UCSB LIBRARY
 
 'MISSING'
 
 'MISSING' 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. HUMPHRY WARD 
 
 LONDON : 48 PALL MALL 
 
 W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD. 
 
 GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND
 
 Copyright, 1917
 
 PART I
 
 'MISSING' 
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 ' SHALL I set the tea, Miss ? ' 
 
 Miss Cookson turned from the window. 
 
 ' Yes bring it up except the tea of course they 
 ought to be here at any time.' 
 
 'And Mrs. Weston wants to know what time 
 supper's to be ? ' 
 
 The fair-haired girl speaking was clearly north- 
 country. She pronounced the ' u ' in ' supper/ as 
 though it were the German ' u ' in Suppe. 
 
 Miss Cookson shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 ' Well, they'll settle that.' 
 
 The tone was sharp and off-hand. And the maid- 
 servant, as she went downstairs, decided for the 
 twentieth time that afternoon, that she didn't like 
 Miss Cookson, and she hoped her sister, Mrs. Sarratt, 
 would be nicer. Miss Cookson had been poking her 
 nose into everything that afternoon, fiddling with the 
 rooms and furniture, and interfering with Mrs. Weston. 
 As if Mrs. Weston didn't know what to order for lodgers, 
 and how to make them comfortable ! As if she hadn't 
 had dozens of brides and bridegrooms to look after 
 before this ! and if she hadn't given them all 
 satisfaction, would they ever have sent her all them
 
 picture-postcards which decorated her little parlour 
 downstairs ? 
 
 All the same, the house-parlourmaid, Milly by name, 
 was a good deal excited about this particular couple 
 who were now expected. For Mrs. Weston had told 
 her it had been a ' war wedding,' and the bridegroom 
 was going off to the front in a week. Milly's own 
 private affairs in connection with a good-looking 
 fellow, formerly a gardener at Bowness, now recently 
 enlisted in one of the Border regiments had caused 
 her to take a special interest in the information, and 
 had perhaps led her to put a bunch of monthly roses 
 on Mrs. Sarratt's dressing-table. Miss Cookson hadn't 
 bothered herself about flowers. That she might have 
 done ! instead of fussing over things that didn't 
 concern her just for the sake of ordering people 
 about. 
 
 When the little red-haired maid had left the room, 
 the lady she disliked returned to the window, and 
 stood there absorbed in reflections that were not gay, 
 to judge from the furrowed brow and pinched lips 
 that accompanied them. Bridget Cookson was about 
 thirty ; not precisely handsome, but at the same 
 time, not ill-looking. Her eyes were large and striking, 
 and she had masses of dark hair, tightly coiled about 
 her head as though its owner felt it troublesome and 
 in the way. She was thin, but rather largely built, 
 and her movements were quick and decided. Her 
 tweed dress was fashionably cut, but severely without 
 small ornament of any kind. 
 
 She looked out upon a beautiful corner of English 
 Lake-land. The house in which she stood was built on 
 the side of a little river, which, as she saw it, came 
 flashing and sparkling out of a lake beyond, lying in
 
 ' MISSING ' 3 
 
 broad strips of light and shade amid green surrounding 
 fells. The sun was slipping low, and would soon have 
 kindled all the lake into a white fire, in which its 
 islands would have almost disappeared. But, for the 
 moment, everything was plain : the sky, full of light, 
 and filmy grey cloud, the fells with their mingling of 
 wood and purple crag, the shallow reach of the river 
 beyond the garden, with a little family of wild duck 
 floating upon it, and just below her a vivid splash of 
 colour, a mass of rhododendron in bloom, setting its 
 rose-pink challenge against the cool greys and greens 
 of the fell. 
 
 But Bridget Cookson was not admiring the view. 
 It was not new to her, and moreover she was not in 
 love with Westmorland at all ; and why Nelly should 
 have chosen this particular spot to live in, while George 
 was at the war, she did not understand. She believed 
 there was some sentimental reason. They had first 
 seen him in the Lakes just before the war when they 
 two girls and their father were staying actually in 
 this very lodging-house. But sentimental reasons are 
 nothing. 
 
 Well, the thing was done. Nelly was married, and 
 in another week, George would be at the front. Per- 
 haps in a fortnight's time she would be a widow. 
 Such' things have happened often. ' And then what 
 shall I do with her ? ' thought the sister, irritably, 
 recoiling from a sudden vision of Nelly in sorrow, which 
 seemed to threaten her own life with even greater dis- 
 location than had happened to it already. ' I must 
 have my time to myself ! freedom for what I want ' 
 she thought to herself, impatiently, ' I can't be always 
 looking after her.' 
 
 Yet of course the fact remained that there was no
 
 4 ' MISSING ' 
 
 one else to look after Nelly. They had been left alone 
 in the world for a good while now. Their father, a 
 Manchester cotton-broker in a small way, had died 
 some six months before this date, leaving more 
 debts than fortune. The two girls had found them- 
 selves left with very small means, and had lived, 
 of late, mainly in lodgings unfurnished rooms with 
 some of their old furniture and household things 
 round them. Their father, though unsuccessful in 
 business, had been ambitious in an old-fashioned way 
 for his children, and they had been brought up ' as 
 gentlefolks ' that is to say without any trade or 
 profession. 
 
 But their poverty had pinched them disagreeably 
 especially Bridget, in whom it had produced a kind 
 of angry resentment. Their education had not been 
 serious enough, in these days of competition, to enable 
 them to make anything of teaching after their Father's 
 death. Nelly's water-colour drawing, for instance, 
 though it was a passion with her, was quite untrained, 
 and its results unmarketable. Bridget had taken up 
 one subject after another, and generally in a spirit 
 of antagonism to her surroundings, who, according 
 to her, were always ' interfering ' with what she wanted 
 to do, with her serious and important occupations. 
 But these occupations always ended by coming to 
 nothing ; so that, as Bridget was irritably aware, even 
 Nelly had ceased to be as much in awe of them as she 
 had once been. 
 
 But the elder sister had more solid cause than this 
 for dissatisfaction with the younger. Nelly had really 
 behaved like a little fool ! The one family asset of 
 which a great deal might have been made should 
 have been made was Nelly's prettiness. She was
 
 ' MISSING ' 5 
 
 very pretty absurdly pretty and had been a great 
 deal run after in Manchester already. There had been 
 actually two proposals from elderly men with money, 
 who were unaware of the child's engagement, during 
 the past three months ; and though these particular 
 suitors were perhaps unattractive, yet a little time 
 and patience, and the right man would have come along, 
 both acceptable in himself, and sufficiently supplied 
 with money to make everything easy for everybody. 
 
 But Nelly had just wilfully and stubbornly fallen 
 in love with this young man and wilfully and stub- 
 bornly married him. It was unlike her to be stubborn 
 about anything. But in this there had been no moving 
 her. And now there was nothing before either of them 
 but the same shabbiness and penury as before. What 
 if George had two hundred and fifty a year of his 
 own, besides his pay ? a fact that Nelly was always 
 triumphantly brandishing in her sister's eyes. 
 
 No doubt it was more than most young subalterns 
 had much more. But what was two hundred and 
 fifty a year ? Nelly would want every penny of it for 
 herself and her child or children. For of course 
 there would be a child 
 
 Bridget Cookson fell into profound depths of 
 thought, emerging from them, now as often before, 
 with the sore realisation of how much Nelly might 
 have done with her ' one talent,' both for herself and 
 her sister, and had not done. 
 
 The sun dropped lower ; one side of the lake was 
 now in shadow, and from the green shore beneath the 
 woods and rocks, the reflections of tree and crag and 
 grassy slope were dropping down and down, unearthly 
 clear and far, to that inverted heaven in the ' steady 
 bosom ' of the water. A little breeze came wandering,
 
 6 ' MISSING ' 
 
 bringing delicious scents of grass and moss, and in the 
 lake the fish were rising. 
 
 Miss Cookson moved away from the window. How 
 late they were ! She would hardly get home in time 
 for her own supper. They would probably ask her 
 to stay and sup with them. But she did not intend 
 to stay. Honeymooners were much better left to 
 themselves. Nelly would be a dreadfully sentimental 
 bride ; and then dreadfully upset when George went 
 away. She had asked her sister to join them in the 
 Lakes, and it was taken for granted that they would 
 resume living together after George's departure. But 
 Bridget had fixed her own lodgings, for the present, 
 a mile away, and did not mean to see much of her sister 
 till the bridegroom had gone. 
 
 There was the sound of a motor-car on the road, 
 which ran along one side of the garden, divided from 
 it by a high wall. It could hardly be they ; for they 
 were coming frugally by the coach. But Miss Cookson 
 went across to a side window looking on the road to 
 investigate. 
 
 At the foot of the hill opposite stood a luxurious 
 car, waiting evidently for the party which was now 
 descending the hill towards it. Bridget had a clear 
 view of them, herself unseen behind Mrs. Weston's 
 muslin blinds. A girl was in front, with a young man 
 in khaki, a convalescent officer, to judge from his 
 frail look and hollow eyes. The girl was exactly 
 like the fashion-plate in the morning's paper. She 
 wore a very short skirt and Zouave jacket in grey 
 cloth, high-heeled grey boots, with black tips and 
 gaiters, a preposterous little hat perched on one side 
 of a broad white forehead, across which the hair was 
 parted like a boy's, and an ostrich plume on the top
 
 ' MISSING ' 7 
 
 of the hat, which nodded and fluttered so extravagantly 
 that the face beneath almost escaped the spectator's 
 notice. Yet it was on the whole a handsome face, auda- 
 cious, like its owner's costume, and with evident signs 
 for Bridget Cookson's sharp eyes of slight make-up. 
 
 Miss Cookson knew who she was. She had seen 
 her in the neighbouring town that morning, and had 
 heard much gossip about her. She was Miss Farrell, 
 of Carton Hall, and that gentleman coming down the 
 hill more slowly behind her was no doubt her brother 
 Sir William. 
 
 Lame? That of course was the reason why he 
 was not in the army. It was not very conspicuous, 
 but still quite definite. A stiff knee, Miss Cookson 
 supposed an accident perhaps some time ago. 
 Lucky for him ! on any reasonable view. Bridget 
 Cookson thought the war ' odious,' and gave no more 
 attention to it than she could help. It had lasted 
 now nearly a year, and she was heartily sick of it. It 
 filled the papers with monotonous news which tired 
 her attention which she did not really try to under- 
 stand. Now she supposed she would have to under- 
 stand it. For George, her new brother-in-law, was 
 sure to talk a terrible amount of shop. 
 
 Sir William was very tall certainly, and good-looking. 
 He had a short pointed beard, a ruddy, sunburnt com- 
 plexion, blue eyes and broad shoulders the common 
 points of the well-born and landowning Englishman. 
 Bridget looked at him with a mixture of respect and 
 hostility. To be rich was to be so far interesting ; still 
 all such persons, belonging to a world of which she 
 knew nothing, were in her eyes ' swells,' and gave them- 
 selves airs ; a procedure on their part, which would 
 be stopped when the middle and lower classes were
 
 8 'MISSING' 
 
 powerful enough to put them in their place. It was 
 said, however, that this particular man was rather a 
 remarkable specimen of his kind didn't hunt didn't 
 preserve had trained as an artist, and even exhibited. 
 The shopwoman in B from whom Miss Cookson 
 derived her information about the Farrells, had 
 described Sir William as ' queer 'said everybody 
 knew he was ' queer.' Nobody could get him to do 
 any county work. He hated Committees, and never 
 went near them. It was said he had been in love and 
 the lady had died. ' But if we all turned lazy for 
 that kind of thing ! ' said the little shopwoman, 
 shrugging her shoulders. Still the Farrells were 
 not unpopular. Sir William had a pleasant slow way 
 of talking, especially to the small folk ; and he had 
 just done something very generous in giving up his 
 house the whole of his house somewhere Cocker- 
 mouth way, to the War Office, as a hospital. As 
 for his sister, she seemed to like driving convales- 
 cent officers about, and throwing away money on her 
 clothes. There was no sign of ' war economy ' about 
 Miss Farrell. 
 
 Here, however, the shopwoman's stream of gossip 
 was arrested by the arrival of a new customer. Bridget 
 was not sorry. She had not been at all interested 
 in the Farrells' idiosyncrasies ; and she only watched 
 their preparations for departure now, for lack of 
 something to do. The chauffeur was waiting beside 
 the car, and Miss Farrell got in first, taking the front 
 seat. Then Sir William, who had been loitering on 
 the hill, hurried down to give a helping hand to 
 the young officer, who was evidently only in the 
 early stages of convalescence. After settling his guest 
 comfortably, he turned to speak to his chauffeur,
 
 ' MISSING ' 9 
 
 apparently about their road home, as he took a map 
 out of his pocket. 
 
 At this moment, a clatter of horses' hoofs and the 
 rattle of a coach were heard. Bound the corner, swung 
 the Windermere evening coach in fine style, and drew 
 up at the door of Mrs. Weston's lodgings, a little ahead 
 of the car. 
 
 ' There they are ! ' said Miss Cookson, excited in 
 spite of herself. ' Well, I needn't go down. George 
 will bring in the luggage.' 
 
 A young man and a young lady got up from their 
 seats. A ladder was brought for the lady to descend. 
 But just as she was about to step on it, a fidgeting 
 horse in front made a movement, the ladder slipped, 
 and the lady was only just in time to withdraw her 
 foot and save herself. 
 
 Sir William Farrell, who had seen the little incident, 
 ran forward, while the man who had been placing the 
 ladder went to the horse, which was capering and 
 trying to rear in his eagerness to be off. 
 
 Sir William raised the ladder, and set it firmly 
 against the coach. 
 
 ' I think you might risk it now,' he said, raising his 
 eyes pleasantly to the young person above him. 
 
 ' Thank you,' said a shy voice. Mrs. Sarratt 
 turned round and descended. Meanwhile the man 
 holding the ladder saw an officer in khaki standing 
 on the top of the coach, and heard him address a word 
 of laughing encouragement to the lady. And no 
 sooner had her feet touched the ground than he was 
 at her side in a trice. 
 
 ' Thank you, Sir ! ' he said, saluting. ' My wife 
 was very nearly thrown off. That horse has been 
 giving trouble all the way.'
 
 10 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Must be content with what you can get, in war- 
 time ! ' said the other smiling, as he raised his hat 
 to the young woman he had befriended, whom he now 
 saw plainly. ' And there are so few visitors at present 
 in these parts that what horses there are don't get 
 enough to do.' 
 
 The face turned upon him was so exquisite in line 
 and colour that Sir William, suddenly struck, instead 
 of retreating to his car, lingered while the soldier 
 husband a lieutenant, to judge from the stripes on 
 his cuff, collected a rather large amount of luggage 
 from the top of the coach. 
 
 ' You must have had a lovely drive along Winder- 
 mere,' said Sir William politely. ' Let me carry that 
 bag for you. You're stopping here ? ' 
 
 4 Yes ' said Mrs. Sarratt, distractedly, watching 
 to see that the luggage was all right. ' Oh, George, do 
 take care of that parcel ! ' 
 
 4 All right.' 
 
 But she had spoken too late. As her husband, 
 having handed over two suit cases to Mrs. Wilson's 
 fourteen-year old boy, came towards her with a large 
 brown paper parcel, the string of it slipped, Mrs. 
 Sarratt gave a little cry, and but for her prompt rush 
 to his assistance, its contents would have descended 
 into the road. But through a gap in the paper various 
 tin and china objects were disclosed. 
 
 4 That's your " cooker," Nelly,' said her husband 
 laughing. ' I told you it would bust the show ! ' 
 
 But her tiny, deft fingers rapidly repaired the 
 damage, and re-tied the string while he assisted her. 
 The coach drove off, and Sir William patiently held 
 the bag. Then she insisted on carrying the parcel 
 herself, and the lieutenant relieved Sir William.
 
 ' MISSING ' 11 
 
 ' Awfully obliged to you ! ' he said gratefully. 
 ' Good evening ! We're stopping here for a bit.' He 
 pointed to the open door of the lodging house, where 
 Mrs. Weston and the boy were grappling with the 
 luggage. 
 
 ' May I ask ' Sir William's smile as he looked from 
 one to the other expressed that loosening of conven- 
 tions in which we have all lived since the war ' Are 
 you home on leave, or ' 
 
 ' I came home to be married,' said the young 
 soldier, flushing slightly, while his eyes crossed those 
 of the young girl beside him. ' I've got a week more.' 
 
 ' You've been out some time ? ' 
 
 ' Since last November. I got a scratch in the 
 Ypres fight in April oh, nothing a small flesh 
 wound but they gave me a month's leave, and my 
 medical board has only just passed me.' 
 
 ' Lanchesters ? ' said Sir William, looking at his 
 cap. The other nodded pleasantly. 
 
 ' Well, I am sure I hope you'll have good weather 
 here,' said Sir William, stepping back, and once more 
 raising his hat to the bride. ' And if there was 
 anything I could do to help your stay ' 
 
 ' Oh, thank you, Sir, but ' 
 
 The pair smiled again at each other. Sir William 
 understood, and smiled too. A more engaging couple 
 he thought he had never seen. The young man was 
 not exactly handsome, but he had a pair of charming 
 hazel eyes, a good-tempered mouth, and a really fine 
 brow. He was tall too, and well proportioned, and 
 looked the pick of physical fitness. ' Just the kind of 
 splendid stuff we are sending out by the shipload,' 
 thought the elder man, with a pang of envy ' And the 
 girl's lovely ! '
 
 12 ' MISSING ' 
 
 She was at that moment bowing to him, as she 
 followed her husband across the road. A thought 
 occurred to Sir William, and he pursued her. 
 
 ' I wonder ' he said diffidently ' if you care for 
 boating if you would like to boat on the lake ' 
 
 ' Oh, but it isn't allowed ! ' She turned on him a 
 pair of astonished eyes. 
 
 ' Not in general. Ah, I see you know these parts 
 already. But I happen to know the owner of the 
 boathouse. Shall I get you leave ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, that would be delightful ! ' she said, her face 
 kindling with a child's joyousness. ' That is kind of 
 you ! Our name is Sarratt my husband is Lieutenant 
 Sarratt.' 
 
