in the later thirties, 
 perhaps ; but she was undeniably a very pretty woman, 
 in a tiny, plump, doll-like way, with big blue eyes and 
 waving fair hair. 
 
 " There's Herbert ! " she cried suddenly, and jumped 
 up and ran out into the hall as if she had been married 
 a couple of weeks instead of a dozen years. When 
 she came back hanging on his arm, it gave Margery 
 such a sharp pang that she had to drop her eyes 
 for a moment to hide the distress in them. If 
 only there were any chance of her husband's coming in 
 presently ! 
 
 159
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " This is Herbert ! " said Mrs. Jannaway artlessly ; 
 and Margery, looking up at last, was impressed by the 
 fact that this was a man with a very sad face. Other- 
 wise her unknown cousin was not remarkable in any 
 way ; of average good looks, average height, average 
 colouring. He greeted her kindly, and then relapsed 
 into a silence that seemed natural to him, while his wife 
 chattered to him, and extracted brief answers to her 
 many questions. She had a hundred trivialities to 
 tell him of her own doings and Margery's arrival ; 
 fifty inquiries as to how the meeting had gone and who 
 was there : especially with a side-glance at Margery, 
 to see how she took it if the Duke was there. But 
 the matter fell rather flat, for Mr. Jannaway replied 
 merely that he was not ; and Margery was so absorbed 
 in wonder at the ceaseless flow of prattle, that she 
 took little heed of the awe-inspiring word. 
 
 " I suppose you met any number of great people 
 at the Croomes' ? " said Mrs. Jannaway, turning on 
 her suddenly. 
 
 But Margery's reply was again very disappointing, 
 and her hostess was scandalized to hear how little 
 she had been expected to leave the schoolroom. 
 
 " I call it a shame ! " she cried virtuously. " You 
 ought to have been treated exactly as one of the family 
 I should have insisted on it, if I had made the arrange- 
 ments for you ! I can't imagine how people can bring 
 themselves to behave so to anyone. But I suppose, 
 at least, you heard of plenty of interesting people 
 for the Croomes are enormously wealthy, I've always 
 understood ! " 
 
 160
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 But Margery, racking her brains, could only produce 
 one law-lord and one baronet's widow for the delecta- 
 tion of Mrs. Jannaway, who was obviously very much 
 disappointed. 
 
 " I thought you would be sure to have any amount 
 of interesting things to tell me ! " she said. " Here, 
 you see, quite in the country as we are, we have to 
 take just what society there is, bad and good together. 
 I suppose you have never been in the country before, 
 though, since you were a child ? " 
 
 " Only lately, for a short time," said Margery, with 
 a sudden lump in her throat. Her voice faltered so 
 suddenly, in fact, and she turned so white, that Mr. 
 Jannaway, glancing up at her, was moved to say briefly 
 to his wife : " She's absolutely worn out. Don't keep 
 her up any longer ! " 
 
 " Would you like to go to bed| Margery ? " asked 
 Mrs. Jannaway. 
 
 "Please!" faltered Margery; and had no voice left 
 for more. 
 
 Mrs. Jannaway, candle in hand, preceded her up- 
 stairs, and still she chattered in her soft, cooing 
 voice. 
 
 " You must come and see Phyllis ! " she said, break- 
 ing off suddenly ; and opening a door softly, she led the 
 way in. 
 
 Margery's only wish was to be alone and cry her heart 
 out, but she could not say so. She could only follow 
 dumbly to where Mrs. Jannaway was bending over a 
 little bed. 
 
 " Isn't she sweet I " she said. 
 
 161 II
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Margery, stooping to look, gave an exclamation under 
 her breath. For the candle-light, shaded by Mrs. 
 Jannaway's hand, fell softened on the most lovely 
 childish face that she had ever seen. The rounded 
 arms were tossed up carelessly on the pillow, half 
 hidden in a cloud of golden curls. The delicate small 
 features, the soft oval of the little face, were quite 
 perfect ; the dark eyebrows and eyelashes gave 
 character and charm. 
 
 " How beautiful ! " whispered Margery. " What 
 colour are her eyes ? " 
 
 " Brown," said Mrs. Jannaway ; and, curiously, 
 Margery felt that she had asked exactly the wrong 
 question, and was glad to follow her cousin out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Your room is a little high up, I'm afraid," said 
 Mrs. Jannaway, flitting on again in front ; " but it 
 has such a lovely view I was sure you would appre- 
 ciate that, after London ! I was in two minds whether 
 to give you this room or one near ours, but the view 
 decided me ! " 
 
 " It was kind of you to think of that," said Margery, 
 following wearily. 
 
 The room certainly was high up, at the very top of 
 the rambling, old-fashioned house. It was also very 
 like an attic, and very small. But it was fresh and 
 sweet, and gay with muslin draperies and ribbons, in 
 the old country manner ; and Margery was only too 
 thankful to be left alone in it after Mrs. Jannaway had 
 kissed her, and chattered, and fluttered about here and 
 there, and finally kissed her again before she departed. 
 
 163
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 Margery waited until the clack of the little high-heeled 
 shoes on the stairs had died away ; then she made 
 haste to lock her door that she might pull out her 
 wedding-ring, hung round her neck on a little gold 
 chain, and kiss it, with floods of tears and a thousand 
 tender thoughts of Denzil. It was only that very 
 morning or was it a year ago ? that he had taken 
 off the ring, and fastened it round her neck with a 
 ridiculous gold padlock, and hung the absurd little key 
 on his watch-chain ; and Margery had reproached him 
 for extravagance in buying the trinket, and there had 
 been tears, and kisses, and a glowing word-picture, 
 painted of course by Denzil, of the glorious day when 
 he should come to claim his wife, the months of proba- 
 tion over, and nothing but happiness before them. It 
 seemed to poor Margery half a lifetime away, as she 
 sobbed herself to sleep, holding her ring. 
 
 The April sun was streaming in through her pretty 
 thin curtains when she woke, and she rose and dressed 
 as fast as an aching head would let her, remembering 
 dimly Mrs. Jannaway's remarks over-night about early 
 hours in the country. She was just not late for break- 
 fast, and Mrs. Jannaway shook a plump forefinger at 
 her in playful reproach as she appeared. 
 
 " Don't forget what early folks we are here, Mar- 
 gery ! " she said. " However, for this once I'll forgive 
 you. I daresay you are still tired after your journey. 
 Jane, breakfast this morning is a minute and a half 
 late. Don't let it occur again ! " 
 
 She was not so young in the bright morning sun- 
 shine as she had seemed over-night in the shaded glow 
 
 163 II*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 of the lamp ; the faint lines on her forehead and round 
 her mouth had not shown at all then. But she was 
 trim and dainty and pretty, with plump hands always 
 busy, and bright eyes that nothing escaped. The break- 
 fast was a model of a country breakfast, with cream, 
 eggs, honey, flowers ; and Mrs. Jannaway chat- 
 tered softly of her fowls, her cows, her garden, and the 
 pleasure it would be to have Margery's help and com- 
 panionship. " For Phyllis' lessons are a very small 
 business at present," she said ; " and I'm afraid you 
 will find her sadly backward." 
 
 " Has Margery seen her ? " asked Mr. Jannaway 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Yes, I saw her asleep last night. I think 
 she is perfectly lovely ! " said Margery ; and thought 
 again what a very sad and anxious face her cousin had, 
 and what brown, pathetic eyes, like those of a collie 
 dog. It was very pleasant to her to be made one of 
 the family like this at once ; how different from Can- 
 ning Place ! Margery's sad heart warmed at her 
 cousins' kindness. Since she must be separated from 
 Denzil, it seemed as if she could have no happier tem- 
 porary home than this. " If only they knew how 
 fortunate they are ! " she thought to herself, looking 
 from one to the other with large grave eyes. She 
 tried to fancy Denzil and herself in some such peaceful 
 country home as this ; but the idea brought such a 
 lump into her throat and such a wave of lonely longing, 
 that she had to banish it as fast as she could. 
 
 " Does Phyllis not come down to breakfast ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 164
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 "I'm afraid Phyllis is spoilt ! " said Mrs. J anna- 
 way, with her pretty smile. " She is a wonderful 
 person for sleep." 
 
 As she spoke, the child came in, and stood for a 
 moment in the doorway a slender, graceful little 
 figure, in a loose white woollen frock ; then she drifted 
 in, in a curious languid fashion, and kissed first her 
 mother and then her father without a word. 
 
 "Go and say 'How do you do?' to your Cousin 
 Margery," said Mrs. Jannaway. 
 
 " How do you do, Cousin Margery ? " said Phyllis, 
 moving obediently to her side ; and Margery, turning 
 to kiss her, and meeting the exquisite velvety brown 
 eyes, received a shock which left her stunned and 
 silent. For there was no soul at all behind the 
 beautiful eyes. 
 
 " Come and eat your breakfast, Phyllis. You are 
 late, you know," said Mrs. Jannaway, breaking the 
 painful tension with her soft, cooing voice ; but Margery, 
 glancing at the father, saw a look on his face that made 
 her sick with pity. As if the thing had been put into 
 words, she saw how he had hoped against hope that 
 she might not notice the child's difference from other 
 children. 
 
 Phyllis had slipped silently into the seat by her 
 mother and was eating like a starved thing, paying 
 no attention to anything except the food on her plate. 
 It seemed incredible that such a slim, willowy creature 
 should have such an appetite. Slice after slice of 
 bread vanished almost as soon as it was cut ; the 
 last of the eggs was eaten ; the honey in the pot sank 
 
 165
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 low. Mrs. Jannaway, her deft ringers supplying the 
 child's wants almost before they were felt, talked on in 
 her pleasant, soft voice about a host of little nothings. 
 Mr. Jannaway said never a word. 
 
 " I am glad it is such a fine day, Margery, for you 
 have everything to see. Are you anything of a 
 gardener ? I am very proud of my garden. Then 
 Herbert will want you to go round the farmyard with 
 him, and Phyllis must show you her rabbits 
 
 " More honey, please," said Phyllis in her curious, 
 lifeless voice. 
 
 " The honey is all gone," said Mrs. Jannaway, in- 
 vestigating. " Another pot to-morrow, Phyllis ! " 
 
 " I want more now ! " said Phyllis, and began to cry 
 a pitiful, unearthly wail, like that of a tiny baby. 
 Margery saw Mr. Jannaway 's face quiver suddenly. 
 
 " Everyone else has finished, and you are keeping 
 your father and Cousin Margery," said Mrs. Jannaway. 
 " Herbert, won't you take Margery out now, while 
 you have a few minutes to spare ? Phyllis and I 
 will come directly." 
 
 "Come along, Margery!" said Mr. Jannaway; 
 and he rose hastily from the table as if thankful to get 
 away. 
 
 He took her into the farmyard, talking hurriedly 
 of everything in the world except Phyllis ; and Margery, 
 seconding his efforts, inspected pigs and sleek cows 
 and fascinating greenish goslings with immense enthu- 
 siasm. It was a very little while before Mrs. Jannaway 
 joined them, bringing a perfectly placid Phyllis, who 
 was made to exhibit her rabbits, and, under her 
 
 166
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 mother's skilful handling, did so in a way not so very 
 different from that of an ordinary child. Then she 
 was sent to pick a bunch of primroses for Margery, 
 being skilfully diverted from the hyacinths towards 
 which she drifted at first ; and Mrs. Jannaway, like 
 her husband, talked of everything else in the world. 
 Margery heard, in fact, apparently everything about 
 the whole working machinery of the house in that 
 brief walk : about the neighbourhood and the neigh- 
 bours : about the post-times and the arrival of the 
 newspaper. 
 
 " Are you a great politician, Margery ? " asked Mrs. 
 Jannaway, noting with her bright eyes that the girl 
 took more than a perfunctory interest in this last piece 
 of information. And Margery blushed extremely. 
 For she took no more interest in politics than the 
 average girl of eighteen, and the only thing that she 
 really wanted to know about was the sailing of Denzil's 
 boat the boat that would take him even farther from 
 her than he now was. Just at present, post-times were 
 a matter of indifference to her ; for his hurried rush 
 across France would leave him only an insignificant 
 number of hours in Mentone, and all she could hope 
 for was a letter from Southampton before he sailed. 
 
 Before the day was over, she felt as if she had known 
 her cousins all her life. Indeed, no one could spend 
 many hours in the same house with Mrs. Jannaway 
 without being drawn into the vortex of her immense 
 energy. In spite of her soft voice and caressing 
 manner, no slave-driver ever worked her dependents 
 harder, or was more pitiless as to the quality of the 
 
 167
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 work. Her household appointments were perfect, 
 her dairy a dream of cool spotlessness, her great store- 
 cupboard, with its wealth of home-made dainties, a 
 thing to rouse the wildest jealousy in the heart of a 
 town housekeeper. Mrs. Jannaway expected her 
 servants to be down by half-past five, and saw to it 
 that they obeyed. She was down herself by six, and 
 had done the week's work of an idle woman before 
 breakfast. She never seemed to feel the need of a 
 moment's rest in all her busy day ; even when she sat 
 down, her hands and tongue were ceaselessly occupied. 
 Her two servants fled before her like leaves before a 
 storm-wind, served her well with frightened eyes, and 
 referred to her with bated breath as " she." And yet 
 Margery had been days in the house before she ever 
 heard that soft voice raised ; and then it was, oddly 
 enough, against Phyllis, the privileged being who 
 alone was allowed to idle without rebuke. Such a 
 trifling offence, too : only a babyish pencil-scrawl 
 over some of the visiting-cards which lay neatly dis- 
 posed on a shining brass tray in the hall. But un- 
 luckily, though naturally, the defaced ones were those 
 which lay on the top, and especially one which bore 
 a title ; and a title was as the breath of life to Mrs. 
 Jannaway. Margery, happening to pass through the 
 hall, was astonished to hear the soft voice uplifted 
 and see the pretty doll- face ruffled. Phyllis was 
 shrinking and wailing. 
 
 " The naughty child ! Just look at Lady Denise 
 Ormathwaite's card ! " cried Mrs. Jannaway, holding 
 it up wrathfully for Margery to see. 
 
 168
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 " Sorry ! " sobbed Phyllis. 
 
 " It's no use being sorry afterwards ! " said Mrs. 
 Jannaway, with extreme sharpness and very poor logic. 
 
 Margery was a little bewildered. The crime seemed 
 so small. 
 
 " Is Lady Denise a great friend of yours ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " That's just it ! " exclaimed Mrs. Jannaway. " If 
 it were anyone in these parts, I should mind far less ! 
 But she was only staying in the neighbourhood oh, it 
 must be a couple of years ago now ! and she came 
 to ask for the personal character of a servant. So 
 you see I shall never be likely to have a card of hers 
 again ! " 
 
 It sounded absurd or would have done so if 
 Margery had not already observed this particular 
 weakness in her cousin. Mrs. Jannaway could with- 
 stand nothing in the shape of a title. She read her 
 Peerage with as much reverence as her Bible, and 
 much oftener ; and she had the Court Circular at her 
 fingers' ends, after the extraordinary fashion of some 
 people who have not the faintest connection there- 
 with. She leaned instinctively towards greatness as 
 a flower turns to the light ; and, in order to lift herself 
 a little nearer those exalted spheres, she always spoke 
 of her dog-cart as " the carriage," and of the high tea 
 (to outsiders who did not see it) as " dinner," while 
 her manner in mentioning " the servants " suggested 
 a round dozen instead of two. She had covered her- 
 self with glory once at a seaside boarding-house 
 by casually letting fall some mention of her husband's 
 
 169
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 nine horses, and omitting to state that all but one 
 were of the cart variety ; and had lectured an im- 
 pressible fat widow on the best way of cleaning one's 
 own jewellery " It is so foolish to trust anything 
 really valuable out of one's own hands " referring 
 to " my diamonds " with an air that effectually ignored 
 the fact that they were all contained in one ring. 
 
 Of Mr. Jannaway Margery saw very little ; but 
 that little gave her the impression of a very reserved 
 man, not clever, a little overpowered and alarmed 
 by the soft energy of his wife. He farmed his own 
 land with what appeared to be a conspicuous want 
 of success, and Margery fancied that only Mrs. J anna- 
 way's extreme good management kept things going 
 in comfort. She herself, in two days' time, had quite 
 fallen into her allotted place, with her regular hours 
 and duties and plenty of them. But with that she 
 had no quarrel it prevented her from thinking too 
 much of the three months' separation from Denzil. 
 As for her teaching of Phyllis, it proved to be only 
 a farce, and a sad and trying farce at that. They 
 spent two serious hours together every morning, and 
 Margery faithfully expended all her patience and all 
 her ingenuity on a task that was very like pouring 
 water through a sieve. Up to a certain point Phyllis 
 could learn. She could repeat word for word in the 
 most surprising fashion anything that Margery told 
 her : raising again and again hopes which were all 
 too certainly destroyed the next day, when the whole 
 subject had vanished from her brain, leaving no im- 
 pression of any sort behind. She had a certain facility 
 
 170
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 with her fingers, and could write the most beautiful 
 copies in clear copper-plate ; but they might have been 
 Greek for all that they represented to her. She knew 
 her alphabet and a few words of three letters ; but 
 arithmetic, in its very simplest form, was a sealed book 
 to her, and she had an odd horror of it. Quite patient 
 and docile over everything else, she would begin to 
 fret and cry in her dreadful unnatural wail the 
 moment that Margery attempted the subject. She 
 could not, or would not, distinguish one figure from 
 another. Nothing could induce her so much as to 
 add one and one together. If Margery gently per- 
 sisted, she grew angry, and shrieked out in an un- 
 intelligible gabble that was as sad as it was disagree- 
 able. Her only real intelligence, in fact, was shown 
 over music. She would listen untiringly, with lovely, 
 rapt, angelic face, to Margery's playing ; and though 
 she could not learn the notes for herself, she could pick 
 out almost anything by ear and play it quite correctly. 
 She had a sweet singing voice, too, and learned with 
 pleasure and quickness one or two simple little songs. 
 The first time that Mr. Jannaway heard one of these, 
 his incredulous delight amply repaid Margery for all 
 her trouble in other subjects. 
 
 " She is really getting on, isn't she ? " he exclaimed 
 with an eager look at Margery. " I knew she would 
 when she once made a start ! " 
 
 " She has learnt this very well indeed, and so quickly, 
 too," said Margery. 
 
 " And what about other things ? How does the 
 reading go on, Phyllis ? " 
 
 171
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " Very well, thank you," murmured Phyllis, with 
 vacant eyes. Margery was thankful to be spared an 
 answer. 
 
 " And the sums ? What's twice seven, Phyl ? " 
 
 But at the abhorred word the lovely, expressionless 
 face changed to a blind anger, and Phyllis broke into 
 the shrill, unpleasant gabble that Margery had learnt 
 to dread. The light and hope dropped out of Mr. 
 Jannaway's face as if he had been struck. He rose 
 abruptly and turned to leave the room ; then came 
 back again suddenly and stood at Margery's elbow. 
 
 " Be good to her the poor little lass ! " he said, in 
 a hoarse and broken voice. 
 
 "I will! I will !" cried Margery, with tears of pity 
 in her eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Jannaway made no such appeal for the child 
 whom she indulged and thought for and shielded in 
 every possible way. She took rather the line of ignoring 
 that there was anything abnormal about Phyllis ; 
 and, by dint of great tact and quickness, she did indeed 
 succeed in making the child, while with her, appear 
 almost like other children. Only once, and then in a 
 side way, did she betray herself. 
 
 She and Margery, walking together through the 
 village, passed a pleasant-faced young woman dandling 
 a baby at her door: an agreeable, plump, and cheer- 
 ful baby, old enough to take a sudden irresponsible 
 fancy to Margery as she passed and stretch out fat 
 arms to her, with coos and gurgles of delight. Margery 
 stopped, and took the little thing in the awkward, 
 firm grip of one who has no experience of babies 
 
 172
 
 The Jannaways 
 
 and cannot afford to take liberties with them ; and 
 the mother, charmed, hastened to tell her that this 
 was the youngest of eleven, and that she had buried 
 five. 
 
 " Oh, poor thing ! " said Margery, with girlish pity, 
 as they went on again. 
 
 " Why ? " said Mrs. Jannaway. Her soft voice was 
 a little hoarse. " Much better so. Better still if she 
 had never had any at all ! " 
 
 " Cousin Dora ! " Margery looked at her, scandalised. 
 The pretty doll face had changed to show an unexpected 
 hardness of contour, as the hand of iron, when clenched, 
 will betray itself through its velvet glove. Margery 
 suddenly remembered how she had found the young 
 housemaid crying bitterly over a broken cup that 
 morning and refusing all comfort, because with a 
 look of something very like terror " the mistress 
 will be so awful angry ! " 
 
 " You girls don't know what it means," said Mrs. 
 Jannaway. " Nothing but trouble, worry and anxiety 
 from the time they are born and if you knew what 
 childbirth means, you would never marry at all ! " 
 
 Margery flushed scarlet. The unexpected coarse- 
 ness of the phrase hit her like a blow : struck pain- 
 fully at certain dim, vague, sweet fancies, hardly 
 acknowledged to herself, of some far-off and lovely 
 future. She wondered what Mrs. Jannaway would say 
 if she could see what hung on the little chain round her 
 neck. 
 
 '73
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE SECRET THAT WAS NOT KEPT 
 
 " XTO letters?" said Mr. Jannaway, coming in 
 
 JL N hot and weary from a vigorous superin- 
 tendence of sheep-shearing. 
 
 " Only one for Margery. It was on the hall table 
 oh, she must have come in and fetched it ! " said Mrs. 
 Jannaway, her quick glance sweeping the hall and 
 everything in it. 
 
 " I don't see how she could have come in from the 
 fowls without passing me," objected Mr. Jannaway, 
 who was apt to be insistent about trifles. 
 
 " Phyllis, you haven't touched a letter of Cousin 
 Margery's ? " said Mrs. Jannaway suddenly. 
 
 Phyllis shook her head. She was sitting in one of 
 the deep old-fashioned window-seats, making a most 
 charming picture, with the sun streaming in behind 
 her and a handful of cowslips in the lap of her white 
 frock. 
 
 " You are sure ? " Mrs. Jannaway persisted ; and at 
 the touch of sharpness in the tone Phyllis looked 
 frightened and began to cry. 
 
 " Of course she hasn't ! Why should she ? " said 
 Mr. Jannaway hastily. 
 
 174
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 " Well, if Margery hasn't been in it must have 
 been moved," said Mrs. Jannaway. " I must ask 
 her when she comes. Oh, there is the paper at 
 last ! " 
 
 It was always her conceded right to open it and 
 skim the cream of the news, Mr. Jannaway being quite 
 content to wait his turn until the evening's leisure. 
 
 " Anything interesting ? " he asked, preparing to go 
 out again. 
 
 " No. Lots of stupid Parliamentary stuff." Mrs. 
 Jannaway turned the pages rapidly, flitting from one 
 column to another. " Oh, a dreadful wreck ! " she 
 cried suddenly. " One of the big liners only a couple 
 of days out and everyone lost. What a horrible 
 thing ! " 
 
 " Yes, that's bad," said Mr. Jannaway reflectively, 
 with the perfunctory interest of a person who has 
 not much imagination, and is not himself concerned ; 
 and he went out again to his sheep. 
 
 Margery, coming in a minute or two later, found her 
 cousin still absorbed. 
 
 " Such a dreadful thing, Margery ! " she cried, 
 with the gusto of the first imparter of bad news. " A 
 wreck and every single person lost ! " 
 
 " A wreck ! " Margery grasped the back of a chair 
 suddenly. There was only one ship for her in all the 
 Seven Seas. 
 
 Mrs. Jannaway was entirely taken up with her own 
 peculiar point of view. She had lighted on a title 
 in the list of passengers, and she was actually in the 
 proud position of having some slight acquaintance, not, 
 
 175
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 indeed, with the Lord Stellacombe in question, but with 
 no less a person than his sister. All the other odd 
 hundreds of people on board the ill-fated vessel had 
 faded at once into insignificance. But Margery could 
 summon up no interest in any nobleman, however 
 unfortunate. 
 
 " What is the name of the boat ? " she asked pain- 
 fully. 
 
 " The Campaspe one of the Sellers Line going to 
 the West Indies." 
 
 The hall and everything in it faded suddenly before 
 Margery's eyes in a sort of shimmering mist. She con- 
 tinued to stand upright, however, with a rigid hand 
 on the back of the chair, and Mrs. Jannaway was 
 far too absorbed to notice anything amiss. 
 
 " I think he has only just come into his title surely 
 I saw something about it the other day and spoke 
 about it to you, Margery ? " 
 
 Margery heard her own voice, to her surprise, 
 answering quite intelligibly : " I don't remember." 
 
 " Such a long list ! " said Mrs. Jannaway ; and went 
 on reading with zest. 
 
 It was all that Margery could do not to snatch the 
 paper from her hand. She could not bear to believe 
 that Denzil was among the ill-fated number ; she 
 must see his name with her own eyes before she could 
 think it. But, even stronger than her agony of anxiety, 
 there was the sense that she must keep her secret 
 his secret at any cost. The minutes seemed an 
 eternity, while Mrs. Jannaway read snatches aloud at 
 random. 
 
 176
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 " Well, we are wasting too much time ! " she said at 
 last, starting briskly up. " Come, Margery, I have 
 only been waiting for you to go over the linen- 
 cupboard." 
 
 " May I sit down for five minutes first ? " pleaded 
 poor Margery. " I have been out ever since breakfast. 
 I I am tired." 
 
 Mrs. Jannaway, though a slave-driver, was not in- 
 considerate. " Very well you do look quite pale 
 with the heat," she said. " I'll just start with the 
 lower shelves while I wait for you." 
 
 She flitted out of the hall, and Margery put out a 
 shaking hand for the paper. She knew what she was 
 going to see. There could be no mistake ; the name 
 of the Campaspe had grown as familiar to her as her 
 own, since the date of Denzil's departure had been 
 fixed. Her eyes dilated as they found the fatal column, 
 and ran hastily down the names arranged in alpha- 
 betical order. " Harris Holmes Hulbert " 
 
 With a whiter face than ever, Margery began at 
 the top of the list and read all down its sad length. 
 She was sure that the names were all in alphabetical 
 order and that she had missed none ; but there was no 
 Holyer among them. She dropped her face into her 
 hands with a gasp, and sat quite still. The shock, and 
 the sudden relief following so closely on it, were horribly 
 unnerving ; she felt almost too stunned to realize that 
 there was still left a perplexity which she had no means 
 of solving. For in the one hurried note she had had 
 from Denzil, scrawled at night in the Paris-Lyon 
 express, he had spoken most confidently of the 
 
 177 ia
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Campaspe and of the date of his departure ; and what 
 could have interfered what merciful, providential 
 interference to alter his plans at the very last 
 moment ? 
 
 " Margery ! Margery ! I am waiting ! " cried Mrs. 
 Jannaway. And Margery went upstairs to spend a 
 long hour folding and unfolding linen, looking for thin 
 places, sorting, tidying, putting away again. Finally, 
 with a pile, as heavy as she could well carry, on her arm 
 for mending, she escaped to her own room. Her 
 head was a little clearer by this time. She was 
 beginning to realize the extraordinary and very dis- 
 agreeable position in which she stood. She had not 
 the faintest idea where her husband might be, and 
 no means whatever of finding out. He had never 
 mentioned where his father was staying in Mentone ; 
 and, even if he had, it would have been quite useless, 
 seeing how jealously the secret of their marriage must 
 be guarded. Thinking hard, Margery could only 
 imagine that he must have been detained there in some 
 way, and had lost all chance of sailing in the Campaspe. 
 But then, why had he not written to tell her so ? He 
 would have reached Mentone a week ago. She had 
 been with him in imagination all the time of his brief 
 stay there, all through his journey back ; had noted the 
 sailing of the Campaspe in the paper, and had hoped 
 for the promised letter from Southampton ; for, if that 
 did not come, it would mean weeks of waiting till she 
 could hear from Jamaica. If Denzil were still at 
 Mentone, she ought to have heard from him days 
 before. 
 
 178
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 Margery's fingers flew over her fine darning to keep 
 pace with her thoughts. The suspense seemed un- 
 bearable ; any certain knowledge would be easier. 
 At one moment she told herself, with a gasp of relief, 
 that all must be well, since DenziTs name was not in 
 the passenger-list of the ill-fated vessel ; and then 
 would come the maddening thought of a thousand 
 other dangers which might have befallen him by sea 
 and land since she had parted from him. For if he 
 were safe at Mentone all this time she kept recurring 
 again and again to that thought he surely would have 
 written to her days ago to explain any change of plans. 
 She read and re-read the one letter she had it had 
 never left her, night or day, since its arrival and found 
 there no trace of light. There were so many possi- 
 bilities, and no certainty anywhere. It was even 
 possible a thought which checked Margery's fingers, 
 and sent the blood to her face in a flood that Denzil 
 might have summoned up courage, face to face with 
 his father, to confess their marriage, and might have 
 been forgiven, and be even now on his way back to tell 
 her so. It was exactly the sort of boyish triumph 
 which would most commend itself to him, to burst in 
 upon her suddenly, without any previous warning. 
 Margery sprang up, and began walking feverishly about 
 her little room ; and then checked herself, set her lips, 
 and sat down to her work again. It was not likely 
 it was, indeed, the least likely possibility of all ; 
 for she knew Denzil's nature well by six weeks' experi- 
 ence, and his father's well enough by all she had been 
 told. She must not let herself dwell on any such 
 
 179 12*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 glorious vision. She could at least be thankful that 
 Denzil had not gone down in the Campaspe. Content- 
 ing herself with that, she must school herself to wait 
 patiently for a further explanation. 
 