 ' Of the 21st Lanchesters ? All right I'll see 
 to it ! ' 
 
 And he ran back to his car, while the young people 
 disappeared into the little entrance hall of the lodging- 
 house, and the door shut upon them. 
 
 Miss Farrell received her brother with gibes. 
 Trust William for finding out a beauty ! Who were 
 they? 
 
 Farrell handed on his information as the car sped 
 along the Keswick road. 
 
 ' Going back in a week, is he ? ' said the convales- 
 cent officer beside him. Then, bitterly ' lucky 
 dog!' 
 
 Farrell looked at the speaker kindly. 
 
 ' What with a wife to leave ? ' 
 
 The boy, for he was little more, shrugged his 
 shoulders. At that moment he knew no passion 
 but the passion for the regiment and his men, to 
 whom he couldn't get back, because his ' beastly 
 constitution ' wouldn't let hirri recover as quickly as
 
 1 MISSING ' 13 
 
 other men did. What did women matter ? when 
 the ' push ' might be on, any day. 
 
 Cicely Farrell continued to chaff her brother, 
 who took it placidly fortified by a big cigar. 
 
 ' And if she'd been plain, Willy, you'd never have 
 so much as known she was there ! Did you tell her 
 you haunted these parts ? ' 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 Meanwhile the bride and bridegroom had been 
 met on the lodging-house stairs by the bride's sister, 
 who allowed herself to be kissed by the bridegroom, 
 and hugged by the bride. Her lack of effusion, 
 however, made little impression on the newcomers. 
 They were in that state of happiness which transfigures 
 everything round it ; they were delighted with the 
 smallest things ; with the little lodging-house sitting 
 room, its windows open to the lake and river ; with 
 its muslin curtains, very clean and white, its cluster- 
 rose too, just outside the window ; with Mrs. Weston, 
 who in her friendly flurry had greeted the bride as 
 ' Miss Nelly,' and was bustling to get the tea ; even, 
 indeed, with Bridget Cookson's few casual atten- 
 tions to them. Mrs. Sarratt thought it ' dear ' of 
 Bridget to have come to meet them, and ordered 
 tea for them, and put those delicious roses in her 
 room 
 
 ' I didn't ! ' said Bridget, drily. ' That was Hilly. 
 It didn't occur to me.' 
 
 The bride looked a little checked. But then the 
 tea came in, a real Westmorland meal, with its 
 toasted bun, its jam, and its ' twist ' of new bread ; 
 and Nelly Sarratt forgot everything but the pleasure 
 of making her husband eat, of filling his cup for him, of
 
 14 ' MISSING ' 
 
 looking sometimes through the window at that shining 
 lake, beside which she and George would soon be 
 roaming for six long days. Yes, and nights too. 
 For there was a moon rising, which would be at the 
 full in two or three days. Imagination flew forward, 
 as she leant dreamily back in her chair when the meal 
 was over, her eyes on the landscape. They two alone 
 on that warm summer lake drifting in the moon- 
 light heart against heart, cheek against cheek. A 
 shiver ran through her, which was partly passion, 
 partly a dull fear. But she banished fear. Nothing 
 nothing should spoil their week together. 
 
 ' Darling ! ' said her husband, who had been watch- 
 ing her ' You're not very tired ? ' He slipped his 
 hand round hers, and her fingers rested in his clasp, 
 delighted to feel themselves so small, and his so strong. 
 He had spoken to her in the low voice that was hers 
 alone. She was jealous lest Bridget should have over- 
 heard it. But Bridget was at the other end of the 
 room. How foolish it had been of her just because 
 she was so happy, and wanted to be nice to everybody ! 
 to have asked Bridget to stay with them ! She was 
 always doing silly things like that impulsive things. 
 But now she was married. She must think more. It 
 was really very considerate of Bridget to have got them 
 all out of a difficulty and to have settled herself a mile 
 away from them ; though at first it had seemed rather 
 unkind. Now they could see her always sometime in 
 the day, but not so as to interfere. She was afraid 
 Bridget and George would never really get on, though 
 she Nelly wanted to forget all the unpleasantness 
 there had been, to forget everything everything 
 but George. The fortnight's honeymoon lay like a 
 haze of sunlight between her and the past.
 
 ' MISSING ' 15 
 
 But Bridget had noticed the voice and the clasped 
 hands, with irritation. Keally, after a fortnight, 
 they might have done with that kind of demonstrative- 
 ness. All the same, Nelly was quite extraordinarily 
 pretty prettier than ever. While the sister was 
 slowly putting on her hat before the only mirror the 
 sitting-room possessed, she was keenly conscious of the 
 two figures near the window, of the man in khaki 
 sitting on the arm of Nelly's chair, holding her hand, 
 and looking down upon her, of Nelly's flushed cheek 
 and bending head. What a baby she looked ! 
 scarcely seventeen. Yet she was really twenty-one 
 old enough, by a long way, to have done better for 
 herself than this ! Oh, George, in himself, was well 
 enough. If he came back from the war, his new-made 
 sister-in-law supposed she would get used to him in 
 time. Bridget however did not find it easy to get on 
 with men, especially young men, of whom she knew 
 very few. For eight or ten years now, she had looked 
 upon them chiefly as awkward and inconvenient facts 
 in women's lives. Before that time, she could remem- 
 ber a few silly feelings on her own part, especially with 
 regard to a young clerk of her father's, who had made 
 love to her up to the very day when he shamefacedly 
 told her that he was already engaged, and would 
 soon be married. That event had been a shock to her, 
 and had made her cautious and suspicious towards 
 men ever since. Her life was now full of quite other 
 interests incoherent and changeable, but strong 
 while they lasted. Nelly's state of bliss awoke no 
 answering sympathy in her. 
 
 ' Well, good-bye, Nelly,' she said, when she had put 
 on her things advancing towards them, while the 
 lieutenant rose to his feet. I expect Mrs. Weston
 
 16 'MISSING' 
 
 will make you comfortable. I ordered in all the things 
 for to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Everything's charming I ' said Nelly, as she put 
 her arms round her sister. ' It was awfully good of 
 you to see to it all. Will you come over to lunch 
 to-morrow ? We might take you somewhere.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't bother about me ! You won't want me. 
 I'll look in some time. I've got a lot of work to do.' 
 
 Nelly withdrew her arms. George Sarratt surveyed 
 his sister-in-law with curiosity. 
 
 ' Work ? ' he repeated, with his pleasant, rather 
 puzzled smile. 
 
 ' What are you doing now, Bridget ? ' said Nelly, 
 softly, stroking the sleeve of her sister's jacket, but 
 really conscious only of the man beside her. 
 
 ' Eeading some proof-sheets for a friend,' was the 
 rather short reply, as Bridget released herself. 
 
 ' Something dreadfully difficult ? ' laughed Nelly. 
 
 ' I don't know what you mean by difficult,' said 
 Bridget ungraciously, looking for her gloves. ' It's 
 psychology that's all. Lucy Fenn's bringing out 
 another volume of essays.' 
 
 ' It sounds awful ! ' said George Sarratt, laughing. 
 ' I wish I knew what psychology was about. But 
 can't you take a holiday ? just this week ? ' 
 
 He looked at her rather gravely. But Bridget 
 shook her head, and again said good-bye. George 
 Sarratt took her downstairs, and saw her off on her 
 bicycle. Then he returned smiling, to his wife. 
 
 ' I say, Bridget makes me feel a dunce ! Is she 
 really such a learned party ? ' 
 
 Nelly's dark eyes danced a little. ' I suppose 
 she is but she doesn't stick to anything. It's always 
 something different. A few months ago, it was
 
 ' MISSING ' 17 
 
 geology ; and we used to go out for walks with a 
 hammer and a bag. Last year it was the-ology ! 
 Our poor clergyman, Mr. Eichardson, was no match 
 for Bridget at all. She could always bowl him over.' 
 
 ' Somehow all the " ologies " seem very far away 
 don't they ? ' murmured Sarratt, after they had . 
 laughed together. They were standing at the window 
 again, his arm close round her, her small dark head 
 pressed against him. There was ecstasy in their 
 nearness to each other in the silver beauty of the 
 lake in the soft coming of the June evening; and 
 in that stern fact itself that in one short week, 
 he would have left her, would be facing death or 
 mutilation, day after day, in the trenches on the 
 Ypres salient. While he held her, all sorts of images 
 flitted through his mind of which he would not 
 have told her for the world horrible facts of bloody 
 war. In eight months he had seen plenty of them. 
 The signs of them were graven on his young face, 
 on his eyes, round which a slight permanent frown, 
 as of perplexity, seemed to have settled, and on his 
 mouth which was no longer naif and boyish, but would 
 always drop with repose into a hard compressed line. 
 
 Nelly looked up. 
 
 ' Everything's far away ' she whispered ' but 
 this and you ! ' He kissed her upturned lips and 
 there was silence. 
 
 Then a robin singing outside in the evening hush, 
 sent a message to them. Nelly with an effort drew 
 herself away. 
 
 'Shan't we go out? We'll tell Mrs. Weston to 
 put supper on the table, and we can come in when 
 we like, But I'll just unpack a little first in our 
 room.'
 
 18 ' MISSING ' 
 
 She disappeared through a door at the end of 
 the^ sitting-room. Her last words softly spoken 
 produced a kind of shock of joy in Sarratt. He sat 
 motionless, hearing the echo of them, till she reappeared. 
 When she came back, she had taken off her serge 
 travelling dress and was wearing a little gown of some 
 white cotton stuff, with a blue cloak, the evening 
 having turned chilly, and a hat with a blue ribbon. 
 In this garb she was a vision of innocent beauty ; 
 wherein refinement and a touch of strangeness com- 
 bined with the dark brilliance of eyes and hair, with 
 the pale, slightly sunburnt skin, the small features 
 and tiny throat, to rivet the spectator. And she 
 probably knew it, for she flushed slightly under her 
 husband's eyes. 
 
 ' Oh, what a paradise ! ' she said, under her breath, 
 pointing to the scene beyond the window. Then 
 lifting appealing hands to him ' Take me there ! '
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE newly-married pair crossed a wooden bridge over 
 the stream from the Lake, and found themselves on 
 its further shore, a shore as untouched and unspoilt 
 now as when Wordsworth knew it, a hundred years 
 ago. The sun had only just vanished out of sight 
 behind the Grasmere fells, and the long Westmorland 
 after-glow would linger for nearly a couple of hours 
 yet. After much rain the skies were clear, and all 
 the omens fair. But the rain had left its laughing 
 message behind ; in the full river, in the streams 
 leaping down the fells, in the freshness of every living 
 thing the new-leafed trees, the grass with its flowers, 
 the rushes spreading their light armies through the 
 flooded margins of the lake, and bending to the light 
 wind, which had just, as though in mischief, blotted 
 out the dream-world in the water, and set it rippling 
 eastwards in one sheet of living silver, broken only by 
 a cloud-shadow at its further end. Fragrance was 
 everywhere from the trees, the young fern, the 
 grass ; and from the shining west, the shadowed fells, 
 the brilliant water, there breathed a voice of 
 triumphant beauty, of unconquered peace, which 
 presently affected George Sarratt strangely. 
 
 They had just passed through a little wood ; and 
 in its friendly gloom, he had put his arm round his wife 
 
 19
 
 20 ' MISSING ' 
 
 so that they had lingered a little, loth to leave its 
 shelter. But now they had emerged again upon the 
 radiance of the fell-side, and he had found a stone for 
 Nelly to rest on. 
 
 ' That those places in France, and that sky should 
 be in the same world ! ' he said, under his breath, 
 pointing to the glow on the eastern fells, as he threw 
 himself down on the turf beside her. 
 
 Her face flushed with exercise and happiness 
 suddenly darkened. 
 
 ' Don't don't talk of them to-night ! ' she said 
 passionately ' not to-night just to-night, George ! ' 
 
 And she stooped impetuously to lay her hand on 
 his lips. He kissed the hand, held it, and remained 
 silent, his eyes fixed upon the lake. On that day 
 week he would probably just have rejoined his 
 regiment. It was somewhere in the neighbourhood 
 of Bailleul. Hot work, he heard, was expected. 
 There was still a scandalous shortage of ammuni- 
 tion and if there was really to be a ' push,' 
 the losses would be appalling. Man after man that 
 he knew had been killed within a week two or 
 three days twenty-four hours even ! of rejoining. 
 Supposing that within a fortnight Nelly sat here, 
 looking at this lake, with the War Office telegram in 
 her hand ' Deeply regret to inform you, etc.' This 
 was not a subject on which he had ever allowed himself 
 to dwell, more than in his changed circumstances he 
 was bound to dwell. Every soldier, normally, expects 
 to get through. But of course he had done everything 
 that was necessary for Nelly. His will was in the 
 proper hands ; and the night before their wedding he 
 had written a letter to her, to be given her if he fell. 
 Otherwise he had taken little account of possible
 
 ' MISSING ' 21 
 
 death ; nor had it cost him any trouble to banish the 
 thought of it. 
 
 But the beauty of the evening of this old earth, 
 which takes no account of the perishing of men and 
 Nelly's warm life beside him, hanging upon his, 
 perhaps already containing within it the mysterious 
 promise of another life, had suddenly brought upon 
 him a tremor of soul an inward shudder. Did he 
 really believe in existence after death in a meeting 
 again, in some dim other scene, if they were violently 
 parted now ? He had been confirmed while at school. 
 His parents were Church people of a rather languid 
 type, and it seemed the natural thing to do. Since 
 then he had occasionally taken the Communion, 
 largely to please an elder school-friend, who was 
 ardently devout, and was now a Chaplain on the 
 Western front. But what did it really mean to him ? 
 what would it mean to her if she were left alone ? 
 Images passed through his mind the sights of the 
 trenches shattered and dying bodies. What was 
 the soul ? had it really an independent life ? Some- 
 thing there was in men quite rough and common men 
 something revealed by war and the sufferings of 
 war so splendid, so infinitely beyond anything he 
 had ever dreamed of in ordinary life, that to think of 
 it roused in him a passion of hidden feeling perhaps 
 adoration but vague and speechless adoration of 
 he knew not what. He did not speak easily of his 
 feelings, even to his young wife, to whom marriage had 
 so closely, so ineffably bound him. But as he lay 
 on the grass looking up at her smiling obeying her 
 command of silence, his thoughts ranged irrepressibly. 
 Supposing he fell, and she lived on years and years 
 to be an old woman ? Old ! Nelly ? Impossible !
 
 22 'MISSING' 
 
 He put his hand gently on the slender foot, and felt 
 the pulsing life in it. ' Dearest ! ' she murmured at his 
 touch, and their eyes met tenderly. 
 
 ' I should be content ' he thought ' if we could 
 just live this life out ! I don't believe I should want 
 another life. But to go and leave her ; to go just 
 at the beginning before one knows anything before 
 one has finished anything ' 
 
 And again his eyes wandered from her to the 
 suffusion of light and colour on the lake. ' How could 
 anyone ever want anything better than this earth 
 this life at its best if only one were allowed a 
 full and normal share of it ! ' And he thought again, 
 almost with a leap of exasperation, of those dead 
 and mangled men out there in France. Who was 
 responsible God ? or man ? But man's will is 
 must be something dependent something included 
 in God's will. If God really existed, and if He willed 
 war, and sudden death then there must be another 
 life. Or else the power that devised the world was 
 not a good, but an evil at best, a blind one. 
 
 But while his young brain was racing through 
 the old puzzles in the old ways, Nelly was thinking 
 of something quite different. Her delicate small 
 face kept breaking into little smiles with pensive 
 intervals till at last she broke out 
 
 ' Do you remember how I caught you turning 
 back to look after us just here just about here ? 
 You had passed that thorn tree ' 
 
 He came back to love-making with delight. 
 " Caught me ! " I like that ! As if you weren't 
 looking back too ! How else did you know anything 
 about me ? ' 
 
 He had taken his seat beside her on the rock, and
 
 1 MISSING ' 23 
 
 her curly black head was nestling against his shoulder. 
 There was no one on the mountain path, no one on 
 the lake. Occasionally from the main road on the 
 opposite shore there was a passing sound of wheels. 
 Otherwise the world was theirs its abysses of shadow, 
 its ' majesties of light.' 
 
 She laughed joyously, not attempting to contradict 
 him. It was on this very path, just two months 
 before the war, that they had first seen each other. 
 She with her father and Bridget were staying at 
 Mrs. Weston's lodgings, because she, Nelly, had had 
 influenza, and the doctor had sent her away for a 
 change. They knew the Lakes well already, as is 
 the way of Manchester folk. Their father, a hard- 
 worked, and often melancholy man, had delighted in 
 them, summer and winter, and his two girls had trudged 
 about the fells with him year after year, and wanted 
 nothing different or better. At least, Nelly had always 
 been content. Bridget had grumbled often, and 
 proposed Blackpool, or Llandudno, or Eastbourne for a 
 change. But their father did not like ' crowds.' They 
 came to the Lakes always before or after the regular 
 season. Mr. Cookson hated the concourse of motor- 
 ists in August, and never would use one himself. 
 Not even when they went from Ambleside to 
 Keswick. They must always walk, or go by the 
 horse-coach. 
 
 Nelly presently looked up, and gave a little pull 
 to the corner of her husband's moustache. 
 
 ' Of course you know you behaved abominably 
 that next day at Wythburn ! You kept that whole 
 party waiting while you ran after us. And I hada't 
 dropped that bag. You knew very well I hadn't 
 dropped it I'
 
 24 ' MISSING ' 
 
 He chuckled. 
 
 f It did as well as anything else. I got five minutes 
 talk with you. I found out where you lodged.' 
 
 ' Poor papa ! ' said Nelly reflectively ' he was 
 so puzzled. " There's that fellow we saw at Wyth- 
 burn again ! Why on earth does he come here to 
 fish ? I never saw anybody catch a thing in this 
 bit of the river." Poor papa ! ' 
 
 They were both silent a little. Mr. Cookson had 
 not lived long enough to see Nelly and George Sarratt 
 engaged. The war had killed him. Financial em- 
 barrassment was already closing on him when it broke 
 out, and he could not stand the shock and the general 
 dislocation of the first weeks, as sounder men could. 
 The terror of ruin broke him down and he was dead 
 before Christmas, nominally of bronchitis and heart 
 failure, Nelly had worn mourning for him up to her 
 wedding day. She had been very sorry for ' poor papa ' 
 and very fond of him ; whereas Bridget had been 
 rather hard on him always. For really he had done 
 his best. After all he had left them just enough to 
 live upon. Nelly's conscience, grown tenderer than 
 of old under the touch of joy, pricked her as she 
 thought of her father. She knew he had loved her 
 best of his two daughters. She would always remember 
 his last lingering hand-clasp, always be thankful 
 for his last few words ' God bless you, dear.' But 
 had she cared for him enough in return ? had she 
 really tried to understand him ? Some vague sense of 
 the pathos of age of its isolation its dumb renounce- 
 ments gripped her. If he had only lived longer ! He 
 would have been so proud of George. 
 
 She roused herself. 
 
 ' You did really make up your mind then ? she
 
 ' MISSING ' 25 
 
 asked him, just for the pleasure of hearing him confess 
 it again. 
 
 ' Of course I did ! But what was the good ? ' 
 She knew that he meant it had been impossible 
 to speak while his mother was still alive, and he, her 
 only child, was partly dependent upon her. But his 
 mother had died not long after Nelly's father, and her 
 little income had come to her son. So now what with 
 Nelly's small portion, and his mother's two hundred 
 and fifty a year in addition to his pay, the young 
 subaltern thought himself almost rich in comparison 
 with so many others. His father, who had died while 
 he was still at school, had been a master at Harrow, 
 and he had been brought up in a refined home, with 
 high standards and ideals. A scholarship at Oxford 
 at one of the smaller colleges, a creditable degree, 
 then an opening in the office of a well-known firm 
 of solicitors, friends of his father, and a temporary 
 commission, as soon as war broke out, on his record 
 as a keen and diligent member of the Harrow and 
 Oxford O.T.C.'s : these had been the chief facts of his 
 life up to August 1 914 ; that August which covered 
 the roads leading to the Aldershot headquarters, 
 day by day, with the ever-renewed columns of the 
 army to be, with masses of marching men, whose eager 
 eyes said one thing only ' Training ! training 1 ' 
 
 The war, and the causes of the war, had moved his 
 nature, which was sincere and upright, profoundly ; 
 all the more perhaps because of a certain kindling and 
 awakening of the whole man, which had come from 
 his first sight of Nelly Cookson in the previous June, 
 and from his growing friendship with her which 
 he must not yet call love. He had decided however 
 after three meetings with her that he would never
 
 26 ' MISSING ' 
 
 marry anyone else. Her softness, her yieldingness, 
 her delicate beauty intoxicated him. He rejoiced 
 that she was no ' new woman,' but only a very girlish 
 and undeveloped creature, who would naturally want 
 his protection as well as his love. For it was his 
 character to protect and serve. He had protected 
 and served his mother faithfully and well. And as 
 she was dying, he had told her about Nelly not 
 before ; only to find that she knew it all, and that 
 the only soreness he had ever caused her came 
 from the secrecy which he r had tenderly thought her 
 due. 
 
 But for all his sanity and sweet temper there was 
 a hard tough strain in him, which had made war so 
 far, even through the horrors of it, a great absorbing 
 game to him, for which he knew himself fitted, in 
 which he meant to excel. Several times during the 
 fighting that led up to Neuve Chapelle he had drawn 
 the attention of his superiors, both for bravery and 
 judgment ; and after Neuve Chapelle, he had been men- 
 tioned in despatches. He had never yet known fear in 
 the field never even such a shudder at the unknown 
 which was yet the possible ! as he had just been 
 conscious of. His nerves had always been strong, his 
 nature was in the main simple. Yet for him, as well 
 as for so many other ' fellows ' he knew, the war had 
 meant a great deal of this new and puzzled thinking 
 on problems of right and wrong, of ' whence ' and 
 ' whither,' of the personal value of men this man, 
 or that man. By George, war brought them out ! 
 these personal values. And the general result for 
 him, up to now, had he been specially lucky ? had 
 been a vast increase of faith in his fellow men, yes, and 
 faith in himself, modest as he was. He was proud
 
 1 MISSING ' 27 
 
 to be an English soldier proud to the roots of his 
 being. His quiet patriotism had become a passion ; 
 he knew now in what he had believed. 
 
 Yes England for ever ! An English home after the 
 war and English children. Oh, he hoped Nelly 
 would have children ! As he held her pressed against 
 him, he seemed to see her in the future with the 
 small things round her. But he did not speak 
 of it. 
 
 She meanwhile was thinking of quite other things, 
 and presently she said in a quick, troubled voice 
 
 ' George ! while you are away you don't want 
 me to do munitions ? ' 
 
 He laughed out. 
 
 ' Munitions ! I see you at a lathe ! Dear I 
 don't think you'd earn your keep ! ' And he lifted her 
 delicate arm and tiny hand, and looked at them with 
 scientific curiosity. Her frail build was a constant 
 wonder and pleasure to him. But small as she was, 
 there was something unusual, some prophecy, per- 
 haps, of developments to come, in the carriage of her 
 head, and in some of her looks. Her education had 
 been extremely slight, many of her ideas were still 
 childish, and the circle from which she came had been 
 inferior in birth and breeding to his own. But he 
 had soon realised on their honeymoon, in spite of 
 her simple talk, that she was very quick very 
 intelligent. 
 
 ' Because ' she went on, doubtfully ' there are 
 so many other things I could do quite useful things. 
 There's sphagnum moss ! Everybody up here is 
 gathering sphagnum moss you know for bandages 
 upon the fells. I daresay Bridget might help in that. 
 She won't do any other sort of war-work.'
 
 28 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Why, I thought all women were doing some kind 
 of war- work ! ' 
 
 ' Bridget won't. She doesn't want to hear about 
 the war at all. She's bored with it.' 
 
 ' Bored with it ! Good heavens ! ' Sarratt's coun- 
 tenance clouded. ' Darling that'll be rather hard on 
 you, if you and she are going to live together.' 
 
 Nelly lifted her head from his shoulder, and looked 
 at him rather gravely. 
 
 ' I'm afraid you don't know much about Bridget, 
 George. She's, well, she's one of the oddest 
 women you ever met.' 
 
 ' So it seems ! But why is she bored with the 
 war?' 
 
 ' Well you see it doesn't matter to Tier in any 
 way and she doesn't want it to matter to her. There's 
 nobody in it she cares about.' 
 
 ' Thanks ! ' laughed Sarratt. But Nelly still grave, 
 shook her head. ' Oh, she's not the least like other 
 people. She won't care about you, George, just 
 because you've married me. And ' 
 
 ' And what ? Is she still angry with me for not 
 being rich ? ' 
 
 And his thoughts went back to his first interview 
 with Bridget Cookson on the day when their engage- 
 ment was announced. He could see the tall sharp- 
 featured woman now, standing with her back to the 
 light in the little sitting-room of the Manchester 
 lodgings. She had not been fierce or abusive at all. 
 She had accepted it quietly with only a few bitter 
 sentences. 
 
 ' All right, Mr. Sarratt. I have nothing to say. 
 Nelly must please herself. But you've done her an 
 injury ! There are plenty of rich men that would
 
 ' MISSING ' 29 
 
 have married her. You're very poor and so 
 are we/ 
 
 When the words were spoken, Nelly had just 
 accepted him ; she was her own mistress ; he had not 
 therefore taken her sister's disapproval much to heart, 
 Still the words had rankled. 
 
 ' Darling ! when I made you marry me did I do 
 you an injury ? ' he said suddenly, as they were walking 
 again hand in hand along the high green path with the 
 lake at their feet, and a vision of blue and rose before 
 them, in the shadowed western mountains, the lower 
 grounds steeped in fiery light, and the red reflections in 
 the still water. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' said Nelly, turning upon 
 him a face of wonder. 
 
 ' Well, that was what Bridget said to me, when I told 
 her that you had accepted me. But I was a great fool 
 to tell you, darling ! I'm sorry I did. It was only ' 
 
 ' " Injury," ' repeated Nelly, not listening to him, 
 ' Oh yes, of course that was money. Bridget says it's 
 all nonsense talking about honour, or love, or that kind 
 of thing. Everything is really money. It was money 
 that began this war. The Germans wanted our trade 
 and our money and we were determined they 
 shouldn't have them and that's all there is in it. 
 With money you can have everything you want and 
 a jolly life and without money you can have nothing, 
 and are just nobody. When that rich old horror 
 wanted to marry me last year in Manchester, Bridget 
 thought me perfectly mad to refuse him. She didn't 
 speak to me for a week. Of course he would have 
 provided for her too.' 
 
 Sarratt had flushed hotly ; but he spoke good- 
 naturedly.
 
 80 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Well, that was a miss for her I quite see that. 
 But after all we can help her a bit. We shall always 
 feel that we must look after her. And why shouldn't 
 she herself marry ? ' 
 
 Nelly laughed. 
 
 ' Never ! She hates men.' 
 
 There was a silence a moment. And then Sarratt 
 said, rather gravely ' I say, darling, if she's going 
 to make you miserable while I am away, hadn't we 
 better make -some other arrangement ? I thought 
 of course she would be good to you, and look after 
 you ! Naturally any sister would, that was worth 
 her salt ! ' 
 
 And he looked down indignantly on the little figure 
 beside him. But it roused Nelly's mirth that he 
 should put it in that way. 
 
 ' George, you are such a darling ! and and, 
 such a goose ! ' She rubbed her cheek against his 
 arm as though to take the edge off the epithet. ' The 
 idea of Bridget's wanting to " look after " me ! She'll 
 want to manage me of course and I'd much better 
 let her do it. I don't mind ! ' And the speaker gave 
 a long, sudden sigh. 
 
 ' But I won't have you troubled and worried, 
 when I'm not there to protect you ! ' cried Sarratt, 
 fiercely. ' You could easily find a friend.' 
 
 But Nelly shook her head. 
 
 ' Oh, no. That wouldn't do. Bridget and I 
 always get on, George. We never quarrelled except 
 when I stuck to marrying you. Generally I always 
 give in. It doesn't matter. It answers perfectly.' 
 
 She spoke with a kind of languid softness which 
 puzzled him. 
 
 ' But now you can't always give in, dearest ! You
 
 'MISSING' 81 
 
 belong to me ! ' And his grasp tightened on the hand 
 he held. 
 
 ' I can give in enough to keep the peace,' said 
 Nelly slowly. ' And if you weren't here, it wouldn't 
 be natural that I shouldn't live with Bridget. I'm 
 used to her. Only I want to make you understand 
 her, darling. She's not a bit like well, like the people 
 you admire, and it's no good expecting her to be.' 
 
 ' I shall talk to her before I go ! ' he said, half 
 laughing, half resolved. 
 
 Nelly looked alarmed. 
 
 ' No please don't ! She always gets the better 
 of people who scold her. Or if you were to get the 
 better, then she'd visit it on me. And now don't 
 let's talk of her any more ! What were we saying ? 
 Oh, I know what I was to do. Let's sit down again, 
 there's a rock, made for us.' 
 
 And on a natural seat under a sheltering rock 
 canopied and hung with fern, the two rested once more, 
 wrapped in one cloak, close beside the water, which 
 was quiet again, and crossed by the magical lights and 
 splendid shadows of the dying sunset. Nelly had been 
 full of plans when they sat down, but the nearness of 
 the man she loved, his arm round her, his life beating 
 as it were in one pulse with hers, intoxicated, and for a 
 time silenced her. She had taken off her hat, and she 
 lay quietly against him in the warm shelter of the 
 cloak. He thought presently she was asleep. How 
 small and dear she was ! He bent over her, watching 
 as closely as the now dim light allowed, the dark 
 eyelashes lying on her cheek, her closed mouth, and 
 soft breathing. His very own ! the thought was 
 ecstasy he forgot the war, and the few days left 
 him.
 
 82 ' MISSING ' 
 
 But this very intensity of brooding love in which 
 he held her, made her restless after a little. She sat 
 up, and smiled at him 
 
 ' We must go home ! Yes, we must. But look ! 
 there is a boat ! ' 
 
 And only a few yards from them, emerging from 
 the shadows, they saw a boat rocking gently at anchor 
 beside a tiny landing-stage. Nelly sprang to her feet. 
 
 ' George ! suppose you were just to row us out 
 there into the light ! ' 
 
 But when they came to the boat they found it 
 padlocked to a post in the little pier. 
 
 ' Ah, well, never mind,' said Nelly ' I'm sure that 
 man won't forget ? ' 
 
 ' That man who spoke to us ? Who was he ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I found out from Bridget, and Mrs. Weston. 
 He's Sir William Farrell, a great swell, tremendously 
 rich. He has a big place somewhere, out beyond 
 Keswick, beyond Bassenthwaite. You saw he had a 
 stiff knee ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. Can't fight, I suppose poor beggar ! He 
 was very much struck by you, Mrs. George Sarratt ! 
 that was plain.' 
 
 Nelly laughed a happy childish laugh. 
 
 ' Well, if he does get us leave to boat, you needn't 
 mind, need you ? What else, I wonder, could lie do 
 for us ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing ! ' The tone was decided. ' I don't 
 like being beholden to great folk. But that, I 
 suppose, is the kind of man whom Bridget would have 
 liked you to marry, darling ? ' 
 
 ' As if he would ever have looked at me ! ' said 
 Nelly tranquilly. ' A man like that may be as rich as 
 rich, but he would never marry a poor wife.'
 
 ' MISSING ' 33 
 
 ' Thank God, I don't believe money will matter 
 nearly as much to people, after the war ! ' said Sarratt, 
 with energy. ' It's astonishing how now, in the 
 army of course it wasn't the same before the war 
 you forget it entirely. Who cares whether a man's 
 rich, or who's son he is ? In my batch when I went 
 up to Aldershot there were men of all sorts, stock- 
 brokers, landowners, city men, manufacturers, 
 solicitors, some of them awfully rich, and then clerks, 
 and schoolmasters, and lots of poor devils, like myself. 
 We didn't care a rap, except whether a man took to 
 his drill, or didn't ; whether he was going to keep the 
 Company back or help it on. And it's just the same 
 in the field. Nothing counts but what you are it 
 doesn't matter a brass haporth what you have. And 
 as the new armies come along that'll be so more 
 and more. It's " Duke's son and Cook's son," every- 
 where, and all the time. If it was that in the South 
 African war, it's twenty times that now. This war 
 is bringing the nation together as nothing ever has 
 done, or could do. War is hellish ! but there's a 
 deal to be said for it ! ' 
 
 He spoke with ardour, as they strolled homeward, 
 along the darkening shore, she hanging on his arm. 
 Nelly said nothing. Her little face showed very white 
 in the gathering shadows. He went on. 
 
 ' There was a Second Lieutenant in our battalion; 
 an awfully handsome boy heir to a peerage I think. 
 But he couldn't get a commission quick enough 
 to please him when the war broke out, so he just 
 enlisted oh ! of course they've given him a com- 
 mission long ago. But his great friend was a young 
 miner, who spoke broad Northumberland, a jolly 
 chap. And these two stuck together we used to
 
 84 ' MISSING ' 
 
 call them the Heavenly Twins. And in the fighting 
 round Hill 60, the miner got wounded, and lay out 
 between the lines, with the Boche shells making hell 
 round him. And the other fellow never rested till 
 he'd crawled out to him, and taken him water, and 
 tied him up, and made a kind of shelter for him. The 
 miner was a big fellow, and the other was just a slip 
 of a boy. So he couldn't drag in his friend, but he 
 got another man to go out with him, and between them 
 they did it right enough. And when I was in the 
 clearing station next day, I saw the two the miner 
 in bed, awfully smashed up, and the other sitting 
 by him. It made one feel choky. The boy could 
 have put down a cool hundred thousand, I suppose, 
 if it could have done any good. But it wouldn't. 
 I can tell you, darling, this war knocks the nonsense 
 out of a man ! ' 
 
 ' But Bridget is a woman ! ' said a dreamy voice 
 beside him. 
 
 Sarratt laughed ; but he was launched on 
 recollections and could not stop himself. Apparently 
 everybody in his company was a hero, and had deserved 
 the Military Cross ten times over, except himself. 
 He described some incidents he had personally seen, 
 and through the repressed fire with which he spoke, 
 the personality and ideals of the man revealed them- 
 selves normal, strong, self-forgetting. Had he even 
 forgotten the little creature beside him ? Hardly, 
 for instinctively he softened away some of the terrible 
 details of blood and pain. But he had forgotten Nelly's 
 prohibition. And when again they had entered the 
 dark wood which lay between them and the cottage on 
 the river-bank, suddenly he heard a trembling breath, 
 and a sob.
 
 1 MISSING ' 85 
 
 He caught her in his arms. 
 
 ' Nelly, darling ! Oh, I was a brute to talk to 
 you like this.' 
 
 ' No,' she said, struggling with herself ' No ! 
 Wait a moment.' She lay against * him trembling 
 through every limb, while he kissed and ^comforted 
 her, 
 
 ' I'm I'm not a coward, Georgej ' she said at 
 last, gasping, ' I'm not indeed. Only well, this 
 morning I had about a hundred and seventy hours 
 left I counted them. And now there are fifteen less. 
 And all the time, while we talk, they are slipping 
 away, so quick so quick ' 
 
 But she was regaining self-control, and soon 
 released herself. 
 
 ' I won't do it again ! ' she said piteously, in the 
 tone of a penitent child. ' I won't indeed. Let's 
 go home. I'm all right.' 
 