 An excellent resolution ; and Margery was strong- 
 natured, and well schooled in the school of patience. 
 But it was hard to keep any sort of restraint on her 
 face and voice when post-time came, while, for a day 
 or two, there was just the faint possibility of a delayed 
 letter from Southampton. She was glad or told her- 
 self that she was glad when none came, so that she 
 might dismiss the lost Campaspe from her mind. But 
 yet, as days came and went without a word of any 
 sort, the mystery thickened to such an extent that 
 she saw no gleam of light anywhere. She found herself 
 starting and hoping that it had not been noticeable 
 at any sudden ring or footstep ; for still the slight 
 hope lurked in her mind, try as she might to banish it, 
 that Denzil might solve the problem in person. But 
 he neither came nor wrote ; and the days slipped by 
 and turned into weeks. 
 
 The strain was terrible. Such a burden of anxiety 
 and distress would have been hard enough to bear 
 at any time, even if she had had the relief of being 
 able to discuss it with her cousins ; but, added to the 
 necessary secrecy, and her terror of Mrs. Jannaway's 
 all-seeing eyes, it rapidly became almost beyond her 
 strength. She was gradually coming to the conclusion 
 that Denzil must be ill so seriously ill that he could 
 not write ; and the thought was maddening, when 
 she did not even so much as know where he was. For 
 
 180
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 Denzil, so tender-hearted and sympathetic, would 
 certainly never have left her in this suspense if he could 
 in any way have avoided it. Small wonder that she 
 grew daily whiter and thinner, with a drawn look 
 about her face. She could not sleep ; or, when she 
 could, she was haunted by such dreams as made her 
 glad to wake again. Her appetite vanished, and meals 
 became an ordeal hard to face. 
 
 " Margery, you are not looking well," said Mrs. 
 Jannaway at last. " You are eating absolutely 
 nothing. What is the matter ? " 
 
 " I don't think I am quite well," said Margery lamely, 
 clutching at her secret with despairing hands. It 
 had never been her habit to complain ; but she would 
 confess to any amount of physical discomfort now, 
 if only she could distract Mrs. Jannaway from the idea 
 that her suffering was mental. It was true enough, 
 too, that she was not feeling by any means well. 
 
 " I always do the household doctoring. We haven't 
 had Dr. Giles for years ! " said Mrs. Jannaway with 
 brisk triumph. " Tell me just how you feel, and I'll 
 give you something to put you right in no time ! " 
 
 If only that were possible ! thought Margery 
 sadly. But she was only too thankful to find that 
 her cousin seemed to be quite without suspicion of 
 the sort of thing that really was the matter ; and, 
 to lead her as far from the truth as possible, she re- 
 counted all she felt with as much detail as she could 
 muster. Really, when told at length like this, she 
 actually did appear to be quite definitely unwell. 
 Mrs. Jannaway pulled her up very unexpectedly. 
 
 181
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " Margery ! " she said. " I don't think you can 
 quite realize what you are saying ! " 
 
 Her tone was so odd that Margery stopped short, 
 and looked at her in astonishment with large, weary 
 eyes. Her expression was as odd as her tone. 
 
 " I don't understand," said Margery blankly. 
 
 " Nor do I ! " said Mrs. Jannaway, very sharply 
 indeed. " If you were married, Margery, I should 
 think I understood extremely well ! " 
 
 If she were married ! Margery, not understanding 
 in the least, blushed a deep, guilty scarlet. 
 
 " Margery ! " cried Mrs. Jannaway ; and no italics 
 will express the volume of meaning in that one word. 
 
 Margery sat up very straight, and the colour faded 
 from her face as suddenly as it had come. She looked 
 at Mrs. Jannaway steadily. 
 
 " Please tell me exactly what you mean, Cousin 
 Dora," she said. 
 
 " Well since you want me to put it in plain words," 
 cried Mrs. Jannaway crudely, " if any young married 
 woman came to me and said what you have said, I 
 should tell her that it meant a baby ! " 
 
 Margery gave a little cry, and put her hand up to 
 her throat as if she suddenly could not breathe. 
 
 " You don't mean to say that it is true ? " said Mrs. 
 Jannaway. Her voice had dropped to a sharp whisper. 
 
 " I never thought of it," said Margery, looking 
 straight in front of her with wide, dilated eyes. 
 
 " You never thought of it I " Mrs. Jannaway rose 
 in a whirlwind of virtuous wrath, as five feet of woman- 
 hood usually can rise on occasion. And, indeed, from 
 
 182
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 her point of view, Margery's answer was not calculated 
 to appease. " You never thought of it!" 
 
 The storm broke upon Margery's defenceless head in 
 full force, so suddenly that at first it did not touch 
 her ; for she was far away in a dim, bewildered world 
 of innocence and ignorance, where this new knowledge 
 had dawned with a blinding effect. But, coming slowly 
 back to reality, the full sense of what Mrs. Jannaway 
 was saying came upon her, and made her cry out 
 sharply. 
 
 " Oh, Cousin Dora, don't ! You don't understand 
 I am married ! " 
 
 " Married ! " 
 
 The words died away on Mrs. Jannaway's angry lips- 
 She stared at Margery with round, hard, incredulous 
 blue eyes. 
 
 " Months ago in London." 
 
 " And why was I not told, pray ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know I ought to have told you when I came 
 here," said Margery earnestly. " Indeed, I am sorry. 
 But it had to be a secret at first, and we thought it best 
 to tell no one." 
 
 " Why ? " cried Mrs. Jannaway. 
 
 " Please don't ask me, Cousin Dora," said Margery, 
 more earnestly than ever. " Indeed, I will tell you 
 everything as soon as I may. Please believe that there 
 is nothing wrong about it ! " 
 
 " And you actually had the insolence to come here 
 under a name that was not yours any more ? " 
 
 Margery hung her head. She could not deny that. 
 
 " What is your name, pray ? '' 
 183
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " Oh, Cousin Dora, please don't ask me any questions ! 
 it is all a secret we can't help it at present." 
 
 " I don't like secrets," said Mrs. Jannaway, very 
 unpleasantly indeed. " Where is your husband ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Margery faintly. 
 
 ' You don't know ! " said Mrs. Jannaway, in a slow 
 voice which struck Margery cold. But she held up 
 her head bravely. 
 
 " We were married on the thirteenth of February, 
 when I left Mrs. Croome. We went down to Devon- 
 shire for our honeymoon. My husband was called 
 away suddenly, and did not like to leave me alone ; 
 so we settled that, if you could have me, I had better 
 stay with you till he came home again." 
 
 "He is abroad, then ? " said Mrs. Jannaway 
 acutely. 
 
 " I can't tell you any more ! Oh, Cousin Dora, I 
 am sorry ! " said Margery. " I shall be only too 
 glad when I can it must sound so foolish, I'm 
 afraid " 
 
 " It hadn't struck me as exactly foolish," said Mrs. 
 Jannaway ; and there was an unpleasant pause. 
 
 " Come, Margery ! This is nonsense, you know ! " 
 said Mrs. Jannaway. " You must admit that it is 
 rather a surprise to hear all this, and I should like to 
 know a little more before I am satisfied. I suppose 
 you don't mind, for instance just for the satisfaction 
 of the thing letting me see your marriage certificate ? " 
 
 " I haven't got it," said Margery very low ; yet 
 glad, too, that she could say so truthfully, since Denzil's 
 name must not be known. 
 
 184
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 " You haven't got it ? " 
 
 " I gave it to my husband when we came out of 
 church I had no pocket " 
 
 The pause that followed was more unpleasant than 
 the one before it. Mrs. Jannaway's lips were set in a 
 thin line. Her eyes were harder than ever. 
 
 " Don't you think that all this is rather childish ? " 
 she said. " I suppose you know that it is possible to 
 get a copy ? You do know, of course, what church 
 you were married in ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Margery. 
 
 " Come, that is something, at least ! Well, will 
 you write for a copy ? " 
 
 " I can't ! " said Margery desperately. " Haven't 
 I told you that I don't want you to know what my 
 married name is ? Cousin Dora, you can't suppose 
 that I am not really married ? Here is my wedding- 
 ring ! " 
 
 She pulled out the little gold chain and held out the 
 ring on the palm of her hand reluctantly, for it seemed 
 almost sacrilege to show what Denzil had hung there 
 on that sad last morning of parting. To her innocent 
 heart it seemed that this proof must once and for all 
 settle all difficulties. She was dismayed to find that 
 Mrs. Jannaway did not see it at all in this light. 
 
 *' Anyone can have a wedding-ring that proves 
 nothing ! " she said, with a slighting, perfunctory 
 glance. " No, Margery, I must have something better 
 than that ! I tell you frankly that I don't like all this 
 secrecy, unless you can make me understand some 
 good reason for it."
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " My husband did not want his father to know just 
 at first, because he was dependent on him," said 
 Margery, choosing her words slowly and carefully. 
 There could be no harm in telling so much. But, un- 
 fortunately, Mrs. Jannaway appeared to think that 
 there was not much good in it, either. 
 
 " Well I don't suppose I know your husband's 
 father ! " she said. " So what would be the harm of 
 telling me ? " 
 
 " We did not want to run any risk of its getting 
 round to him " 
 
 " In other words, you wouldn't trust me 1 " said Mrs. 
 Jannaway, in open annoyance. " Really, I'm very 
 much obliged to you, Margery ! Pray, how did you 
 manage down in Devonshire ? " 
 
 " We did not go in my husband's own name," said 
 Margery, very low indeed. " I did not think that it 
 mattered much down there, where no one was ever 
 likely to see us again. But I did not like to come to 
 you under a false name." 
 
 " Really, I should not have expected you to be so 
 scrupulous ! " said Mrs. Jannaway. 
 
 Margery winced. 
 
 " You seem to have considered that the whole world 
 was standing round intent on your affairs. Is your 
 husband's father anyone of such tremendous import- 
 ance as all that ? What is he ? " 
 
 " I don't know," faltered Margery. 
 
 " You don't know 1 Where does he live ? " 
 
 " I am not sure." 
 
 Margery's voice was getting lower and lower, and 
 186
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 her eyes were frightened. She began to see for herself 
 how exceedingly lame the story sounded. 
 
 Mrs. Jannaway's next questions came sharp and 
 sudden, like pistol-shots. 
 
 " How long had you known this man ? " 
 
 Margery's head went up. 
 
 " I had known my husband for only a short time before 
 we were married." 
 
 " In that short time you met him how often ? " 
 
 " Seven times." 
 
 " Seven times ! You don't mean me to understand 
 that your wedding-day was only the eighth time you 
 had spoken to him ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Mrs. Jannaway gasped. For a moment it seemed as 
 if her breath were too much taken away for her to 
 say any more. 
 
 " Was Mrs. Croome aware of what was going on ? " 
 she asked at last very sharply. 
 
 " No." In the midst of her trouble, Margery could 
 almost have smiled at the incongruousness of the 
 idea. 
 
 " Then where did you meet your husband ? Who 
 introduced him to you ? " 
 
 " We met through an accident. No one introduced 
 him." 
 
 In her anger at Mrs. Jannaway's very offensive tone, 
 Margery replied with the briefest and most literal 
 version of the truth, never stopping to think how 
 damning it sounded. 
 
 " I am to understand, then," said Mrs. Jannaway 
 187
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 drily, " that you married a man of whom you knew 
 practically nothing, after the very shortest acquaintance 
 with him. No one knew of it at the time ; and the 
 whole thing is to be kept secret until some indefinite 
 date in the future, when it is convenient for him that 
 it shall be known." 
 
 Margery said nothing. There did not seem any- 
 thing to say. 
 
 " Now, is it likely," said Mrs. Jannaway, flaring out 
 into sudden anger, " that I should believe an absurd 
 story like that without proof of any sort ? " 
 
 " Whether you believe it or not, it is the truth ! " 
 said Margery. Her eyes were blazing in her white 
 face. Mrs. Jannaway, meeting them, was startled 
 into silence for a moment ; and her next words were 
 more conciliatory. 
 
 " Come, Margery, I don't want to be hard on you. 
 Tell me all about it, and I will do the best I can for 
 you ; but you must see that this is too absurd ! " 
 
 " I don't tell lies," said Margery. " What I have 
 told you is the truth, as far as it goes ; and I cannot 
 tell you a word more until my husband comes to fetch 
 me, and says that there is no need to keep our marriage 
 a secret any longer." 
 
 " Until I " said Mrs. Jannaway, with a sharp, un- 
 pleasant laugh. " It seems to me that I may wait long 
 enough in that case ! Besides as you have found 
 out this kind of secret is apt to tell itself." 
 
 Margery sat down suddenly, shaking all over, feeling 
 utterly helpless, all alone, frightened. If only Denzil 
 might appear at that moment ! How he would take 
 
 188
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 her part and annihilate Mrs. Jannaway ! Or, if it 
 seemed better to him, how easily he would put the 
 whole matter to rights in his charming, persuasive 
 fashion, telling no more than she had done, but telling 
 it in such an irresistible way that it would give perfect 
 satisfaction. Often as she had longed for him since 
 their parting, Margery had never wanted him so 
 intensely as now. 
 
 Mrs. Jannaway had been waiting. But at this point 
 her patience came to an end. 
 
 " Well am I to understand that you really refuse 
 to say anything more ? " she cried. 
 
 " I can't / Oh, I wish I could ! " cried poor Margery, 
 with all her heart. The secret, which had begun so 
 lightly, was indeed a heavy burden now. It seemed 
 to her that, once rid of it, nothing would ever be 
 able to tempt her again from the absolutely plain 
 path. 
 
 " In that case," said Mrs. Jannaway coldly, " may I 
 ask what you mean to do ? " 
 
 "To do?" Margery looked up in bewilderment. 
 " But I told you I have only to wait till my husband 
 comes home again." 
 
 " Quite so. Perhaps I ought to have asked, where 
 do you intend to wait for him ? " 
 
 Margery went on looking at her, trying with a 
 weary brain to understand, and then suddenly saw 
 the truth. 
 
 ' You mean that you want me to go away ? " 
 
 " Well it is hardly likely that I should want to 
 keep you under these circumstances, is it ? " 
 
 189
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " I I suppose not," said Margery, with a little 
 gasp. 
 
 " Even supposing that you were oh, I beg your 
 pardon ! I mean, supposing that your marriage was 
 not a secret," said Mrs. Jannaway, with an unveiled 
 sneer in the careful correction, " it would be rather 
 much, you know, to expect me to keep you here for 
 the next few months. Wouldn't it ? " 
 
 " The next few months ? But my husband will be 
 coming home soon he was only to be away for three 
 months altogether," cried Margery; and stopped, 
 bewildered, realizing with a sudden cold shiver that now 
 she had no means at all of reckoning the time of 
 Denzil's return. 
 
 Mrs. Jannaway said nothing. Her face looked no 
 longer either pretty or doll-Lke. The hard line of cheek 
 and jaw, the cold steely light in the blue eyes, had 
 changed her suddenly into a middle-aged woman. 
 
 " But of course, Cousin Dora, I should not think 
 of staying another day if you wish me to go ! " said 
 Margery; and rose with a certain forlorn pride. Her 
 white, drawn young face and troubled eyes were 
 pitiable enough. Even Mrs. Jannaway melted a 
 little. 
 
 " That is nonsense ! " she said. " Of course you 
 will stay for a few days longer till we can arrange 
 something. Think how odd it would look if you went 
 away at a minute's notice, for no apparent reason ! 
 You don't want, above all things, to make people 
 suspect what is really the matter, you know. I'll see 
 
 what Herbert says " 
 
 190
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 " You won't tell him ? " said Margery, scarlet in a 
 moment. 
 
 " Naturally I shall tell him. Married women don't 
 keep secrets from their husbands," said Mrs. Jannaway, 
 in a tone that turned the harmless little sentence into a 
 bitter jibe. " I can talk it over with him this afternoon. 
 He is over at Linderwood, and won't, fortunately, be 
 in to lunch. I am going to drive over to fetch him, 
 so that will be an excellent opportunity." 
 
 Margery turned away towards the door, walking 
 blindly. 
 
 ' You had better not come down lo lunch. I will 
 send something up to you," said Mrs. Jannaway; and 
 Margery knew, as well as if the thing had been put 
 into plain words, that she was not considered fit to sit 
 down to table with Phyllis. 
 
 The afternoon was fine and warm such an after- 
 noon as comes sometimes, even in an English May. 
 Mrs. Jannaway, driving her husband home along 
 shady lanes she drove better than he did, and had 
 long ago seen to it that he understood that fact 
 enjoyed herself very much. She had no especial interest 
 in Margery ; she was a woman of very limited imagina- 
 tion ; and other people's troubles are very easy to 
 bear, and most interesting to relate. The story, 
 naturally told from her point of view, lost nothing in 
 the telling ; and Mr. Jannaway was shocked and 
 astonished beyond words. 
 
 " Now the thing is, what is to be done with her ? " 
 said Mrs. Jannaway briskly, giving her cob a smart 
 
 191
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 little flick ; for he had shown a disposition to walk, 
 and she allowed no shirking from her animals, any 
 more than from her human dependents. 
 
 "To be done ? " Mr. Jannaway stared at her a 
 little blankly. 
 
 " It won't be easy to find just the right place to 
 send her to," said Mrs. Jannaway, in her business-like, 
 capable way. " Don't look at me in that ridiculous 
 fashion, Herbert ! You don't suppose that I mean to 
 keep her with us as things are ? " 
 
 " You don't mean to turn the poor child out ? " 
 
 " Poor child, indeed ! She's quite old enough to 
 know better than this ! " cried Mrs. Jannaway. " And 
 certainly I don't intend to keep her. Just think how 
 people would talk, and what the servants would say ! 
 Besides, there is Phyllis to think of. She is quite old 
 enough now to notice things." 
 
 " But suppose the poor girl really is married, after 
 all, and her husband comes to fetch her, and finds that 
 we have turned her out ? " said Mr. Jannaway in a very 
 troubled voice. 
 
 " Now, Herbert, is it likely ? You don't mean to 
 say that you believe in her perfectly absurd story ? 
 I don't want to be hard on her," said Mrs. Jannaway 
 virtuously. " It's even possible that she herself may 
 really think she is married but, of course, she is 
 nothing of the sort, and the man will never be heard of 
 again ! He seems to have managed cleverly enough 
 about getting rid of her and planting her on us. As 
 for ' turning her out ' it's a bad habit of yours to 
 get hold of a silly phrase and keep on repeating it. I 
 
 192
 
 The Secret that was not kept 
 
 shall make inquiries, quite quietly, till I hear of some 
 nice, suitable place, and then let her go there ; and 
 in the meantime, of course, she will go on staying with 
 us. / don't want to make a scandal." 
 
 Mr. Jannaway made what, for him, was a determined 
 stand. " I don't like it, Dora ! After all, we are 
 the only relations she has." 
 
 " Well, then you must talk it over with her your- 
 self, and see if she will tell you any more than she 
 has told me ! " cried Mrs. Jannaway, ruffled. 
 
 " Good heavens, no ! Don't bring me into the 
 matter at all ! " cried Mr. Jannaway in horror. 
 
 " Very well, then ! " said Mrs. Jannaway. " If I am 
 to manage it, it must be in the way I think best. I 
 shall go up and tell her what we have decided as 
 soon as we get in she is sure to be still in her room." 
 
 In pursuance of which intention she went straight 
 upstairs with determined feet the moment they arrived ; 
 for, to do her justice, she permitted no more shirking 
 to herself than to other people. And presumably her 
 plan might have been carried out with complete success, 
 but for the inconvenient fact that Margery was not 
 in her room at all ; nor, as it subsequently proved, in 
 the house. 
 
 " Where is Miss Lennard ? " cried Mrs. Jannaway, 
 impatiently summoning the housemaid ; and heard, 
 with a disquieted face, that Margery had only waited till 
 she was out of sight, before sending for a dog-cart 
 from the village inn, and had departed forthwith. 
 
 " She would be just in time for the afternoon London 
 express," said Mr. Jannaway. 
 
 193 13
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " Well, you must telegraph to have her stopped ! " 
 cried Mrs. Jannaway. " Go at once ! there is no time 
 to waste ! " 
 
 Mr. Jannaway looked at his watch, and shook his 
 head as he looked. 
 
 " Too late, Dora. The train is due in at six o'clock. 
 I could not possibly get a telegram through before 
 that ! " 
 
 " What is to be done ? " cried Mrs. Jannaway, for 
 once perturbed and taken aback. 
 
 " Nothing," said Mr. Jannaway ; and then made 
 perhaps the boldest speech of his married life. " You 
 made a great mistake in being so hard on her, Dora ! "
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 
 
 "VfOU might have knocked me down with a 
 1 feather, Mrs. Vane r my dear," said Mrs. 
 Strong, standing remarkably square and immovable 
 on her feet, " when Marracoot's cart stopped at the 
 gate and me only just out of bed and you step out 
 of it and goes down in the doorway as if you was a 
 corp ! Which you looked very like it, too, I will say. 
 Nor you ain't anything much to boast of now." 
 
 Margery turned her weary head on her pillow as 
 if the effort were almost too much for her. It seemed 
 a year since she left the Jannaways : a year filled 
 with dreadful rushing train- journeys all across England, 
 with dreary waiting at a little country station in the 
 dim early dawn of a May morning, with a jolting four 
 miles in the providential cart that happened to pass 
 at an abnormally early hour. The actual manner of 
 her arrival was a blank to her. She had a vague 
 remembrance of the day brightening round her, and 
 the countryside becoming familiar. She was dimly 
 conscious that Mrs. Strong had been astonished, kind, 
 and motherly ; that she had somehow been made to 
 drink something very hot ; that she had been helped 
 
 195 J 3*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 to undress, and that bed had been beyond words 
 welcome. She was only just awake now, and the after- 
 noon sun was already far down the sky. 
 
 " I must get up," she said vaguely ; but it was too 
 much trouble to move. 
 
 " Don't you go for to think of any such thing ! " 
 said Mrs. Strong firmly. " You lie still and get rested 
 through, ma'am. Not but what I'll be pleased to 
 hear what brings you back all of a sudden like." 
 She cocked a kindly bright eye inquisitively at 
 Margery. 
 
 The girl had closed her eyes, and would have been 
 more than glad not to have opened them again all 
 day ; but at this she looked up and met Mrs. Strong's 
 glance squarely. Better set the good woman's curiosity 
 at rest once for all, than leave her to wonder over the 
 matter till it assumed enormous proportions. 
 
 " I have been staying with a cousin of mine," 
 she said. " We had a a quarrel, and I did not wish 
 to stay any longer. It was quite at the other side 
 of England, and I was travelling all the time from 
 the early afternoon." 
 
 " Well, to be sure ! What a shame ! " cried Mrs. 
 Strong, a ready partisan. 
 
 " No, it was not her fault. There was a misunder- 
 standing," said Margery; and closed her eyes, falling 
 asleep again before Mrs. Strong could put any more 
 questions. 
 
 It seemed a dreary business, when she came back 
 the next morning to the waking world again. Life 
 at the farm without Denzil was very like Hamlet 
 
 196
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 without the Prince of Denmark, or a world without 
 sunshine, or bread made without salt : which last 
 no one, having once tasted it, will ever forget. She 
 felt the loss of him at every turn. Everything about 
 the little farm, inside and out, recalled some memory 
 of him ; when she went further, landmarks of former 
 walks met her wherever she turned her steps, or, 
 worse still, children, with whom he had made friends 
 in his gay way, came up to ask for " the gentleman." 
 The summer sun, gaining strength day by day, poured 
 down in scorching floods on the village ; and Margery 
 had never liked hot weather. The storm and stress of 
 her last day with the Jannaways, followed by the 
 long, exhausting journey, seemed to have taken all 
 the strength out of her, and given her a shock from 
 which she could not recover. Walking brought back 
 too many memories, and wearied her beyond expres- 
 sion ; staying indoors meant sitting with her hands 
 before her, thinking, wondering, fretting. There was 
 nothing for her to do at all, except the hard task of 
 passive waiting; and many days slipped by, and there 
 came no news. She had had the wit, in the midst of 
 her tempestuous departure from the Jannaways, to 
 stop as she passed through the post-town and arrange 
 for her letters to be sent on direct to her. It was all 
 she could do. Now she must just sit and wait for the 
 letter that never came. 
 
 For she had no occupation at all, no books to read 
 worthy of the name ; no letters to write ; no work of 
 any sort. Mrs. Strong's piano was worse than use- 
 less, for its decrepit condition made it a trial to any 
 
 197
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 musical ear ; and, moreover, the first time that Margery 
 listlessly touched the keys, they brought back so vividly 
 the remembrance of Denzil's light-hearted strumming, 
 that she shut and locked it in a passion of tears and 
 opened it no more. She had never been a girl who 
 cried ; but now the smallest thing brought the tears, 
 which annoyed and puzzled her beyond measure. 
 She felt vaguely and miserably ill ; and she had never 
 been ill in her life, and did not know how to cope with 
 such a condition. For the first time, too, she learned 
 the meaning of insomnia, and lay awake night after 
 night, staring into the darkness, wretched, frightened, 
 uncomprehending. Meals became a miserable farce, 
 and were often left nearly untasted. Small wonder that 
 her cheeks grew sunken, and her large eyes hollow and 
 black-ringed. Mrs. Strong, seriously concerned and 
 always kind, tried to tempt her with dreadful dishes 
 of would-be elaborate food, from which Margery could 
 only turn away with loathing. She hid the fact with 
 some success by the help of an ever-hungry yard- 
 dog, and for awhile Mrs. Strong rejoiced over her 
 improved appetite, and wonderingly lamented that it 
 made her look no better. But one day, looking from 
 the dairy window, she caught Margery in the full 
 fiagrancy of her deceit ; and at that she set down her 
 milk-pan with decision, and only waited for the cul- 
 prit's return indoors before she went firmly in search 
 of her. 
 
 Margery was sitting languidly by the window of her 
 little sitting-room, her head on her hand. The remains 
 of her dinner were on the table, cunningly arranged to 
 
 108
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 look as if she herself, and not the dog, had disposed 
 of the onion-reeking stew and sodden pancakes. Mrs. 
 Strong, glancing carefully at it, shut the door behind 
 her and entered upon her subject with decision. 
 
 " And when do you expect your good gentleman 
 back, ma'am ? " she inquired, so abruptly and inconse- 
 quently that it was small marvel if Margery started. 
 
 " I don't quite know yet, Mrs. Strong," she faltered, 
 the blood rushing to her face. " I haven't heard." 
 Which fact, of course, was equally well known to 
 both. It was an increasing trial to Margery that 
 Mrs. Strong must think it so extraordinary for her to 
 have no letters. She must wonder. She might even 
 so unjust are those who do not understand think 
 that Denzil was to blame. 
 
 " And what do you think he will say to your looks 
 when he does come ? " Mrs. Strong took Margery 
 sternly by the arm and made her go and look in the 
 glass over the mantelpiece. It was a blurred and 
 spotty glass, but sufficiently faithful to shadow forth a 
 very dismal likeness of the girl who had laughed at 
 it, with Denzil laughing over her shoulder, four months 
 before. 
 
 " It won't do, Mrs. Vane, my dear ! " said Mrs. 
 Strong forcibly. " You must remember that you've 
 someone else to think of now, as well as yourself." 
 
 The square face was shrewd as well as kindly. 
 Margery, turning to look at her, coloured even more 
 hotly than before. 
 
 " I didn't know that you knew," she said, in a voice 
 that was hardly more than a whisper. 
 
 199
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " And me a mother meself ! " said Mrs. Strong with 
 superb disdain. 
 
 The tears, that nowadays she did not know how to 
 keep back, began to run down Margery's thin face. 
 A moment afterwards she found herself crying com- 
 fortably on Mrs. Strong's motherly shoulder, and being 
 petted like a baby. 
 
 " There, there, my poor dear ! You have your cry 
 out, just for once, and then don't cry any more ! 
 Surely you're glad ? " 
 
 " But I feel so ill ! " sobbed Margery forlornly. 
 
 " Well, what else did you expect ? " said Mrs. Strong, 
 with much commonsense. 
 
 But more than half the trouble was that Margery 
 had no idea what to expect ; and Mrs. Strong, dis- 
 covering this with astonishment, set about enlightening 
 her in a homely, sensible fashion which was most con- 
 soling. For there is no terror like the terror of 
 ignorance ; and Margery, lying awake through one 
 wretched night after another, had fancied and wondered 
 and shivered with fright, knowing nothing and fear- 
 ing everything. Mrs. Strong, indeed, stood appalled 
 at her absolute ignorance, and spoke with strong indig- 
 nation of the people who could send a girl out into the 
 world without any knowledge at all of the facts of life. 
 
 " They always said that it was not nice to talk 
 about that sort of thing," said Margery, embarrassed. 
 
 " Nice ! " said Mrs. Strong scathingly. " It's not 
 a question of what's nice. It's a question of what's 
 real. Crammed you up with book-learning, they did, 
 I've no doubt ; and much use that is to you at a time 
 
 200
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 like this ! What would have happened, I'd like to 
 know, if you hadn't me to go to now ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Margery sincerely; and drank 
 in all the information poured out to her, intent and 
 serious. The pseudo-proprieties of the orphanage had 
 no existence for Mrs. Strong. She spoke out straight, 
 with a plain simplicity that, having no false shame, 
 caused none : with a plain reverence, too, for life and 
 the Giver of life, that removed Margery to an infinite 
 distance from the sweet silliness of her girlish fancies. 
 When she had finished, the girl's eyes were wet, but it 
 was with happy tears ; any sadness in them came only 
 from her intense longing for Denzil. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Strong. I shall not forget," she 
 said very softly; and went straight up to her room 
 and to her knees. 
 