 And home they sped; hand in hand, silently. 
 The little room when they re-entered it was bright 
 with fire-light, because kind Mrs. Weston had thought 
 the night chilly, and the white table laid out fo* them 
 its pretty china and simple fare tempted and 
 cheered them with its look of home. But Nelly lay 
 on the sofa afterwards very pale, though smiling 
 and talking as usual. And through the night she 
 was haunted, sleeping and waking, by the image of 
 the solitary boat rocking gently on the moonlit lake, 
 the water lapping its sides. She saw herself and 
 George adrift in it sailing into disappearing in 
 that radiance of silver light. Sleepily she hoped that 
 Sir William Farrell would not forget his promise,
 
 CHAPTEE III 
 
 ' MAY I come in ? ' 
 
 Nelly Sarratt, who was standing beside the table 
 in the sitting-room, packing a small luncheon-basket 
 with sandwiches and cake, looked up in astonishment. 
 Then she went to the door which was slightly ajar, 
 and opened it. 
 
 She beheld a very tall man standing smiling on 
 the threshold. 
 
 ' I hope I'm not disturbing you, Mrs. Sarratt 
 but I was on my way for a day's sketching, and as 
 my car passed your house, I thought I would like 
 to bring you, myself, the permission which I spoke 
 of on Saturday. I wrote yesterday, my friend was 
 away from home but I got a telegram this morning. 1 
 
 The visitor held out a telegram, which Nelly 
 took in some bewilderment. It fluttered her to be 
 so much thought for by a stranger and a stranger 
 moreover who seemed but to wave his wand and 
 things were done. But she thanked him heartily. 
 
 ' Won't you come in, Sir William ? ' she asked him, 
 shyly. ' My husband will be here directly.' 
 
 It pleased him that she had found out who he was. 
 He protested that he mustn't stay a moment, but all 
 the same he came in, and stood with his hands in his 
 pockets looking at the view. He seemed to Nelly to 
 fill the little sitting-room. Not that he was stout. 
 
 26
 
 1 MISSING ' 37 
 
 There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh on him 
 anywhere. But he stood at least six foot four in his 
 boots ; his shoulders were broad in proportion ; and 
 his head, with its strong curly hair of a light golden 
 brown, which was repeated in his short beard, carried 
 itself with the unconscious ease of one who has never 
 known anything but the upper seats of life. His 
 features were handsome, except for a broad irregular 
 mouth, and his blue eyes were kind and lazily humorous. 
 
 ' There's nothing better than that lake,' he said, 
 motioning towards it, with his hand, as though he 
 followed the outlines of the hills. ' But I never try 
 to draw it. I leave that to the fellows who think 
 they can ! I'm afraid your permit's only for a week, 
 Mrs. Sarratt. The boat, I find, will be wanted after 
 that.' 
 
 ' Oh, but my husband will be gone in a week less 
 than a week. I couldn't row myself ! ' said Nelly, 
 smiling. 
 
 But Sir William thought the smile trembled a 
 little, and he felt very sorry for the small, pretty 
 creature. 
 
 ' You will be staying on here after your husband 
 goes ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes. My sister will be with me. We know 
 the Lakes very well.' 
 
 ' Staying through the summer I suppose ? ' 
 
 1 1 shan't want to move if the war goes on. We 
 haven't any home of our own yet.' 
 
 She had seated herself, and spoke with the self- 
 possession which belongs to those who know them- 
 selves fair to look upon. But there seemed to be no 
 coquetry about her no consciousness of a male to 
 be attracted. All her ways were very gentle and
 
 88 MISSING ' 
 
 childish, and in her white dress she made the same 
 impression on Farrell as she had on Bridget, of extreme 
 absurd' youthfulness. He guessed her age as about 
 nineteen, perhaps younger. 
 
 ' I'm afraid the war will go on,' he said, kindly. 
 ' We are only now just finding out our deficiencies.' 
 
 Nelly'sighed. 
 
 ' I know it's awful how we want guns and shells ! 
 My husband says it makes him savage to see how 
 we lose men for want of them. Why are we so short ? 
 Whose fault is it ? ' 
 
 A spot of angry colour had risen in her cheek. 
 It was the dove defending her mate. The change was 
 lovely, and Farrell, with his artist's eye, watched it 
 eagerly. But he shook his head. 
 
 ' It's nobody's fault. It's all on such a scale 
 unheard of ! Nobody could have guessed beforehand 
 unless like Germany, we had been preparing for 
 years to rob and murder our neighbours. Well, 
 Mrs. Sarratt, I must be going on. But I wanted to 
 say, that if we could do anything for you please 
 command us. We live about twenty miles from here. 
 My sister hopes she may come and see you. And we 
 have a big library at Carton. If there are any books 
 you want ' 
 
 ' Oh, how very kind of you ! ' said Nelly gratefully. 
 She had risen and was standing beside him, looking 
 at him with her dark, frank eyes. ' But indeed I shall 
 get on very well. There's a war workroom in 
 Manchester, which will send me work. And I shall 
 try and help with the sphagnum moss. There's 
 a notice up near here, asking people to help. And 
 perhaps ' she laughed and coloured ' I shall try to 
 sketch a little. I can't do it a bit but it amuses me.'
 
 'MISSING' 39 
 
 ' Oh, you draw ? ' said Farrell, with a smile. Then, 
 looking round him, he noticed a portfolio on the table, 
 with a paint box beside it. ' May I look ? ' 
 
 With rather red cheeks, Nelly showed her perform- 
 ances. She knew very well, being accustomed to 
 follow such things in the newspapers, that Sir William 
 Farrell had exhibited both in London and Manchester, 
 and was much admired by some of the critics. 
 
 Farrell twisted his mouth over them a good deal, 
 considering them carefully. 
 
 ' Yes, I see I see exactly where you are. Not bad 
 at all, some of them. I could lend you some things 
 which would help you I think. Ah, here is your 
 husband.' 
 
 George Sarratt entered, looking in some surprise 
 at their very prompt visitor, and a little inclined to 
 stand on his guard against a patronage that might be 
 troublesome. But Farrell explained himself so 
 apologetically that the young man could only add his 
 very hearty thanks to his wife's. 
 
 ' Well, I really must be off,' said Farrell again, 
 looking for his hat. ' And I see you are going out 
 for the day.' He glanced at the lunch preparations. 
 ' Do you know Loughrigg Tarn ? ' He turned to Nelly. 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! ' Her face glowed. ' Isn't it beautiful ? 
 But I don't think George knows it.' She looked up 
 at him. He smiled and shook his head. 
 
 ' I have a cottage there,' said Farrell, addressing 
 Sarratt. ' Wordsworth said it was like Nemi. It 
 isn't : but it's beautiful all the same. I wish you 
 would bring your wife there to tea with me one day 
 before you go ? There is an old woman who looks 
 after me. This view is fine ' he pointed to the 
 window ' but I think mine is finer.'
 
 40 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Sarratt, rather formally ' but 
 I am afraid our days are getting pretty full.' 
 
 ' Of course, of course ! ' said Sir William, smiling. 
 ' I only meant, if you happened to be walking in that 
 direction and want a rest. I have a number of 
 drawings there my own and other people's, which 
 Mrs. Sarratt might care to see sometime. You go 
 on Saturday ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. I am due to rejoin by Monday.' 
 
 Farrell's expression darkened. 
 
 ' You see what keeps me ? ' he said, sharply, striking 
 his left knee with the flat of his hand. ' I had a bad 
 fall, shooting in Scotland, years ago when I was quite 
 a lad. Something went wrong in the knee-cap. The 
 doctors muffed it, and I have had a stiff knee ever 
 since. I daresay they'd give me work at the War Office 
 or the Admiralty. Lots of fellows I know who can't 
 serve are doing war work of that kind. But I can't 
 stand office work never could. It makes me ill, and 
 in a week of it I am fit to hang myself. I live out 
 of doors. I've done some recruiting speaking for the 
 Lord Lieutenant, But I can't speak worth a cent 
 and I do no good. No fellow ever joined up because 
 of my eloquence ! couldn't if he tried. No I've 
 given up my house it was the best thing I could do. 
 It's a jolly house, and I've got lots of jolly things in 
 it. But the War Office and I between us have turned 
 it into a capital hospital. We take men from the 
 Border regiments mostly. I wonder if I shall ever 
 be able to live in it again ! My sister and I are now in 
 the agent's house. I work at the hospital three or 
 four days a week and then I come here and sketch. 
 I don't see why I shouldn't,' 
 
 He straightened his shoulder as though defying
 
 ' MISSING ' 41 
 
 somebody. Yet there was something appealing, and, 
 as it were, boyish, in the defiance. The man's patriotic 
 conscience could be felt struggling with his dilettantism. 
 Sarratt suddenly liked him. 
 
 ' No, indeed,' he said heartily. ' Why shouldn't 
 you?' 
 
 ' It's when one thinks of your job, one feels a brute 
 to be doing anything one likes.' 
 
 ' Well, you'd be doing the same job if you could. 
 That's all right ! ' said Sarratt smiling. 
 
 It was curious how in a few minutes the young 
 officer had come to seem the older and more responsible 
 of the two men. Yet Farrell was clearly his senior 
 by some ten or fifteen years. Instinctively Nelly 
 moved nearer to George. She liked to feel how easily 
 he could hold his own with great people, who made 
 her feel nervous. For she understood from Mrs. Weston 
 that the Farrells were very great people indeed, as 
 to money and county position, and that kind of thing. 
 
 Sarratt took his visitor downstairs, and returned, 
 laughing to himself 
 
 ' Well, darling, I've promised we'll go to his cottage 
 one day this week. You've to let him know. He's 
 an odd fellow ! Reminds me of that story of the young 
 Don at Cambridge who spent all the time he could spare 
 from neglecting his duties in adorning his person. 
 And yet that doesn't hit it quite either. For I don't 
 suppose he does spend much time in adorning his person. 
 He doesn't want it. He's such a splendid looking chap 
 to begin with. But I am sure his duties have a poor 
 time ! Why, he told me me, an utter stranger ! as we 
 went downstairs that being a landowner was the 
 most boring trade in the world. He hated his tenants, 
 and turned all the bother of them over to his agents.
 
 42 ' MISSING ' 
 
 " But they don't hate me " he said- " because I 
 don't put the screw on. I'm rich enough without." 
 By Jove, he's a queer specimen ! ' 
 
 And Sarratt laughed out, remembering some further 
 items of the conversation on the stairs. 
 
 ' Whom are you discussing ? ' said a cold voice 
 in the background. 
 
 It was Bridget Cookson's voice, and the husband 
 and wife turned to greet her. The day was balmy 
 June at its best. But Bridget as she came in had the 
 look of someone rasped with east wind. Nelly noticed 
 too that since her marriage, Bridget had developed an 
 odd habit of not looking her or George straight in 
 the face. She looked sideways, as though determined 
 to avoid the mere sight of their youth and happiness. 
 ' Is she going to make a quarrel of it all our lives ? ' 
 thought Nelly impatiently. ' And when George is so 
 nice to her ! How can she be so silly ! ' 
 
 ' We were talking about our visitor who has just 
 left,' said Sarratt, clearing a chair for his sister-in-law. 
 ' Ah, you came from the other direction, you just 
 missed him.' 
 
 ' The man ' said Nelly< ' who was so awfully polite 
 to me on Saturday Sir William Farrell.' 
 
 Bridget's countenance lost its stiffness at once 
 became eager and alert. 
 
 ' What did he come for ? ' 
 
 ' To bring us permission to use the boat fo a week,' 
 said Nelly. ' Wasn't it decent of him ? and to do 
 it so quick ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, that's the Farrell way always was,' said 
 Bridget complacently, as though she had the family 
 in her pocket. ' When they think of a thing it's 
 done. It's hit or miss. They never stop to think.'
 
 ' MISSING ' 48 
 
 Sarratt looked at his sister-in-law with a covert 
 amusement. It was a left-handed remark. But 
 she went on while Nelly finished the packing of the 
 luncheon basket pouring out a flood of gossip about 
 the Farrells's place near Cockermouth, their great 
 relations, their wealth, their pictures, and their china, 
 while Sarratt walked up and down, fidgeting with 
 his mouth, and inwardly thanking his stars that his 
 Nelly was not the least like her sister, that she was 
 as refined and well-bred, as Bridget was beginning 
 to seem to him vulgar and tiresome. But he realised 
 that there was a personality in the tall harsh woman ; 
 that she might be formidable ; and once or twice he 
 found himself watching the curious side-long action 
 of her head and neck, and the play of her eyes and 
 mouth, with a mingling of close attention and strong 
 dislike. He kept his own counsel however ; and 
 presently he heard Bridget, who had so far refused 
 all their invitations to join their walks or excursions, 
 rather eagerly accepting Nelly's invitation to go with 
 them to Sii William's Loughrigg cottage. She knew 
 all about it apparently, and said it was ' a gem of a 
 place ! ' Sir William kept an old butler and his wife 
 there pensioned off who looked after him when 
 he came. ' Everything's tiny,' said Bridget with 
 emphasis ' but perfect I Sir William has the most 
 exquisite taste. But he never asks anybody to go 
 there. None of the neighbours know him. So of 
 course they say its " side," and he gives himself airs. 
 Anyway, Nelly, you may think yourselves highly 
 honoured ' 
 
 ' Darling, isn't that basket ready ? ' said Sarratt, 
 coming to his wife's aid. ' We're losing the best of 
 the day and if Bridget really won't go with us '
 
 44 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Bridget frowned and rose. 
 
 ' How are the proofs getting on ? ' said Sarratt, 
 smiling, as she bade him a careless good-bye. 
 
 Bridget drew herself up. 
 
 ' I never talk about my work.' 
 ' I suppose that's a good rule,' he said doubtfully, 
 1 especially now that there's so much else to talk 
 about. The Eussian news to-day is pretty bad ! ' 
 
 A dark look of anxiety crossed the young man's 
 face. For it was the days of the great Eussian retreat 
 in Galicia and Poland, and every soldier looking on, 
 knew with gnashing of teeth that the happenings 
 in the East meant a long postponement of our own 
 advance. 
 
 ' Oh, I never trouble about the war ! ' said Bridget, 
 with a half -contemptuous note in her voice that fairly 
 set George Sarratt on fire. He flushed violently, 
 and Nelly looked at him in alarm. But he said 
 nothing. Nelly however with a merry side-glance at 
 him, unseen by Bridget, interposed to prevent him 
 from escorting Bridget downstairs. She went her- 
 self. Most sisters would have dispensed with or 
 omitted this small attention ; but Nelly always treated 
 Bridget with a certain ceremony. When she returned, 
 she threw her arms round George's neck, half laughing, 
 and half inclined to cry. 
 
 ' Oh, George, I do wish I had a nicer sister to give 
 you ! ' But George had entirely recovered himself. 
 
 ' We shall get on perfectly ! ' he declared, kissing 
 the soft head that leant against him. ' Give me a 
 little time, darling. She's new to me ! I'm new to 
 her.' 
 
 Nelly sighed, and went to put on her hat. In her 
 opinion it was no more easy to like Bridget after three
 
 ' MISSING ' 45 
 
 years than three hours. It was certain that she and 
 George would never suit each other. At the same 
 time Nelly was quite conscious that she owed Bridget 
 a good deal. But for the fact that Bridget did the 
 housekeeping, that Bridget saw to the investment of 
 their small moneys, and had generally managed the 
 business of their joint life, Nelly would not have been 
 able to dream, and sketch, and read, as it was her 
 delight to do. It might be, as she had said to Sarratt, 
 that Bridget managed because she liked managing. 
 All the same Nelly knew, not without some prickings 
 of conscience as to her own dependence, that when 
 George was gone, she would never be able to get on 
 without Bridget. 
 
 Into what a world of delight the two plunged when 
 they set forth ! The more it rains in the Westmorland 
 country, the more heavenly are the days when the 
 clouds forget to rain ! There were white flocks of them 
 in the June sky as the new-married pair crossed the 
 wooden bridge beyond the garden, leading to the 
 further side of the lake, but they were sailing serene 
 and sunlit in the blue, as though their whole business 
 were to dapple the hills witfh blue and violet shadows, 
 or sometimes to throw a dazzling reflection down into 
 the quiet water. There had been rain, torrential rain, 
 just before the Sarratts arrived, so that the river was 
 full and noisy, and all the little becks clattering down 
 the fell, in their haste to reach the lake, were boasting 
 to the summer air, as though in forty-eight hours of 
 rainlessness they would not be as dry and dumb as 
 ever again. The air was fresh, in spite of the Mid- 
 summer sun, and youth and health danced in the 
 veins of the lovers. And yet not without a touch of
 
 46 ! MISSING ' 
 
 something feverish, something abnormal, because of 
 that day that shrouded day standing sentinel at 
 the end of the week. They never spoke of it, but 
 they never forgot it. It entered into each clinging 
 grasp he gave her hand as he helped her up or down 
 some steep or rugged bit of path into the lingering 
 look of her brown eyes, which thanked him, smiling 
 into the moments of silence, when they rested amid 
 the springing bracken, and the whole scene of mountain, 
 cloud and water spoke with that sudden tragic note of 
 all supreme beauty, in a world of ' brittleness.' 
 
 But they were not often silent. There was so 
 much to say. They were still exploring each other, 
 after the hurry of their marriage, and short engage- 
 ment. For a time she chattered to him about her 
 own early life their old red-brick house in a Manchester 
 suburb, with its good-sized rooms, its mahogany doors, 
 its garden, in which her father used to work his 
 only pleasure, after his wife's death, besides ' the 
 concerts ' ' You know we've awfully good music in 
 Manchester ! ' As for her own scattered and scanty 
 education, she had begun to speak of it almost with 
 bitterness. George's talk and recollections betrayed 
 quite unconsciously the standards of the academic 
 or highly-trained professional class to which all his 
 father's kindred belonged ; and his only sister, a 
 remarkably gifted girl, who had died of pneumonia 
 at eighteen, just as she was going to Girton, seemed to 
 Nelly, when he occasionally described or referred to 
 her, a miracle a terrifying miracle of learning and 
 accomplishment . 
 
 Once indeed, she broke out in distress : 
 ' Oh, George, I don't know anything ! Why 
 wasn't I sent to school ! We had a wretched little
 
 1 MISSING ' 47 
 
 governess who taught us nothing. And then I'm 
 lazy I never was ambitious like Bridget. Do you 
 mind that I'm so stupid do you mind ? ' 
 
 And she laid her hands on his knee, as they sat 
 together among the fern, while her eyes searched his 
 face in a real anxiety. 
 
 What joy it was to laugh at her to tease her ! 
 
 ' How stupid are you, darling ? Tell me exactly. 
 It is of course a terrible business. If I'd only known ' 
 
 But she would be serious. 
 
 4 1 don't know any languages, George ! Just a 
 little French but you'd be ashamed if you heard me 
 talking it. As to history don't ask ! ' She shrugged 
 her shoulders despairingly. Then her face brightened. 
 ' But there's something ! I do love poetry I've 
 read a lot of poetry.' 
 
 ' That's all right so have I,' he said, promptly. 
 
 ' Isn't it strange ' her tone was thoughtful 
 ' how people care for poetry nowadays ! A few years 
 ago, one never heard of people ordinary people 
 buying poetry, new poetry or reading it. But I 
 know a shop in Manchester that's just full of poetry 
 new books and old books and the shopman told me 
 that people buy it almost more than anything. 
 Isn't it funny ? What makes them do it ? Is it 
 the war ? ' 
 
 Sarratt considered it, while making a smooth path 
 for a gorgeous green beetle through the bit of turf 
 beside him. 
 
 ' I suppose it's the war,' he said at last. ' It 
 does change fellows. It's easy enough to go along 
 bluffing and fooling in ordinary times. Most men 
 don't know what they think or what they feel 
 or whether they feel anything. But somehow
 
 48 ' MISSING ' 
 
 out there when you see the things other fellows are 
 doing when you know the things you may have to 
 
 do yourself well 
 
 ' Yes, yes go on ! ' she said eagerly, and he 
 went on, but reluctantly, for he had seen her shiver, 
 and the white lids fall a moment over her eyes. 
 
 ' it doesn't seem unnatural or hypocritical 
 or canting to talk and feel sometimes as you 
 couldn't talk or feel at home, with life going on just 
 as usual. I've had to censor letters, you see, darling 
 and the letters some of the roughest and stupidest 
 fellows write, you'd never believe. And there's no 
 pretence in it either. What would be the good of 
 pretending out there ? No it's just the pace life 
 goes and the fire and the strain of it. It's awful 
 and horrible and yet you wouldn't not be there for 
 the world.' 
 
 His voice dropped a little ; he looked out with 
 veiled eyes upon the lake chequered with the blue and 
 white of its inverted sky. Nelly guessed trembling 
 at the procession of images that was passing through 
 them ; and felt for a moment strangely separated from 
 him separated and desolate. 
 
 ' George, it's dreadful now to be a woman ! ' 
 
 She spoke in a low appealing voice, pressing up 
 against him, as though she begged the soul in him 
 that had been momentarily unconscious of her, to 
 come back to her. 
 
 He laughed, and the vision before his eyes broke 
 up. 
 
 ' Darling, it's adorable now to be a woman ! 
 How I shall think of you, when I'm out there ! away 
 from all the grime and the horror sitting by this 
 lake, and looking as you do now.'
 
 ' MISSING ' 49 
 
 He drew a little further away from her, and lying 
 on his elbows on the grass, he began to read her, 
 as it were, from top to toe, that he might fix every 
 detail in his mind. 
 
 ' I like that little hat so much, Nelly ! and that blue 
 cloak is just ripping ! And what's that you've got at 
 your waist a silver buckle ? yes ! I gave it you. 
 Mind you wear it, w T hen I'm away, and tell me you're 
 wearing it then I can fancy it.' 
 
 ' Will you ever have time to think of me 
 George ? ' 
 
 She bent towards him. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 ' Well, not when I'm going over the parapet to 
 attack the Boches. Honestly, one thinks of nothing 
 then but how one can get one's men across. But you 
 won't come off badly, my little Nell for thoughts 
 night or day. And you musn't think of us too senti- 
 mentally. It's quite true that men write wonderful 
 letters and wonderful verse too men of all ranks 
 things you'd never dream they could write. I've got a 
 little pocket-book full that I've collected. I've left it 
 in London, but I'll show you some day. But bless 
 you, nobody talks about their feelings at the front. 
 We're a pretty slangy lot in the trenches, and when 
 we're in billets, we read novels and rag each other 
 and sleep my word, we do sleep ! ' 
 
 He rolled on his back, and drew his hat over his 
 eyes a moment, for even in the fresh mountain air the 
 June sun was fierce. Nelly sat still, watching him, as 
 he had watched her all the young strength and come- 
 liness of the man to whom she had given herself. 
 
 And as she did so there came swooping down upon 
 her, like the blinding wings of a Fury, the remembrance
 
 gO. 'MISSING' 
 
 of a battle picture she had seen that morning : a 
 bursting shell limp figures on the ground. Oh not 
 George not George never ! The agony ran through 
 her, and her fingers gripped the turf beside her. Then it 
 passed, and she was silently proud that she had been 
 able to hide it. But it had left her pale arid restless. 
 She sprang up, and they went along the high path 
 leading to Grasmere and Langdale. 
 
 Presently at the top of the little neck which separ- 
 ates Eydal from Grasmere they came upon an odd 
 cavalcade. In front walked -an elderly lady, with a 
 huge open bag slung round her, in which she carried 
 an amazing load of the sphagnum moss that English 
 and Scotch women were gathering at that moment 
 all over the English and Scotch mountains for the 
 surgical purposes of the war. Behind her came a pony, 
 with a boy. The pony was laden with the same moss, 
 so was the boy. The lady's face was purple with exer- 
 tion, and in her best days she could never have been 
 other than plain ; her figure was shapeless. She 
 stopped the pony as she neared the Sarratts, and 
 addressed them panting. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon ! but have you by chance seen 
 another lady carrying a bag like mine ? I brought a 
 friend with me to help gather this stuff but we seem 
 to have missed each other on the top of Silver How 
 and I can't imagine what's happened to her.' 
 
 The voice was exceedingly musical and refined 
 but there was a touch of power in it a curious note of 
 authority. She stood, recovering breath and looking 
 at the young people with clear and penetrating eyes, 
 suddenly observant. 
 
 The Sarratts could only say that they had not 
 come across any other moss-gatherer on the road.
 
 MISSING' 61 
 
 The strange lady sighed but with a half humor- 
 ous, half philosophical lifting of the eyebrows. 
 
 ' It was very stupid of me to miss her but you 
 really can't come to grief on these fells in broad day- 
 light. However, if you do meet her a lady with a 
 sailor hat, and a blue jersey will you tell her that 
 I've gone on to Ambleside ? ' 
 
 Sarratt politely assured her that they would look 
 out for her companion. He had never yet seen a grey- 
 haired Englishwoman, of that age, carry so heavy a 
 load, and he liked both her pluck and her voice. She 
 reminded him of the French peasant women in whose 
 farms he often lodged behind the lines. She mean- 
 while was scrutinising him the badge on his cap, and 
 the two buttons on his khaki sleeve. 
 
 ' I think I know who you are,' she said, with a 
 sudden smile. ' Aren't you Mr. and Mrs. Sarratt ? 
 Sir William Farrell told me about you.' Then she 
 turned to the boy ' Go on, Jim. I'll come soon.' 
 
 A conversation followed on the mountain path, in 
 which their new acquaintance gave her name as Miss 
 Hester Martin, living in a cottage on the outskirts 
 of Ambleside, a cousin and old friend of Sir William 
 Farrell ; an old friend indeed, it seemed, of all the 
 local residents ; absorbed in war-work of different 
 kinds, and somewhere near sixty years of age ; but 
 evidently neither too old nor too busy to have lost the 
 natural interest of a kindly spinster in a bride and 
 bridegroom, especially when the bridegroom was in 
 khaki, and under orders for the front. She promised, 
 at once, to come and see Mrs. Sarratt, and George, 
 beholding in her a possible motherly friend for Nelly 
 when he should be far away, insisted that she should 
 fix a day for her call before his departure. Nelly
 
 52 MISSING ' 
 
 added her smiles to bis. Then, with a pleasant nod, 
 Miss Martin left them, refusing all their offers to help 
 her with her load. ' " My strength is as the strength 
 of ten," ' she said with a flash of fun in her eyes 
 ' But I won't go on with the quotation. Good-bye ! ' 
 
 George and Nelly went on towards a spot above 
 a wood in front of them to which she had directed them, 
 as a good point to rest and lunch. She, meanwhile, 
 pursued her way towards Ambleside, her thoughts 
 much more occupied with the young couple than with 
 her lost companion. The little thing was a beauty, 
 certainly. Easy to see what had attracted William 
 Fan-ell ! An uncommon type and a very artistic 
 type ; none of your milk-maids. She supposed before 
 long William would be proposing to draw her hm ! 
 with the husband away ? It was to be hoped some 
 watch-dog would be left. William was a good fellow 
 no real malice in him had never meant to injure 
 anybody, that she knew of but 
 
 Miss Martin's cogitations however went no farther 
 in exploring that ' but.' She was really very fond of 
 her cousin William, who bore an amount of discipline 
 from her that no one else dared to apply to the owner 
 of Carton. Tragic, that he couldn't fight ! That 
 would have brought out all there was in him.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ' GLORIOUS ! ' 
 
 Nelly Sarratt stood lost in the beauty of the 
 spectacle commanded by Sir William Farrell's cottage. 
 It was placed in a by-road on the western side of 
 Loughrigg, that smallest of real mountains, beloved 
 of poets and wanderers. The ground dropped sharply 
 below it to a small lake or tarn, its green banks fringed 
 with wood, while on the further side the purple crag 
 and noble head of Wetherlam rose out of sunlit mist, 
 thereby indefinitely heightened into a pearl and 
 azure sky. To the north also, a splendid wilderness 
 of fells, near and far ; with the Pikes and Bowfell 
 leading the host. White mists radiant mists per- 
 petually changing, made a magic interweaving of 
 fell with fell, of mountain with sky. Every tint of 
 blue and purple, of amethyst and sapphire lay melted 
 in the chalice carved out by the lake and its guardian 
 mountains. Every line of that chalice was harmonious, 
 as though each mountain and valley filled its place 
 consciously, in a living order ; and in the grandeur 
 of the whole there was no terror, no hint of a world 
 hostile and inaccessible to man, as in the Alps and the 
 Rockies. 
 
 ' These mountains are one's friends,' said Farrell, 
 smiling as he stood beside Nelly, pointing out the 
 various peaks by name. ' If you know them only a 
 
 63
 
 64 ' MISSING ' 
 
 little, you can trust yourseh to them, at any hour 
 of the da;y or night. Whereas, in the Alps, I always 
 feel myself " a worm and no man " ! ' 
 
 ' I have never been abroad,' said Nelly shyly. 
 
 For once he found an ingtnue attractive. 
 
 ' Then you have it to come when the world is 
 sane again. But some things you will have missed 
 for ever. For instance, you will never see Eheims 
 as it was. I have spent months at Eheims in old 
 days, drawing and photographing. I must show you 
 my things. They have a tragic value now.' 
 
 And taking out a portfolio from a rack near him, 
 he opened it and put it on a stand before her. 
 
 Nelly, who had in her the real instincts of the artist, 
 turned over some very masterly drawings, in mingled 
 delight and despair. 
 
 * If I could only do something like that ! ' she 
 said, pointing to a study of some of the famous windows 
 at Eheims, with vague forms of saint and king emerging 
 from a conflagration of colour, kindled by the after- 
 noon sun, and dyeing the pavement below. 
 
 'Ah, that took me some time. It was difficult. 
 But here are some fragments you'll like just bits 
 from the facade and the monuments.' 
 
 The strength of the handling excited her. She 
 looked at them in silence ; remembering with disgust 
 all the pretty sentimental work she had been used to 
 copy. She began to envisage what this commonly 
 practised art may be ; what a master can do with it. 
 Standards leaped up. Alp on Alp appeared. When 
 George was gone she would work, yes, she would 
 work hard to surprise him when he came back. 
 
 Sir William meanwhile was increasingly taken 
 with his guest. She was shy, very diffident, very
 
 'MISSING' 55 
 
 young ; but in the few things she said, he discerned 
 or fancied the stirrings of a real taste real intelli- 
 gence. And she was prettier and more fetching than 
 ever with her small dark head, and her lovely mouth. 
 He would like to draw the free sensuous line of it, 
 the beautiful moulding of the chin. What a prize 
 for the young man ! Was he aware of his own good 
 fortune ? Was he adequate ? 
 
 ' I say, how jolly ! ' said Sarratt, coming up to 
 look. ' My wife, Sir William I think she told you 
 has got a turn for this kind of thing. These will give 
 her ideas/ 
 
 And while he looked at the drawings, he slipped a 
 hand into his wife's arm, smiling down upon her, and 
 commenting on the sketches. There was nothing in 
 what he said. He only ' knew what he liked,' and an 
 unfriendly bystander would have been amused by his 
 constant assumption that Nelly's sketches were as 
 good as anybody's. Entirely modest for himself, 
 he was inclined to be conceited for her, she checking 
 him, with rather flushed cheeks. But Farrell liked him 
 all the better, both for the ignorance and the pr;de. 
 The two young people standing there together, so 
 evidently absorbed in each other, yet on the brink 
 of no ordinary parting, touched the romantic note in 
 him. He was very sorry for them especially for the 
 bride and eagerly, impulsively wished to befriend 
 them. 
 
 In the background, the stout lady whom the 
 Sarratts had met on Loughrigg Terrace, Miss Hester 
 Martin, was talking to Miss Farrell, while Bridget 
 Cookson was carrying on conversation with a tall 
 officer who carried his arm in a sling, and was 
 apparently yet another convalescent officer from the.
 
 56 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Carton hospital, whom Cicely Farrell had brought 
 over in her motor to tea at her brother's cottage. His 
 name seemed to be Captain Marsworth, and he was 
 doing his best with Bridget ; but there were great gaps 
 in their conversation, and Bridget resentfully thought 
 him dull. Also she perceived for she had extremely 
 quick eyes in such matters that Captain Marsworth, 
 while talking to her, seemed to be really watching 
 Miss Farrell, and she at once jumped to the conclusion 
 that there was something ' up ' between him and 
 Miss Farrell. 
 
 Cicely Farrell certainly took no notice of him. 
 She was sitting perched on the high end of a sofa 
 smoking a cigarette and dangling her feet, which were 
 encased, as before, in high-heeled shoes and immaculate 
 gaiters. She was dressed in white serge with a cap 
 and jersey of the brightest possible green. Her very 
 open bodice showed a string of fine pearls, and she 
 wore pearl ear-rings. Seen in the same room with 
 Nelly Sarratt she could hardly be guessed at less than 
 twenty-eight. She was the mature woman in full 
 possession of every feminine weapon, experienced, 
 subtle, conscious, a little hard, a little malicious. Nelly 
 Sarratt beside her looked a child. Miss Farrell had 
 glanced at her with curiosity, but had not addressed 
 many words to her. She had concluded at once that it 
 was a type that did not interest her. It interested 
 William of course, because he was professionally on the 
 look out for beauty. But that was his affair. Miss 
 Farrell had no use for anything so unfledged and 
 immature. And as for the sister, Miss Cookson, she had 
 no points of attraction whatever. The young man, the 
 husband, was well enough apparently a gentleman ; 
 but Miss Farrell felt that she would have forgotten
 
 ' MISSING ' 57 
 
 his existence when the tea-party was over. So she 
 had fallen back on conversation with her cousin. 
 That Cousin Hester dear, shapeless, Puritanical thing ! 
 disapproved of her, her dress, her smoking, her ways, 
 and her opinions, Cicely well knew but that only gave 
 zest to their meetings, which were not very frequent. 
 
 Meanwhile Bridget, in lieu of conversation and 
 while tea was still preparing, was making mental notes 
 of the cottage. It consisted apparently of two sitting- 
 rooms, and a studio in which they were to have tea 
 with two or three bedrooms above. It had been 
 developed out of a Westmorland farm, but developed 
 beyond recognition. The spacious rooms panelled in 
 plain oak, were furnished sparely, with few things, 
 but those of the most beautiful and costly kind. Old 
 Persian rugs and carpets, a few Kenaissance mirrors, 
 a few priceless ' pots,' a picture or two, hangings and 
 coverings of a dim purple the whole, made by these 
 various items and objects, expressed a taste perhaps 
 originally florid, but tamed by long and fastidious 
 practice of the arts of decoration. 
 
 In the study where tea had been laid, Nelly could 
 not restrain her wonder and delight. On one wall 
 hung ten of the most miraculous Turners drawings 
 from his best period, each of them irreplaceably 
 famous. Another wall showed a group of Boningtons 
 a third a similar gathering of Whistlers. Sir William, 
 charmed with the bride's pleasure, took down drawing 
 after drawing, carried them to the light for her, and 
 discoursed upon them. 
 
 ' Would you like that to copy ? ' he said, putting 
 a Turner into her lap a marvel of blue mountain 
 peaks, and winding river, and aerial distance. 
 
 ' Oh, I shouldn't dare I should be afraid ! ' said
 
 58 ' MISSING ! 
 
 Nelly, hardly liking to take the treasure in her own 
 hands. ' Aren't they aren't they worth immense 
 sums ? ' 
 
 Sir William laughed. 
 
 4 Well, of course, they're valuable everybody 
 wants them. But if you would ever like that one to 
 copy, you shall have it, and any other that would 
 help you. I know you wouldn't let it be hurt, if you 
 could help it because you'd love it as I do. You 
 wouldn't lot a Turner drawing like that fade and 
 blister in the sun as I've seen happen again and 
 again in houses he painted them for. Brutes ! 
 Hanging's too good for people who maltreat Turners. 
 Let me relieve you of it now. I must get you some 
 tea. But the drawing will come to you next week. 
 You won't be able to think of it till then.' 
 