 She had been a coward : but she would be a coward 
 no longer. The worst of her trouble, she felt in her 
 new exaltation, was over already ; for now she had 
 something to do, with a purpose in it, and she was no 
 longer afraid. She must walk ; she must eat ; she must 
 keep cheerful to the very utmost of her powers. It 
 would surely be easy now to ignore any feelings of 
 illness, since she knew that they were no dreadful 
 portents of something vaguely and terribly wrong. 
 She took a firm grip on life again with both hands, 
 to Mrs. Strong's admiration ; and, having laid out a 
 methodical daily path for herself, walked in it steadily 
 and would not be turned aside. So much time and 
 such a distance she must walk ; so much time she 
 must rest afterwards. True, Mrs. Strong's cookery 
 
 201
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 was physically beyond her, in spite of heroic efforts ; 
 and she was now more than ever reluctant to hurt the 
 feelings of the kindly soul, who so odd a thing is 
 human nature set no store at all by her truly 
 admirable butter, but had the highest opinion of her- 
 self as a chef. But even this difficulty Margery sur- 
 mounted in triumph, pleading the heat of the weather 
 as a reason against hot food, and begging for milk and 
 eggs instead of meat, and fruit instead of puddings. 
 Acting upon a suggestion of Mrs. Strong's, she sent for 
 patterns and materials, and began to manufacture 
 sundry small garments with loving care, putting 
 all her heart into them, and daintier stitching than 
 she had ever lavished on needlework before, until 
 Mrs. Strong exclaimed with wondering admiration at 
 the results. And, with every scrap of absurd tiny 
 clothing that she put carefully away, Margery wondered 
 if Denzil would be with her before the next was 
 finished. But no letter came, nor any sign at all. 
 
 June ran its hot course, and gave place to a July 
 that was like a furnace ; and still Margery, persevering, 
 bore up under the heat, and took her daily walks, 
 and stitched away industriously in her solitary even- 
 ings. But the month that followed tried her sorely, 
 for it brought with it torrents of rain and yet scarcely 
 any lessening of the heat. It seemed to sap her strength 
 at its very roots ; and, till she had time to sit and think 
 about it, she had not realized how far from strong she 
 now was. She could not sew all day ; it was impossible 
 to keep up her two daily walks, for a very little walking 
 in the rain tired her intolerably. It frightened her 
 
 202
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 to find how little she was able to do, and that every 
 week made that little less ; and, indeed, there was small 
 wonder that she moped and grew nervous, for her 
 position was serious. Four months had passed since 
 she and Denzil parted ; in all that time no word had 
 come from him, except the hasty scrawl written in 
 the train on his way to Mentone. Margery pondered 
 over the mystery through weary days and sleepless 
 nights, and could arrive at no solution whatever. She 
 fought wildly against the belief that he was dead. 
 Surely, surely in that case some news must have 
 reached her ! He could not have been overtaken by 
 such sudden, violent, fatal illness, that there had been 
 no time to write to her, or at least send a message. 
 If any accident had befallen him, there must surely 
 have been some account of it in the paper, which she 
 read every day from cover to cover : looking with an 
 eager dread, which never met with any response, for 
 some sort of mention of his name. 
 
 She was not the only one who was anxious and 
 uneasy, for Mrs. Strong was realizing more every 
 day the responsibility of her own position. She could 
 see, of course, plainly enough that something was 
 wrong, but to any probing questions Margery was 
 impenetrable. She would not own in words that she 
 had any anxiety or trouble at all, though her face told 
 its own tale. She was utterly dumb as regarded her 
 own history or Denzil's, and Mrs. Strong's knowledge 
 of them began and ended with their connection with 
 her as lodgers. The good woman had no longer the 
 heart to ask any question about Denzil's return. It 
 
 203
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 was too pitiful to see Margery's face quiver uncon- 
 trollably, to hear her shaking voice answer bravely, as 
 if there were nothing unusual in a young husband's 
 absence and silence for four months. Once Mrs. Strong 
 ventured some very small adverse comment on this 
 absence : never again after she had met Margery's 
 indignant, flashing eyes, and heard her imperious reply. 
 But time passed on, and the situation grew more critical. 
 
 " You'll be expecting one of your own people a 
 sister, perhaps to stay with you in December ? " she 
 suggested once, when at her wits' end as to what she 
 ought to do. 
 
 Margery was sewing. She went on taking tiny 
 stitches without a pause, and without looking up. 
 
 " I have no sisters no near relatives at all," she 
 said quietly. " No, there will be no one to come." 
 
 Mrs. Strong, baffled, had perforce to let the matter 
 slide. But when the heat went and an autumnal 
 crispness crept into the moorland air, and a glorious 
 September was about to pass into October, her uneasi- 
 ness was so great that she felt bound to make at least 
 one more definite effort. 
 
 " You won't forget, my dear, to give me a list of 
 those you want written to when there's any news ? " 
 
 The question shocked Margery to a sudden sense 
 of the flight of time. In her quiet, monotonous life 
 the days had grown to be unmarked things, that came 
 and went without leaving any impression at all. Her 
 work fell from her hands. For the first time in her 
 intercourse with Mrs. Strong there was fear in her 
 voice. 
 
 204
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 " Oh, my husband will be back long before that ! " 
 she said : but with so little conviction that Mrs. Strong 
 was at last emboldened to press the matter. 
 
 " We never know, my dear. These things happen 
 sometimes sooner than you expect specially with a 
 first. I'd feel happier if I knew where to write." 
 
 The terror, that Margery had so long kept per- 
 sistently deep down in her heart, rose up and gripped 
 her by the throat. She had to make three attempts 
 before she could speak at all. 
 
 " He will be back I am sure he will be back ! " she 
 cried; and her voice ran up to a high note and broke 
 there. The suggestion of any other possibility was 
 appalling. In all her trouble, it had never once occurred 
 to her that Denzil might not return before his child was 
 born. Any day he would write, or come himself : 
 whereas December seemed a dim, far-off time, only 
 barely credible at all. 
 
 "He will be back!" she repeated hoarsely ; and, 
 looking suddenly at Mrs. Strong, saw in her pitying 
 face that she did not believe it. 
 
 The little scrap of elaborate needlework had fallen 
 on the ground. Margery stooped to pick it up, and 
 smoothed it into precise and dainty folds with fingers 
 that did not tremble. 
 
 " I have been indoors all day," she said quite col- 
 lectedly. " I am going out now." 
 
 She fetched her hat and cloak, and took the road 
 leading towards the Moor where she had not had 
 strength to go for many a day. But now, once out 
 of Mrs. Strong's sight, she walked fast, like one 
 
 205
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 possessed. It seemed to her that she would die if she 
 had to endure this dreadful loneliness and ignorance 
 any longer. For the first time she was allowing herself 
 to face the facts : she knew nothing of Denzil's where- 
 abouts, and had no explanation of his absence, and 
 no reason for knowing anything about his return. 
 
 She found herself suddenly laughing out loud as she 
 walked, and the shock frightened her back to some 
 mastery over herself. If she let her thoughts whirl 
 in this mad, meaningless fashion, she would go out of 
 her mind. Her only hope, she felt instinctively, was 
 to fix on one point and let the others go. 
 
 Suppose Denzil were dead. Suppose the list of pas- 
 sengers on board the Campaspe had been incomplete, 
 and his name had been one of those omitted ? In her 
 agony of uncertainty and suspense, Margery fancied 
 that she would be glad to know, without a shadow of 
 doubt, that that was so ; certain knowledge, however 
 dreadful, could not be so unbearable as this constant 
 strain of hope deferred. At intervals in her restless, 
 miserable nights, she had trembled with fright lest 
 she should die when the baby was born. But, if she 
 knew certainly first that Denzil was dead too, she 
 could wish for nothing better. 
 
 As she walked up and up the moorland road, it began 
 to seem suddenly to her bewildered mind that what 
 she was thinking about was actually the case. If 
 only she could see the complete list, Denzil's name 
 would be there. It was there she knew it for a fact. 
 If only she could see a list ! The feverish, unreasonable 
 wish, having once seized her, immediately became 
 
 206
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 intolerable ; and at the same moment she found that 
 the unnatural strength, which had borne her up so far, 
 was deserting her as rapidly as it had come. She 
 sank down by the side of the road on a bank of dry 
 heather, and tears poured down her face tears of 
 hysteria, fear, and weakness, and intense desire to see 
 that list of the Campaspe's victims. 
 
 She had met no one in the whole of her lonely walk. 
 She was too weary, and her eyes too blinded by tears, 
 to notice now anyone who came. The sound of ap- 
 proaching wheels penetrated only dimly to her senses ; 
 she hardly realized the fact that they had stopped 
 beside her. 
 
 " Can I give you a lift, Mrs. Vane ? " The speaker 
 had perhaps been looking at her critically for a moment 
 before he said anything ; at any rate, he expressed 
 no surprise at finding her there, or at her forlorn condi- 
 tion. Margery, starting violently, looked up, and 
 the thought that flashed whimsically into her mind was 
 a recollection of Denzil's remark on the first Sunday 
 of their honeymoon. " The parson is an uncom- 
 monly ugly chap, but he looks quite a decent sort ! " 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Mr. Kent ! " she said with un- 
 feigned gratitude, and found herself trembling all 
 over when she had risen to her feet. She could not 
 possibly have walked the long distance back again. 
 
 He explained that he had been visiting friends on 
 the other side of the Moor, and that they had insisted 
 on sending him home. " And I am glad of it now, for 
 your sake," he said, with a quick, brief smile which 
 lighted up his dark face ; and then, being a silent
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 man, said 'nothing else at all. For a few moments Mar- 
 gery gave herself up to appreciation of the unusual and 
 welcome luxury of a carriage and pair. Then, as her 
 weariness wore off a little, the mad fancy of the 
 afternoon took possession of her again. She turned 
 to him impetuously. 
 
 " Will you please tell me does a newspaper ever 
 make a mistake ? " 
 
 He looked back at her, astonished, for an instant 
 half disposed to smile. But, meeting her eyes, he 
 answered with perfect seriousness : "I am afraid so 
 sometimes." 
 
 " If a ship is lost, and there is a list of the pas- 
 sengers," Margery gasped, " might there be a a 
 mistake ? a name left out ? " 
 
 " It is quite possible," he replied quietly. 
 
 " Could one get another list from anywhere ? " 
 
 " From the shipping agents, certainly." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Margery in a baffled manner. 
 
 After a moment's pause he added : " If you wish to 
 see such a list, will you allow me to write for it ? " 
 
 Margery hesitated, with a desperate loyalty in her 
 weary mind ; but it seemed to her that this need 
 involve no betrayal of her secret. " Oh, thank you ! " 
 she said. " It would be very kind I don't know 
 where to write. But I don't like to trouble you about 
 it." 
 
 He did not waste words in disclaiming the trouble. 
 He merely took out a very business-like little note- 
 book, and put down the line and the ship's name 
 and the date. When Margery gave that date so long 
 
 208
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 ago now his pencil paused for a second : just long 
 enough to read, in one glance, something of what those 
 months of waiting had written on the white young 
 face beside him. But he only said : "I ought to have 
 an answer the day after to-morrow ; I will let you have 
 it at once." And as he finished speaking, the carriage 
 drew up at the gate of the farm. 
 
 The day after to-morrow '. It seemed to Margery 
 as if those few hours were longer than all the months 
 that had gone before. The whole tension of her waiting 
 had concentrated itself now on this one point, and she 
 was in no state, mentally or physically, to reason with 
 herself. Something seemed to tell her that Denzil was 
 dead. She knew that she would see his name in the 
 list. In a dream that came to her in the second of 
 those restless nights, she saw him rising out of the little 
 waves of a calm blue sea and holding out his arms to 
 her, to draw her down with him to peace and quietness 
 deep below the smiling surface ; and she woke sobbing 
 and crying with a great longing. When she had once 
 seen for herself the assurance that he was dead, she 
 would ask nothing better than to let go her own hold 
 on life, and slip quietly down, without regret, into the 
 Valley of the Shadow. 
 
 The postman came late to the little moorland village. 
 Margery, sitting sewing at her window, watched him 
 pass that morning with a tightening of her throat, 
 and leaned forward to see if he would take the turn 
 to the Vicarage though, of course, that meant nothing. 
 She put down her work, and began to walk feverishly 
 about the little room, clasping and unclasping her 
 
 209 14
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 hands. How long must she wait ? How soon might 
 she hope that the Vicar would bring her the news 
 supposing that there was any ? 
 
 Five minutes later she saw him coming towards the 
 farm, swinging along in his quick, purposeful fashion, 
 as if his day were full and he could not afford to waste 
 a moment. And Margery watched him with her heart 
 in her eyes, as if he had been an angel from Heaven : 
 supposing that angels ever appear and such things 
 have been known in the guise of a square-shouldered, 
 stern-faced parson in a rather dusty coat. 
 
 " The Vicar would like to see you, ma'am." 
 
 " Forgive me for interrupting you so early," said 
 Mr. Kent, coming in and shaking hands in an absolutely 
 commonplace manner. " The letter that I spoke to 
 you about came this morning, and I thought you 
 would be interested in seeing it at once. Mrs. Strong," 
 catching the good woman as she was retiring, " if 
 you can spare me five minutes, I want to ask you about 
 the people who have just come to the Mill Cottage." 
 
 Margery was alone again, with the letter in her hand. 
 It had not even been opened. She had been quite 
 justified in trusting Mr. Kent with the poor little 
 shadow of her secret. 
 
 For a minute or two she sat trembling, wondering 
 if, after all, the dreadful blank of certainty would not 
 be worse than all the agonies of suspense. Then, 
 nerving herself to the effort, she tore open the envelope. 
 The covering letter slipped to the ground. The list 
 was in her hand : the list that, night after night in the 
 darkness, had been before her weary eyes as it had 
 
 210
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 appeared in the newspaper. She knew the look of it, 
 the disposition of the names, so well. With wide eyes 
 of pain and terror she looked down this second list, 
 that was to contain the name omitted in the other the 
 only name in the world which meant anything to her. 
 
 " Harris Holmes Hulbert." 
 
 Like one in a dream, Margery read and re-read ; and 
 it was the same list, word for word, that had been in 
 the paper, with no Holyer in it anywhere. 
 
 For a minute or two so strongly had she brought 
 herself to believe in the reality of her own fancy 
 Margery could not trust her eyes : could not believe 
 that all her ideas had crumbled into dust, that the 
 certainty for which she had so craved was as far from 
 her as ever. She snatched up the letter from the 
 floor, as if that might be expected to throw any light 
 on the matter; but it contained only three bald lines 
 of typewritten politeness. The painful truth came 
 upon her like a stunning blow ; it seemed to crush the 
 very life out of her. She had lost Denzil ; and she 
 had no means of finding him. She could not hide the 
 horrible position from herself for another moment. 
 
 The papers fluttered unheeded to the ground. Mar- 
 gery sat crouched down in her chair, her face in her 
 hands. A nervous, uncontrollable trembling took 
 possession of her, increasing until she could not hold 
 herself still. She was not crying her eyes felt dry 
 and hot, as if she would never cry again ; but she had 
 an unreasonable desire to scream aloud. In that 
 moment of sheer horror she saw quite clearly, with 
 terrified eyes, how very slender is the barrier that 
 
 14*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 divides sanity from madness. The walls of the little 
 room and everything in it were fading away from 
 her. She was up on the moors with Denzil, in the 
 midst of one of their long walks. She could hear the 
 
 tinkling of the sheep-bells quite close 
 
 Something soft and insistent was rubbing against 
 her hand. But all her senses were in such a whirl 
 that it was a minute or two before she looked up : 
 to meet two large greenish eyes, full of concern and 
 perplexity, set in a furry tabby face. A white paw 
 was stretched out to touch her tentatively. A soft, 
 inquiring mew conveyed perplexity, sympathy and 
 distress as plainly as cat-voice could. 
 
 The homely, unromantic appeal brought Margery back 
 to the world of reality as nothing human could have 
 done. Before Mr. Kent or Mrs. Strong, her over- 
 wrought nerves must have betrayed her into a fit of 
 uncontrollable crying and sobbing ; but hysteria seems 
 undignified before the uncanny, serene inquisitiveness 
 of a cat. Margery put out her hand, therefore, and 
 said "Poor pussy!" in a shaking^ unnatural voice, 
 and was oddly comforted when the furry head was 
 rubbed hard against her cold fingers. The visitor 
 made a sudden jump to her knee, and stood trampling 
 there with a pleased purring. Margery snatched him 
 suddenly up in her arms and held him close. In the 
 cold, grey world that seemed all that was left to her, 
 something warm and living was a curious comfort. 
 
 " I think he followed me," said Mr. Kent's voice 
 outside, speaking to Mrs. Strong, and Margery saw 
 for the first time that her door was standing ajar, 
 
 212
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 " I'll just see if he is here. Oh, Mrs. Vane, Edward 
 seems to have introduced himself ! " 
 
 " Is this Edward ? " said Margery, in a voice that 
 was extraordinarily unlike her own. 
 
 " Edward Kent the finest cat in Devonshire ! " said 
 Edward's master. " Not such a very remarkable cat 
 
 to look at, perhaps " but he made the admission 
 
 grudgingly " but a wonderful mind ! " 
 
 He patted Edward hard, as one pats a dog. 
 
 " See it's not every cat that would stand that ! " 
 he cried with pride. He seemed barely to have 
 glanced at Margery; but perhaps, as he stooped to 
 pat Edward, he caught sight of the papers that lay 
 scattered on the floor as she had dropped them. His 
 rather stern face softened wonderfully as he talked 
 to the cat. For one moment Margery, looking at him, 
 had a wild desire to tell him everything, and ask his 
 opinion and advice. It would be such an untold 
 relief to speak out, to share the intolerable burden 
 of her secret, to hear another person's view of the 
 mystery of Denzil's disappearance ; and this, she 
 felt instinctively, was a man whom she could trust 
 implicitly, and whose verdict would be worth having. 
 
 " Well, we must be going come, Edward ! " said 
 Mr. Kent, raising himself suddenly. For an instant 
 his deep-set eyes shot one direct look at Margery. 
 
 " Can I do anything else for you, Mrs. Vane ? " 
 
 And Margery, looking straight back again, said 
 quietly : " No, thank you." After all, her wavering 
 had only been momentary. She could not be disloyal 
 to Denzil, whatever her loyalty might cost her. 
 
 213
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Mr. Kent nodded good-bye abruptly, and went out, 
 with Edward trotting after him. Margery watched 
 them from the window : and was glad that her secret 
 was still her own. 
 
 " And the fuss he do make of that cat, ma'am well, 
 there, it do beat everything ! " said Mrs. Strong, coming 
 in to clear away breakfast. " Not much of a talker, 
 he ain't generally, the Vicar ; but he talk to that 
 dumb beast for all the world as if he was a Christian ! " 
 
 " He is a handsome cat," said Margery rather faintly. 
 
 " Not a badly marked cat," said Mrs. Strong in a 
 disparaging voice. " But, if you come to handsome, 
 ma'am, you should see the cat up to Mrs. Yeo's ! 
 Blue she is, with fur inches long, and a tail like a 
 brush." 
 
 " I think I like the short-haired ones the best. They 
 are so much cleverer," said Margery ; and she bent to 
 pick up the scattered papers. 
 
 " Now, let me do that for you, my dear, do ! " said 
 Mrs. Strong, stepping forward hastily, too late. 
 " Dear, dear, ma'am, when will you think to save your- 
 self all you can and me in the very room, too ! " 
 
 " You won't believe that I am really very strong," 
 said Margery ; and she smiled so bravely, and withal 
 so pitifully, that the good woman for once found words 
 fail her, and cleared the table and left the room in an 
 unwonted silence, winking away something suspiciously 
 like tears from her kindly eyes. 
 
 For a little while Margery had been a coward ; she 
 trembled to think how nearly she had let her secret 
 Denzil's secret escape her. But now she was 
 
 214
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 resolved never to be a coward again. After all, only one 
 day had to be lived through at a time. She must go 
 on with her trivial daily round, and think as little as 
 possible of things outside it not at all, if she could 
 help it, of the dreadful, inexplicable silence that had 
 fallen like a veil between Denzil and herself. 
 
 It was not possible, of course ; and so poor Margery 
 speedily found, as she walked with brave feet through 
 the Valley of the Shadow. She was less and less 
 able to occupy the long hours of the weary days ; one 
 occupation after another slipped from her failing fingers, 
 and left her more and more time for the thoughts that 
 were so unwelcome and so hard to fight off. It seemed 
 to Margery, looking ahead with solemn eyes, that 
 thus and so must the end of the allotted seventy years 
 come to all who lived out their time : the burden 
 pressing daily a little heavier, the strength to bear it 
 growing daily a little less ; yesterday's walk too far 
 for to-day's weary feet ; last week's task a physical 
 and mental impossibility to-day. She was no longer 
 afraid of dying when her baby was born ; indeed, 
 now she wished for nothing else. She was so weary, 
 so unutterably tired and heartsick ; so sure, now, that 
 Denzil must be dead. For hope had died in her heart 
 by this time, killed by the long silence and the incom- 
 prehensibility of it all. It seemed to her that the 
 darkest hour had come. But, since Denzil must be 
 dead, and since she herself, as she fully hoped and 
 believed, was going to die too, surely she could muster 
 up strength to be patient for the last little bit of her 
 way alone. 
 
 215
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 But, alas for Margery ! it is not the darkness of that 
 Valley which is its greatest horror. There came days 
 on which the hobgoblins who, as an older Pilgrim has 
 left on record, inhabit the Valley, whispered poisonously 
 into her ears that Denzil had forgotten her : had 
 ceased to care for her ; worst of all, echoing Mrs. J anna- 
 way's hard words, that in some unimaginable way 
 her marriage had been no marriage at all. Then, 
 indeed, she longed for the past days of mere darkness, 
 when her greatest grief had been the belief that Denzil 
 was dead ; for that seemed but a light thing to bear 
 in comparison with these hideous suggestions. There 
 were days still when, remembering the Denzil she 
 had known, she was bitterly ashamed of harbouring 
 such ideas for a moment ; and then back would come 
 the deadly fancies, stronger than her weakened powers 
 of resistance, with others even harder to bear, until 
 her own imagination was a terror to her. 
 
 The end of her time of waiting came rather sooner 
 than she had expected it, just as a dismal November 
 was drawing to its close. For a long time past she had 
 made up her mind that she was going to die, and she 
 was glad of it ; for since she had lost Denzil, what 
 was there to live for ? It seemed an easy and pleasant 
 thing just to drift out of the world ; only a cruelty of 
 anyone to try to call her back. Dimly, in a mist of 
 dreams, she heard the word " rousing " spoken by 
 someone, and then Mrs. Strong's voice close to her ear, 
 broken with sobbing, but all kind and womanly : 
 " My dear, don't you want to see your little boy ? " 
 
 But Margery wanted nothing but to be let alone. 
 216
 
 The Valley of the Shadow 
 
 It was cruel to bring her back to a life which she did 
 not want, when she was so contentedly gliding away 
 from it. Her closed eyelids did not flutter. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Vane, here is your baby ! " 
 
 The doctor's voice was louder, more insistent, not 
 to be trifled with ; but from it, and his touch, Margery 
 only turned away her head with a little moan. She 
 would not let herself be roused. Nothing should bring 
 her back to a world where in the last six months she 
 had suffered so much. And yet, the next moment, 
 a third voice did what neither of the others had suc- 
 ceeded in doing : an angry, ridiculous voice, very weak, 
 very shrill, protesting vigorously against the indignity 
 of being born. Little, futile, clutching fingers caught 
 at her in a fierce clasp, surprisingly strong, and let 
 go again purposelessly. Margery's eyes opened per- 
 force upon a tiny face that lay against her arm ; and 
 it was so unlike any face that she had ever seen before, 
 that the shock brought her back to life as nothing else 
 could have done. 
 
 " Oh, is he all right ? Ought he to look like that ? " 
 she cried, weakly and anxiously. But there was quite 
 a new tone in her voice. Her arm closed jealously 
 round the tiny, shrieking creature. Her eyes, looking 
 up at the doctor, dared him to say one disparaging 
 word. 
 
 " All right ? One of the finest children I've ever 
 seen ! " he replied, with a heartiness that argued some 
 past anxiety ; and to Mrs. Strong he added, with a 
 significant nod : " No more need to trouble. We 
 shall do very well now ! " 
 
 217
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 SOMETHING TO DO 
 
 THE life to which Margery had come back so 
 reluctantly was on quite new lines, timed, 
 regulated and tyrannized over by the baby. He was 
 a source of continual astonishment and frequent terror ; 
 for Margery, as soon as she was allowed to read, pro- 
 cured a book on the nurture of infants and studied 
 it with profound attention, which occasionally scared 
 her to death for the various information which it 
 contained was all new to her, and some of it terrifying 
 in the extreme. Thrush and Convulsions, and other 
 nameless horrors, seemed to threaten her baby at every 
 turn ; and had it not been for Mrs. Strong, who scouted 
 her ignorance, laughed at her fears, and even went 
 so far as to think lightly of the great work in question, 
 Margery would have frightened herself into a very 
 slow convalescence. It astonished her to think how, 
 such a little while before, she had actually wished to 
 die. The very idea made her tremble, now that this 
 new, inexhaustible interest had come into her life ; 
 the remembrance that her baby had, at least for the 
 moment, no one in the world but herself, made her 
 clasp him tightly to her and watch over him, if that 
 were possible, more untiringly than ever. 
 
 218
 
 Something to do 
 
 " Ought he to be so red ? " she would inquire anxiously 
 of Mrs. Strong. 
 
 " Bless him ! The red ones turn out the finest com- 
 plexions later on," the good woman would reply 
 reassuringly. 
 
 " But he has such queer creases and wrinkles ! " 
 Margery would persist. 
 
 " You wait ! and he'll be a real beauty ! " Mrs. 
 Strong would prophesy firmly. But the prophecy 
 seemed to Margery so impossible that she was moved 
 after some days of heart-searching to ask : " Are 
 all babies as as ugly as this, Mrs. Strong ? Not that 
 I think him ugly, of course ! " she added hastily, as 
 if in fear that the sleeping tiny thing by her side might 
 overhear and be hurt. " But I can imagine that per- 
 haps other people might think so ! " 
 
 " He ain't, so to speak, a pretty baby," Mrs. Strong 
 replied judicially, with an eye on the crumpled red 
 face. " But he's a fine, strong, healthy boy ; and 
 as for beauty, Mrs. Vane, my dear, it's always said to 
 be the ugly babies that turn out the handsomest later 
 on!" 
 
 Accepting this answer with some relief, and gradually, 
 as she grew stronger, finding room in her mind for an 
 occasional something else beside her son, Margery 
 began to review her own position critically. She was 
 a good deal surprised to find that she was expected to 
 stay in bed so long ; but she was of a patient nature, 
 and bore her imprisonment with serenity. It was the 
 greatest comfort to find that the dreadful oppression 
 of head and heart were completely gone. For very 
 
 219
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 weakness she could not always keep back tears of 
 longing for Denzil ; but her outlook on life was once 
 more hopeful and sane. He would come back to her 
 sooner or later, and all would be explained in some 
 quite natural and simple way which did not happen 
 to have suggested itself to her. But in the meantime,, 
 as soon as she was well again, she must find some- 
 thing to do ; for the money which Denzil had left 
 with her, supplemented by some small stores of her 
 own, had run very low indeed. 
 
 She astonished Mrs. Strong beyond measure one day 
 by asking quietly for writing materials she, who in 
 all those months had never written a single letter. She 
 wrote now to some half-dozen of her old school-friends, 
 and the gist of all most carefully thought out before- 
 hand was in all cases the same : " It is a long while 
 since I wrote to you, I'm afraid. I was married quite 
 in a hurry, in February," and then a few slight details 
 as to Denzil and his personal appearance. " My 
 husband was obliged to go abroad suddenly when we 
 had only been married a few weeks, and could not 
 take me with him. I did not feel inclined to write 
 letters then, just when I was missing him so much ; 
 and most of the time since I have been very unwell. 
 My little boy was born a fortnight ago," and then the 
 rest of the_letter filled itself quite naturally with praises 
 of that all-important individual ; and the " Margery 
 Vane" at the end was written perhaps a little larger 
 and clearer than the rest. She would not worry her- 
 self about any further explanations that must come 
 in the future, until their time came. 
 
 220
 
 Something to do 
 
 To her old schoolmistress, the head of the Orphanage, 
 Margery added another clause. " My husband is not 
 too well off, and I should be very glad to find some 
 work to do. Can you suggest anything ? I am afraid 
 Mrs. Croome will give me no reference, as she was 
 very angry with me when I left though, indeed, it 
 was not through any fault of mine." 
 
 This correspondence was the work of two or three 
 days, and Mrs. Strong posted the batch of letters 
 and Margery felt, with every nerve in her racked, 
 that she must be secretly astonished to see nothing 
 amongst them for Denzil. She had had some wild 
 thought of addressing an envelope to him at some 
 fictitious foreign address, enclosing a blank sheet of 
 paper to save the situation ; but had finally resisted 
 the temptation. Her secret must be kept until such 
 time as he himself released her from it ; but there 
 should be no new deception of any sort or kind. 
 
 The answer to all the letters came quickly, and 
 with them a few wedding presents, which affected 
 Margery curiously the first she had had ; and also 
 some trifles for the baby, which gave her far more 
 genuine pleasure. The letter from the Orphanage was 
 eagerly looked for, and opened first of all ; but her 
 face fell as she read it. It was very kind ; but it 
 expressed serious disappointment that Mrs. Croome 
 could not be asked to speak for her. " I will do my 
 very best for you," Miss Willis wrote, " but of course 
 you uijderstand that this is a decided obstacle, when 
 inquiries are made about your previous experience. 
 Of course, too, you will be able to arrange for some 
 
 221
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 friend to take care of the baby ; it would naturally be 
 quite impossible for you to have it with you." 
 
 Arrange for some friend to take the baby ! Margery 
 read with astonishment and indignation, that slowly 
 subsided into a perception of the enormous gulf lying 
 between those who are mothers and those who are 
 not. Her arm tightened round the bundle at her 
 side. What an insult quite apart from the absurdity 
 of suggesting a separation between them ! to refer 
 to that all-important person as " it " ! Why, even 
 those rather pitiable people who possessed only 
 feminine babies might justifiably be annoyed ; while 
 hers was a son, a man-child. She knew well enough 
 what an additional difficulty he must prove in her 
 search for employment there was no need for Miss 
 Willis to have emphasized that : but, as for being 
 parted from him ! 
 
 A stormy November gave place to an unnaturally 
 mild December, and Mrs. Strong, with unspeakable 
 pride, carried the baby out for his first walk : coming 
 back with wonderful reports of the astonishing amount 
 of notice he had taken, and the stupefaction of all 
 those who had been vouchsafed a glimpse of him. 
 " And if it will only last like this for you to get out, 
 Mrs. Vane, my dear and then a little longer for the 
 christening ! " she said. " Were you thinking of having 
 a little party for it, now ? " 
 
 " No," said Margery. The colour came up in her 
 thin and delicate face as she found herself confronted 
 with a new complication. 
 
 " Only just the godparents, like ? " suggested Mrs. 
 222
 
 Something to do 
 
 Strong^ disappointed, but making the best of the 
 matter. 
 
 "I'm afraid I had not thought about it at all," said 
 Margery; and smiled, though it was something of an 
 effort. 
 
 She was allowed up next day for the first time, and 
 was astonished and discomfited to find herself such 
 an arrant weakling. Mrs. Strong's assurances that 
 she would be walking h'ke anyone else in a fortnight's 
 time seemed consoling, but barely credible. But, 
 once upon her feet again, she felt so strongly the urgent 
 necessity of getting something settled, that by sheer 
 force of will she obliged herself to recover strength 
 with a surprising rapidity. Her little store of money 
 had by this time dwindled so low that she was 
 frightened. Even with the strictest economy, it must 
 all be gone in a very few weeks more. So, though she 
 was glad enough of Mrs. Strong's arm when she was 
 pronounced well enough to go to church, the very next 
 day she only waited for the good woman's back to be 
 turned before she slipped out on an errand of her own 
 devising. After all, the Vicarage was nearer than 
 the church; and she was afraid to let any more days 
 pass idly. 
 
 In spite of all her resolution, she was flushed and 
 trembling by the time she reached her destination, 
 and was glad enough to sit down the moment she was 
 shown into the Vicar's study. It was a rather grim 
 room but then there were not a few people who con- 
 sidered him a grim man. There were books in plenty, 
 and scattered papers all over the large writing-table, 
 
 223
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 as if no sacrilegious female hand was ever allowed to 
 touch it. It was not a large room ; for the Vicarage, 
 like the living, was small. There were no ornaments 
 of any sort about it unless pipes and a tobacco-jar 
 come under that head. There was only one picture, 
 which hung over the mantelpiece ; and that represented 
 a modern town church of extraordinary ugliness. 
 
 A tinkling bell heralded the arrival of the Vicar, 
 with Edward at his heels ; and Edward, after a care- 
 ful inspection of the hem of Margery's skirt, sprang 
 into her lap as one who cannot imagine himself 
 unwelcome. 
 
 <( You are honoured. He doesn't go to everyone," 
 said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " I like cats," said Margery. It was a relief to have 
 the formality of the interview broken. Her hands did 
 not tremble so much, now that they had Edward's 
 soft fur to stroke. 
 
 " I wanted to ask you about my baby's christening," 
 she said. " I would like it to be next Sunday, please 
 Mrs. Strong said that the Children's Service was 
 the usual time " 
 
 " Certainly. Will you tell me the name now ? " 
 said Mr. Kent. " It saves any misunderstanding." 
 His tone was as business-like as the note-book which 
 he promptly produced. 
 
 " Richard Denzil Vane," said Margery a little 
 faintly, remembering the last time she had heard those 
 three names. 
 
 Mr. Kent's pen paused a moment, and he looked 
 at her. 
 
 224
 
 Something to do 
 
 " You wish your child to be christened ' Vane ' so 
 that he will have the name both as Christian and 
 surname ? " 
 
 " I wish him to be called Richard Denzil Vane, in 
 addition to his surname," said Margery steadily : a 
 change of phrase which Mr. Kent accepted without 
 comment. 
 
 " I should not have troubled you to see me," said 
 Margery, going gravely on from point to point, like a 
 child repeating a well-conned lesson, " but I wanted 
 to ask you something. I wish to be godmother my- 
 self, and my husband to be godfather " 
 
 Since she asked for no opinion, Mr. Kent gave none : 
 which is a very rare virtue. 
 
 " I I am afraid it is not likely that my husband 
 will be here in time for the christening," said Margery, 
 flushing and paling now in the effort to keep her 
 voice steady. " I I wondered you have been so 
 kind to me would you mind being the other god- 
 father ? " 
 
 If the request surprised Mr. Kent, he did not show 
 it, or even pause before his prompt answer : " Certainly 
 I will, Mrs. Vane, if you wish it." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! You are very kind ! " said Mar- 
 gery, from her heart. For a moment she hesitated on 
 the verge of some attempted explanation of her forlorn 
 condition, which obliged her to make such a petition 
 to a comparative stranger ; and then had the wisdom 
 to refrain. Where the whole truth must not be told, 
 the half would be likely to complicate rather than 
 simplify her position. Besides, she had with her the 
 
 225 15
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 ever-present fear of betraying Denzil's secret by some 
 unguarded word. 
 
 " There is one thing more," she said, hurrying on ; 
 for, indeed, this was the last and most formidable 
 object of her visit. " I I want to find something to 
 do. If you knew of anything, I I should be very 
 grateful." 
 
 " What sort of thing ? " said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " I was a governess before I was married," Margery 
 faltered. " I was educated at the Binstead Orphanage, 
 and I I have several certificates." She named them : 
 quite an imposing list. " I have written to Miss Willis, 
 the headmistress there," she hurried on, " and she 
 will do her best for me. But I thought that you might 
 perhaps know of someone in the neighbourhood who 
 wanted a governess a visiting governess. I can't go 
 away from my baby, you see." 
 
 Mr. Kent sat looking, not at her, but at the photo- 
 graph of the ugly church, as some men look, when 
 meditating^ at the pictures of their sweethearts or 
 wives. He was evidently thinking, and he sat per- 
 fectly still to think, without any tapping of fingers or 
 other movement which is also a very rare virtue. 
 
 " I'm afraid I don't know of anyone who wants 
 a visiting governess," he said at last. " This is not a 
 residential neighbourhood, you see." 
 
 " Please forgive me for having troubled you," said 
 Margery, rather faintly, and she trembled a little 
 as she rose. " I only thought if there was any- 
 one " 
 
 " Sit down againj please," said Mr. Kent. " The 
 226
 
 Something to do 
 
 only thing that occurs to me is probably not at all 
 suitable : or what you would like." 
 
 " Oh, indeed I would do anything that I could ! " 
 said Margery ; and her voice betrayed how important 
 the matter was to her. 
 
 " It's only this : that the schoolmistress here is 
 resigning at Christmas, and I have not yet found any- 
 one to take her place. But it is not at all the thing 
 for you ! " said Mr. Kent, putting away the suggestion 
 almost as soon as he had made it. 
 
 " Oh oh, do you think I wouldn't do ? " faltered 
 Margery. Her eyes had brightened wonderfully, and 
 then clouded with disappointment. " If if you were 
 thinking about the sewing part of it," she went on 
 very timidly, " I really can sew well we were taught 
 all that sort of thing thoroughly at Binstead." 
 
 " It wasn't the sewing part," said Mr. Kent. " You 
 see you are very young, Mrs. Vane." 
 
 " I shall be nineteen on Sunday," said Margery, 
 not at all understanding the quick look which he shot 
 at her in answer from under his thick black brows : 
 for, indeed, it seemed to her a considerable age, a 
 very decided step from mere eighteen. 
 
 Mr. Kent did not seem by any means so much im- 
 pressed as she could have wished. He sat thinking 
 again, and his expression was so unpromising that she 
 began to plead her cause desperately. " I would 
 really do my best I am supposed to teach rather 
 well. And if I was not a great success, it would 
 only be for quite a little while, just till my husband 
 comes home ! " 
 
 227 15*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 Mr. Kent opened his mouth to say finally that the 
 idea was absurd, and then looked at Margery again 
 and did not say it. He was keen-eyed both by nature 
 and training. He knew quite well that the matter 
 was a question of daily bread for this child and her 
 baby. If he had had any other suggestion to make 
 of a more suitable nature, he would have put aside 
 the appointment to the village school without more 
 ado. But he had no other suggestion at all, and Mar- 
 gery's eyes were imploring. Therefore he hesitated 
 and was lost. 
 
 " Remember, I can promise nothing. The matter 
 is not entirely in my hands, you know," he said. But 
 Margery knew from his voice that all his influence was 
 going to be exerted on her behalf, and she responded 
 eagerly and gratefully. 
 
 " I am so very much obliged to you, and it has been 
 so good of you to give me all this time 
 
 " Edward doesn't thank you for disturbing him. 
 Good-bye ! " was Mr. Kent's unromantic answer. 
 But he stood for a minute at the window, watching 
 her go down to the gate, noting how slowly and 
 weakly she walked ; and, turning away, muttered to 
 himself : " Nineteen / " in a tone that might have 
 meant any of half a dozen things. 
 
 228
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 TIME AND THE HOUR 
 
 nnHE baby was duly christened on his mother's 
 A nineteenth birthday, and behaved so badly that 
 Margery was overwhelmed with shame ; and even 
 Mrs. Strong, rallying for her comfort a whole phalanx 
 of proverbs about the necessity of tears during the 
 ceremony, was obliged to confess that the thing had 
 certainly been rather overdone this time. " He do 
 cry, the dear ! " she said, taking the shrieking, writh- 
 ing, purple-faced Richard Denzil Vane from his 
 mother at the church door. " But there ! it's a 
 comfort to know that his lungs is all right ! " 
 
 Such comfort as there might be in this, young 
 Richard supplied, and continued to supply, without 
 stint. There surely never was such an angry baby, 
 one so at war with the world and perpetually on the 
 look-out for insults. If he had to wait one moment 
 for a meal, if his bath was the fraction of a degree 
 too hot or too cold, if he was put down at a time when 
 it seemed good to him to walk about then he would 
 rend the air with instant fierce shriekings. The last 
 and worst injury of all was that he should ever be 
 expected to sleep in his cradle. Margery might, and 
 
 229
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 did, stand over him by the half-hour together, rocking, 
 patting, giving him a finger to suck, until she was 
 so stiff that it was difficult to draw herself upright 
 again ; but let her dare to go to bed herself, or move 
 into the next room, or do anything, in fact, except 
 dance attendance on his lordship ! One moment 
 the cradle would contain a sleeping cherub, with 
 peaceful, fat face, and dimpled hands thrown up on 
 the pillow ; the next instant, with one indignant 
 bounce and no other warning at all, young Richard 
 was screaming out his furious soul, and refusing to be 
 pacified. 
 
 " It isn't as if there was anything the matter with 
 him," said Mrs. Strong, perplexed, and thoughtfully 
 eyeing the young scoundrel, silent for the moment 
 as he took one of his many meals, but cocking a watch- 
 ful eye at his mother meanwhile, to make sure that 
 she had no intention of defrauding him of a single 
 drop. " I never see a finer child ! It's just sheer 
 temper." And Margery, remembering Denzil's in- 
 variably sunny, happy nature, and haunted by dim 
 notions of heredity, would search deeply into her 
 own faults and failings with infinite misgiving. And 
 then the delinquent, as if realising that he had reached 
 the end of his tether, would suddenly stop crying to 
 give her one of the charming, bright smiles that 
 vividly recalled his father ; and Margery would realise, 
 if her conviction had for a moment faltered, that no 
 one else had ever possessed a baby who could compare 
 for a moment with her own. 
 
 Mrs. Strong, too, though she had no maternal feeling 
 230
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 to bias her, was more than devoted and forgiving, and 
 never tired of dancing attendance on the exacting 
 young rascal ; so that Margery hardly dared to break 
 to her the news that she might very soon consider 
 herself free to find new lodgers. For the Vicar's 
 influence had proved successful, and Margery was to 
 take up her new duties at the end of the Christmas 
 holidays. She mustered up courage at last to tell 
 the news to Mrs. Strong, who was at first overwhelmed 
 with astonishment, then gave vent to all sorts of 
 vigorous objections, and finally, discovering that 
 the die was cast and that there was no appeal, melted 
 into dismal tears for the rest of the day. It had never 
 occurred to her, she sobbed, that Margery would 
 think of leaving her before her good gentleman re- 
 turned : at which Margery, inwardly wincing, con- 
 tinued to smile bravely. Mrs. Strong confessed amidst 
 her tears that she had even been tempted to wish 
 that his coming might be long postponed : " For what 
 I shall do without you and the blessed baby, my dear, 
 is more than I do know ! " The blessed baby at that 
 juncture, objecting to a tear that fell on his button 
 nose, suddenly doubled himself backwards in Mrs. 
 Strong's arms, and expressed his dissatisfaction in a 
 series of piercing shrieks. It was perhaps fortunate, 
 as diverting the current of her woe. But, by the time 
 that he consented to be pacified which was not till 
 after his next meal though her tears were reduced 
 to a gentle trickle, her opposition to the whole scheme 
 was no whit lessened. She did not consider Margery 
 suited to the post, or the post to Margery. Finding 
 
 231
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 that there was no getting over the fact that the appoint- 
 ment had actually been made, she could not see why 
 Margery should not continue to make her home at 
 the farm. 
 
 " But it is too far from the school, you see," said 
 Margery gently, reserving to herself the still more 
 important consideration that she could not afford to 
 pay unnecessary money for lodgings when there was 
 actually a house attached to her new position. 
 
 " Well, you can't live there alone, ma'am ! " said 
 Mrs. Strong indignantly. 
 
 " Miss Loomis does," said Margery. 
 
 " Miss Loomis ! " Mrs. Strong sniffed. " When you 
 are her age, my dear, you can too if you want to." 
 
 " I don't feel young," said Margery. Indeed, she 
 felt as if a hundred years separated her from the girl 
 who had met Denzil for the first time. 
 
 " Besides," said Mrs. Strong, whose stock of ob- 
 jections was so large that she had to hurry on from one 
 to another, in order to display them all, " what are you 
 going to do with the child while you're in school ? " 
 
 " I must have a girl to help me, I suppose," said 
 Margery. She had thought often enough for herself, 
 and with many misgivings, of that difficulty. 
 
 " Girl ! I don't take no account of girls ! " said 
 Mrs. Strong, with another sniff. " Careless, idle, 
 forgetful little hussies leave the precious pet to 
 scream his little heart out when you're safe out of 
 hearing ; or drop him, a lamb, and break his little 
 back, and never tell you till it's past mending, and him 
 a cripple for life I " 
 
 232
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 At these two appalling pictures, the tears rushed to 
 Margery's troubled eyes. 
 
 " Oh, dear Mrs. Strong, don't make it any harder 
 for me ! " she said piteously. " I must do it I'll 
 tell you why. I've hardly any money left, and I must 
 work to keep myself and baby ; and this seems the only 
 possible way 1 " 
 
 Mrs. Strong was aghast to speechlessness. Her 
 weekly bills modest enough, in truth had been so 
 promptly and ungrudgingly paid, and it seemed so 
 unnatural that " the gentry " should ever be troubled 
 about money matters, that it took her a minute or 
 two to adjust her mind to this new point of view. 
 When she had at last done so, however, the result was 
 a fresh flood of tears, and imploring petitions that 
 Margery and the baby should stay for ever and ever, 
 and put off any question of payment until some time 
 in the dim future when it should be quite convenient. 
 Margery broke down and cried a little, too, at the good 
 woman's kindness. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Strong, you know quite well that I 
 couldn't do that ; and besides, even if I could, you 
 couldn't possibly find time to take care of baby when 
 I am in school. I must just try to find some girl who 
 can be trusted ; and perhaps he will behave better 
 when he is a little older." 
 
 Mrs. Strong, seeing the hopelessness of the case, 
 dried her eyes and made a rapid volte-face. With a 
 shaking voice she launched on to a flood of anecdote 
 concerning babies who, having made night and day 
 hideous to their friends for six weeks or so, suddenly 
 
 233
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 reformed and became earthly angels for ever after : 
 " sleeping in their little beds, the dears, half the day, 
 and never a bit of trouble even when they was awake," 
 said Mrs. Strong, walking the room rapidly with young 
 Richard, who was stating at the full pitch of his 
 entirely satisfactory lungs that he had not been fed 
 for a month or more. As for finding a trustworthy 
 girl, she took the responsibility of that office upon her 
 own broad shoulders, and undertook to produce with- 
 out fail a paragon in whom it should be impossible to 
 find a flaw. She had only been joking, like, when she 
 had seemed to say that Margery would not make a 
 success of her new post ; of course, she would be ad- 
 mirable in every way, and the children and the whole 
 parish would be plunged in woe when her good gentle- 
 man returned to take her away. The difficulties 
 which had crowded thickly into Margery's mind, in 
 those night-watches when her tyrant would not allow 
 her to sleep, were all disposed of with a wave of Mrs. 
 Strong's plump hand, as they were anxiously presented 
 to her, one after another. Housekeeping in general, 
 and cooking in particular ? Well, there was plenty 
 of time, before the end of the holidays, for Margery 
 to learn all that she needed to know of that ! Would 
 Miss Loomis be likely to want to take away all her 
 house-plenishing with her when she left, or would 
 there be a chance for Margery to buy in cheaply, 
 second-hand, the little that she would need ? Why, 
 of course, Miss Loomis would have no further use for 
 her possessions, seeing that she was going to live with 
 a married sister ; she would be only too glad to dispose 
 
 234
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 of her goods for a mere nothing. And, by the way, 
 Mrs. Strong herself had any number of unnecessary 
 things cluttering up the house, which it would be a 
 positive kindness for Margery to take away with her ; 
 but that suggestion Margery put aside at once, very 
 gently, but with decision. She was grateful enough, 
 in all conscience, for Mrs. Strong's manifold kindnesses ; 
 but she was proud too, and it did not seem fitting to 
 her that Denzil's wife and child should accept absolute 
 charity. They would need so very little for the 
 short time until he should come back to them, and 
 what they could not pay for they must do without. 
 
 She knew, however, that her funds had dwindled so 
 very low that it was a great relief to learn from the 
 Vicar he had advised her settling the matter with 
 him rather than with Miss Loomis, whose temper was 
 well-known to be rather awkward that so many 
 necessary things in the little school-house went with 
 the post, so that nothing had to be paid for them. The 
 most unlikely things, some of them, as even unsus- 
 picious Margery noted with wonder ; but they merci- 
 fully reduced the list of what she had to buy outright 
 into such narrow limits, that even her meagre purse 
 could just be stretched to cover all. 
 
 So Margery arranged all her small affairs small 
 enough to the world at large, though all-important 
 to herself with anxious care, and made her flitting 
 into the pretty cottage which Denzil had so admired. 
 She seemed to hear his gay voice now, making more 
 than half seriously the absurd suggestion that they 
 should settle down for life in the village, and bribe the 
 
 235
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 schoolmistress to turn out of her abode because it 
 was so particularly charming. He had actually sallied 
 forth one morning to discuss the matter with her ; 
 returning, somewhat discomfited, to relate that the 
 old lady was smacking a small child when he arrived, 
 and looked so formidable that he had not dared to 
 do more than comment meekly on the weather, have 
 his head snapped off for his pains, and beat a hasty 
 retreat. Margery found herself laughing almost aloud 
 over the sudden memory ; and then thought how 
 astonished and charmed he would be when he re- 
 turned, to find her actually living in the pretty cottage 
 that had so taken his idle fancy. It was not quite so 
 pretty, of course, in the winter ; but when spring 
 came again, and the honeysuckle began to creep all 
 over the porch but, of course, it was absurd to 
 think that his coming would be delayed as long as 
 that. 
 
 The January snows came, and the school-term began, 
 and Margery, inwardly very shy and outwardly very 
 stiff and cold, took the first plunge into her new life ; 
 and found it, after the first gasp of alarm was over, 
 not at all unpleasant. The February rains came, 
 and the winds of March, and flowers were peeping up 
 alluringly all over her tiny garden. And, finally, 
 summer came in earnest, and the honeysuckle was 
 in full flower ; but Denzil never came back to see it. 
 
 The novelty over, Margery's life settled into a quiet, 
 monotonous round, by no means unhappy or void of 
 interest. She was too good a teacher not to throw 
 herself whole-heartedly and with enjoyment into her 
 
 236
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 work; and outside that her boy was all-sufficient. 
 She learned, in fact, far more than she ever taught. 
 She learned to forget that she was naturally a some- 
 what silent person, because the baby liked to be talked 
 to, and would lie staring up at her with solemn, round 
 eyes by the half-hour together while she prattled to 
 him. She learned how many things it is possible to 
 do with a baby on one's arm. She learned the fallacy 
 of the proverb which tells us that it is impossible to 
 do two things at once : finding that the mother who 
 cannot do that successfully must leave half her work 
 undone, and that, with a little practice, it is quite 
 possible to do three things simultaneously and do 
 them all well. Her excitements were the various 
 stages of the baby's progress : his first tooth ; the 
 amazing, incredible wonder of the day when he suddenly, 
 sitting on the floor, laid hold of a chair beside him, 
 and pulled himself upright on his feet for a brief two 
 seconds before a thunderous downfall. With every 
 successive stage Margery longed afresh for Denzil ; 
 and if each time the longing became a little fainter 
 and her loneliness a little less hard to bear, she never 
 knew it. She was growing accustomed to her solitary, 
 widowed life, which, at least, had this in its favour, 
 that she was spared the clashing that sometimes arises 
 between the claims of husband and child ; and the 
 child had become a complete and all-absorbing interest 
 that rilled her days and her thoughts. 
 
 Mrs. Strong had nobly redeemed her promise of 
 paragon-hunting, by the introduction into Margery's 
 household of one Esmeralda Peek : a capable, stolid, 
 
 237
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 well-scrubbed person of fifteen, the eldest of twelve, 
 and infinitely better versed than Margery in baby- 
 lore. Indeed, Margery sat meekly at her feet and 
 drank in information, when once she had got over the 
 initial alarm of seeing the all-important baby in any 
 hands but her own or Mrs. Strong's. Esmeralda took 
 kindly to him from the first, in spite of his scandalous 
 behaviour; and young Richard, rapidly discerning in 
 his sharp baby mind that here was a person who could 
 not be frightened and would not be bullied, had one 
 awful battle for the mastery during which the cottage 
 resounded with his shrieks, and Margery, frightened 
 and trembling in her schoolroom, taught the wildest 
 nonsense and then settled down once for all to be a 
 reasonable member of society. 
 
 " How could you let him scream so, Esmeralda ? " 
 cried poor Margery, flying to her son the moment 
 that her conscience would let her out of school. 
 
 " It's the honly way, ma'am," said Esmeralda, a 
 trifle warm with her tussle, but otherwise stolid as 
 ever. " No, don't take him up, please or I'll have 
 it all to do over again. He's got to lie in his cot, and 
 by this time he knows it." 
 
 It said much for Margery's strength of mind that 
 she could restrain herself from snatching up the tear- 
 stained, pitiful bundle, very red of countenance, and 
 giving great sobs as he slept ; for from very weariness 
 he had fallen perforce into an angry slumber. 
 
 " I didn't let him scream hon, ma'am. Some does, 
 but I think it's crool," said Esmeralda, in considera- 
 tion for the mother's natural weakness. " I took him 
 
 238
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 up for a bit, and then I put him down again ; but I 
 wouldn't walk with him, and I wouldn't pat him, 
 and I wouldn't rock him our mother says you might 
 as well be a negro slave at one* if you once give in 
 to them. Why, where would tltt have been," said 
 Esmeralda, warming to her subject, ''if she'd gone on 
 beyaving that a-way, with th* twins and Albert Arthur 
 and Rosetta all under her feet to onoe ! " 
 " He is very small ! " said Margery weakly. 
 " He haves to learn some time, ma'am," Esmeralda 
 reproved her. " And our mother, she say the younger 
 the better for them and hus too I " 
 
 The theory was so excellent that Margery could 
 find no reasonable argument against the practice ; 
 and was subsequently deeply grateful to Esmeralda, 
 finding that her tyrant had learnt his lesson once for 
 all, and thenceforward would go quietly into his cot 
 when desired, without more than a slight protest. And 
 so she and he settled down with surprising ease into 
 their new life. For the five working days of her week 
 Esmeralda came with admirable punctuality every 
 morning at half-past eight, and left with less punc- 
 tuality for she speedily came to adore the baby, and 
 to regard the baby's mother with devotion at half- 
 past four. In the intervening hours, and on Saturdays 
 and Sundays, Margery and her son were well content 
 to pass their time alone together. Let anyone who 
 complains of time hanging on hand lead a monotonous, 
 busy life, divided into three or four set yearly portions, 
 and see how quickly it begins to fly. With the months 
 punctuated only by term-time and holiday-time, 
 
 239
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 summer treats and winter treats, Margery would 
 scarcely have realized how fast they went, but for 
 the changes in her boy. For from being merely " the 
 baby " he grew to the greater dignity of Baby ; then, 
 again, outgrowing that, he became Dickie, and then 
 Dick. There came a time when Esmeralda departed, 
 loudly weeping, to a situation as full-fledged nurse- 
 maid ; and little Dick came importantly into school, 
 to take his place in the infant class under his mother's 
 eye, and Margery, half proud, half sad, knew that 
 she had lost her baby for ever. He had grown 
 though not in her eyes from an ugly baby into an ugly 
 little boy. There was nothing at all of his mother in 
 the square, strong little face, with features too marked 
 for his age, and coal-black hair and eyes and strongly- 
 marked eyebrows ; nothing of his father except the 
 quick, bright smile, which came rather rarely to the 
 fierce little face, but when it did come was trans- 
 forming. He did not get on well in school or, rather, 
 he got on too well, for he rapidly proved to have more 
 brains in his little finger than the other children had 
 in the whole of their bodies. He learned to read while 
 his contemporaries were struggling vainly with the 
 alphabet. The tasks that Margery set him were 
 finished with incredible swiftness and then he was 
 like a piece of quicksilver among the solid, stolid little 
 yokels round him, and quite as hard to control. 
 Margery was stern with him sterner than she would 
 have been with any other child, because she was so 
 afraid of unduly favouring her own ; and he accepted 
 her severity with no resentment, but rather with a 
 
 240
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 certain odd fierce dignity that seemed to understand 
 and appreciate the reason of it. He was a child of a 
 remarkable self-control, who never cried for pain or 
 punishment : a child, as Margery came to realize 
 with an uneasy pride, of quite unusual character and 
 intelligence, which made him, baby as he still was in 
 years, already a real companion to her. He was 
 frankly unpopular with his schoolmates for your 
 rustic has no taste for what is unlike himself and of 
 this Margery was glad ; she had no wish that Denzil's 
 son should grow up a village boy. She kept a tenacious 
 watch over his accent, his manners, his occupations, 
 that he might be a credit to the father who had never 
 seen him. Her whole soul was wrapped up in the 
 boy ; and he repaid her with devotion. He was fond 
 of Mrs. Strong, who was, as ever, his slave. He had 
 a strong affection for the Vicar, and a certain whole- 
 some awe of him as well. But no one in the world 
 came within leagues of his mother. 
 
 So the smooth months went on, turning imper- 
 ceptibly into years, until there came that summer 
 which is still spoken of in the village with bated breath 
 and paling cheeks the summer when the pestilence 
 that walketh in darkness walked in high noontide as 
 well, and swept off a victim here and two there, all 
 down the village street, until there was hardly a 
 cottage left that had not a desolate mother in it. It 
 came so insidiously, too with just the quite ordinary 
 news that Leigh's Tommy and little Doris Price had 
 the measles. Then a creeping rumour, small enough 
 at first, but in a very short space of time flying large 
 
 241 16
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 and terrible through the village, that this was no 
 ordinary measles, a thing of no account, but the 
 dreaded "black" measles, hardly known to anyone 
 of the present generation ; for the moorland village 
 lay high and healthy, and was rarely visited by 
 epidemics. Once known by its real name, like the 
 evil spirits of legends, it showed itself in its true colours, 
 and flew from house to house with frightful rapidity. 
 The doctor and the parish nurse worked night and 
 day ; the Vicar worked with them, prompt, business- 
 like, untiring, implicitly obedient to their orders. 
 The schools were closed. Margery, fortunately for 
 herself, was not nervous, or apt to go to meet trouble. 
 Living in the village street as she did, it was absurd 
 to try to keep Dick out of it ; but she did the best 
 she could by taking him up on the moors every day, 
 wet or fine, and keeping him there till the evening. 
 Then, having put him to bed, she would make the 
 best of her way to Mrs. Strong's farm, to spend the 
 remaining hours of the day in cooking for the sick 
 children and the mothers who had no heart or time 
 to cook for themselves. The great farmhouse kitchen 
 offered unlimited scope, and experience had taught 
 Margery no small amount of skill by this time ; and 
 with a little manoeuvring it was possible to confine 
 Mrs. Strong to departments of the work in which she 
 had little or no scope for her peculiar talent of making 
 good food uneatable. Every evening, as she set out 
 from home, it seemed to Margery that another cottage 
 had its blinds drawn ; every evening, coming back 
 late and tired, the church bell seemed to be tolling 
 
 242
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 afresh. It was the custom of the place to ring the 
 old-fashioned " nine tellers" for a man and six for a 
 woman ; and the strokes that followed, telling the 
 age of the last man-child or woman-child who had 
 fallen a victim, were so pitifully few that no mother- 
 heart could hear them without a pang ; for the plague 
 took only children. 
 