 He looked at her with the ardent sympathy which 
 sprang easily from his quick, emotional temperament, 
 and made it possible for him to force his way rapidly 
 into intimacy, where he desired to be intimate. But 
 Nelly shrank into herself. She put the drawing away, 
 and did not seem to care to look at any more. 
 Farrell wished he had left his remark unspoken, 
 and finding that he had somehow extinguished her 
 smiles and her talk, he relieved her of his com- 
 pany, and went away to talk to Sarratt and Captain 
 Marsworth. As soon as tea was over, Nelly beckoned 
 to her husband. 
 
 ' Are you going so soon ? ' said Hester Martin, who 
 had been unobtrusively mothering her, since Earrell 
 left her ' When may I come and see you ? ' 
 
 4 To-morrow?' said Nelly vaguely, looking up. 
 ' George hoped you would come, before he goes. 
 There are there are only three days.'
 
 ' MISSING ' 59 
 
 ' I will come to-morrow,' said Miss Martin, touching 
 Nelly's hand softly. The cold, small fingers moved, 
 as though instinctively, towards her, and took refuge 
 in her warm capacious hand. Then Nelly whispered 
 to Bridget appealingly 
 
 ' I want to go, Bridget.' 
 
 Bridget frowned with annoyance. Why should 
 Nelly want to go so soon ? The beauty and luxury of the 
 cottage the mere tea-table with all its perfect appoint- 
 ments of fine silver and china, the multitude of cakes, 
 the hot-house fruit, the well-trained butler all the 
 signs of wealth that to Nelly were rather intimidating, 
 and to Sarratt in war-time incongruous and repellent, 
 were to Bridget the satisfaction of so many starved 
 desires. This ease and lavishness ; the best of every- 
 thing and no trouble to get it ; the ' cottage ' as perfect 
 as the palace ; it was so, she felt, that life should be 
 lived, to be really worth living. She envied the Farrells 
 with an intensity of envy. Why should some people 
 have so much and others so little ? And as she watched 
 Sir William's attentions to Nelly, she said to herself, 
 for the hundredth time, that but for Nelly's folly, she 
 could easily have captured wealth like this. Why not 
 Sir William himself ? It would not have been at all 
 unlikely that they should come across him on one of 
 their Westmorland holidays. The thought of their 
 dingy Manchester rooms, of the ceaseless care and 
 economy that would be necessary for their joint menage 
 when Sarratt was gone, filled her with disgust. Their 
 poverty was wholly unnecessary it was Nelly's silly 
 fault. She felt at times as though she hated her 
 brother-in-law, who had so selfishly crossed their path, 
 and ruined the hopes end dreams which had been 
 strengthening steadily in her mind during the last
 
 60 ' MISSING ' 
 
 two years especially, since Nelly's beauty had become 
 more pronounced. 
 
 ' It's not at all late ! ' she said, angrily, in her 
 sister's ear. 
 
 ' Oh, but George wants to take me to Easedale,' 
 said Nelly under her breath. ' It will be our last 
 long walk.' 
 
 Bridget had to submit to be torn away. A little 
 motor was waiting outside. It had brought the 
 Sarratts and Bridget from Eydal, and was to take 
 Bridget home, dropping the Sarratts at Grasmere for 
 an evening walk. Sir William tried indeed to persuade 
 them to stay longer, till a signal from his cousin 
 Hester stopped him ; ' Well, if you must go, you 
 must,' he said, regretfully. ' Cicely, you must arrange 
 with Mrs. Sarratt, when she will pay us a visit and ' 
 he looked uncertainly round him, as though he had 
 only just remembered Bridget's existence ' of course 
 your sister must come too.' 
 
 Cicely came forward, and with a little lisp, repeated 
 her brother's invitation rather perfunctorily. 
 
 Sir William took his guests to their car, and bade 
 a cordial farewell to Sarratt. 
 
 ' Good-bye and good luck. What shall I wish you ? 
 The D.S.O., and a respectable leave before the summer's 
 over ? You will be in for great things.' 
 
 Sarratt shook his head. 
 
 ' Not till we get more guns, and tons more shell ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, the country's waking up ! ' 
 
 ' It's about time ! ' said Sarratt, gravely, as he 
 climbed into the car. Sir William bent towards him. 
 
 ' Anything that we can do to help your wife and her 
 sister, during their stay here, you may be sure we 
 shall do.'
 
 ' MISSING ' 61 
 
 ' It's very kind of you,' said the young officer 
 gratefully, as he grasped Farrell's hand. And Nelly 
 sent a shy glance of thanks towards the speaker, while 
 Bridget sat erect and impassive. 
 
 Sir William watched them disappear, and then 
 returned to the tea-room. He was received with a 
 burst of laughter from his sister. 
 
 ' Well, Willy, so you're caught fairly caught ! 
 What am I to do ? When am I to ask her ? And 
 the sister too ? ' 
 
 And lighting another cigarette, Cicely looked at 
 her brother with mocking eyes. 
 
 Farrell reddened a little, but kept his temper. 
 ' In a week or two I should think, you might ask 
 her, when she's got over her husband's going away.' 
 ' They get over it very soon in general,' said 
 Cicely coolly. 
 
 ' Not that sort.' 
 
 The voice was Captain Marsworth's. 
 Cicely appeared to take no notice. But her 
 eyelids flickered. Hester Martin interposed. 
 
 ' A dear, little, appealing thing,' she said, warmly 
 ' and her husband evidently a capital fellow. I didn't 
 take to the sister but who knows ? She may be an 
 excellent creature, all the same. I'm glad I shall be 
 so near them. It will be a help to that poor child to 
 find her something to do.' 
 Cicely laughed. 
 
 ' You think she'll hunt sphagnum and make 
 bandages ? I don't.' 
 
 ' Why this " thusness ? " ' said Miss Martin raising 
 her eyebrows. ' What has made you take a dislike 
 to the poor little soul, Cicely ? There never was 
 anyone more plainly in love ; '
 
 62 * MISSING ' 
 
 ' Or more to be pitied/ said the low voice in the 
 background low but emphatic. 
 
 It was now Cicely's turn to flush. 
 
 ' Of course I know I'm a beast,' she said defiantly. 
 ' but the fact is I didn't like either of them ! 
 the sisters, I mean.' 
 
 ' What on earth is there to dislike in Mrs. Sarratt ! ' 
 cried Farrell. ' You're quite mad, Cicely.' 
 
 ' She's too pretty,' said Miss Farrell obstinately 
 ' and too too simple. And nobody as pretty as 
 that can be really simple. It's only pretence.' 
 
 As she spoke Cicely rose to her feet, and began 
 to put on her veil in front of one of the old mirrors. 
 ' But of course, Will, I shall behave nicely to your 
 friends. Don't I always behave nicely to them ? * 
 
 She turned lightly to her brother, who looked at 
 her only half appeased. 
 . 4 1 shan't give you a testimonial to-day, Cicely.' 
 
 ' Then I must do without it. Well, this day three 
 weeks, a party at Carton, for Mrs. Sarratt. Will that 
 give her time to settle down ? ' 
 
 ' Unless her husband is killed by then,' said Captain 
 Marsworth, quietly. ' His regiment is close to Loos. 
 He'll be in the thick of it directly.' 
 
 ' Oh no,' said Cicely, twisting the ends of her veil 
 lightly between a finger and thumb. ' Just a " cushy " 
 wound, that'll bring him home on a three months' 
 leave, and give her the bore of nursing him.' 
 
 ' Cicely, you are a hard-hearted wretch ! ' said 
 her brother, angrily. ' I think Marsworth and I will 
 go and stroll till the motor is ready.' 
 
 The two men disappeared, and Cicely let herself 
 drop into an arm-chair. Her eyes, as far as could be 
 seen through her veil were blazing ; the redness in
 
 MISSING ' 63 
 
 her cheeks had improved upon the rouge with which 
 they were already touched ; and the gesture with 
 which she pulled on her gloves was one of excitement. 
 
 'Cicely dear what is the matter with you?' 
 said Miss Martin in distress. She was fond of Cicely, 
 in spite of that young lady's extravagances of dress 
 and manner, and she divined something gone wrong. 
 
 ' Nothing is the matter nothing at all. It is 
 only necessary, sometimes, to shock people/ said 
 Cicely, calming down. She threw her head back 
 against the chair and closed her eyes, while her lips 
 still smiled triumphantly. 
 
 ' Were you trying to shock Captain Marsworth ? ' 
 
 ' It's so easy it's hardly worth doing,' said Cicely, 
 sleepily. Then after a pause ' Ah, isn't that the 
 motor ? ' 
 
 Meanwhile the little hired motor from Ambleside 
 had dropped the Sarratts on the Easedale road, and 
 carried Bridget away in an opposite direction, to the 
 silent but great relief of the newly-married pair. 
 And soon the husband and wife had passed the last 
 farm in the valley, and were walking up a rough 
 climbing path towards Sour Milk Ghyll, and Easedale 
 Tarn. The stream was full, and its many channels 
 ran white and foaming down the steep rock face, where 
 it makes its chief leap to the valley. The summer 
 weather held, and every tree and fell-side stood bathed 
 in a warm haze, suffused with the declining light. 
 All round, encircling fells in a purple shadow ; to the 
 north and east, great slopes appearing- Helvellyn, 
 Grisedale, Fairneld. They walked hand in hand 
 where the path admitted almost silent passionately 
 conscious of each other and of the beauty round them.
 
 64 'MISSING ' 
 
 Sometimes they stopped to gather a flower, or notice 
 a bird ; and then there would be a few words, with a 
 meaning only for themselves. And when they reached 
 the tarn, a magical shadowed mirror of brown and 
 purple water, they sat for long beside it, while the 
 evening faded, and a breathless quiet came across 
 the hills, stilling all their voices, even, one might have 
 fancied, the voice of the hurrying stream itself. At 
 the back of Nelly's mind there was always the same 
 inexorable counting of the hours ; and in his a pro- 
 found and sometimes remorseful pity for this gentle 
 creature who had given herself to him, together with 
 an immense gratitude. 
 
 The stars came out, and a light easterly wind 
 sprang up, sending ripples across the tarn, and stirring 
 last year's leaves among the new grass. It had grown 
 chilly, and Sarratt took Nelly's blue cloak from 
 his arm and wrapped her in it then in his arms, as 
 she rested against him. Presently he felt her hand 
 drop languidly from his, and he knew that not the 
 walk, but the rush of those half-spoken thoughts 
 which held them both, had brought exhaustion. 
 
 ' Darling we must go home ! ' He bent over her. 
 
 She rose feebly. 
 
 ' Why am I so tired ? It's absurd.' 
 
 ' Let me carry you a little.' 
 
 * You couldn't ! ' She smiled at him. 
 
 But he lifted her with ease she was so small and 
 slight, while in him a fresh wave of youth and strength 
 had risen, with happiness, and the reaction of con- 
 valescence. She made no resistance, and he carried 
 her down some way, through the broad mingled light. 
 Her face was hidden on his breast, and felt the beating 
 of his life. She said to herself more than once that
 
 MISSING ' 65 
 
 to die so would be bliss. The marvel of love bewildered 
 her. ' What was I like before it ? what shall I be, 
 when he is gone ? ' 
 
 When she made him set her down, she said gaily 
 that she was all right, and gave him a kiss of thanks, 
 simply, like a child. The valley lay before them with 
 its scattered lights, and they pressed on through the 
 twilight two dim and spectral figures spirits it 
 seemed, who had been on the heights sharing ambrosial 
 feasts with the Immortals, and had but just descended 
 to the common earth again. 
 
 Nelly spent the next three days, outside their 
 walks and boatings on the lake, in whatever wifely 
 offices to her man still remained to her marking 
 his new socks and khaki shirts, furnishing a small 
 medicine chest, and packing a tin of special delicacies, 
 meat lozenges, chocolate, various much advertised 
 food tabloids, and his favourite biscuits. Sarratt 
 laughed over them, but had not the heart to dissuade 
 her. She grew paler every day, but was always gay 
 and smiling so long as his eyes were on her ; and his 
 sound young sleep knew nothing of her quiet stifled 
 weeping at those moments of the night, when the bodily 
 and nervous forces are at their lowest, and all the 
 future blackens. Miss Martin paid them several 
 visits, bringing them books and flowers. Books and 
 flowers too arrived from Carton with a lavish supply 
 of cigarettes for the departing soldier. Nelly had 
 the piteous sense that everyone was sorry for her 
 Mrs. Weston, the kind landlady, Milly, the little 
 housemaid. It seemed to her sometimes that the mere 
 strangers she met in the road knew that George was 
 going, and looked at her compassionately.
 
 66 ' MISSING ' 
 
 The last day came, showery in the morning, and 
 clearing to a glorious evening, with all the new leaf 
 and growing haynelds freshened by rain, and all the 
 streams brimming. Bridget came over in the after- 
 noon, and as she watched her sister's face, became 
 almost kind, almost sympathetic. George proposed 
 to walk back part of the way to Ambleside with his 
 sister-in-law, and Nelly with a little frown of alarm 
 watched them go. 
 
 But the tete-a-tete was not disagreeable to either. 
 Bridget was taken aback, to begin with, by some very 
 liberal proposals of Sarratt's on the subject of her and 
 Nelly's joint expenses during his absence. She was 
 to be Nelly's guest they both wished it and he said 
 kindly that he quite understood Nelly's marriage had 
 made a difference to her, and he hoped she would let 
 them make it up to her, as far and as soon as they could. 
 Bridget was surprised into amiability, and Sarratt 
 found a chance of saying 
 
 ' And you'll let Nelly talk about the war though 
 it does bore you ? She won't be able to help it poor 
 child ! ' 
 
 Bridget supposed that now she too would have to 
 talk about the war. He needn't be afraid, she added 
 drily. She would look after Nelly. And she looked 
 so masterful and vigorous as she said it, that Sarratt 
 could only believe her. 
 
 They shook hands in the road, better friends to 
 all seeming than they had been yet. And Nelly 
 received George's account of the conversation with 
 a sigh of relief. 
 
 That night the midsummer moon would be at the 
 full, and as the clouds vanished from the sky, and the
 
 1 MISSING ' 67 
 
 soft purple night came down, Nelly and Sarratt leaving 
 every piece of luggage behind them, packed, labelled, 
 locked, and piled in the hall, ready for the cart that 
 was to call for it in the early hours took their way 
 to the lake and the boathouse. They had been out 
 at night once before, but this was to be the crowning 
 last thing the last joint memory. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock before the oars dipped into 
 the water, and as they neared the larger island, the 
 moon, rearing its bright head over the eastern fells, 
 shot a silver pathway through the lake ; and on either 
 side of the pathway, the mirrored woods and crags, 
 more dim and ghostly than by day, seemed to lead 
 downward to that very threshold and entrance of the 
 underworld, through which the blinded Theban king 
 vanished from the eyes of men. Silver-bright the 
 w r oods and fell-side, on the west ; while on the east the 
 woods in shadow, lay sleeping, ' moon-charmed.' The 
 air was balmy ; and one seemed to hear through it 
 the steady soft beat of the summer life, rising through 
 the leaves and grass and flowers. Every sound was 
 enchantment the drip of water from the oars, the 
 hooting of an owl on the island, even the occasional 
 distant voices, and tapping of horses' feet on the main 
 road bordering the lake. 
 
 Sarratt let the oars drift, and the boat glided, as 
 though of its own will, past the island, and into the 
 shadow beyond it. Now it was Silver How, and all the 
 Grasmere mountains, that caught the ' hallowing ' light. 
 
 Nelly sat bare-headed, her elbows on her knees, 
 and her face propped in her hands. She was in white, 
 with a white shawl round her, and the grace of the 
 slight form and dark head stirred anew in Sarratt 
 that astonished and exquisite sense of possession
 
 68 ' MISSING ' 
 
 which had been one of the main elements of conscious- 
 ness, during their honeymoon. Of late indeed it had 
 been increasingly met and wrestled with by something 
 harsher and sterner ; by the instinct of the soldier, 
 of the fighting man, foreseeing a danger to his own 
 will, a weakening of the fibre on which his effort and 
 his power depend. There were moments when 
 passionately as he loved her, he was glad to be going ; 
 secretly glad that the days which were in truth a 
 greater test of endurance than the trenches were 
 coming to an end. He must be able to trust himself 
 and his own nerve to the utmost. Away from her, 
 love would be only a strengthening power ; here beside 
 her, soul and sense contended. 
 
 A low voice came out of the shadow. 
 
 ' George I'm not going with you to the station.' 
 
 ' Best not, dearest much best.' 
 
 A silence. Then the voice spoke again. 
 
 ' How long will it take you, George, getting to the 
 front ? ' 
 
 ' About twenty-four hours from the base, perhaps 
 more. It's a weary business.' 
 
 ' Will you be in action at once ? ' 
 
 ' I think so. That part of the line's very short of 
 men.' 
 
 ' When shall I hear ? ' 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 1 By every possible post, I should think, darling. 
 You've given me post-cards enough.' 
 
 And he tapped his breast-pocket, where lay the 
 little writing-case she had furnished for every imagin- 
 able need. 
 
 1 George ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, darling.'
 
 1 MISSING ' 69 
 
 ' When you're tired, you're you're not to write.' 
 
 He put out his long arms, and took her hands in 
 his. 
 
 ' I shan't be tired and I shall write.' 
 
 She looked down upon the hands holding hers. 
 In each of the little fingers there was a small amusing 
 deformity- a slight crook or twist which, as is 
 the way of lovers, was specially dear to her. She 
 remembered once, before they were engaged, flaming 
 out at Bridget, who had made mock of it. She stooped 
 now, and kissed the fingers. Then she bowed her 
 forehead upon them. 
 
 ' George ! ' he could only just hear her ' I know 
 Miss Martin will be kind to me and I shall find plenty 
 to do. You're never to worry about me.' 
 
 ' I won't so long as you write to me every day.' 
 
 There was again a silence. Then she lifted her 
 head, and as the boat swung out of the shadow, the 
 moonlight caught her face. 
 
 ' You'll take that Wordsworth I gave you, won't 
 you, George ? It'll remind you of this.' Her gesture 
 showed the lake and the mountains. 
 