 A cold spring had just given place to a wet summer. 
 The few days that were warm came moist and op- 
 pressive, swathed in curling mists, as if the pestilence 
 were rising up from the ground in visible form. The 
 weeks dragged as if they would never end. Every 
 Sunday the church seemed emptier, and more of the 
 congregation were in mourning ; the churchyard held 
 a new row a row and a half two rows of pathetic 
 small mounds. The little village nurse, active and 
 capable as ever, grew very silent and very thin. The 
 doctor's eyes were heavy with want of sleep. The 
 Vicar's stern, dark face seemed to grow more set every 
 day. And then, as sudden as the beginning, came 
 the end. In the week before Midsummer Day it was 
 whispered incredulously from one to another there 
 had been no fresh cases. In the week that followed, 
 one, very mild. In the week after that, none again. 
 So there came the time when even the doctor, Scotch 
 and cautious, was heard to admit that there was 
 practically no more fear. " But we'll wait a day or 
 two more before we call ourselves out of the wood," 
 he added hastily. 
 
 On the evening of the day after that, Margery, coming 
 back very late from her evening's work at the farm, 
 
 243 16*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 heard as she neared home a sound so unusual that 
 she could hardly believe in it; but it quickened her 
 footsteps almost to a run for Dick, who never cried, 
 was crying. She flew in, and up the narrow stairs ; 
 and found him flushed, tossing, sobbing in an unnatural, 
 hysterical fashion, which no soothing could pacify. 
 Margery felt, with bitter self-reproach at having left 
 him for so long, that he must have been crying for some 
 time, for his little dark face was flushed and swollen, 
 his eyes heavy and dull. He had seemed quite well 
 when she put him to bed a little quiet and unusually 
 ready to go, perhaps. His head was burning hot 
 but, of course, he had been crying for some time 
 
 The terror, that is born in mothers with the birth of 
 every child, gripped Margery suddenly by the throat. 
 She ran to the window. Mercifully, there was someone 
 passing down the street, late as it was. 
 
 Mr. Kent, going home weary and sad after a visit 
 to one of the desolated cottages that lay on the edge 
 of his scattered parish, was startled by a flying figure 
 which caught him by the arm. Margery had always 
 made a point of most carefully observing the cere- 
 monious distance between the Vicar and the school- 
 mistress ; but just now, if it had been the King who was 
 passing by, she would have stood no more on the order 
 of her going. 
 
 " Mrs. Vane ! " 
 
 " Please fetch the doctor oh, as quickly as you 
 can ! " Margery panted, with dry lips. " My Dick 
 my Dick" 
 
 "He shall come at once," said Mr. Kent briefly; 
 244
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 and started off as if he did not know what it was to be 
 tired. 
 
 It seemed to Margery an eternity it was, perhaps, 
 twenty minutes before the doctor arrived. His quick 
 professional glance took in everything at once : the 
 sick child ; the perfect order of the cottage room ; the 
 marshalled array of nursing requisites that Margery 
 had rapidly got together. He nodded appreciatively 
 at that ; but his face was very grave as he turned to 
 the bed. 
 
 '"' Is it ? " Margery's voice failed her ; her eyes 
 
 were imploring. 
 
 " Of course it is." The doctor was well known to 
 conceal a soft heart by the help of a somewhat rough 
 tongue. He detailed for her quickly what she was to 
 do and not to do. " Nurse Morrison shall come and 
 lend a hand to-morrow," he concluded. 
 
 " I want to nurse him myself ! " Margery's face was 
 mutinous. 
 
 " You don't suppose she will be able to stay ? But she 
 knows what to do and how to do it a good deal better 
 than you do, you know. I'll look in myself early." 
 
 " Then you think he is very ill ? " 
 
 " I don't try to pretend that I think it is going to 
 be a slight case, Mrs. Vane," said the doctor; and 
 nodded and went away, leaving Margery all alone, at 
 grips with Death for her boy. 
 
 Of the days that followed, the less said the better. 
 Margery fought her battle inch by inch, sometimes 
 gaining a little, sometimes losing a little. It was the 
 worst case, the doctor owned, that had occurred in 
 
 245
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 the whole of the epidemic ; a child less physically 
 strong, or less zealously tended, must have succumbed 
 very early in the fight. Night and day Margery nursed 
 him, seeming as if she could not know fatigue ; accept- 
 ing ungratefully, though not ungraciously, the nurse's 
 help ; permitting the weeping Mrs. Strong to sit in 
 the sick-room for half an hour while Dick slept 
 but the first sound from him brought her flying in 
 from her so-called rest in the next room. 
 
 " If the boy dies, it will kill her," said the doctor 
 to the Vicar, even more gruffly than usual. 
 
 "The boy must not die," said the Vicar; and his 
 square face was so set that the doctor glanced at 
 him quickly and sharply, and said nothing more. 
 
 Even his rough voice softened a little to Margery as 
 the days went by, but she neither knew nor cared. 
 He was nothing to her but the person who could tell 
 her what to do ; she lived only to obey his orders with 
 absolute faithfulness. Dawn, and nightfall, and dawn 
 again, found her at her post, untiring : till there came a 
 day when the doctor, paying his second visit, stood 
 quite silently by the child's bed, and then went out, 
 saying nothing at all. 
 
 " You think he is worse ? " said Margery, following 
 him downstairs. Her voice was steady ; her face 
 seemed nothing but eyes. 
 
 The doctor cleared his throat before answering 
 harshly : " How can he be better when he doesn't 
 sleep ? " 
 
 " You mean that if he doesn't sleep he will die ? " 
 said Margery; and her voice was so quiet that the 
 
 246
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 doctor, who had been looking anywhere rather than 
 at her, gave her one of his sharpest glances. The next 
 moment, with an extraordinary sound that was like 
 nothing articulate, he fairly ran out of the cottage. 
 
 Margery went upstairs again to the little darkened 
 room and the tossing, fevered child, turning his head 
 from one side of the pillow to the other in a vain 
 attempt to find coolness and rest. She took up her 
 position beside him in silence. Her heart seemed 
 frozen. She could not cry ; she could not pray. 
 
 She might have sat there for hours or minutes 
 it was all one to her before there was a very gentle 
 knock at the cottage door. Mrs. Strong, who had cried 
 herself into a heavy sleep in the next room, did not 
 hear. Margery slipped softly out of the room and 
 downstairs. Dick would not notice her going ; it 
 was a long time since he had even known her. 
 
 " How is he ? " said the Vicar, standing outside in 
 the grey summer night. 
 
 " The doctor thinks him worse," said Margery ; 
 and was astonished at the calmness of her own 
 voice. 
 
 " Worse ? " Mr. Kent looked up at her quickly. 
 In the dun light she looked like nothing human, stand- 
 ing on the step above him, with her white face and 
 wide eyes. 
 
 " If he doesn't sleep, he will die," said Margery 
 monotonously ; and she might have been reciting the 
 multiplication table in school for all the feeling that 
 there was in her tone. She felt as if she had been 
 repeating the phrase over and over again for years. 
 
 247
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 "I am sorry," said the Vicar; and held out his 
 hand. 
 
 " You had better . not touch me," said Margery. 
 " I have come straight down from him." But, Mr. 
 Kent's hand being still held out, she put hers into it. 
 After all, the strong grip was in some odd way con- 
 soling. It made her feel not quite so alone. Though 
 he said little, she knew that he cared. He had always 
 been a kind friend to her. He was fond of the boy ; 
 he had been to ask after him every day. It must 
 be good to be as strong as that good, perhaps, to be 
 anything rather than a woman. 
 
 " I must go," she said ; and slipped softly away again 
 like a ghost. But, curiously, the touch of that strong 
 and sympathetic hand seemed to have broken up all 
 her extraordinary calm. She found herself trembling 
 as she went upstairs. Once in the sick-room again, her 
 tears came in a flood ; she fell on her knees by the bed, 
 and cried and prayed with all her heart, in an agonised 
 silence. And, so kneeling and praying and crying 
 noiselessly, the sleep that she had defied for many 
 uncounted hours suddenly took possession of her 
 without her knowledge ; and when she woke with a 
 start, in a panic of bewilderment, the cool, bright 
 light of an early summer morning was stealing in 
 through the window. 
 
 Margery sprang up, filled with self-reproach and 
 terror, and stood silent, an icy fear gripping at her 
 heart. The boy was lying quite still, and in the dim 
 light his face looked very white. Margery hardly 
 dared to go near him ; but when she did, the relief 
 
 248
 
 Time and the Hour 
 
 was almost more than she could bear, for he was sleep- 
 ing quietly, and the thick black hair over his forehead 
 was damp. 
 
 It was not so long after that absurdly early still 
 for anyone to be up who need not that Margery, going 
 to the window to drink in the beauty of surely the 
 joyfullest summer morning that had ever dawned, 
 saw a dark figure standing uncertainly at the cottage 
 gate, looking up at the windows. A man's razor is 
 a sure tell-tale. The Vicar looked as if he had not 
 slept ; certainly he had not shaved. 
 
 Margery slipped downstairs again to the door, with 
 feet that were light enough now. Her face, thin and 
 worn with watching, was lit with smiles ; her eyes, in 
 spite of the dark circles round them, were very bright. 
 She looked a young girl again as she gave the glad 
 news : " He is better he is asleep ! " 
 
 " I am very glad," said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " He is all I have in the world ! " said Margery ; and 
 did not realize, till the betraying words on her own 
 lips startled her, what an acknowledgment she had 
 made. 
 
 249
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY 
 
 THE doctor ordered Margery and Dick to go away 
 for change of air quite as much for her sake as 
 for his ; and as soon as he was strong enough to travel 
 they went to the seaside, for the first time in either 
 of their lives. The doctor had recommended to 
 them a little quiet place in South Devon, where child- 
 ren, arriving in the morning, might go out barefooted 
 in the afternoon, and never resume shoes and stockings, 
 except perhaps on Sundays, till they reluctantly put 
 them on to go home again ; and if their elders cared 
 to follow suit no one was likely to be shocked. Dick 
 grew fat, brown, and strong with wonderful rapidity ; 
 and Margery, sitting on the beach, to all appearance 
 lazy enough, had her thoughts very busy. Now that 
 she was away from the village for the first time, she 
 could look critically at her life there with unbiassed 
 eyes ; and she perceived, seriously startled, that 
 though it was an ideal place for a baby, and well 
 enough for a small child, there were a thousand draw- 
 backs to it for a growing boy. Dick was now nearly 
 five years old. After Christmas he would be too old 
 to stay any longer in the infant school, but must take 
 
 250
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 his place with the boys ; and that prospect filled Mar- 
 gery with dismay. It was not that she was foolish 
 enough to grudge losing him from under her own 
 immediate oversight, but she knew quite well that it 
 was not the place for Denzil's son. He would be even 
 more unpopular with the boys than he was with the 
 babies, because of the difference between himself and 
 them, that must become increasingly apparent as he 
 grew older ; but even worse than that, to Margery's 
 anxious mind, was the fear that that difference might 
 lessen, when he was thrown entirely among the village 
 boys. As it was, she had to be continually on her 
 guard against tricks of speech and manner; and that 
 task alone would be rendered almost impossible when 
 he was away from her for hours of every day. Either, 
 then, he must get on badly now and always with his 
 schoolmates, and suffer accordingly, or he must grow 
 up something more or less like them ; and that thought 
 Margery could not bear. The schoolmaster, too, 
 though an excellent and most painstaking person, and 
 very successful with his present work, was particularly 
 unfitted to deal with such an unknown quantity as 
 Dick, already clever far beyond his years, and of a 
 fierce and proud temper. 
 
 The position was illustrated for Margery, if she 
 had needed any illustration, almost as soon as they 
 arrived. There were other children playing on the 
 beach, who eyed them for some time with the hostile, 
 curious stare of the young Briton. But presently a 
 little girl, one of the elders of the party, edged over 
 in Dick's direction, and said with condescension : 
 
 251
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " Little boy, you may play with us, if you like ! " 
 And Dick, shy and fierce, could only just prevail upon 
 himself to accept the offer ; yet long before the end 
 of the week he was, although one of the youngest there, 
 the accredited leader of the little party. It was Dick 
 Dick, who had never seen the sea in his life before 
 who planned and ordered the masterly sand-castle 
 that they built. Bigger boys were meekly obedient to 
 his commands, digging cunning channels that the 
 incoming sea might flood the moat. Girls of all ages 
 busied themselves, according to directions, in collecting 
 various kinds of seaweeds for the adorning of the 
 edifice. And Dick, having once established his 
 authority, was by no means inclined to hold himself 
 cheap. He it was who, being King of the Castle, must 
 be the last to jump from that crumbling triumph 
 as the sea swept over it. A much bigger boy, who 
 rashly attempted his own system of digging in place 
 of that ordained for all, was sharply called to order, 
 and obeyed without a murmur. One of the girls, the 
 eldest and prettiest, and well aware of both facts, 
 had the temerity to kiss him, all unsuspecting ; and 
 Dick, after a moment's dumb astonishment at the 
 outrage, slapped her with a will. 
 
 " Dick ! " called Margery. 
 
 He came, obedient in a moment ; listened seriously 
 to her serious admonition ; returned to his com- 
 panions, and sought out at once the offending damsel, 
 who sat weeping by herself, all forlorn. 
 
 " I am sorry I hit you. I am to beg your pardon. 
 Please hit me ! " 
 
 252
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 " I don't want to 1 " sobbed the afflicted lady. 
 
 Dick turned very red, but went through with his 
 penance nobly. " If you would rather kiss me again 
 instead," he said, with a gulp, " you you may ! " 
 
 She complied, much gratified ; and Dick, having 
 satisfied the demands of justice and honour, and sub- 
 mitted in silence, turned his back on her once for all, 
 and never again took the smallest notice of her. 
 
 Margery might smile in secret over little incidents 
 like this; but there were other things that came as 
 sharp stabs, and showed her more clearly than before 
 what difficulties lay in front of her. 
 
 " I like the children here," said Dick, as they left 
 the beach one evening. " Why are there none of 
 this sort at home ? " 
 
 Margery had no answer to give. For herself, she 
 had acquiesced quite quietly in the want of com- 
 panions of her own age and standing ; but it was 
 very different for Dick, above all now that his own 
 eyes were opening to the lack. 
 
 Another day : " Kenneth laughed at me," said 
 Dick, " when I asked him if he lived to Exeter. He 
 says at Exeter." 
 
 " He was quite right ; and you must say so too," said 
 Margery, wincing. It had never struck her before 
 that so many years of hearing nothing but rustic speech 
 might be dulling her own ear ; quite possibly she 
 herself was slipping, all unconsciously, into the local 
 idioms, and was no longer a safe guide for her boy. 
 
 There were, of course, other mothers on the beach 
 besides herself, but she shrank from their well-meant 
 
 353
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 advances. Her secret had slept peacefully for so 
 long now that she was frightened at questions, out- 
 spoken or implied, which were only intended to show 
 a kindly interest in the quiet young " widow ? " said 
 one lady tentatively. And Margery answered, trem- 
 bling : "I lost my husband more than five years 
 ago " ; and then, frightened afresh at the truth that 
 sounded so very like a lie, shrank back again into 
 herself, and was glad when her shy reserve was taken 
 for pride and stiffness, and she was let alone. 
 
 She would listen, though, from a little distance, to 
 these other women talking together ; and with a 
 growing surprise she realized the gulf that lay between 
 her and them. Their talk was all of servants, of their 
 own and their children's ailments, of theatres and 
 bridge and dressmakers. Some of them, who would 
 certainly never see the early thirties again, giggled and 
 chattered like schoolgirls. They might have come 
 from another planet, for ah 1 the likeness that there was 
 between her point of view and theirs. Talking of a 
 coming wedding and the bride's age twenty-one 
 she heard one older mother say most emphatically that 
 none of her girls should marry a day under twenty-five ; 
 and Margery looked at Dick, and thought of the past 
 five years of her own life, and marvelled. She was 
 still young enough to look upon twenty-five as a staid 
 and rather advanced age. Her eyes grew perplexed 
 as she listened to all this. Back in their lodgings, with 
 Dick sound asleep, she would take out a tiny box 
 that was kept carefully locked, and, looking at its 
 contents a broken gold neck-chain and a letter would 
 
 254
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 read the letter again and again. It was the only one 
 that she had ever had from Denzil : and it was the 
 letter of a boy. Every time that she looked at it, it 
 seemed to her to grow younger. When Denzil came 
 back she caught herself up, with a quick breath, on 
 the edge of saying " If he comes back " what would 
 he say to the change in her ? For he had left a girl, 
 and he must find a woman, with hard experience behind 
 her to keep her from ever being a girl again. True, 
 reason told her that the same years that had left their 
 mark on her must have passed equally over Denzil's 
 head ; but instinct whispered that he would be a boy, 
 and nothing but a boy, to the end of his life. She 
 could not imagine him any older than when she had 
 seen him last ; his gaiety, his charm, the sunny, airy 
 fashion in which he took everything that came, were 
 all the gifts of youth. Would he be disappointed to 
 find a wife so different from the young girl whom he had 
 left ? Margery shut down in her heart, with frightened 
 eyes, a yet deeper whisper Would she, too, be dis- 
 appointed ? 
 
 For all these reasons, then though the summer, 
 repenting of its earlier misdemeanours, was giving 
 a flawless August, and the little seaside town was 
 charming, and it was, of course, a constant joy to see 
 Dick so well and strong again Margery was not too 
 sorry when their month's holiday was over. She 
 would be glad to be back at work ; there would be less 
 time to worry over the difficulties that beset her , 
 and, after all, she had only to live through one day 
 at a time. 
 
 255
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 They had had no letters while they were away ; but 
 that was not likely to be a great loss, for events in 
 the village were few and far between, and Margery 
 had no thought of finding anything different from what 
 she had left. It proved, however, that she was mis- 
 taken about this. Mrs. Strong, running in within 
 half an hour of their arrival, was so full of an im- 
 portant piece of news that she had hardly time for the 
 most perfunctory of questions, or even more than 
 passing comments on Dick's growth and brownness. 
 " Quite a man ! " said Mrs. Strong ; and then dashed 
 on into the real subject of the moment : " Mrs. Vane, 
 my dear, the Hall's let at last ! " 
 
 It really was an event of magnitude ; for a village 
 is considerably affected when the big house on its out- 
 skirts is empty for ten years together, and even a 
 temporary tenant is better than an absentee landlord. 
 
 " When do they come ? " asked Margery. 
 
 " Why, they're here ! all in such a hurry as never 
 was ! " cried Mrs. Strong triumphantly. One of the 
 children was delicate, it appeared, and had been ordered 
 bracing country air without delay ; and the Hall had 
 been inspected and taken, and the new tenants had 
 moved in, all within the space of three weeks. 
 
 "There are children, then?" said Margery; and 
 looked at her own child. This was the sort of com- 
 panionship that she could wish for him the sort 
 which was his birthright ; and yet she knew, with a 
 quick pang, that the children of the Hall were not 
 likely to make a companion of the schoolmistress' little 
 boy. 
 
 256
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 " Three little girls quite babies, like," said Mrs 
 Strong ; which was some small comfort, for that would 
 not have suited Dick at all. And then the good soul 
 flowed on with details as to how the new-comers were 
 a sort of cousins to Mr. Kent, and how her ladyship 
 was not strong, and how hard a bargain his lordship 
 had driven wherever there was a bargain to drive ; 
 until Margery's head, already tired with the un- 
 accustomed journey, fairly reeled. But her interests 
 were sufficiently bound up in the village to make her 
 listen to all with quite sincere curiosity. 
 
 It was Dick, and not his mother, who first saw 
 anything of the new arrivals. He came in ruffled 
 the next day at dinner-time for school would begin 
 on Monday, and it was well to spend every moment 
 beforehand out of doors to announce that he had seen 
 " the lordship." The lordship had been riding a very 
 fine bay horse, very fast ; but, when he saw Dick, 
 he stopped and got off, and asked him his name. " He 
 took hold of my chin so and stared at me," said Dick, 
 much annoyed. 
 
 " But why did he stop at all ? " asked Margery. 
 Dick was not given to romancing; but the story cer- 
 tainly sounded improbable, unless something to account 
 for it remained untold. 
 
 " I don't know. He did I " Dick persisted crossly. 
 " And he wanted to know where I lived, and about 
 you, and about my father." 
 
 " What did you say ? " Margery asked, alarmed. 
 
 " I said who I was, and who you was, and that 
 father is away," said Dick, who had been brought up 
 
 257 *7
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 to pray every day, " Please, God, bless father," like 
 any other small boy, and had accepted that father's 
 absence, in the extraordinary unquestioning fashion 
 of a child, without comment. " And the lordship 
 looked at me like Red Ridinghood's wolf in the book ; 
 and I don't like him one bit ! " 
 
 The tale filled Margery with an uneasy wish to see 
 the person who had given such dire offence : though 
 she hardly expected the sight of him to be enlightening, 
 since her modest list of acquaintances contained no 
 titles at all. But in church the next day, though a 
 goodly array of servants filled the back pews devoted 
 to the Hall, in neither of the front ones did there appear 
 a lordship of any sort only a dark lady, past her 
 first youth, with a strong, keen face and penetrating 
 dark eyes. Margery, meeting them full on her as 
 she glanced that way, felt attracted and yet oddly 
 perturbed. She could fancy that she would like to 
 know this stranger ; more than that, she had a dis- 
 turbing feeling that she actually did know her, which 
 was absurd. It was not till the Vicar had come in, 
 and the service had begun, that the explanation dawned 
 upon her. There was a certain likeness between him 
 and the new-comer ; and Margery remembered that 
 Mrs. Strong had spoken of their being cousins. 
 
 She was detained in church till everyone else had 
 gone out ; for she sat with her Sunday School Class, 
 and one of the children had behaved badly, and had 
 to be kept back, to be admonished until he melted 
 into penitential tears. They came out together, 
 hand in hand. The congregation had all dispersed 
 
 258
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 except the dark lady from the Hall, who stood as if 
 waiting, with an impatient foot tapping the path. 
 She was as tall as Margery, and of a fine, upright figure. 
 She flashed another quick glance at her, passing, from 
 the keen black eyes, and then turned quickly away 
 as the vestry door opened. 
 
 " Good morning, Henry ! " she said in a deep, im- 
 perious, abrupt voice. " I thought you were never 
 coming ! " And Margery, in some odd fashion, was per- 
 turbed ; it seemed so extraordinary and unexpected 
 to hear anyone address the Vicar in that tone and by 
 his Christian name. 
 
 " Who is that ? " asked the dark lady, walking at 
 his side down the path, and looking at Margery on 
 in front. 
 
 " The schoolmistress. Mrs. Vane." 
 
 " The schoolmistress ? In the village school ? " cried 
 the dark lady. " Why, she walks like a queen ; and she 
 carries her head as if it were a crown ! " 
 
 Mr. Kent said nothing. 
 
 " You must take me to see her to-morrow ! " his 
 cousin commanded. 
 
 So the next morning, just before school closed, 
 Margery was surprised by the entrance of the Vicar, 
 and the dark stranger with him. The school children 
 rose, and she rose with them, as a matter of course. 
 
 " Mrs. Vane my cousin, Lady Denise Orma- 
 thwaite," said Mr. Kent. And Margery found her hand 
 taken in a strong grip, more like a man's than a 
 woman's. The black eyes, on a level with her own, 
 were very imperious. 
 
 259 17*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " You were just going to let the children go. Well, 
 let them go or they will hate me ! I came to see you, 
 not them," said Lady Denise, in her abrupt deep voice ; 
 and a quick flash of a smile showed the fine white 
 teeth that were the only beauty in her face. 
 
 There was one of the children whom Margery, 
 mother-like, would have been very glad to show ; and 
 it chagrined her to fancy that Lady Denise, sitting 
 down and watching them file out, seemed to keep her 
 eyes purposely away from the corner where the little 
 boys and girls sat. It was something more than fancy, 
 indeed ; for, when their turn came last of all and they 
 stood up obedient to Margery's signal, the visitor 
 turned away to the window, and stood looking out till 
 they were all gone. 
 
 " Now, Henry, you can go away and leave me to 
 talk to Mrs. Vane," she said, turning round suddenly ; 
 and the Vicar obeyed with a surprising meekness, 
 which disturbed Margery very much. 
 
 " Do you know that you are very lucky in your 
 parson ? " said Lady Denise, with a sudden smile 
 straight into Margery's eyes. " But I don't suppose 
 you know how lucky," she went on, without waiting 
 for an answer. " You don't know that he gave the 
 best years of his life to a little mission church in East 
 London, and wore himself out there, with no one to 
 help him, till he had a hopeless breakdown, and the 
 doctor told him that one more year of it would kill 
 him outright. A good many men would think the 
 Moor a good exchange for slums and mean streets ; 
 but Henry has been eating his heart opt here ever 
 
 260
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 since, hoping to be allowed to go back but he never 
 will. I know his doctor ; and I know what he thinks." 
 
 Margery listened with large sympathetic eyes. She 
 had never thought of Mr. Kent as connected with any 
 other place but the village ; he worked there so 
 steadily and untiringly, with such a whole-hearted 
 interest in everything connected with the place. She 
 remembered, though, the photograph of the ugly 
 church over his study mantelpiece. 
 
 " I am very proud of my cousin," said Lady Denise. 
 " As a matter of fact, he is rather a new acquisition. 
 He is a distant cousin, and we have not known each 
 other very long. We met by accident, though my 
 home is only eight miles away. " 
 
 " But I thought you were living at the Hall ? " said 
 Margery in surprise. 
 
 Lady Denise made a sudden grimace. 
 
 " No thank you ! " she said. " I'm staying there 
 for a few days a duty visit. Unluckily, all one's 
 relations are not equally congenial. I saw you in 
 church yesterday, and thought I should like to know 
 you. I'm going home to-morrow ; but I shall ride 
 over and see you again, if you will let me." 
 
 Margery flushed with pleasure. She had not 
 realized how much she wanted a friend of more or 
 less her own age and standing ; and, though Lady 
 Denise was perhaps ten years older and a " ladyship " 
 to boot, she felt very strongly attracted to her. 
 
 " It would be very kind. I should like it very 
 much indeed," she said. " And I want you to see my 
 little boy." 
 
 261
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " No, don't show me your little boy I hate little 
 boys ! " said Lady Denise, in a voice that was sud- 
 denly sharp and harsh. " Don't think me a brute," 
 she added hastily, seeing Margery's face. " I had 
 one of my own he died of cholera when he was five 
 years old." 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry ! " whispered Margery, with sudden 
 tears pricking into her eyes. She caught her breath, 
 with a dreadful vision of what life must be, wanting 
 a Dick, to anyone who had once possessed such a 
 treasure. 
 
 " Denise, you will be late for lunch if you don't 
 come away now," said Mr. Kent, coming in. 
 
 " And that would never do ! " said Lady Denise, 
 with another grimace. She stood up at once, and took 
 Margery's hand again in her strong grip. " Good- 
 bye, Mrs. Vane ! It will not be very long before I 
 come to see you again." 
 
 Margery stood at the window, watching them walk 
 away together, and thinking that it must be very 
 pleasant to have cousins of one's own. 
 
 " I'm not particularly fond of my own sex," said 
 Lady Denise frankly to Mr. Kent ; " but if I were a 
 man, that is the sort of woman I should fall in love 
 with. Now, why couldn't Horace choose someone 
 like that ? " 
 
 Mr. Kent said nothing. But Lady Denise, watching 
 his face, caught herself up quickly and answered her 
 own question. " Of course, to be sure, she would not 
 have been at all likely to fancy Horace ! She is very 
 young to be a widow I suppose she is a widow ? " 
 
 262
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 " I believe not," said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " You believe not ! " cried Lady Denise in surprise, 
 with her keen eyes still on his face. " Where is her 
 husband, then ? " 
 
 " I understood from Mrs. Vane that he was abroad. 
 In fact, when she accepted her present post, she said 
 that it would be only temporary, until he should come 
 home again." 
 
 " And that is how long ago ? " 
 
 " Nearly six years." 
 
 " Nearly six years ! " cried Lady Denise. " Why, 
 what sort of man can he be to leave her like that ? " 
 
 " I met him once or twice when they first came 
 here," said Mr. Kent slowly. " A strikingly handsome 
 young man, with very charming manners." 
 
 " I don't like charming men think of my Uncle 
 Louis ! " said Lady Denise. 
 
 " He seemed very much attached to her," said Mr. 
 Kent, more slowly still. " I imagined that they were 
 quite newly married." 
 
 " And she has never told you where he is all this 
 time ? " 
 
 " She never speaks of him at all." 
 