 ' Of course, I shall take it. I shall read it when- 
 ever I can perhaps more for your sake than 
 Wordsworth's.' 
 
 ' It'll make us remember the same things,' she 
 murmured. 
 
 ' As if we wanted anything to make us remember ! ' 
 
 ' George ! ' her voice was almost a sob ' It's been 
 almost too perfect. Sometimes just for that I'm 
 afraid.' 
 
 ' Don't be, darling. The God we believe in isn't 
 a jealous God ! That's one of the notions one grows 
 out of over there.'
 
 70 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Do you think He's our friend, George that He 
 really cares ? ' 
 
 The sweet appealing voice touched him unbearably. 
 
 ' Yes, I do think it ' he said, firmly, after a pause. 
 ' I do believe it with all my heart.' 
 
 ' Then I'll believe it ! ' she said, with a long 
 breath ; and there was silence again, till suddenly 
 over the water came the sound of the Kydal Chapel 
 bell, striking midnight. Nelly withdrew her hands 
 and sat up. 
 
 ' George, we must go home. You must have a 
 good night.' 
 
 He obeyed her, took up the oars, and pulled swiftly 
 to the boathouse. She sat in a kind of dream. It 
 was all over, the heavenly time all done. She had 
 had the very best of life could it ever come again ? 
 In her pain and her longing she was strangely conscious 
 of growth and change. The Nelly of three weeks' 
 back, seemed to have nothing to do with her present 
 self, to be another human being altogether. 
 
 He made her go to bed, and remained in the sitting- 
 room himself, under pretence of some papers he must 
 put in order. When the sounds in the next room ceased, 
 and he knew that she must be lying still, waiting for 
 him, he sat down, took pen and paper, and began to 
 write to her a letter to be given to her if he fell. 
 He had already written a letter of business directions, 
 which was at his lawyer's. This was of another kincl. 
 
 ' MY DAKLING, this will be very short. It is only 
 to tell you that if I fall if we never meet again, after 
 to-morrow, you are to think first of all and always 
 that you have made a man so happy that if no more 
 joy can come to him on earth, he could die now as 
 far as he himself is concerned blessing God for his
 
 ' MISSING ' 71 
 
 life. I never imagined that love could be so perfect. 
 You have taught me. God reward you God watch 
 over you. If I die, you will be very sad that will be 
 the bitterness to me, if I have time to know it. But 
 this is my last prayer to you to be comforted by this 
 remembrance of what you have done for me what 
 you have been to me. And in time, my precious one, 
 comfort will come. There may be a child if so, you 
 will love it for us both. But if not, you must still take 
 comfort. You must be willing, for my sake, to be 
 comforted. And remember : don't be angry with 
 me, darling if in years to come, another true love, 
 and another home should be offered you, don't refuse 
 them Nelly ! You were born to be loved. And if my 
 spirit lives, and understands, what could it feel but 
 joy that your sorrow was healed my best beloved ! 
 
 ' This will be given to you only if I die. With the 
 deepest gratitude and the tenderest love that a man 
 can feel, I bid you good-bye my precious wife 
 good-bye ! ' 
 
 He put it up with a steady hand, and addressed it 
 first to Nelly, enclosing it in a larger envelope addressed 
 to his oldest friend, a school-fellow, who had been his 
 best man at their marriage. Then he stole down- 
 stairs, unlocked the front door, and crossing the road 
 in the moonlight, he put the letter into the wall 
 post-box on the further side. And before re-entering 
 the house, he stood a minute or two in the road, letting 
 the fresh wind from the fells beat upon his face, and 
 trying the while to stamp on memory the little white 
 house where Nelly lay, the trees overhanging it, the 
 mountain tops beyond the garden wall. . . ,
 
 CHAPTEE V 
 
 ' Is Mrs. Sarratt in ? ' asked Miss Martin of Mrs. 
 Western's little maid, Milly. 
 
 Milly wore a look of animation, as of one who has 
 been finding the world interesting. 
 
 ' She's gone a walk over the bridge, Miss.' 
 
 ' Has she had news of Mr. Sarratt ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, Miss,' said the girl eagerly. ' He's all right. 
 Mrs. Sarratt got a telegram just a couple of hours 
 ago.'/?! 
 
 ' And you think I shall find her by the lake ? ' 
 
 Milly thought so. Then advancing a step, she 
 said confidentially 
 
 ' She's been dreadfully upset this two days, Miss. 
 Not that she'd say anything. But she's looked ' 
 
 ' I know. I saw her yesterday.' 
 
 ' And it's been a job to get her to eat anything. 
 Mrs. Weston's been after her with lots of things tasty 
 you know, Miss to try and tempt her. But she 
 wouldn't hardly look at them.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Milly ' said Miss Martin, after a 
 pause. ' Well, I'll find her. Is Miss Cookson here ? ' 
 
 Milly's candid countenance changed at once. 
 She frowned it might have been said she scowled. 
 
 ' She came the day Mr. Sarratt went away, Miss. 
 Well of course it's not my place to speak, Miss 
 but she don't do Mrs. Sarratt no good ! ' Miss Martin 
 
 72
 
 ' MISSING ' 73 
 
 couldn't help a smile but she shook her head 
 reprovingly all the same, as she hastened away. Milly 
 had been in her Sunday-school class, and they were 
 excellent friends. 
 
 Across the Kotha, she pursued a little footpath 
 leading to the lakeside. It was a cold day, with flying 
 clouds and gleams on hill and water. The bosom of 
 Silver How held depths of purple shadow, but there 
 were lights like elves at play, chasing each other along 
 the Easedale fells, and the stony side of Nab Scar. 
 
 Beside the water, on a rock, sat Nelly Sarratt. 
 An open telegram and a bundle of letters lay on her 
 lap, her hands loosely folded over them. She was 
 staring at the water and the hills, with absent eyes, 
 and her small face wore an expression relaxed and 
 sweet like that of a comforted child, which touched 
 Miss Martin profoundly. 
 
 ' So you've heard ? you poor thing ! ' said the 
 elder woman smiling, as she laid a friendly hand on 
 the girl's shoulder. 
 
 Nelly looked up and drew a long deep breath. 
 
 ' He's all right, and the battalion's going to have 
 three weeks' rest behind the lines.' 
 
 Her dark eyes shone. Hester Martin sat down on 
 the turf beside her. 
 
 1 Capital ! When did you hear last ? ' 
 
 ' Just the day before the " push." Of course he 
 couldn't tell me anything but somehow I knew. 
 And then the papers since they're pretty ghastly,' 
 said Nelly, with a faint laugh and a shiver. ' The 
 farm under the hill there ' she pointed ' you know 
 about them ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. I saw them after the telegram,' said Miss 
 Martin, sadly. ' Of course it was the only son. These
 
 74 ' MISSING ' 
 
 small families are too awful. Every married woman 
 ought to have six sons ! ' 
 
 Nelly dropped her face out of sight, shading it 
 with her hands. Presently she said, in a dreamy 
 voice of content 
 
 ' I shall get a letter to-morrow/ 
 
 ' How do you know ? ' 
 
 Nelly held out the telegram, which said 
 
 ' All safe. Posted letter last night. Love.' 
 
 ' It can't take more than forty-eight hours to come 
 can it ? ' Then she lifted her eyes again to the 
 distant farm, with its white front and its dark patch 
 of yews. 
 
 ' I keep thinking of their telegram ' she said, 
 slowly ' and then of mine. Oh, this war is too 
 horrible ! ' She threw up her hands with a sudden 
 wild gesture, and then let one of them drop into 
 Hester Martin's grasp. ' In George's last letter 
 he told me he had to go with a message across a bit 
 of ground that was being shelled. He went with a 
 telephonist. He crossed first. The other man was 
 to wait and follow him after an interval. George got 
 across, then the man with the telephone wire started, 
 and was shot just as he reached George. He fell 
 into George's arms and died. And it might have 
 been George it might have been George just as well ! 
 It might be George any day ! ' 
 
 Miss Martin looked at her in perplexity. She had 
 no ready-made consolations she never had. Perhaps 
 it was that which made her kind wrinkled face such a 
 welcome sight to those in trouble. But at last she 
 said 
 
 ' It is all we women can do to be patient and 
 hope not to let our courage go down.'
 
 MISSING ' 75 
 
 Nelly shook her head. 
 
 ' I'm always saying that to myself but ! when the 
 news comes if it comes what good will that be to 
 me ! Oh, I haven't been idle indeed I haven't,' 
 she added piteously ' I've worked myself tired every 
 day just not to think ! ' 
 
 ' I know you have,' Miss Martin pressed the hand 
 in hers. ' Well, now, he'll be all safe for a fortnight ' 
 
 ' Perhaps three weeks,' Nelly corrected her, eagerly. 
 Then she looked round at her new friend, a shy 
 smile lighting up her face, and bringing back its 
 bloom. 
 
 ' You know he writes to me nearly every day ? ' 
 
 ' It's the way people have war or no war when 
 they're in love,' said Hester Martin drily. ' And 
 you how often ? ' 
 
 ' Every day. I haven't missed once. How could 
 I ? when he wants me to write when I hear so 
 often ! ' And her free hand closed possessively, 
 greedily, over the letters in her lap. 
 
 Hester Martin surveyed her thoughtfully. 
 
 ' I wouldn't do war work all day, if I were you,' 
 she said at last. ' Why don't you go on with your 
 sketching ? ' 
 
 ' I was going to try this very afternoon. Sir 
 William said he would give me a lesson,' was the 
 listless reply. 
 
 ' He's coming here ? ' 
 
 ' He said he would be walking this way, if it was 
 fine,' said Nelly, indifferently. 
 
 Both relapsed into silence. Then Miss Martin 
 enquired after Bridget. The face beside her darkened 
 a little. 
 
 ' She's very well. She knows about the telegram.
 
 76 ' MISSING ' 
 
 She thought I was a great goose to be so anxious. 
 She's making an index now for the book ! ' 
 
 ' The psychology book ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ! ' A pause then Nelly looked round, 
 flushing. 
 
 ' I can't talk to Bridget you see about George 
 or the war. She just thinks the world's mad that 
 it's six to one and half a dozen to the other that it 
 doesn't matter at all who wins so long of course as 
 the Germans don't come here. And as for me, if I 
 was so foolish as to marry a soldier in the middle of 
 the war, why I must just take the consequences 
 grin and bear it ! ' 
 
 Her tone and look showed that in her clinging way 
 she had begun to claim the woman beside her as a 
 special friend, while Hester Martin's manner towards 
 her bore witness that the claim excited a warm response 
 that intimacy and affection had advanced rapidly 
 since George Sarratt's departure. 
 
 ' Why do you put up with it ? ' said Miss Martin, 
 sharply. ' Couldn't you get some cousin some friend 
 to stay with you ? ' 
 
 Nelly shook her head. ' George wanted me to. 
 But I told him I couldn't. It would mean a quarrel. 
 I could never quarrel with Bridget.' 
 
 Miss Martin laughed indignantly. ' Why not if 
 she makes you miserable ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know. I suppose I'm afraid of her. And 
 besides ' the words came reluctantly ' she does a 
 lot for me. I ought to be very grateful ! 
 
 Yes, Hester Martin did know that, in a sense, 
 Bridget did ' a lot ' for her younger sisters. It was not 
 many weeks since she had made their acquaintance, 
 but there had been time for her to see how curiously
 
 1 MISSING ' 77 
 
 dependent young Mrs. Sarratt was on Miss Cookson. 
 There was no real sympathy between them ; nor 
 could Miss Martin believe that there was ever much 
 sense of kinship. But whenever there was anything 
 to be done involving any friction with the outside 
 world, Bridget was ready to do it, while Nelly in- 
 variably shrank from it. 
 
 For instance, some rather troublesome legal 
 business connected with Nelly's marriage, and the 
 re-investment of a small sum of money, had descended 
 on the young wife almost immediately after George's 
 departure. She could hardly bring herself to look at 
 the letter. What did it matter ? Let their trustee 
 settle it. To be worrying about it seemed to be some- 
 how taking her mind from George to be breaking 
 in on that imaginative vision of him, and his life in 
 the trenches, which while it tortured her, yet filled 
 the blank of his absence. So Bridget did it all 
 corresponded peremptorily with their rather old and 
 incompetent trustee, got all the signatures necessary 
 out of Nelly, and carried the thing through. Again, 
 on another and smaller occasion, Miss Martin had seen 
 the two sisters confronted with a scandalous over- 
 charge for the carriage of some heavy luggage from 
 Manchester. Nelly was aghast ; but she would have 
 paid the sum demanded like a lamb, if Bridget had 
 not stepped in grappled with carter and railway 
 company, while Nelly looked on, helpless but 
 relieved. 
 
 It was clear that Nelly's inborn wish to be liked, 
 her quivering responsiveness, together with a strong 
 dose of natural indolence, made her hate disagreement 
 or friction of any kind. She was always yielding 
 always ready to give in. But when Bridget in her
 
 78 ' MISSING ' 
 
 harsh aggravating way fought things out and won, 
 Nelly was indeed often made miserable, by the ricochet 
 of the wrath roused by Bridget's methods upon her- 
 self ; but she generally ended, all the same, by realising 
 that Bridget had done her a service which she could 
 not have done for herself. 
 
 Hester Martin frankly thought the sister odious, 
 and pitied the bride for having to live with her. All 
 the same she often found herself wondering how Nelly 
 would ever manage the practical business of life alone, 
 supposing loneliness fell to her at any time. But 
 why should it fall to her ? unless indeed Sarratt 
 were killed in action. If he survived the war he would 
 make her the best of guides and husbands ; she would 
 have children ; and her sweetness, her sensitiveness 
 would stiffen under the impact of life to a serviceable 
 toughness. But meanwhile what could she do poor 
 little Ariadne ! but ' live and be lovely ' sew and 
 knit, and gather sphagnum moss dreaming half 
 her time, and no doubt crying half the night. What 
 dark circles already round the beautiful eyes ! And 
 how transparent were the girl's delicate hands ! Miss 
 Martin felt that she was watching a creature on whom 
 love had been acting with a concentrated and stimu- 
 lating energy, bringing the whole being suddenly and 
 rapidly into flower. And now, what had been only 
 stimulus and warmth had become strain, and, some- 
 times, anguish, or fear. The poor drooping plant 
 could with difficulty maintain itself. 
 
 For the moment however, Nelly, in her vast relief, 
 was ready to talk and think of quite ordinary matters. 
 
 ' Bridget is in a good temper with me to-day ! ' she 
 said presently, looking with a smile at her companion 
 ' because since the telegram came I told her I
 
 ' MISSING ' 79 
 
 would accept Miss Farrell's invitation to go and spend 
 a Sunday with them.' 
 
 ' Well, it might distract you. But you needn't 
 expect to get much out of Cicely ! ' 
 
 The old face lit up with its tolerant, half-sarcastic 
 smile. 
 
 ' I shall be dreadfully afraid of her ! ' said Nelly. 
 
 1 No need to be. William will keep her in order. 
 She is a foolish woman, Cicely, and her own worst 
 enemy, but somehow ' The speaker paused. She 
 was about to say ' somehow I am fond of her ' 
 when she suddenly wondered whether the remark 
 would be true, and stopped herself. 
 
 ' I think she's very very good-looking ' said 
 Nelly, heartily. ' Only, why ' she hesitated, but her 
 half laughing look continued the sentence. 
 ^ ' Why does she blacken her eyebrows, and paint 
 her lips, and powder her cheeks ? Is that what you 
 mean ? ' 
 
 Nelly's look was apologetic. ' She doesn't really 
 want it, does she ? ' she said shyly, as though 
 remembering that she was speaking to a kinswoman 
 of the person discussed. ' She could do so well 
 without it.' 
 
 ' No to be quite candid, I don't think she would 
 look so well without it. That's the worst of it. It 
 seems to suit her to be made up ! though everybody 
 knows it is make-up.' 
 
 ' Of course, if George wanted me to " make up," 
 I should do it at once,' said Nelly, thoughtfully, 
 propping her chin on her hands, and staring at the 
 Lake. ' But he hates it. Is is Miss Farrell ' 
 she looked round ' in love with anybody ? ' 
 
 Miss Martin laughed.
 
 80 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' I'll leave you to find out when you go there. 
 So if your husband liked you to paint and powder, 
 you would do it ? ' 
 
 The older woman looked curiously at her 
 companion. As she sat there, on a rock above the 
 lake, in a grey nurse's dress with a nurse's bonnet 
 tied under her chin, Hester Martin conveyed an 
 impression of rugged and unconscious strength which 
 seemed to fuse her with the crag behind her. She 
 had been gathering sphagnum moss on the fells almost 
 from sunrise that morning ; and by tea-time she was 
 expecting a dozen munition-workers from Barrow, 
 whom she was to house, feed and ' do for,' in her 
 little cottage over the week-end. In the interval, 
 she had climbed the steep path to that white farm 
 where death had just entered, and having mourned 
 with them that mourn, she had come now, as 
 naturally, to rejoice with Nelly Sarratt. 
 
 Nelly considered her question, but not in any 
 doubtfulness of mind. 
 
 ' Indeed, I would,' she said, decidedly. ' Isn't 
 it my duty to make George happy ? ' 
 
 ' What " George " ? If Mr. Sarratt wanted you 
 to paint and powder ' 
 
 ' He wouldn't be the " George " I married ? 
 There's something in that ! ' laughed Nelly. Then 
 she lifted her hand to shade her eyes against the 
 westering sun ' Isn't that Sir William coming ? ' 
 
 She pointed doubtfully to a distant figure walking 
 along the path that skirts the western edge of the 
 lake. Miss Martin put up her glasses. 
 
 ' Certainly. Coming no doubt to give you a 
 lesson. But where are your sketching things ? ' 
 
 Nelly rose in a hurry.
 