 " But what an extraordinary thing ! " cried Lady 
 Denise. " How do you account for it, Henry ? " 
 
 " I don't account for it," said Mr. Kent. 
 
 The next day, as Margery stood at her gate at the 
 end of afternoon school, solicitously watching a very 
 small scholar on her way across the road to her home 
 directly opposite, there came blaring up the village 
 street a very gorgeous and aggressive motor, rending 
 
 263
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 the quiet air with blasts of a particularly ear-splitting 
 nature. The little village was too far away from main 
 roads to have any great experience of such things, and 
 Margery watched with a little anxiety for all the 
 children who were on their way home from school. 
 
 The car came on showily, scattering the lawful 
 inhabitants of the street before it with effrontery ; and 
 then suddenly gave an admirable illustration of the fall 
 that is supposed to follow close on the heels of pride. 
 For, just opposite Margery, without the slightest 
 warning, it stopped, and declined to move another inch. 
 The chauffeur got down and performed mysteries ; a 
 knot of interested villagers gathered round, and the 
 only occupant of the car, a lady in a very elaborate 
 motor-bonnet, leant out to ask querulously what was 
 the matter, in tones, astonishingly, not unfamiliar to 
 Margery. A moment later their eyes met. 
 
 " Why, it's Miss Lennard ! " cried the fine lady 
 who had once been Flora Croome. 
 
 Margery stepped out, tall and stately, through her 
 little gate. She had no need to fear the afternoon 
 sun that streamed into her face. The fine moorland 
 air and the quiet, peaceful life had given her a clear 
 colour which had been lacking six years ago, and she 
 had lost the excessive thinness that had been her chief 
 defect. If her face was sad, it had gained in expres- 
 sion and strength of character. Flora's eyes, surveying 
 her from the shelter of an elaborate veil, filled with 
 something that was very like astonishment, and even 
 more like envy. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you," said Margery, smiling. 
 264
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 " But I am not Miss Lennard any more. I am Mrs. 
 Vane." 
 
 "Oh!" said Flora. "And / am Lady Stella- 
 combe ! " And her tone added that here, at any rate, 
 she had an immeasurable advantage. " Is it all right 
 now, Parkes ? " she cried to the chauffeur, who had just 
 raised himself from his grovelling with a very red face. 
 Then to Margery again : " Do get in and come up to 
 the Hall with me ! I want to talk to you." 
 
 Margery fetched her hat and complied, nothing 
 loath. This was indeed an event in her quiet life. 
 She asked after Amabel and Cedric, and was astonished, 
 with a sudden realization of the flight of time, to hear 
 that she was at school in Paris and that he was at 
 Eton. " Not getting on very well," said Flora ; at 
 which Margery was sorry, but not surprised. 
 
 "So I suppose you are the village schoolmistress 
 that my cousin Lady Denise Ormathwaite, you 
 know was talking so much about ! " said Flora. 
 " Isn't it rather a come-down ? " 
 
 " I like it better," said Margery, with an amused 
 smile. She would certainly have been very reluctant 
 to change her present life for a return to Canning 
 Place. " Besides, you see, I could not go out as a 
 resident governess and leave my little boy." 
 
 " Oh so you have a little boy ! " Flora looked 
 annoyed. " It seems to me that everyone has a little 
 boy but me ! especially people like you that it 
 doesn't matter to in the least. Even Denise she 
 might just as well have had a girl, for all the difference 
 that it made to her." 
 
 265
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " But she lost hers." Margery's voice trembled a 
 little with sympathy. 
 
 " Oh did she tell you so ? How very odd of her ! " 
 said Flora with a stare. " Fancy talking about him 
 to a perfect stranger ! Why, I don't remember her 
 ever mentioning him at all to me ! But Denise is 
 very heartless." 
 
 " Oh, not about that, I'm sure ! " Margery could 
 not help exclaiming, with a vivid recollection of Lady 
 Denise' s tone and face. 
 
 " Yes, quite ! " Flora persisted. " Really, I might 
 be supposed to know better than you, I should think ! 
 Why, I remember once trying to be nice to her about 
 it just after it happened ; and all she said was : ' Don't 
 talk to me about India ! I've a grudge against the 
 country where I left my complexion ! ' Apparently 
 she never cared at all," said Flora virtuously, " that 
 she had left her husband and the baby there too ! 
 Besides, Denise never had any complexion to lose ; 
 so it was silly, as well as heartless, to say a thing like 
 that." 
 
 " She is a widow, then ? " said Margery. 
 
 " Yes. Her husband I never saw him was killed 
 in one of those little frontier skirmishes. She was 
 supposed to be very fond of him," said Flora, in a 
 tone which threw a strong doubt on the assertion, 
 " but she seems quite to have got over it she never 
 talks of him either. Sometimes I think that she will 
 marry Henry Kent she likes him. Of course, it 
 would be a very poor match for her ; but then she is 
 getting on for forty ; and, of course, she is very plain." 
 
 266
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 Margery sat quite silent ; and the motor ran lightly 
 on over the dry lanes, uphill and downhill and round 
 sharp corners. 
 
 " Parkes doesn't like taking me out," said Flora, 
 " because I won't let him go fast." 
 
 " I thought we were going fast," said Margery with 
 a little effort. " But then I have never been in a 
 motor before." 
 
 " Really ? " said Flora, with a little drawl and a 
 little stare. " I can't bear motoring myself ; it 
 shakes me to pieces, and frightens me out of my life ! 
 I never go out with my husband at all, because he will 
 go at such a rate." 
 
 " But why don't you drive, then, instead of motor- 
 ing ? " said Margery. 
 
 " Oh, nobody drives now why, we have no horses 
 at all, except some for my husband to ride ! " said 
 Flora, raising her pale eyebrows with a slight air of 
 surprise. All her emotions seemed to Margery to be 
 slight ; but perhaps that was because she had never 
 seen her in conference with her dressmaker. 
 
 " Do you like the Hall ? " Margery asked, as they 
 turned into the avenue that led up to the very ugly 
 Georgian mansion. 
 
 " No, I can't bear it I hate the country ! " said 
 Flora limply. "It is most vexatious and annoying 
 that we have had to come here for the present : not 
 for long, I hope and trust ! " 
 
 " I was sorry to hear that it was because one of your 
 children was not strong," said Margery. 
 
 " Oh, such nonsense ! " cried Flora. " Doctors love 
 267
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 to order anything unpleasant, you know. It makes 
 them feel that they have you in their power. Rosalie 
 doesn't look the least bit better for coming here ; she 
 is naturally pale, you know, like Amabel. I'm sure 
 she'd have been much better at home than in a place 
 like this, where they have dreadful epidemics of 
 measles. Why, I was scared out of my senses when I 
 heard about it ! I've never had it, you see." 
 
 " Have the children ? " asked Margery. 
 
 " I really don't remember they've had several 
 things," said Flora carelessly. " But of course it 
 doesn't matter for them. It's only for grown-up 
 people that it is at all serious." 
 
 The motor drew up under the wide colonnaded porch ; 
 and Flora got out and led the way in with some show 
 of animation, glancing back at Margery to see if she 
 were suitably impressed. The house was curiously 
 reminiscent to Margery of Canning Place not because 
 there was the least similarity between the two buildings, 
 but because all the furniture and appointments gave 
 so strongly the impression that they had been chosen 
 with a view to showing their immense costliness, 
 rather than for either beauty or use. Flora led the 
 way into a large, ugly drawing-room, the central 
 one of three, furnished in so strenuously Empire 
 a fashion that there was no comfortable place to 
 sit down anywhere. 
 
 " I must run away just to make myself tidy," she 
 said. " There are the papers I won't be long." 
 
 The tidying process seemed to Margery's innocent 
 mind quite unnecessary, for Flora was so securely 
 
 268
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 veiled that not a hair could stray from its appointed 
 place, and she was obviously wearing a very elaborate 
 afternoon gown under a loose cloak, which might have 
 been thrown aside without any trouble at all. She 
 sat down obediently, however, and took up the paper ; 
 and turning, feminine fashion, to the front page, was 
 instantly startled by a familiar name among the deaths. 
 
 " J ANN AWAY. On the i Qth instant, Phyllis Eudora, 
 only child of Herbert Jannaway, aged 15." 
 
 The paper dropped from Margery's hand, as a great 
 wave of pity surged over her. The intervening five 
 years had gone far to soften the remembrance of that 
 dreadful day when she left her cousins, and of all the 
 bitter things that Mrs. Jannaway had said ; besides, 
 she could find nothing in her heart but compassion 
 for those who had lost an only child. And yet poor 
 little Phyllis ! Margery sat thinking sadly of the lessons 
 that had been such a difficulty and trouble, of the 
 lovely face that meant nothing and never could have 
 meant anything. Perhaps this was hardly an end 
 to be sorry for. She knew, though, what it must 
 mean to the father and mother. She would write 
 to them to him, at least as soon as she went home. 
 
 Flora came in again just as she had arrived at this 
 conclusion ; and Margery, for all her inexperience, 
 had to notice that her colouring was almost too ex- 
 quisite to be natural, and certainly quite different 
 from what it had been in the motor. In some curious 
 way, it made her look older instead of younger ; it 
 
 269
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 called attention to the dragged look about the eyes, 
 which was quite out of keeping with that absurd baby 
 bloom. Her flaxen hair, which in its great abundance 
 had been one of her chief attractions, had grown 
 thinner, and was disposed about her head in such an 
 artificial complication of curls and twists and puffs, 
 that the eye wearied in following its intricacies. Her 
 dress was elaborately expensive, and she wore too 
 much jewellery : pearl drops in her ears, a long chain 
 set with emeralds, and a dozen rings on the plump, 
 white hands, which, for all that a life of idleness and 
 careful manicuring could do for them, would never 
 look anything but hopelessly plebeian. She sat down 
 carefully on a stiff Empire settee, and put up her feet, 
 in shining, pointed, patent leather shoes, with huge 
 paste buckles and four-inch heels. 
 
 " You don't mind, do you ? " she said languidly 
 to Margery. "I'm not at all strong ; I have to rest 
 all I can." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Margery. 
 
 " Oh, I can do things all right when there is any- 
 thing to do ! " said Flora, yawning. " What a dread- 
 ful place this is not a soul to speak to within miles ! 
 I really don't know how I am going to stand it, even 
 for a few months." 
 
 " But your cousin lives only a few miles off, she told 
 me," suggested Margery. 
 
 " Oh Denise ! We aren't particularly congenial, 
 I'm afraid ; in fact, Denise isn't at all a popular 
 person, you know," said Flora, conveying by her tone 
 that her own departure from London had left four 
 
 270
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 millions of mourners behind. " You see, she's clever ; 
 and nobody really likes a clever woman ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Margery. 
 
 "It doesn't seem possible even to get up bridge 1 " 
 cried Flora. " Of course, I can have people to stay 
 here but nobody will stay when they find out what 
 a hateful place it is ! " 
 
 " Oh, it really is beautiful ! " Margery protested. 
 " The Moor is lovely at all times of the year ; and 
 the air is perfect " 
 
 " One can't live on air," said Flora pettishly. " I 
 could do without air, but I must have bridge. Why, 
 there's nothing else worth living for ! " Her tone was 
 almost enthusiastic. 
 
 The point of view was so astonishing to Margery, 
 that she found herself asking in return if she might 
 see the children. The connection of ideas was quite 
 involuntary. 
 
 " Oh, certainly, if you want to ! But they are only 
 babies, you know," said Flora, all her animation gone 
 again at once. " I really don't know if they are 
 indoors or not. Do you mind ringing the bell as you 
 are near it ? " 
 
 Margery, complying, was subsequently thankful 
 that her own modest walk in life did not set her in 
 authority over such majestic creatures as the liveried 
 and awe-inspiring being who answered the summons. 
 Him Flora desired to find out if the young ladies were 
 at home, and in that case to ask Nurse to bring them 
 down at once ; whereupon he withdrew the light of 
 his presence, and Margery breathed again. 
 
 271
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 There was an interval of some minutes before the 
 arrival of the children, and Flora filled it with lamenta- 
 tions over the hardness of her lot. Nothing, it seemed, 
 was quite as it should be with her. The housekeeper 
 managed the servants badly : the cook drank and 
 yet was too valuable to be dismissed ; her maid was 
 impertinent and yet also quite invaluable. She 
 took no interest at all in Margery's affairs, and asked 
 not one question as to her marriage or her husband, 
 or how she had come to settle down as a village school- 
 mistress. She never mentioned her own husband at 
 all except as having been extremely annoyed that 
 she had not succeeded in presenting him with an heir. 
 " It is hard luck ! " wailed Flora. 
 
 Margery suggested, very shyly, that the matter was 
 not even yet hopeless. But Flora scouted that idea 
 at once. 
 
 " Oh, I don't want any more ! " she cried, so ener- 
 getically that her voice grew quite shrill. " If it hadn't 
 been for the title, I'd never have wanted any at all 
 well, perhaps one, just to dress prettily and look nice 
 in the drawing-room when one has people to tea. 
 Why, every child takes a year out of one's life, besides 
 all the bother and expense and unpleasantness and is 
 it worth it ? " 
 
 Margery sat appalled and dumb ; but, the door open- 
 ing at that moment, was saved the difficulty of an 
 answer. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Nurse. Well, children ! " said 
 Flora, turning a little to cast a careless, appraising 
 glance towards them as they entered. 
 
 272
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 " Good afternoon, mother," two small, timid voices 
 replied ; and the children came up decorously to offer 
 a kiss. 
 
 " This is Rosalie. This is Lilith. And the baby is 
 Hyacinth," said Flora perfunctorily, just touching 
 their cheeks with her lips. 
 
 " Shall I come back in ten minutes, my lady ? " 
 the nurse inquired. 
 
 " In five minutes," said Flora. 
 
 The baby was deposited on a large down cushion 
 on the floor. The two little girls sat down on two 
 of the gilt chairs and remained there, quite quiet, 
 perfectly " good," in a way that made Margery's 
 heart ache. 
 
 " Mayn't I take up the baby ? " she asked Flora. 
 
 " Oh if you like ! " said Flora, surprised. " But 
 won't it spoil your dress ? " 
 
 Margery had the little thing in her arms before the 
 sentence was finished : a pale, flaxen-haired creature, 
 with a face the colour of wax, and curious light eyes, 
 with the pupils scarcely visible. It did not turn 
 to her with the instinctive nestling movement of a 
 baby that is used to cuddling ; but lay perfectly inani- 
 mate, merely staring up at her without expression. 
 The children were all three very much alike, not at 
 all pretty, or childlike, or happy-looking. Margery, 
 watching the unnatural decorum of their behaviour, 
 and remembering the quicksilver restlessness of her 
 own Dick in particular and the small school -children 
 in general, felt a lump rising and rising in her 
 throat. 
 
 273 18
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " How old are they ? " she asked, for something to say. 
 
 " Rosalie was a Christmas baby she will be four 
 next Christmas. Lilith was actually ! only thirteen 
 months after. Baby is oh, somewhere about a year. 
 I know I couldn't go to Henley," said Flora. " You 
 see, I have not had much peace ! " 
 
 Margery turned from her sharply. " Won't you 
 come and speak to me ? " she said to the two little 
 girls on the gilt chairs. 
 
 They looked back at her ; looked at Flora, as if 
 for permission ; slipped down silently and timidly, and 
 came over to her. But they would not talk. To her 
 gentle questions they lisped out babyish answers 
 that sounded afraid. They started when the door 
 opened and their nurse came in again. The younger 
 of the two, who had grown sufficiently bold to slide 
 her hand into Margery's, gave it a sudden frightened 
 little grip. 
 
 " She's a good baby, isn't she ? " said Flora, looking 
 at the little group with a curious impersonal interest, 
 as if the children belonged to someone else. 
 
 " Very," said Margery. 
 
 " But she always is good. Isn't she, Nurse ? " said 
 Flora, who seemed vaguely aware of something that 
 was not approval in Margery's attitude. 
 
 " Always, my lady. You would never know that 
 there was a baby in the nursery," was the answer. 
 
 " I should think not, if she is always as quiet as 
 this," said Margery ; and rose, with the child still in her 
 arms, to give her up. As she did so, she met the 
 nurse's eyes, and received a shock of surprise. What 
 
 274
 
 My Lord and My Lady 
 
 could she have done or said to deserve that furious 
 look of dislike and alarm ? It was veiled the next 
 instant by discreet eyelids. 
 
 " Are the children fond of their nurse ? " she asked, 
 when the nursery party had retired. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know I suppose so. Why ? " 
 said Flora. 
 
 " I thought she did not look very good-tempered," 
 said Margery. 
 
 " Oha she's quite invaluable ! " cried Flora, affronted. 
 " The most splendid creature so capable, and keeps 
 the children always turned out, as you see, like pic- 
 tures, and with such nice quiet manners. She's a 
 perfect treasure. Why, I had her from the Duchess of 
 Daventry, when the poor little Marquess died ! " 
 
 Margery said nothing more. Indeed, she hardly 
 could have done so, for tea was brought in at the 
 moment by the splendid creature who had appeared 
 before, assisted by another of only less magnificence. 
 And immediately afterwards Flora said : " Oh, here's 
 my husband ! Lord Stellacombe Mrs. Vane." 
 
 Margery turning, met curious light eyes set in a 
 dark face; and her heart stood still. 
 
 Like lightning, her memory ran back to that night 
 three weeks before her wedding, when Denzil had 
 taken her to the theatre. Just so these same curious 
 light eyes had looked at her, as she and Denzil came 
 out into the wet street with the same attentive 
 surprise, followed immediately after by the same 
 unsmiling amusement. Two facts, standing out from 
 all others in her brain, seemed to paralyse her. 
 
 275 18*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 This was Denzil's cousin ; and he must know where 
 Denzil was. 
 
 This was Denzil's cousin ; and he must not know 
 that she was Denzil's wife. 
 
 The longing to ask the one question that would tell 
 her what she had longed for five years to know : 
 the knowledge that she could only ask it at the cost 
 of her secret : were almost more than she could bear. 
 She knew that she could not trust herself to introduce 
 Denzil's name in any side way, so that she might 
 ask her question without appearing to ask it. It 
 meant too much to her her voice must shake, her 
 colour must come and go ; and this man's eyes saw 
 everything. With all the strength she had, she forced 
 herself to keep quiet ; shook hands, hoping that he 
 would not notice how cold and trembling hers was ; 
 sat still, with downcast eyes, drinking something that 
 presumably was tea, eating something that might 
 have been anything. 
 
 "Just fancy, Horace Mrs. Vane used to be Miss 
 Lennard, the children's governess at home ! " said 
 Flora. " I was so astonished when I met her acci- 
 dentally this afternoon ! " 
 
 " It must have been a great surprise for you both," 
 said Lord Stellacombe. The veiled amusement deep- 
 ened in his eyes as he glanced at Margery; but there 
 was something else there too, which made her shiver. 
 She remembered how Dick had said that " the lord- 
 ship's " eyes were like the eyes of Red Ridinghood's 
 wolf. 
 
 She could not make herself eat or drink anything 
 276,
 
 more, but she contrived to make a decorous show of 
 doing so for a few minutes longer : rising then and 
 excusing herself, on the plea that she would be late at 
 home if she stayed any longer. " My little boy and I 
 always have a high tea at six," she said; and Flora's 
 eyes expressed ingenuous astonishment that anyone 
 should partake of such a meal or, if they must do 
 so, that they should bring themselves to own as much.
 
 CHAPTERptVI 
 
 MARGERY RECEIVES VISITORS 
 
 FOR the rest of that week, Margery saw nothing of 
 anyone connected with the Hall. But she went to 
 church on Sunday morning in fear and trembling 
 lest the light wolf-eyes should be turned on her from 
 the Hall pew, though she remembered Denzil's saying 
 how well she seemed to remember everything he had 
 ever said ! that his cousin never went to church. She 
 could not bring herself to glance in the direction of 
 those cross-pews at all until some third of the service 
 was over. Then, conscious, as one is, that for a long 
 while certain eyes there had been steadily fixed on 
 her, she took her courage in both hands and looked 
 composedly across. 
 
 The shock that she received was not unaccompanied 
 by relief. Flora was there, marvellously dressed, 
 very limp and languid, sitting down for the Psalms, 
 and refreshing herself at frequent intervals with a gold 
 scent-bottle set with emeralds. Her husband was not 
 there at all; but someone else was by her side, and 
 it was his eyes that had been so unwinkingly fixed 
 upon Margery. It was Mr. Theophilus Privett. 
 
 Time had not withered him. It had, on the con. 
 278
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 trary, made his plump form plumper, his bald head 
 balder, and his round face rounder, and even more 
 suggestive than it used to be of a well-boiled pink 
 ham. His little eyes seemed to have retreated farther 
 than ever into rolls of fat ; but they were very bright, 
 and they were fixed on Margery with such a curious 
 expression that she felt her colour rise. Indeed, he 
 stared at her so persistently that she was relieved 
 when the service came to an end ; and she lingered 
 in the church, on one pretext or another, until the 
 throbbing of a motor outside assured her that the fine 
 folks from the Hall had departed. She wished more 
 heartily than ever that they had never come to this 
 part of the world at all. It was not only that she 
 was feeling afresh the heavy weight of her secret, and 
 a terror of being unable to keep it safely ; the whole 
 village seemed more or less demoralized. Motors 
 from the Hall were flying about at all hours of 
 day and night, to the danger of every child in the 
 neighbourhood, for Lord Stellacombe was a furious 
 driver. Several women and girls had been up to help 
 in various ways, and had come back dazzled with the 
 fine town servants, the waste and luxury and wealth, 
 which had never come their way before. Even Mrs. 
 Strong, whose regular custom it was to take tea with 
 Margery on Sunday afternoons, could talk of nothing 
 but the new-comers in general and his lordship in 
 particular. His lordship had been to see her. ' ' What 
 about ? " Margery asked quickly ; but Mrs. Strong 
 was so thrilled by the event, and talked so fast about 
 it, that its reason never transpired. Wonderful 
 
 279
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 knowledgeable, Mrs. Strong considered his lordship, 
 for a London gentleman ; he had had the perspicacity 
 to admire exactly those things on the farm on which 
 she particularly prided herself. He had drunk some 
 of her cowslip wine and had eaten some of her special 
 seedy cake, and had asked for more, said Mrs. Strong, 
 with triumph. He had also said that he had never 
 tasted anything like either of them before ; and Mar- 
 gery, knowing full well the nature of these formidable 
 concoctions, would have been amused if she had not 
 been too anxious. He must have been very much 
 bent upon making himself agreeable. So interested, 
 he was, Mrs. Strong continued volubly, in every- 
 thing connected with the village ; so surprised to 
 hear that Margery had been a lodger at the farm for 
 so many months and here Mrs. Strong grew a little 
 confused, for she was conscious of having said far 
 more than she had ever intended, in answer to Lord 
 Stellacombe's insinuating questions. It was a very 
 small matter that she had described Denzil accurately, 
 with much wealth of detail, and their arrival, and the 
 circumstances attending his departure, and the manner 
 of Margery's return ; all the world knew those things. 
 But she did feel some prickings of conscience to re- 
 member that she had been led on, by his sympathetic 
 attitude, to confide to him the wonder she had felt 
 when Denzil never came back or even wrote. Asked 
 further how she, a woman of such acuteness, accounted 
 for this mystery, she had even admitted what she 
 had never before breathed to mortal soul the various 
 speculations that had passed one after another through 
 
 280
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 her mind ; how sometimes she had believed that 
 Denzil must be dead, and sometimes that perhaps 
 he had suddenly lost his memory, like people in books, 
 and sometimes (with bated breath) that he must 
 be in prison for something. All these ideas Lord 
 Stellacombe to hear did seriously incline, and at the 
 end he just hinted a suggestion which she had never 
 allowed to enter her mind for a moment suppose 
 they were not married at all ? She had repudiated 
 it, of course, as in private duty bound, with indigna- 
 tion ; but the thought stuck, as mud sticks, and it 
 made her feel guilty now when she met Margery's clear 
 eyes. 
 
 At that uncomfortable moment Dick came in not 
 at all a Sunday Dick, but ruffled, dusty, hatless, with 
 a bruise on his forehead, two badly scratched knees, 
 and the sleeve half torn out of his coat. Mrs. Strong 
 exclaimed with horror at the sight of him, and Margery 
 started up, astonished and alarmed. 
 
 " I've lost my hat," said Dick, making immediate 
 confession to his mother. 
 
 " But what can have happened ? " Margery asked 
 seriously, pouring out hot water to bathe the injured 
 knees. She had never known Dick to fight as yet 
 but presumably he would do so sooner or later, like 
 other boys ; only she could have wished that he had 
 not chosen a Sunday to begin. 
 
 " The motor went over it," said Dick. " It was 
 quite smashed." 
 
 Margery turned white, and her hands began to shake. 
 It was Mrs. Strong's questions and exclamations that 
 
 281
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 drew the story piecemeal from Dick, in a child's in- 
 coherent fashion. How he had climbed up a high 
 bank to get a cluster of autumn leaves, such as Margery 
 liked to have in a jar on the mantelpiece ; how he had 
 slipped and fallen " But I don't remember being on 
 the road at all," said Dick. How the next thing he 
 remembered was being dragged up by one arm 
 " That was how my coat got torn " and finding him- 
 self, in a whirl of dust, standing by the roadside in 
 Mr. Kent's grip, while Lord Stellacombe sat in his 
 motor just a little farther on. Mr. Kent said hardly 
 anything, said Dick ; but his voice sounded funny. 
 The lordship talked a good deal, as if he were very 
 angry with both of them ; Dick had not understood 
 a good many of his words at all. Mr. Kent told him 
 then that it was lucky for him that he had happened 
 to be passing at the moment. The lordship said 
 that no one could see round a corner. What was 
 stunned ? What was manslaughter ? And Dick's 
 head ached very much. Was tea nearly ready ? 
 
 Mrs. Strong was full of horrified comment ; but 
 Margery, after holding her boy for a moment in a tight, 
 fierce grip, which Dick resented greatly, only fell to 
 bathing his forehead and knees without a word. Such 
 accidents were always occurring, of course ; it was 
 exactly the sort of thing that had been in her mind 
 ever since the advent of the Hall motors. It would 
 have been alarming in any case, whoever had been in 
 the car ; but the fact that it had been Lord Stella- 
 combe turned Margery, for some reason, sick and cold. 
 She felt as if she would never dare to let Dick out of 
 
 282
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 her sight again. It even cost her a pang when Mrs. 
 Strong, preparing to go, invited him down to the farm 
 the next day, to have tea and help her make blackberry 
 jam : an annual festival which was one of Dick's 
 greatest joys. Of course, Margery might have gone 
 too. But she knew quite well that Mrs. Strong had 
 something of a mother's jealousy of the boy whom she 
 considered almost her own, and dearly loved to have 
 him to herself now and then ; and Dick, too, was old 
 enough by this time to appreciate the supreme im- 
 portance of paying visits by himself. 
 
 So Margery stifled her own feelings, and set him off 
 alone, when the time came, after afternoon school the 
 next day ; and then, mother-like, ran up to the attic 
 window and watched him go every step of the way, 
 until she saw him safely in at the farm gate far down 
 the straight village street. Withdrawing her gaze 
 with a breath of relief, and looking down, she became 
 aware of Lady Denise, on a handsome roan mare, 
 looking up at her and laughing. 
 
 " I was wondering how long it would be before 
 you noticed me, Mrs. Vane ! " she cried. " Are you 
 busy ? May I come and see you in ten minutes ? " 
 
 " Oh, please do ! " Margery cried warmly; and she 
 ran downstairs again and busied herself getting tea 
 ready, thinking that under the circumstances she 
 was glad that Dick had gone to the farm. 
 
 Lady Denise, meanwhile, at the Vicarage gate, 
 talked low and earnestly to Mr. Kent. She had given 
 him a letter, which he held unopened in his 
 hand. 
 
 283
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyef 
 
 " The poor old man only died yesterday evening, and 
 we wanted you to have the offer of the living at once," 
 she was saying. " Oh, Henry, do come ! It will 
 mean so much to my father to both of us to have 
 you there. I made him write the formal offer at once> 
 and rode over with it myself so that I might say all I 
 could as well." 
 
 Mr. Kent stood quite still, as his manner was, looking 
 down at the letter in his hand. 
 
 " You need not think, because the place is charm- 
 ing, that there is nothing for you to do there," Lady 
 Denise urged. " Mr. Varcoe was so old that things 
 have been allowed to slide dreadfully. You can work 
 as hard as you like. You are more wanted there than 
 here in every way. My father is an old man now, 
 Henry, and he is very fond of you and he has no 
 sons." 
 
 Still Mr. Kent said nothing. 
 
 " I hate to think of you living in this poky little 
 house ! " Lady Denise flashed out. 
 
 "Is it poky ? I never thought about it," said Mr. 
 Kent with an amused smile. " It is quite good enough 
 for me." 
 
 " It's not good enough for your wife when you 
 marry ! " said Lady Denise. 
 
 " I don't think it likely that I shall ever marry," 
 said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " Really, anyone who overheard us might think that 
 I was proposing to you myself ! " cried Lady Denise ; 
 and burst out laughing, as one may at an idea that is 
 frankly absurd. Mr. Kent's stern face softened wonder- 
 
 284
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 fully as he looked up at her. Flora would probably 
 have been scandalized at the heartlessness of the remark ; 
 but he knew her well enough to know that something 
 very much more important than her complexion had 
 been left behind in India with her husband and her 
 child. 
 
 " Well, I won't worry you any more ; but do think 
 over it and say ' Yes,' " she said earnestly, leaning 
 down from her saddle. 
 
 " I will write to your father to-night," Mr. Kent 
 promised. 
 
 " Good-bye, then ! I am going to see Mrs. Vane," 
 said Lady Denise ; and flashed a keen glance at him from 
 under her black lashes as she said the name. 
 
 Margery had her tea-table spread with the best she 
 had; and Lady Denise, eating clotted cream with 
 bread and jam like a schoolgirl, frankly enjoyed herself, 
 proving to be one of those ideal guests who are per- 
 fectly happy from the moment they enter a house to 
 the moment they leave. In ten minutes Margery felt 
 as if she had known her all her life, and found herself 
 talking of her trivial everyday occupations quite 
 freely, and asking advice about small difficulties. 
 " But you can't be interested in all this ! " she said, 
 pulling herself up in confusion. 
 
 " Yes, I am. Do tell me what happened then ! " 
 said Lady Denise with every appearance of truthful- 
 ness; and subsequently helped herself to more jam f 
 and said that it was the best she had tasted for years, 
 and was Margery's recipe a secret, or would she mind 
 giving it ? 
 
 2*5
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 So Margery talked as she had never talked, except 
 to Denzil, of the things that interested her ; and, look- 
 ing at the strong face opposite, felt the quick, warm 
 affection that a young woman often conceives for 
 another woman appreciably older, and yet still of her 
 own generation. She found it a little difficult, certainly, 
 to keep from talking about Dick, seeing how large he 
 bulked in her life ; and was glad to turn for safety to 
 the tale of her meeting with Flora, and how they had 
 been formerly acquainted, and of her visit to the 
 Hall. 
 
 " Well ; and what do you think of it ? " said Lady 
 Denise. 
 
 Margery felt a delicacy in saying exactly what she 
 thought. She took refuge in saying that she was 
 sorry to see how delicate the children looked. 
 
 " The children oh, don't talk of them ! " cried 
 Lady Denise, with a sharp change of voice. " It's one 
 reason why I can't bear to stay there to see those 
 poor, neglected, tragic little souls ! I want to pet them 
 and yet I feel that it's cruel ; for what they've never 
 had they don't know that they miss. She doesn't see 
 them sometimes for days together just leaves them to 
 that brute of a nurse whom she took without a 
 character " 
 
 " Why, she seemed to think so much of her ! " said 
 Margery in astonishment. " She said that she had 
 
 her from a Duchess " 
 
 " Yes it's just to be able to say that, that she 
 took her," said Lady Denise sharply. " The Daventry 
 baby died in that woman's hands, and everyone knew 
 
 286
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 that she had drugged him. They didn't prosecute. It 
 was too late to do anything, and the poor Duchess 
 was half out of her mind as it was. I told Flora but 
 she wouldn't believe or didn't care. Oh, it drives 
 me mad ! Those poor, poor babies ! " She sprang up 
 and stood close to the open window, as if she could not 
 breathe. 
 
 Margery, appalled, thought of the nurse's look at 
 her, and saw again the little waxen-faced, quiet 
 baby. 
 
 "I'm glad, glad that they have no boy that hurts 
 them, at least ! " said Lady Denise. The tears were 
 running down her face ; she stamped her foot passion- 
 ately. " Oh, don't talk of it any more I can't bear 
 it ! " 
 
 The next moment, with a complete change of tone 
 and manner, she had dried her eyes, and was insisting 
 on helping Margery to clear away tea and wash up. 
 She had not done such a thing for years she never 
 had the chance at home ; it would be a real treat. 
 And so, in spite of Margery's scandalized protests, she 
 drew up her sleeves and pinned up her habit, and fell 
 to work with a will. She was delighted with the cosy 
 cottage kitchen, and charmed with the neatness of all 
 Margery's arrangements ; and it was not till the last 
 plate had been washed and put away, that she exclaimed 
 with horror at the time. 
 
 " You will never let me come again, after a visitation 
 like this ! " she said whimsically. 
 
 " Indeed, I can't tell you what a pleasure it has 
 been ! " said Margery. 
 
 287
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " At any rate, it is your turn now to come and see 
 me," said Lady Denise, drawing on her riding gloves. 
 " Saturday is a holiday, isn't it ? Will you come next 
 Saturday and lunch with me ? I'll send the car for 
 you early. Do come ! " 
 
 It was a fascinating invitation ; and Margery accepted 
 it with some little trepidation, but a vast amount of 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Good ! " said Lady Denise. " Now I must really 
 
 go." 
 
 Margery ran upstairs to fetch her hat and walk with 
 her guest as far as the village inn, where her mare 
 had been put up. Coming back, she saw through the 
 open doorway that Lady Denise had taken up a worn 
 old sock of Dick's lying on her work-basket ready 
 to be mended, and was fingering it tenderly, hungrily. 
 The look on her face made the tears rush to Margery's 
 eyes. She turned to the front door and opened it with 
 a little rattle; and Lady Denise, dropping the sock 
 as if it had burnt her, came out with perfect com- 
 posure. 
 
 " Well, good-bye, Mrs. Vane till Saturday," she 
 said. " Don't forget ! " 
 
 " I will walk down with you," said Margery. 
 
 It was a lovely evening, with the beginnings of a 
 glorious sunset. Having watched her guest ride off, 
 Margery turned away from home and up towards the 
 Moor. It would be a shame to go indoors yet. She 
 would come back by another way and pick up Dick at 
 the farm ; and Dick, would certainly not want to go home 
 till bedtime.
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 The lanes were lonely, set deep in their hedges, so 
 that Margery could only see a little way before and 
 a little way behind. She met a few men returning from 
 work, and nodded " Good-night " ; and then, turning 
 a sharp corner, to her great surprise she met Mr. 
 Privett. She was not at all sure that he would want 
 to speak to her ; but he came up to her at once, with a 
 beaming red face and a fat hand held out. 
 
 " Now, I call this lucky," he cried, "for I was just 
 on my way to see you ! " 
 
 " Were you, really ? It was very kind," said Mar- 
 gery, frankly surprised. 
 
 " Perhaps you'll let me go a little way with you 
 as we've met," said Mr. Privett. 
 
 " Certainly, with pleasure," said Margery. She 
 remembered gratefully that he had been kind to her at 
 Canning Place. 
 
 They walked on up towards the Moor. 
 
 " Not quite so fast, please, my dear lady 1 " cried 
 Mr. Privett, panting. 
 
 Margery relaxed her long, swinging step, and laughed. 
 " I have been so used to walking alone, or with my 
 little boy, who is always in a hurry, that I'm afraid I 
 do walk fast," she said. " Have you been up here 
 before ? Isn't it lovely ? " 
 
 " Lonely very lonely ! " said Mr. Privett with 
 strong distaste. 
 
 " Well, that is part of the beauty of it," said 
 Margery. " Don't you like to be able to see all 
 round for miles and miles without a house at 
 all?" 
 
 289 19
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " No ! " said Mr. Privett very decidedly indeed. 
 " I don't ! " 
 
 Margery, drinking in deep breaths of the sweet air, 
 that had already a hint of coming autumn sharpness 
 in it, smiled without troubling to answer. Mr. Privett' s 
 opinion really mattered less than nothing to her. 
 
 " Come, now ! You don't mean to tell me that you 
 like this better than London ? " he went on argumen- 
 tatively. 
 
 " Indeed I do ! " said Margery ; and the thought 
 of Dick caged in London streets, after the wild, healthy 
 freedom of his life here, gave great decision to her 
 tone. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! You don't mean that, you know," 
 said Mr. Privett. 
 
 His tone vaguely displeased Margery, and hers was 
 a little stiff as she answered : "It is fortunate that I 
 do mean it, Mr. Privett ; for there is not the smallest 
 likelihood of my going back to London." 
 
 " Not if you were asked ? " said Mr. Privett. 
 
 Margery, looking sharply at him, was suddenly 
 very sorry that she had allowed him to come with her. 
 
 ;< You're wasted here, you know. Not a soul to 
 look at you ; and, upon my soul, you're worth looking 
 at ! " said Mr. Privett, in a voice that grew more 
 familiar every moment. " It's just as I prophesied 
 once, as you may remember, a good many years ago 
 now. You're fifty times handsomer now than you were 
 then ; while look at Flora ! No one would give her a 
 second glance now, and she was a prettyish girl then." 
 
 Margery turned sharp away from the Moc r , and took 
 290
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 a road that led directly back to the village. " That is 
 your best way to the Hall," she said, pointing out 
 another that ran at right angles. 
 
 " Now you're annoyed with me ! " said Mr. Privett, 
 taking no notice at all of this strong hint. " What is 
 it all about ? Is it because I said nothing about the 
 little chap ? Bless you, he shan't be a difficulty 
 I'm not the man to be mean about a good school " 
 
 Margery grew rather white. She did not slacken 
 speed at all as she walked, but she looked very straight 
 at him. " Please don't say any more, Mr. Privett," 
 she said. " You don't understand. It is quite 
 impossible." 
 
 " Now, my dear Miss Lennard ! " urged Mr. Privett. 
 
 " My name is Mrs. Vane," said Margery. 
 
 " Oh, no, it isn't ! " said Mr. Privett, most un- 
 expectedly. 
 
 The colour forsook Margery's face in good earnest 
 at that, and at last she stopped dead. " What do 
 you mean ? Who said such a thing ? " she asked, and 
 her voice shook in spite of herself. 
 
 " Why, my nephew, Lord Stellacombe, of course," 
 said Mr. Privett ; and he lingered over the name and 
 the relationship with deep enjoyment. 
 
 Margery's world seemed to be spinning round her, 
 but she fought hard for self-control. " Will you 
 please tell me exactly what he told you ? " she said 
 at last, very slowly, because she could not trust her 
 voice. 
 
 " Oh, what's the use ? What does it matter ? 
 cried Mr. Privett, as if he found this digression uselc 
 
 291 19*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 and annoying. " I'm sure I don't wish to say or repeat 
 anything that will vex you. I make you a fair offer a 
 very fair offer, I think, under the circumstances. 
 What's your answer ? " 
 
 Margery tried madly to think and understand. 
 Surely this could have only one meaning : Lord Stella- 
 combe had told Mr. Privett that Denzil was dead. 
 But, in any case, let her clear away the little man's 
 importunity once for all before she went on to this 
 vastly more important matter. 
 
 " I think you mean to be kind," she faltered. " But 
 please never speak of this to me again ! Even if if my 
 husband is dead I could never marry you." 
 
 There was an odd, awkward silence. 
 
 " You needn't try to keep up appearances with 
 me," said Mr. Privett. " Talking about husbands, I 
 mean." 
 
 For half a moment, in spite of his tone, Margery did 
 not understand. Then, gasping, she felt as if she had 
 been whipped across the face. 
 
 " Do you mean that you don't believe in my having 
 a husband ? " she cried, scarlet. 
 
 " Well, if you have, who is he ? and where is he ? " 
 said Mr. Privett. 
 
 Margery's breath came fast. 
 
 " Now, my dear girl, be reasonable ! " said Mr, 
 Privett. " / don't want to rake up old stories though 
 I can tell you that my niece, Lady Stellacombe, was 
 uncommonly shocked. Of course, it is all years ago 
 now and forgotten. But it's no use to pretend that 
 you are really married, or ever were ! " 
 
 292
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 " That is a lie 1 " said Margery with scarlet cheeks 
 and blazing eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I'm a liar, am I ? " said Mr. Privett, getting 
 angry in his turn. " Very well, then ! As I said 
 before, who is your husband ? and where is he ? " 
 
 " I wonder that you should wish to marry me, if 
 you can think that of me 1 " said Margery. 
 
 " I can tell you it isn't many men who would 1 " 
 said Mr. Privett, calming down at the sense of his own 
 magnanimity, and the successful making of his point 
 for the second time. " But, as I said, it's an old 
 story now, and you are the only woman that I ever 
 fancied in my life." He took her familiarly by the 
 arm. 
 
 " Please don't ! " said Margery, trying to get away; 
 but the pudgy hand was unexpectedly strong. 
 
 " Now, be reasonable, and say ' Yes ' like a sensible 
 girl ! " said Mr. Privett, holding her fast. 
 
 Margery looked wildly about her ; but they were 
 back again by this time in the deep, narrow lanes, and 
 it -was most unlikely that anyone would pass this way 
 so late. Struggling was merely undignified when she 
 had already proved it to be useless. She stood quite 
 still. 
 
 " Now, that's better ! " said Mr. Privett; and before 
 she was aware of it he slipped his arm round her waist. 
 And at that she gave a sharp, frightened cry. 
 
 " Don't be afraid. Why, I wouldn't hurt you for 
 the world 1 " said Mr. Privett, as if he were a good deal 
 pleased to have made such an impression. Then he 
 stopped suddenly and looked quickly round ; for they 
 
 293
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 could both hear rapid footsteps coming towards them. 
 The next moment Mr. Kent had turned the corner 
 close by, and Margery had cried out his name in a 
 voice that told more than she knew. Mr. Privett's 
 hands fell to his sides with remarkable suddenness. 
 
 " Let me see you home, Mrs. Vane. It is much too 
 late for you to be out here alone," said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " Here ! here ! " said Mr. Privett, with a faint 
 attempt at bluster. " I don't want any parsons 
 interfering ' ' 
 
 " If you were thirty years younger," said Mr. Kent, 
 " I'd thrash you within an inch of your life if I were 
 fifty times a parson ! " 
 
 Margery had never in her life seen a really strong 
 man really angry. His face fairly frightened her ; but 
 she felt an extraordinary sense of comfort and pro- 
 tection beside him, and it was an untold relief to see 
 Mr. Privett edging off obediently towards the road 
 that led to the Hall, with a haste that was anything 
 but dignified. Mr. Kent walked beside her in a 
 merciful silence without looking at her ; and Margery 
 was very grateful, for she was shaking all over, and 
 could not have spoken a word without breaking out 
 into childish tears. He did not say a word, until she 
 had fought down the hysterical sobbing and was begin- 
 ning to wonder if she could trust her voice enough to 
 thank him. Then, as if he knew by instinct exactly 
 how she felt, he turned to her and spoke. 
 
 " May I ask you a question, Mrs. Vane ? and will 
 you believe that I am not asking out of idle 
 curiosity ? " 
 
 294
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 " What is it ? " said Margery, trembling again, for 
 his voice sounded unnatural. 
 
 " Is your husband living ? " said Mr. Kent very 
 abruptly and sharply. And Margery answered, with 
 a sob that was almost a cry : " Oh, I wish I 
 knew ! " 
 
 " You wish you knew ? " Mr. Kent had stopped 
 abruptly, with his deep-set eyes fixed on her face. And 
 Margery faltered out, in reply, as much of her story as 
 she had told Mrs. Jannaway. Of her secret marriage 
 and the reason of it ; of Denzil's leaving her, and the 
 reason for that, and something of the doubts, fears 
 and surmises that had haunted her ever since. It 
 was a wonderful relief to unburden herself of even so 
 much of the heavy load that she had borne alone 
 for so long. 
 
 " And you have never taken any steps to find 
 him ? " said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " How could I ? " said Margery. " I had pro- 
 mised." 
 
 They walked on in silence until they reached trie 
 gate of the farm. 
 
 " I am going in here to fetch Dick," said Margery, 
 stopping. " I I can't thank you." 
 
 " Good-night," said Mr. Kent. " I am glad I 
 happened to be there." 
 
 He did not offer to shake hands which hurt Mar- 
 gery a little or even look at her again ; but went off 
 up the village street towards the Vicarage very fast, 
 as if he had suddenly thought of something that was 
 better done at once. 
 
 295
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 The Vicarage faced east, and inside it was already 
 almost dark ; but the Vicar's housekeeper, who had a 
 commendable though rather depressing leaning to- 
 wards economy, had not thought it necessary to light 
 up as yet. Mr. Kent was not without his welcome 
 home, however, for Edward, his bell ringing bravely, 
 came trotting to meet his master, with a little croon 
 of inquiry as to why he had been so long away, and 
 followed him into the study : and when the Vicar 
 took his boots off, hurled himself to rub his bullet 
 head against his master's feet in an ecstasy of 
 devotion. 
 
 One of mankind's superiorities over womankind is 
 the fact that it always has matches in its pocket. 
 The Vicar, fumbling in the dark, struck one, and 
 lighted the candles which stood on his table. They 
 had been left burning some tune in a draught, and 
 had dribbled over in a long, twisted stem down to 
 the candlestick. Seen in their rather faint light, the 
 study looked uncommonly dreary and dusty and 
 ill cared for. 
 
 Mr. Kent took up his pen hastily and sat down to 
 write. His stern face was more than usually set and 
 grim. 
 
 " DEAR LORD CHESILDEN, 
 
 " I must thank you heartily for your very 
 kind offer of the living of Chesilden, and I accept it 
 with gratitude. 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 
 " HENRY KENT." 
 296
 
 Margery receives Visitors 
 
 " The better part of valour, dear old chap ! " said 
 the Vicar to Edward, as he stamped and addressed the 
 envelope ; and he patted him hard, like a dog. And 
 Edward, bowled over by the strenuousness of the 
 patting, picked himself up to come and rub hard 
 against his master's hand once more, and explain that 
 he quite understood, and was not at all offended. 
 
 297
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE PARK 
 
 IT happened, fortunately for Margery, that the next 
 Saturday was a particularly convenient day for her 
 to be away from home ; for Mr. Kent had invited Dick 
 to go fishing with him, and that was a rare and won- 
 derful treat, raising the boy to the seventh heaven of 
 delight, and making him feel a man indeed. He had 
 a great affection, albeit tempered with a wholesome 
 awe, for his godfather, and ranked him next after his 
 mother ; Mrs. Strong coming in as a poor third, because 
 Dick knew perfectly well that he could twist her round 
 his little finger, and consequently, though he was 
 very fond of her, he respected her not at all. 
 
 He had talked of nothing else for days beforehand, 
 the ordinary joy of such a prospect being enhanced by 
 the fact that they were going " a long, long way ! " 
 said Dick, opening his black eyes very wide in eager 
 emphasis. This involved their making the journey in 
 a certain curious low pony-cart belonging to the 
 village inn ; and Margery, while quite understanding 
 how much this added to the festivity, had to stifle 
 certain motherly fears with respect to rampant motors 
 and frightened ponies, for Mr. Kent, like most of 
 
 298
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 his cloth, was an extraordinarily poor driver. She 
 saw Dick off to the Vicarage gaily, however, in the 
 oldest suit of clothes for which Mr. Kent always 
 stipulated ; and then, with quite a childish excitement 
 over her own day's pleasure, began to watch for the 
 promised motor, long before there was the smallest 
 likelihood of its coming. At the bottom of her heart 
 she was very sorry that Mr. Kent was not going by 
 the road that passed the school, so that he might 
 have picked up Dick on the way ; for she was con- 
 scious, with a little innocent, pardonable vanity, 
 that she was looking very nice. 
 
 She had run upstairs half a dozen times, forgetting 
 things for pure excitement, before she saw a motor 
 in the distance, and noted agreeably the thrill given 
 to the village at seeing anything so impressive draw 
 up at the schoolhouse. It was an extremely fine and 
 large car, quite inconspicuous in appearance, but 
 with every detail about it perfect of its kind. The 
 chauffeur, though he looked as haughty and remote 
 as most of his tribe, unfastened Margery's modest 
 gate, and helped her into the tonneau, and arranged 
 the rugs for her, with as much respect as if she had 
 been an empress instead of a village schoolmistress. 
 Once they were off, the rapid gliding motion was more 
 like flying than anything that she had ever imagined. 
 The Stellacombes' car, which had given her her only 
 other experience of motoring, was like a farm-cart in 
 comparison, in spite of its gorgeous appearance and 
 blaring horn. Margery sat back luxuriously among 
 her luxurious rugs, and enjoyed every minute of her 
 
 299
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 quick flight through the air ; nodded delightedly to 
 astonished acquaintances whom she met ; was heartily 
 sorry when the brief journey was over and they had 
 passed some very fine gates of Italian ironwork, held 
 open by a curtseying lodge-keeper, and were speeding 
 up a long elm avenue to the fine Jacobean house that 
 stood on rising ground at the head of it. It was all 
 very stately and imposing; and Margery, shy by 
 nature, and additionally so by reason of her retired 
 and solitary life, began to be frightened. She remem- 
 bered, all too late, that Lady Denise, in spite of her 
 friendly simplicity, was a great lady. The house, 
 when they drew up before it, looked enormous. There 
 were deer in the park always an impressive feature 
 to the unsophisticated mind. There would certainly 
 be dreadful men-servants. Margery began to wish 
 that she had stayed at home. 
 
 But there proved to be no men-servants at all for 
 the moment, at any rate. Only Lady Denise, coming 
 out of the door in the frankest fashion, as Margery 
 might have come from her own cottage to welcome a 
 visitor. Her greeting was very warm. She wore a 
 grey woollen gown quite as simple, and not nearly 
 so becoming, as Margery's own ; and that was a great 
 help. 
 
 "I am so glad to see you ! " she said; and brought 
 Margery in through a beautiful hall, and up wide, 
 polished stairs, and along corridors, until it seemed 
 as if a life time's acquaintance would be necessary 
 before one knew the way about such a big house. It 
 was a very beautiful house indeed, and everything in it 
 
 300
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 seemed to have grown there, so that one could not 
 imagine putting anything else successfully in the 
 same place. 
 
 " This is my den," said Lady Denise, opening a 
 door. " And a stupid person has just chosen this 
 time to come and see me about some village muddle, 
 so I must leave you for a minute or two. I'm so 
 sorry." 
 
 But Margery did not mind at all. She was really 
 glad to have time to recover her mental balance and 
 look about her. 
 
 It was an odd room, more like a man's than a 
 woman's, the very opposite of any room that Flora 
 Stellacombe had ever had the ordering of: so that 
 Margery felt at once how impossible it must be 
 for the two of them to have anything in common. 
 There was an immense quantity of books of all 
 sorts, ancient and modern, grave and gay, only 
 alike because they all looked well read. The only 
 purely ornamental things in the room were some very 
 handsome Indian hangings and an elaborate carved 
 teak mantelpiece. On this stood two photographs, 
 the only ones in the room : a man in uniform, with a 
 kindly, clever, strong face, and a small boy, not at all 
 unlike Dick in size and age and general appearance 
 Margery studied them both very seriously ; and, if 
 she looked longer at Lady Denise's husband than at 
 her boy, she could hardly have told the reason. With- 
 out any physical beauty at all, Captain Ormathwaite 
 looked the sort of man in whom the heart of his wife 
 must have trusted safely ; it was impossible to imagine 
 
 301
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 time, or separation, or any chance of fortune, making 
 a change in him. And suddenly Margery, arriving 
 at that conclusion, caught herself up in a fright, and 
 turned hastily away from the photograph. She was 
 standing, when Lady Denise came back, quite at the 
 other side of the room, looking at the open piano and 
 the music on it. 
 
 " You are fond of music, and play yourself ? " 
 said Lady Denise. 
 
 " Oh, I love it ! I used to play but I think I have 
 forgotten how by this time," said Margery. " There 
 is only a harmonium at the school." 
 
 " You poor thing ! " Lady Denise flashed out a 
 quick laugh that was quite kind and sympathetic. " I'll 
 play to you before you go, and you shall try if you 
 really have forgotten the way. But it would be a sin 
 to stay indoors now, on a glorious morning like this. 
 Will you come and see my roses ? " 
 
 They left the house by a different way, that led along 
 still more endless corridors, and finally through a 
 picture gallery, where family portraits stared down 
 from both walls at Margery until she felt positively 
 shy again. 
 
 " Aren't we an ugly family ? " said Lady Denise, 
 with refreshing candour. And, indeed, the pictures, 
 whether they wore Tudor ruffs, or Cavalier curls, or 
 Augustan wigs, or powder and patches, all had a certain 
 grim cast of features that made for strength rather 
 than for beauty. " I do think," Lady Denise went 
 on, surveying her ancestors with critical eyes as she 
 passed them, " that for sheer solid British plainness 
 
 302
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 this gallery would be hard to beat ! In fact, there is 
 only one handsome picture in the house my mother's ; 
 and she came from the West Indies. But my father 
 has that in his library." 
 
 She paused a moment before the last picture in the 
 long line. It represented a delicate-looking young 
 man, in whom the family characteristics were repro- 
 duced so strongly that he looked almost like a carica- 
 ture of those who had gone before. 
 
 " This is my brother Denis," she said. " He died 
 when he was twenty- four. It was a fancy of my 
 father's to call us all as nearly as possible after my 
 mother which perhaps was fortunate for us, for our 
 family names are nearly as ugly as ourselves ! Her 
 name was Denise Delorme. When you see my father, 
 you will find it hard to believe that he could do such 
 a fanciful thing ; but he adored her my pretty young 
 mother and he has never been the same since she 
 died." 
 
 They went down another flight of polished stairs, 
 and out at a side door. 
 
 " By the way," Lady Denise went on, "I may as 
 well warn you, while I think of it, not to say anything 
 about the Stellacombes. My father can't bear Horace, 
 and finds it a very bitter thing that he is his heir. I 
 do my best to keep the peace between them that 
 is why I was staying there though I'm afraid 
 my sympathies are all on my father's side. Lady 
 Stellacombe isn't a great friend of yours, is 
 she ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Margery. " You see, I was only 
 303
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 the governess ; she would never have thought of 
 
 making friends with me. Besides " 
 
 " Just so ! I know quite well what besides means," 
 said Lady Denise quickly. " She married my cousin 
 for the title, and he married her for her money, and 
 I'm afraid I am ill-natured enough to wish that I could 
 take either or both away from them the title, for 
 choice ! I think that would hit them very hard, and 
 it would please my father so ! Unluckily, of course, 
 it is impossible." 
 
 They turned as she spoke into a rose-garden sloping 
 to the south, and bordered with yew hedges ; and 
 Margery cried out at the beauty of it. The place was 
 so sheltered that, late as it was in the year, the roses 
 were blooming as if it had been June. 
 
 " One of my hobbies," said Lady Denise. " They do 
 well here, don't they ? " 
 
 " I never saw anything so lovely in all my life ! " 
 said Margery, with a long sigh of pure pleasure. 
 
 Lady Denise laughed at her whimsically. " You 
 have plenty of time still before you, Mrs. Vane, to 
 see even more wonderful sights than this ! " 
 
 " Indeed," said Margery seriously, " I am not so 
 very young. I am nearly twenty-four." 
 
 Lady Denise smiled and sighed. " And I am thirty- 
 eight that seems elderly to you, doesn't it ? But I 
 wouldn't change with you, for all that. When one 
 has lost as much as I have, one is glad to think that 
 one is going down the hill. Every day that goes 
 means one less of separation." She spoke suddenly 
 of her husband, with the extraordinary frankness of 
 
 304
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 the naturally reserved woman who meets with the 
 rare delight of a congenial companion. Only two or 
 three sentences; but they left Margery very silent, 
 for they showed her something that she had never 
 met with before something as far removed from a 
 boy and girl fancy, or marriage for the sake of title 
 or wealth or position, as pole from pole. 
 
 " Don't look at me like that, Mrs. Vane ! " said 
 Lady Denise, with a sudden quick change back to her 
 whimsical manner. " I assure you that I don't expect 
 to die for another thirty years at least oh, what a 
 long time it sounds ! " She caught her breath and 
 bit her lip. " Besides, I have my days as full as they 
 can well be, and any amount of business and pleasure, 
 and any number of interests. Pray don't look so sorry 
 for me ! " 
 
 But Margery was quite silent. In the depths of her 
 heart she was more than half envious of the one who 
 had had so much, rather than sorry for the one who 
 had lost it. 
 
 They left the rose-garden, and strolled on into the 
 park. 
 
 " Am I tiring you out ? " said Lady Denise. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Margery quickly. " I walk a great 
 deal ; I love walking." 
 
 " What a rare accomplishment nowadays ! " said Lady 
 Denise, with her quick, flashing laugh. 
 
 It was a still, golden autumn day, with the leaves 
 at their brightest, and the bracken underfoot all brown 
 and yellow. They passed a miniature lake, with some 
 curious Indian fowl on it. Deer moved across the long 
 
 305 20
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 sloping glades in the distance ; and beyond that every- 
 thing was hazy in a faintly blue mist. 
 
 " Come and see our little church," said Lady Denise. 
 " You don't know, I suppose, that we are going to 
 rob you of your Vicar ? " 
 
 " No," said Margery ; and looked at her quickly. 
 
 " Our old Vicar died a week ago. My father offered 
 my cousin the living, and I am glad to say that he 
 has accepted it. It will be a great pleasure to us to 
 have him here, and I don't know a more charming 
 house than the Vicarage such a change from what he 
 has now ! " 
 
 " That will be very nice for him," said Margery 
 tamely. 
 
 " And for us ! " Lady Denise insisted. " Poor dear 
 old Mr. Varcoe was nearly ninety, and nearly blind, 
 and nearly childish too much so to realize how much 
 better it would have been for everyone concerned if he 
 had resigned. Poor old man ! I feel ashamed now 
 to think how he annoyed me. And yet people who 
 knew him as a young man said that he was perfectly 
 charming. But I don't think I like charming men. Do 
 you ? " 
 
 Margery, flushed and stammering, made no intelligible 
 answer. 
 
 "It is all very well when a man is quite young," 
 said Lady Denise ; and her words found a traitorous 
 echo in Margery's troubled heart. " But well, per- 
 haps I am prejudiced. There is an uncle of mine a 
 brother of my mother's who is so fatally gifted with 
 charm, and yet such a dismal, dismal failure in life. 
 
 306
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 And yet I have always heard that, in his early twenties 
 of course, he is a middle-aged man now he absolutely 
 fascinated everyone who met him." 
 
 The colour had all fled from Margery's cheeks now. 
 One's own doubts and difficulties are hard to deal with ; 
 but when they are put into actual words by someone 
 else, they seem to rise up in double grimness. 
 
 " Here is the church," said Lady Denise. 
 
 They had come upon it rather suddenly as they 
 turned out of a long oak avenue. Quiet, old and 
 moss-stained outside ; inside cool and still and peaceful, 
 with a grave sanctity about it that would have made 
 Margery, if she had been alone, fall on her knees in 
 one of the high old-fashioned pews, and sob her heart 
 out. There .were fanciful carved heads at the entrance 
 to every pew birds, beasts, angels, in quaint proximity. 
 There was an odd, ugly crest obviously the Chesilden 
 crest repeated over and over again in the carvings 
 and in the dim stained glass of the windows. It struck 
 Margery with a curious, disturbing sense of familiarity. 
 She knew nothing of heraldry ; but somewhere else 
 she had seen that queer dancing beast with wings 
 and a dragon's head seen it often enough to know it 
 quite well. 
 
 " Our wyvern is nearly as ugly as we are, isn't he ? " 
 said Lady Denise ; and, though her voice was decorously 
 low, it was full of a whimsical amusement. 
 
 The odd, baffling sense of familiarity beat at Mar- 
 gery's brain with insistence. She had forgotten for the 
 moment ; but someone else had told her the name of the 
 beast long ago. " Argent, a wyvern rampant, gules " 
 
 307 20*
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 she heard herself repeating the phrase over and 
 over like a lesson. She battled with the maddening, 
 intolerable half-remembrance, and could not get hold 
 of the clue. 
 
 She followed Lady Denise down the aisle, and stood 
 looking with only half-seeing eyes at an elaborate 
 mural tablet of an early Lord Chesilden in a ruff, 
 with his seven sons kneeling neatly in order of size 
 behind him, and his seven daughters kneeling with 
 equal decorum behind his wife opposite. There was 
 a curious rhyming inscription underneath, which at 
 another time would have interested Margery greatly. 
 There was also a very old font " the oldest thing 
 in the church," said Lady Denise. " But, indeed, this 
 is the only modern thing here at all." She broke 
 off suddenly, as if she could no longer trust her voice ; 
 and Margery, lifting up her eyes, saw Denzil lying 
 before her in white marble. 
 
 His face was turned towards her ; and so well had 
 the sculptor done his work that, but for the dead white- 
 ness of the figure, Margery might almost have fancied 
 that she saw her living husband before her. The 
 beautiful, regular features lent themselves admirably 
 to this form of reproduction ; the attitude was graceful 
 and lifelike. Margery stood with her heart in her 
 eyes, and gazed and gazed. 
 
 " It is my brother Denzil," said Lady Denise with 
 her deep voice very unsteady. " He was drowned 
 when he was only twenty- two " 
 
 " Drowned ? " said Margery. She was surprised 
 to find that sne could speak quite clearly, 
 
 308
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 " In a terrible wreck the Campaspe. Oh, it is not 
 likely that you would remember it ! It is five years 
 ago," said Lady Denise. " My father lost both his 
 sons in a week Denis died three days before Denzil. 
 And I was in India." She turned quickly away, like 
 a child who does not like to be caught crying ; but 
 Margery saw a tear drop on the stone floor. Her 
 own eyes were quite dry. 
 
 The silence that followed seemed as if it would 
 never end. Margery stood looking at the figure of 
 Denzil, and wondering in a curious detached way 
 what would happen next. The strain grew unbear- 
 able. It was an untold relief when a sudden voice, 
 calling outside the church, made Lady Denise start 
 and turn, passing her handkerchief quickly over her 
 face. 
 
 " That is my father calling me ! We must go," 
 she said; and she walked quickly, without looking at 
 Margery, up the aisle to the little north door by which 
 they had entered. Margery followed, dumb and 
 dazed. She could not realize what she had just learnt, 
 or understand, or even feel about it. But she was 
 aware that she was going at last to meet Denzil' s 
 father that stern father who had been the cause of 
 her keeping a dead man's secret for five years. 
 
 She almost ran against Lady Denise, who had come 
 to a sudden stop at the door and was staring out with 
 a white face. 
 
 " Who is that child ? " she said in an odd, hoarse 
 voice. 
 
 Margery, looking out too, saw with astonishment 
 309
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyef 
 
 her own Dick. He had a letter in his hand. He was 
 very shy, and consequently very fierce; and he was 
 standing face to face with a tall, bent old man, re- 
 turning fierce stare with fierce stare. But the strange 
 thing, to the two women watching unnoticed from the 
 doorway, was that the old man's face and the little 
 boy's were feature for feature the same : an absolute 
 likeness of coal-black hair and strongly marked brows, 
 of strong, irregular features, of square cleft chin. 
 Even a certain curious shrug of the shoulders, of which 
 Margery had often vainly tried to cure Dick, was a 
 faithful reproduction of the old man's attitude. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " 
 
 The hoarse voice, shaking extremely, would have 
 daunted most boys. But Dick still looked up bravely, 
 and answered without fear. 
 
 " Mr. Kent sent me to find my mother. He said she 
 was here. I have a letter for her." 
 
 " What is your name ? " said Lord Chesilden 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " Richard Denzil Vane," said Dick, lifting a defiant 
 chin. 
 
 Lady Denise gave a quick little gasp and cry. Dick, 
 turning at the sudden sound, saw Margery, and turned 
 to her with relief. " Oh, mother," he cried, " here is 
 a letter " 
 
 Lord Chesilden crossed the space dividing him 
 from Margery with two steps. He was a tail and 
 commanding old man, and his face could not well 
 have been sterner or more imperious ; but Margery, 
 looking up at him, was not afraid. 
 
 310
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 " What was my son Denzil to you ? " he asked her 
 harshly. 
 
 And Margery told at last the secret that had been 
 such a weary burden for five years. " He was my 
 husband," she said. 
 
 " Where were you married ? and when ? " cried Lady 
 Denise, with a quick urgency in her deep voice. Lord 
 Chesilden was standing perfectly still, as if the power 
 of speech had left him ; but his eyes never left Margery's 
 face. 
 
 " We were married five and a half years ago, on the 
 thirteenth of February," said Margery, " in London 
 at St. Matthew's, Canning Place." 
 
 Simple as they were, the effect of those few words 
 was almost terrifying ; for at the sound of them an 
 extraordinary change passed over Lord Chesilden. 
 From an old man, he became quite suddenly an aged 
 man. His set face relaxed; the strong old hands, 
 crossed one over the other on the handle of his stick, 
 began to shake pitifully. He looked like a man who, 
 having braced himself with all his strength to bear 
 some lifelong burden, could not bear the reaction of 
 having the burden removed without warning. Lady 
 Denise was instantly at his side, her arm through his, 
 turning him away from the church door ; but not 
 so quickly that Margery had not seen the slow, terrible 
 tears of old age beginning to run down the whiteness 
 of his face. She drew Dick away quickly in the 
 opposite direction, so that he might not see them. 
 
 " Here is a letter for you, mother," the boy repeated. 
 He had always a tenacious fashion of keeping to his 
 
 311
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 point until he had gained it, and the presence of these 
 strangers was to him merely odd, uncomfortable and 
 quite incomprehensible. " We met the postman just as 
 we started. And it has got ' Immediate ' written on 
 it, so Mr. Kent said that I had better come and find 
 you because we were coming near here, anyhow." 
 
 Margery took the letter mechanically and without 
 interest. She did not know the writing, or trouble to 
 examine the postmark ; she had not a correspondent 
 in the world from whom she would have cared to hear 
 just then. But she had better open it-; it would give 
 Lord Chesilden more time. She tore it open, and 
 saw at once the signature " Herbert Jannaway," 
 and hardly cared to go farther. It was merely an 
 answer, of course, to her letter about Phyllis. 
 
 The next moment a sentence caught her eye and 
 held it. 
 
 " I do trust the letter was of no importance. We 
 found it only to-day, put away in a box of our little 
 girl's treasures, which she would never let anyone else 
 touch. I can only imagine that the foreign stamps took 
 her fancy " 
 
 With trembling fingers Margery took the letter from 
 its cover. There was something else enclosed an 
 old, dirty, faded envelope that had never been opened, 
 with the address in Denzil's handwriting, and a date 
 of more than five years before. It took Margery 
 back, like the magic carpet of a fairy-tale, to those 
 long-ago days before she had forgotten how to hope- 
 She felt herself once more the young girl-wife whom 
 Denzil had left, as she drew out the crumpled letter. 
 
 312
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 Such a boyish, hasty scrawl ; such an insignificant 
 sheet of paper it seemed impossible that the loss of 
 it should have made five years' difference to so many 
 lives. 
 
 " MY OWN DEAREST MARGERY. I must make time 
 to write a line, though I ought to be doing 
 fifty other things instead. My poor brother Denis 
 died quite suddenly this morning an awful blow to 
 my father ; but I think we have understood each 
 other since better than we ever did before. If only 
 I hadn't to go to Jamaica ! But everything's settled, 
 and it would make awful confusion to give it up at the 
 last minute, and so I must go ; but my father says I 
 need only stay a week or two so it won't be three 
 months, you see, after all, before I come back to my 
 darling wife ! I nearly told my poor old father about 
 you ; and then it didn't seem the thing to do at this 
 minute, and I am just off. I really think he would 
 hardly have minded ; he has been awfully decent, and 
 I wish I hadn't always thought him so down on me. 
 When I come back I mean to be a model everything. 
 I am so glad to have something decent to offer you, 
 darling. It's poor sport being only a younger son 
 but that's over now. I'm really not a brute I never 
 dreamt of stepping into poor Denis' shoes, and I shall 
 miss him horribly. But it's for you that I'm glad. 
 This is the first time that I sign myself (and it's quite 
 right that it should be to you), 
 
 " Your loving husband, 
 
 " STELLACOMBE." 
 313
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 It was with an effort that Margery, reading and 
 re-reading with dazed eyes, realized that Lady Denise 
 was touching her arm and speaking to her. 
 
 " I don't think you heard my father. He is so 
 anxious to hear anything you like to tell him." 
 
 Margery lifted her eyes to Lord Chesilden, and held 
 out her letter. 
 
 " This is from Denzil," she said. " It was lost. 
 It was only sent to me just now." 
 
 " From Denzil ! " 
 
 Lord Chesilden and Denise spoke together; and 
 together they read the letter, while Margery looked 
 with a curious detached interest at the signet ring 
 on the old man's hand. That was the missing clue, 
 of course, to what had been eluding her memory. 
 Denzil had worn a ring like it ; and it had been from 
 him how could she have forgotten for a moment ? 
 that she had learnt her lesson about wyverns. It 
 must have been the coloured blazoning in the church 
 windows which had baffled her, and made the crest seem 
 unfamiliar. 
 
 Dick, horribly bored by all this incomprehensible 
 behaviour, and yet too well brought up to worry his 
 elders while they were obviously busy, had found a 
 dead mole, and with it had found instant consolation 
 and interest. Margery's eyes, wandering to him, 
 suddenly filled with tears. It is the small things of life 
 that prick home to our hearts the meaning of the 
 great events. Her mind was still so stunned with the 
 shock of a too sudden knowledge, after all these years 
 of ignorance, that she scarcely realized what it all 
 
 314
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 meant ; but it came to her like a blow that Denzil 
 would never see his son. But she must not give way 
 now. Plenty of time for that later, when she was 
 quietly back again at home, with time to think and 
 think until she made herself gradually understand. 
 There was so much that must be told first. 
 
 Lord Chesilden and Denise had finished the letter, 
 and turned to her again ; and she found herself telling 
 a plain and simple story of how she and Denzil had 
 first met, of their marriage, and the reason for its 
 concealment softening this as much as might be, 
 for she saw Lord Chesilden wince. She told of their 
 honeymoon and their parting, and of the one letter 
 that she had had from Denzil ; and then she stopped. 
 
 " Well ! " said Lord Chesilden, looking sharply at 
 her with his stern, deep-set eyes. " What then ? What 
 steps did you take to find out what had happened ? " 
 
 " I could do nothing, without telling who Denzil 
 was," said Margery, surprised. 
 
 " But did you see no lists of names of those who were 
 lost in the Campaspe ? " 
 
 " I looked for the name of Holyer, of course," said 
 Margery; and her voice shook, as she remembered 
 those agonies of searching. 
 
 " But did it never occur to you had he never told 
 you my name or his brother's, for instance ? " 
 
 " I never thought of your name being anything 
 but Mr. Holyer," said Margery with extreme sim- 
 plicity. " Yes, he talked of you often ; but he always 
 said ' my father ' or ' my brother.' ' 
 
 " And did he never mention where we lived ? " 
 315
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " I think he must have, once or twice, because I 
 seemed to have heard the name before when Lady 
 Denise asked me to come here to-day," said Margery, 
 knitting her brows in the effort to remember. " But 
 that would not have told me anything, you see, even 
 if he did." And she wondered a little at the quick 
 flash of amusement that came into the eyes of both 
 father and daughter for an instant. It had never 
 occurred to either of them before that there could be 
 anyone so ignorant of the Red Book as to have 
 not even a nodding acquaintance with the name of 
 Chesilden of Chesilden. 
 
 " Then you did nothing at all ? " 
 
 " I just waited," said Margery. 
 
 " Waited for five years ? " 
 
 " There was nothing else to do," said Margery. " I 
 could not tell anyone without Denzil's leave as long 
 as he was alive." 
 
 There was a curious silence, as if both Lord Chesilden 
 and Denise found nothing at all to say. It was broken 
 by the sudden noisy blare of a motor-horn, and a 
 large conspicuous car dashed into sight from the high 
 road, at a pace that made Lord Chesilden frown and 
 stare. 
 
 " Horace and Flora at this moment of all others ! " 
 cried Denise, with strong disfavour. But Lord Chesil- 
 den' s frown vanished as quickly as it had come, and 
 was replaced by a smile that had something vastly 
 unpleasant lurking in it for someone. His tall, bent 
 form straightened itself like that of a young man. 
 He turned to greet Flora, mincing over the grass in the 
 
 316
 
 The Little Church in the Park 
 
 last and ugliest and most expensive of motoring attire ; 
 and his manner was too suave, his attitude too 
 courteous. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you ! " he said ; and he said 
 it as if he meant it heartily. 
 
 "How sweet of you!" gushed Flora: though it 
 was perfectly evident, from the quick, alarmed glance 
 that she threw at him, that she felt the absurdity of 
 the adjective in such a connection. " We are going 
 to Exeter for the day, and couldn't help just running 
 in to see if we could do anything for you or for dear 
 Denise ! " She became suddenly aware of the presence 
 of Margery her husband, standing behind her, had 
 noticed her, without noticing, from the first and, 
 tossing her virtuous chin in the air, gave her the cut 
 direct. 
 
 " I thought you had met this lady ? " said Lord 
 Chesilden suavely, with the elaborate old-world courtesy 
 which can be overwhelming when it conveys even a 
 touch of sarcasm. 
 
 "This lady?" said Flora; and her tone, which she 
 tried to make withering, suddenly reminded one of 
 the hands that no manicuring could make otherwise 
 than plebeian. " Oh I think perhaps you don't know 
 quite so much about her as I do ; or perhaps it 
 hasn't occurred to you to ask her if she ever had a 
 husband ! " 
 
 " On the contrary, my dear niece," said Lord Chesil- 
 den, " perhaps I know even more on both those points 
 than you do. Since you seem a little doubtful whether 
 you know her, Mrs.^Holyer " 
 
 317
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 He was still speaking pointedly to Flora, who looked 
 up at him with wide eyes of astonishment. 
 
 " Let me have the pleasure of making you known 
 to one another," said Lord Chesilden. " Mrs. Horace 
 Holyer Lady Stellacombe, my son Denzil's widow." 
 
 Flora gave a little gasp and scream. Her husband's 
 dark face turned a livid white, and his eyes were ugly. 
 
 " Possibly," said Lord Chesilden, with an incredible 
 urbanity, " you have not yet met my grandson, the 
 present Lord Stellacombe, who is over there by the 
 church door, engaged in ah the pursuit of Natural 
 History."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 LADY STELLACOMBE AT HOME 
 
 IT was Margery's last day in her cottage ; but, as she 
 had had nothing to pack except her own and 
 Dick's few personal effects, the little rooms did not 
 look too unhomelike. She had grown accustomed to 
 the change in her position and prospects with an 
 astonishing quickness. It seemed ages ago since she 
 had sat on a sunny beach, watching Dick build sand- 
 castles, and worrying about his future ; and since 
 the passing of those few weeks had put such a gulf 
 between then and now, it followed that the brief long- 
 ago days of her wifehood had faded almost to the 
 dimness of a dream. Hope had been dying gradually 
 for so long, that its actual death was very nearly pain- 
 less. The girl-wife, the boy-husband of those days, 
 seemed almost more like creatures of fiction than of 
 fact. She could look back to the story of their loves 
 and griefs with a certain tender pity that had very 
 little connection with herself. The new life that she 
 was about to begin had nothing at all to do with the 
 Denzil she had known. 
 
 She smiled again to think of her anxiety over Dick's 
 future Dick, whose name was already put down
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 for Winchester, where long generations of his ancestors 
 had left their mark in every sense ; whose new Shetland 
 pony was even now awaiting his arrival at Chesilden ; 
 who had the joyful anticipation of overhauling a 
 hundred treasures, great and small, that had belonged 
 to his father. From his point of view, there was only 
 one serious drawback to his new honours, though that 
 was not an insignificant one for five years old. It 
 was very trying for a person who had just learnt 
 successfully to sign himself " Dick Vane " in large 
 letters to realize that his labour was lost, and that 
 he must begin all over again with the formidable length 
 and complicated spelling of " Stellacombe." 
 
 There was a nine days' wonder in the village, of 
 course. Margery was amused to find that certain old 
 foes of hers, who had strongly disapproved of her 
 dealings with their turbulent offspring, were foremost 
 in the loud chorus that proclaimed " her ladyship " 
 the best teacher that the school had ever boasted. 
 Dick, less versed in the ways of even the smallest world, 
 was surprised to find that " the little lordship " held 
 a very different place in public estimation from 
 " Teacher's Dicky." Mrs. Strong, weeping to lose 
 them, overjoyed at their good fortune, in sore straits 
 between affection and respect, rang the changes in 
 such a marvellous fashion upon endearments and 
 titles, that Margery hardly knew whether to laugh 
 or cry, and ended by doing a little of both. 
 
 She was moving now about her little kitchen and 
 sitting-room, getting tea ready with the ease and 
 swiftness that comes of long practice, and thinking a 
 
 320
 
 Lady Stellacombe at Home 
 
 little timidly, a little sadly, of the very different meal 
 to which she would sit down the next day. It was, of 
 course, nothing but comfort and relief to be free for 
 evermore from any anxious planning about Dick ; but 
 for herself the prospect held much that was terrible 
 for a shy person, who had led such a life as hers for 
 the past five years. She and Dick had been very happy 
 and content in the little cottage. Every corner of it 
 had some association with Dick's first steps in life ; 
 she was loath to leave behind the very kitchen table, 
 by a leg of which he had for the first time pulled him- 
 self to his feet some four years ago ; and a hundred 
 such foolish, trifling recollections made the tears start 
 to her eyes as she looked lingeringly round. The tiny 
 garden, too she and Dick had worked in that with 
 a will, and produced some successes and some failures, 
 but, on the whole, had succeeded in keeping a very 
 creditable bright show for passers-by to see during 
 three-quarters of the year. She did not like to think 
 of the little plot in other, perhaps careless and neglect- 
 ful, hands. Not one of the gardens over at Chesilden 
 could take the same place in her affections. Her 
 eyes fell on the little dumpy seat in a fireside corner 
 that was sacred to Mrs. Strong " best for short legs," 
 as that good lady always said frankly. Mrs. Strong 
 would be very lonely indeed without her Sunday tea 
 and gossip. Visits that Margery might pay her in 
 the future and she intended that they should be 
 frequent coming over in stateful carriage or luxurious 
 motor, would be entirely different from the homely 
 friendliness of running down from the schoolhouse to 
 
 321 21
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 the farm whenever she had half an hour to spare. 
 Mrs. Strong would soon learn to look upon her as only 
 a rich and splendid stranger, with no tastes or interests 
 in common. Even already her manner was con- 
 strained and different. 
 
 Frightened by the increasing sadness of her thoughts, 
 Margery made haste to be very busy indeed ; but 
 the contrasting phantoms of past and future were 
 not to be disposed of so easily. The thought came 
 to her, choking her for the moment, that this was 
 the very last time she would ever spread a tea-table. 
 She had pleased herself in making a little feast for 
 Dick, that nothing should be wanting to the brightness 
 of their last evening in the cottage. But now, survey- 
 ing the table, she was suddenly aware that this jam 
 was the very last that she would ever make, this 
 cream the last that she would ever scald. She had 
 made Dick his favourite cakes ; and she would never 
 make them again. The household tasks, that had 
 been at first such a difficulty and burden, had long 
 ago become absolute pleasures ; for it had not taken 
 her many weeks to find out that she was one of those 
 who are housewives born, not made. She knew the 
 pride of having her recipes begged for, of being asked 
 why this and that had gone wrong in someone else's 
 cookery, of being entreated to show how such and 
 such a thing should be done " because yours is 
 always so wonderful good, Teacher ! " Her failures, 
 after the first, had been few ; her triumphs many. 
 At Chesilden she would scarcely know where the 
 kitchens were. The housekeeping, such as it was it 
 
 322
 
 Lady Stellacombe at Home 
 
 must be the veriest trifle with that great army of 
 servants, who were, to speak truth, one of Margery's 
 greatest bugbears was, of course, entirely in Lady 
 Denise's capable hands. 
 
 Two very bitter tears ran down her cheeks as she 
 filled her teapot, and she wiped them away in a fright 
 a pretty preparation, indeed, for the bright, cosy 
 evening she had planned for Dick ! She hastily finished 
 her arrangements and ran out into the garden ; partly 
 because the fresh air would most quickly drive away 
 any suspicious redness from her eyes, partly to look for 
 Dick for he was a couple of minutes late, and the hot 
 cakes would be cold. 
 
 He was already in sight, but not alone. He was 
 walking beside Mr. Kent, and Edward strolled behind 
 them with the detached air of your true cat, who 
 would not for the world have you think that he is 
 out with you for any other reason than the gratification 
 of his own fancy. 
 
 " I was just coming to say good-bye," said Mr. 
 Kent, stopping at the gate. 
 
 " Won't you come in ?" said Margery. " We are 
 just going to have tea." 
 
 He had never been inside her door, a little, perhaps, 
 to her chagrin ; for a good housekeeper takes no small 
 pride in displaying her achievements of cookery and 
 dainty arrangement. But, to be sure, she had never 
 asked him ; she had always had a keen appreciation 
 of her position as schoolmistress and his as Vicar. 
 
 Mr. Kent hesitated : perhaps would have declined. 
 But Edward, with the feline decision against which 
 
 323
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 there is no appeal, cocked his tail straight up like a 
 ramrod, and walked through the gate, up the pathway, 
 and in at the door. 
 
 " You see what a remarkable cat ! " said Mr. Kent, 
 half smiling. " He quite understood your kind 
 invitation, and has accepted for us both." 
 
 It was late enough in the year to make an evening 
 fire very welcome ; early enough to have a six o'clock 
 tea still by daylight in the bright little room that 
 looked westward. Margery was so haunted by the 
 sad words " for the last time," that she was thankful 
 not to be alone with Dick for that tete-a-tete tea which 
 she had originally planned. For him, of course, the 
 great change was an unalloyed delight. He chattered 
 fast to Mr. Kent about the Shetland pony and the 
 other treasures that awaited him ; he was almost 
 too excited to eat the dainties that Margery had pro- 
 vided, and was obviously counting the hours that must 
 still pass before the Chesilden motor should arrive, to 
 whirl him and his mother off to the new life. Margery, 
 in her present mood, could hardly bear it. She was 
 glad when Edward kindly created a diversion by 
 standing on his hind-legs, planting a reproachful white 
 paw firmly for an instant on the table-cloth, and sitting 
 down again with dignity and his tail curled round his 
 feet. 
 
 " Oh, make him ramp ! " Dick cried. " Mother 
 has never seen him ! " 
 
 " She has a treat in store," said Mr. Kent, with 
 perfect seriousness ; but he glanced at Margery with 
 a sidelong, whimsical glance that recalled his cousin. 
 
 324
 
 Lady Stellacombe at Home 
 
 " I think I told you that Edward is the most remark- 
 able cat in Devonshire, Lady Stellacombe ? You will 
 now see him do what no other cat has ever been known 
 to do ! " 
 
 Dick had assiduously filled a saucer with milk. 
 " Edward, be a cat rampant ! " commanded his master ; 
 and Edward, rising once more on his hind legs, waved 
 his paws in the air in a slow and heraldic manner, and 
 then settled down to the contents of the saucer with 
 concentration. 
 
 It was absurd of Margery to feel the tears smarting 
 at the back of her eyes, while she laughed rather un- 
 steadily. The sound of her rightful name was still 
 unnatural in her ears, and made her feel uncomfort- 
 able. Edward's waving paws recalled ridiculously the 
 wyverns at Chesilden. She was afraid of the new life ; 
 she was coward enough to wish that the old life, with 
 all its disadvantages and anxieties, could come back 
 again. It was an unfeigned relief when the tea-party 
 was broken up by a couple of the village boys sworn 
 foes of Dick's hitherto, but possessed of a truckling and 
 far-sighted mother who came armed with a parting 
 gift, in the shape of a long-haired guinea-pig of revolt- 
 ing appearance. Dick was, of course, in raptures ; 
 and Margery did not suggest that such a piece of live- 
 stock might not be welcome at Chesilden, partly because 
 she had not the heart, but partly because she foresaw 
 shrewdly enough that the stern old man, who had ruled 
 his sons with a rod of iron, bade fair to be twisted 
 round his grandson's little finger. Some sort of accom- 
 modation must be arranged for the new-comer for 
 
 325
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 that night, of course ; and Dick withdrew joyfully 
 to the kitchen to make a temporary hutch out of a 
 wooden box. 
 
 " He is a handy little fellow," said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " He has always had to do things for himself," said 
 Margery, very seriously and with a little sigh. And 
 Mr. Kent looked at her in silence for a minute before 
 replying : " Dick is made of too good stuff to be 
 easily spoiled." 
 
 " I hope he won't be," said Margery. 
 
 " And you will not be sorry for him to have rather 
 more appropriate companionship," said Mr. Kent, with 
 a half-smile : which showed that he had seen the dis- 
 taste, veiled in a kindly manner enough, with which 
 she had received the donors of the guinea-pig. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Margery, with warmth and sincerity. 
 It was the one point connected with the change for 
 which she was wholly thankful. 
 
 " And you you will not be sorry to have a little 
 rest yourself, after your five years of work here," 
 said Mr. Kent. 
 
 " I like work," said Margery. " And and it doesn't 
 seem to me that I shall ever have anything to do 
 again." 
 
 She stopped suddenly : and Mr. Kent said nothing. 
 
 " I never lived in a big house like Chesilden," said 
 Margery. " It won't seem like home. If only they 
 would have let Dick and me have a little home of our 
 own somewhere not far away but they gave me no 
 choice." 
 
 Still Mr. Kent said nothing. 
 326
 
 Lady Stellacombe at Home 
 
 "I'm not ungrateful please don't think I ami" 
 said Margery, frightened and repentant. " No one 
 could have been kinder than Lord Chesilden and I 
 love Denise 
 
 ' ' Denise is one in a thousand ; but she always has 
 her own way," said Mr. Kent, with another little 
 smile. " That is why she and her father get on 
 together so well. Neither of them ever gives in : but 
 fortunately they always want the same things." 
 
 " I don't feel that Dick will ever be all my own 
 again ! " said Margery, in a quick, sobbing voice that 
 was almost a cry. 
 
 " No one can ever take his mother's place with Dick," 
 said Mr. Kent ; adding quietly, after a moment : "I 
 know that, for my own mother died before I could 
 remember her." 
 
 Margery looked up with quick sympathy, diverted 
 from her own perplexities. She had never heard 
 Mr. Kent speak of himself before. Her eyes were 
 very soft as she listened to the two or three quiet 
 sentences that he added, telling of a sad and lonely 
 childhood, a lonely boyhood, a manhood of hard, 
 solitary work. Mr. Kent seemed all at once to have 
 stepped down from the pedestal on which she had 
 always looked up to him, and to be standing, sur- 
 prisingly, on the same level as herself. For the first 
 time since she had known him, it struck her with 
 surprise that he was not so very much say ten years 
 her senior. 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry I am sorry ! " she cried, with so 
 much sympathy that Mr. Kent, smiling, said : 
 
 327
 
 The Real Mrs. Holyer 
 
 " I really never meant to make myself out an entirely 
 distressful person, Lady Stellacombe ! " 
 
 The name brought back suddenly to Margery her 
 own troubles, which she had for the moment forgotten. 
 Her lips quivered. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " said Mr. Kent quickly. 
 " What have I said ? " 
 
 " It's only that I can't bear being called that," 
 Margery faltered tremblingly. " It's not Denzil's 
 name, as I knew him it seems to put me all by 
 myself " 
 
 " I can't call you Mrs. Vane," said Mr. Kent, " be- 
 cause it is not your name and never was." 
 
 Margery shook her head forlornly. 
 
 " Margery," said Mr. Kent, " do you think you 
 could make a home of Chesilden Vicarage ? " 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed at The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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