 ' MISSING ' 81 
 
 1 I forgot about them when I came out. The 
 telegram '- - She pressed her hands to her eyes, 
 with a long breath. 
 
 ' I'll run back for them. Will you tell him ? ' 
 
 She departed, and Hester awaited her cousin. 
 He came slowly along the lake, his slight lameness 
 just visible in his gait otherwise a splendid figure 
 of a man, with a bare head, bearded and curled, like 
 a Viking in a drawing by William Morris. He carried 
 various artist's gear slung about him, and an alpen- 
 stock. His thoughts were apparently busy, for he 
 came within a few yards of Hester Martin, before he 
 saw her. 
 
 ' Hullo i Hester you here ? I came to get some 
 news of Mrs. Sarratt and her husband. Is he all right ? ' 
 
 Hester repeated the telegram, and added the 
 information that seeing him coming, Mrs. Sarratt had 
 gone in search of her sketching things. 
 
 4 Ah ! I thought if she'd got good news she might 
 like to begin,' said Farrell. ' Poor thing she's lucky ! 
 Our casualties these last few days have been awful, 
 and the gain very small. Men or guns that's our 
 choice just now. And it will be months before we 
 get the guns. So practically, there's no choice. Some- 
 body ought to be hung ! ' 
 
 He sat down frowning. But his face soon cleared, 
 and he began to study the point of view. 
 
 4 Nothing to be made of it but a picture postcard,' 
 he declared. ' However I daresay she'll want to try 
 it. They always do the beginners. The more 
 ambitious and impossible the thing, the better.' 
 
 ' Why don't you teach her ? ' said Hester, severely. 
 
 Farrell laughed. 
 
 4 Why I only want to amuse her, poor little soul ! '
 
 82 ' MISSING ' 
 
 he said, as he put his easel together. ' Why should 
 she take it seriously ? ' 
 
 ' She's more intelligence than you think.' 
 
 ' Has she ? What a pity ! There are so many 
 intelligent people in the world, and so few pretty ones.' 
 
 He spoke with a flippant self-confidence that 
 annoyed his cousin. But she knew very well that she 
 was poorly off in the gifts that were required to scourge 
 him. And there already was the light form of Nelly, 
 on the footbridge over the river. Farrell looked up 
 and saw her coming. 
 
 4 Extraordinary the grace of the little thing ! ' 
 he said, half to himself, half to Hester. ' And she 
 knows nothing about it or seems to.' 
 
 ' Do you imagine that her husband hasn't told 
 her ? ' Hester's tone was mocking. 
 
 Farrell looked up in wonder. 
 
 ' Sarratt ? of course he has so far as he has 
 eyes to see it. But he has no idea how remarkable 
 it is.' 
 
 4 What ? His wife's beauty ? Nonsense ! ' 
 
 4 How could he ? It wants a trained eye,' said 
 Farrell, quite serious. ' Hush ! here she comes.' 
 
 Nelly came up breathlessly, laden with her own 
 paraphernalia. Farrell at once perceived that she was 
 pale and hollow-eyed. But her expression was radiant. 
 
 4 How kind of you to come ! ' she said, looking up 
 at him. ' You know I've had good news splendid 
 news ? ' 
 
 4 I do indeed. I came to ask,' he said gravely. 
 ' He's out of it for a bit ? ' 
 
 4 Yes, for three weeks ! ' 
 
 4 So you can take a rest from worrying ? ' 
 
 She nodded brightly, but she was not yet quite
 
 ' MISSING ' 83 
 
 mistress of her nerves, and her face quivered. He 
 turned away, and began to set his palette, while she 
 seated herself. 
 
 Hester watched the lesson for half an hour, till it 
 was time to go and make ready for her munition- 
 workers. And she watched it with increasing pleasure, 
 and increasing scorn of a certain recurrent uneasiness 
 she had not been able to get rid of. Nothing could 
 have been better than Farrell's manner to Ariadne. 
 It was friendly, chivalrous, respectful all it should 
 be with a note of protection, of unspoken S} r mpathy, 
 which, coming from a man nearly twenty years older 
 than the little lady herself, was both natural and 
 attractive. He made an excellent teacher besides, 
 handling her efforts with a mixture of criticism and 
 praise, which presently roused Nelly's ambition, and 
 kindled her cheeks and eyes. Time flew and when 
 Hester Martin rose to leave them, Nelly cried out in 
 protest ' It can't be five o'clock ! ' 
 
 ' A quarter to just time to get home before my 
 girls arrive ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, and I must go too,' said Nelly regretfully. 
 ' I promised Bridget I would be in for tea. But I was 
 getting on wasn't I ? ' She turned to Farrell. 
 
 ' Swimmingly. But you've only just begun. Next 
 time the sitting must be longer.' 
 
 ' Will you will you come in to tea ? ' she asked 
 him shyly. ' My sister would be very glad.' 
 
 ' Many thanks but I am afraid I can't. I shall 
 be motoring back to Carton to-night. To-morrow is 
 one of my hospital days. I told you how I divided 
 my week, and salved my conscience.' 
 
 He smiled down upon her from his great height, 
 his reddish gold hair and beard blown by the wind,
 
 84 'MISSING' 
 
 and she seemed to realise him as a great, manly, 
 favouring presence, who made her feel at ease. 
 
 Hester Martin had already vanished over the bridge, 
 and Farrell and Nelly strolled back more leisurely 
 towards the lodgings, he carrying her canvas sketching 
 bag. 
 
 On the way she conveyed to him her own and 
 Bridget's acceptance of the Carton invitation. 
 
 ' If Miss Farrell won't mind our clothes or rather 
 our lack of them ! I did mean to have my wedding 
 dress altered into an evening dress but ! 
 
 She lifted her hand and let it fall, in a sad 
 significant gesture which pleased his fastidious eye. 
 
 ' You hadn't even the time or the heart for it ? 
 I should think not ! ' he said warmly. ' Who cares 
 about dress nowadays ? ' 
 
 ' Your sister ! ' thought Nelly but aloud she 
 said 
 
 1 Well then we'll come we'll be delighted to come. 
 May I see the hospital ? ' 
 
 ' Of course. It's like any other hospital.' 
 
 ' Is it very full now ? ' she asked him uneasily, 
 her bright look clouding. 
 
 ' Yes but it ebbs and flows. Sometimes for a 
 day or two all our men depart. Then there is a great 
 rush.' 
 
 ' Are they bad cases ? ' 
 
 There was an unwilling insistence in her voice, as 
 though her mind dealt with images it would gladly have 
 put away, but could not. 
 
 ' A good many of them. They send them us as 
 straight as they can from the front. But the surgeons 
 are wonderfully skilful. It's simply marvellous what 
 they can do.'
 
 'MISSING' 85 
 
 He seemed to see a shiver pass through her slight 
 shoulders, and he changed the subject at once. The 
 Carton motor should come for her and her sister, he 
 said, whenever they liked, the following Saturday 
 afternoon. The run would take about an hour. 
 Meanwhile 
 
 4 Do you want any more books or magazines ? ' he 
 asked her smiling, with the look of one only eager to 
 be told how to serve her. They had paused in the 
 road outside the lodgings. 
 
 ' Oh ! how could we : You sent us such a 
 bundle ! ' cried Nelly gratefully. ' We are always 
 finding something new in it. It makes the evenings 
 so different. We will bring them back when we come.' 
 
 ' Don't hurry. And go on with the drawing. I 
 shall expect to see it a great deal further on next time. 
 It's all right so far.' 
 
 He went his way back, speedily, taking a short 
 cut over Loughrigg to his cottage. His thoughts, 
 as he climbed, were very full of Mrs. Sarratt. But 
 they were the thoughts of an artist of a man who 
 had studied beauty, and the European tradition of 
 beauty, whether in form or landscape, for many years ; 
 who had worked d contre cceur in a Paris studio, and 
 had copied Tintoret fervently in Venice ; who had 
 been a collector of most things, from Tanagra figures 
 to Delia Eobbias. She made an impression upon him 
 in her lightness and grace, her small proportions, her 
 lissomness of outline, very like that of a Tanagra 
 figure. How had she come to spring from Manchester ? 
 What kindred had she with the smoke and grime of 
 a great business city ? He fell into amused specula- 
 tion. Manchester has always possessed colonies of 
 Greek merchants. Somewhere in the past was there
 
 86 ' MISSING ' 
 
 some strain of southern blood which might account 
 for her ? He remembered a beautiful Greek girl at an 
 Oxford Commemoration, when he had last attended 
 that function ; the daughter of a Greek financier 
 settled in London, whose still lovely mother had been 
 drawn and painted interminably by the Burne Jones 
 and William Morris group of artists. She was on a 
 larger scale than Mrs. Sarratt, but the colour of the 
 flesh was the same as though light shone through 
 alabaster and the sweetness of the deep-set eyes. 
 Moreover she had produced much the same effect on 
 the bystander, as of a child of nature, a creature of 
 impulse and passion passion, clinging and self- 
 devoted, not fierce and possessive through all the 
 more superficial suggestions of reticence and self- 
 control. ' This little creature is only at the beginning 
 of her life ' he thought, with a kind of pity for her 
 very softness and exquisiteness. ' What the deuce 
 will she have made of it, by the end ? Why should 
 such beings grow old ? ' 
 
 His interest in her led him gradually to other 
 thoughts partly disagreeable, partly philosophical. 
 He had once and only once found himself involved 
 in a serious love-affair, which, as it had left him a 
 bachelor, had clearly come to no good. It was with 
 a woman much older than himself gifted more or 
 less famous a kind of modern Corinne whom he had 
 met for a month in Eome in his first youth. Corinne 
 had laid siege to him, and he had eagerly, whole- 
 heartedly succumbed. He saw himself, looking back, 
 as the typically befooled and bamboozled mortal ; 
 for Corinne, in the end, had thrown him over for a 
 German professor, who admired her books and had a 
 villa on the Janiculum. During the eighteen years
 
 ' MISSING ' 87 
 
 which had elapsed since their adventure, he had quite 
 made it up with her, and had often called at the 
 Janiculan villa, with its antiques, its window to the 
 view, and the great Judas tree between it and Home. 
 His sense of escape which grew upon him was 
 always tempered by a keen respect for the lady's 
 disinterestedness, and those high ideals which must 
 have led her for what else could ? to prefer the 
 German professor, who had so soon become decrepit, 
 to himself. But the result of it all had been that the 
 period of highest susceptibility and effervescence had 
 passed by, leaving him still unmarried. Since then 
 he had had many women- friends, following harm- 
 lessly a score of ' chance desires ' ! But he had never 
 wanted to marry anybody ; and the idea of surrender- 
 ing the solitude and independence of his pleasant 
 existence had now become distasteful to him. Kenan 
 in some late book speaks of his life as ' cette charmante 
 promenade a travers la realite.' Farrell could have 
 adopted much the same words about his own until 
 the war. The war had made him think a good deal, 
 like Sarratt ; though the thoughts of a much travelled, 
 epicurean man of the world were naturally very 
 different from those of the young soldier. At least 
 ' the surge and thunder ' of the struggle had developed 
 in Farrell a new sensitiveness, a new unrest, as though 
 youth had returned upon him. The easy, drifting 
 days of life before the catastrophe were gone. The 
 ' promenade ' was no longer charming. But the 
 jagged and broken landscape through which it was now 
 taking him, held him often like so many others 
 breathless with strange awes, strange questionings. 
 And all the more, because, owing to his physical 
 infirmity, he must be perforce a watcher, a discon-
 
 88 ' MISSING ' 
 
 tented watcher, rather than an actor, in the great 
 scene. 
 
 That night Nelly, sitting at her open window, 
 with starlight on the lake, and the cluster rose sending 
 its heavy scent into the room wrote to her husband. 
 
 ' My darling it is just a little more than eight 
 hours since I got your telegram. Sometimes it seems 
 like nothing and then like days days of happiness. 
 I was very anxious. But I know I oughtn't to write 
 about that. You say it helps you if I keep cheerfu], 
 and always expect the best and not the worst. Indeed, 
 George, I do keep cheerful. Ask Miss Martin ask 
 Bridget ' 
 
 At this point two splashes fell, luckily not on the 
 letter, but on the blotting paper beside it, and Nelly 
 hastily lifted her handkerchief to dry a pair of 
 swimming eyes. 
 
 ' But he can't see he won't know ! ' she thought, 
 apologising to herself ; yet wrestling at the same time 
 with the sharp temptation to tell him exactly how she 
 had suffered, that he might comfort her. But she 
 repelled it. Her moral sense told her that she ought 
 to be sustaining and strengthening him rather than 
 be hanging upon him the burden of her own fears and 
 agonies. 
 
 She went on bravely 
 
 ' Of course, after the news in the paper this morning, 
 and yesterday I was worried till I heard. I knew 
 at any rate I guessed you must have been in it all. 
 And now you are safe, my own own ! for three whole 
 blessed weeks. Oh, how well I shall sleep all that 
 time and how much work I shall do ! But it won't 
 be all war-work. Sir William Farrell came over
 
 1 MISSING ' 89 
 
 to-day, and showed me how to begin a drawing of the 
 lake. I shall finish it for your birthday, darling. Of 
 course you won't want to be bothered with it out 
 there. I shall keep it till you come. The lake is so 
 beautiful to-night, George. It is warmer again, and 
 the stars are all out. The mountains are so blue and 
 quiet the water so still. But for the owls, everything 
 seems asleep. But they call and call, and the echo 
 goes round the lake. I can just see the island, and 
 the rocks round which the boat drifted that last 
 night. How good you were to me how I loved to 
 sit and look at you, with the light on your dear face 
 and the oars hanging and the shining water 
 
 ' And then I think of where you are and what 
 you have been seeing in that awful fighting. But 
 not for long. I try to put it away. 
 
 ' George, darling ! you know what you said when 
 you went away what you hoped might come to 
 make us both happy and take rny thoughts off the 
 war ? But, dear, it isn't so you. mustn't hope it. 
 I shall be dreadfully sorry if you are disappointed. 
 But you'll only find me your own Nelly not changed 
 a bit when you come back. 
 
 ' I want to hear everything when you write how 
 your men did whether you took any prisoners, 
 whether there was ammunition enough, or w r hether 
 you were short again ? I feel every day that I ought 
 to go and make munitions but somehow I can't. 
 We are going to Carton on Saturday. Bridget is 
 extremely pleased. I rather dread it. But I shall be 
 able to write you a long letter about it on Sunday 
 morning, instead of going to church. There is Kydal 
 chapel striking twelve ! My darling my darling ! 
 good-night.'
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE following Saturday afternoon, at three o'clock, 
 the Carton motor duly arrived at the Eydal cottage 
 door. It was a hot summer day, the mountains 
 colourless and small under their haze of heat, the 
 woods darkening already towards the August 
 monotony, the streams low and shrunken. Lakeland 
 was at the moment when the artists who haunt her 
 would rather not paint her, remembering the subleties 
 of spring, and looking forward to the pageantry of 
 autumn. But for the eye that loves her she has 
 beauties enough at any time, and no blanching heat 
 and dust can spoil the lovely or delicate things that 
 lie waiting in the shade of her climbing oak-woods or 
 on her bare fells, or beside her still lakes. 
 
 Nelly took her seat in the landaulette, with Bridget 
 beside her. Milly and Mrs. Weston admiringly watched 
 their departure from the doorway of the lodgings, and 
 they were soon speeding towards Grasmere and Dun- 
 mail Eaise. Nelly's fresh white dress, aided by the blue 
 coat and shady hat which George had thought so 
 ravishing, became her well ; and she was girlishly 
 and happily aware of it. Her spirits were high, for 
 there in the little handbag on her wrist, lay George's 
 last letter, received that morning, short and hurried, 
 written just to catch the post, on his arrival at the rest 
 camp, thirty miles behind the line. Heart-ache and 
 
 90
 
 ' MISSING ' 91 
 
 fear, if every now and then their black wings brushed 
 her, and far within a nerve quivered, were mostly 
 quite forgotten. Youth, the joy of being loved, the 
 joy of mere living, reclaimed her. 
 
 Bridget beside her, in a dark blue cotton, with a 
 very fashionable hat, looked more than her thirty 
 years, and might almost have been taken for Nelly's 
 mother. She sat erect, her thin straight shoulders 
 carrying her powerful head and determined face ; 
 and she noticed many things that quite escaped her 
 sister : the luxury of the motor for instance ; the 
 details of the Farrell livery worn by the two discharged 
 soldiers who sat in front as chauffeur and footman ; 
 and the evident fact that while small folk must go 
 without servants, the rich seemed to have no difficulty 
 in getting as many as they wanted. 
 
 ' I wonder what this motor cost ? ' she said presently 
 in a speculative tone, as they sped past the turn to 
 Grasmere church and began to ascend the pass leading 
 to Keswick. 
 
 ' Well, we know about don't we ? ' said Nelly 
 vaguely. And she guessed a sum, at which Bridget 
 looked contemptuous. 
 
 ' More than that, my dear ! However of course 
 it doesn't matter to them.' 
 
 ' Don't you think people look at us sometimes, 
 as though we were doing something wrong ? ' said 
 Nelly uneasily. They had just passed two old labourers 
 fine patriarchal fellows who had paused a moment 
 to gaze at the motor and the two ladies. ' I suppose 
 it's because because we look so smart.' 
 
 ' Well, why shouldn't we ? ' 
 
 ' Because it's war time I suppose,' said Nelly 
 slowly ' and perhaps their sons are fighting '
 
 92 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' We're not fighting ! ' 
 
 ' No but .' With a slight frown, Nelly tried 
 
 to express herself. ' It looks as if we were just living 
 as usual, while Oh, you know, Bridget, what people 
 think ! how everybody's trying not to spend money 
 on themselves.' 
 
 ' Are they ? ' Bridget laughed aloud. ' Look at 
 all the dress advertisements in the papers. Why, 
 yesterday, when I was having tea with those people 
 at Windermere, there was a man there telling lots of 
 interesting things. He said he knew some great 
 merchants in the city, who had spent thousands and 
 thousands on furs expensive furs the summer before 
 the war. And they thought they'd all have been left 
 on their hands, that they'd have lost heavily. And 
 instead of that they sold them all, and made a real 
 big profit ! ' 
 
 Bridget turned an almost triumphant look on her 
 sister, as though the coup described had been her own. 
 
 ' Well, it isn't right ! ' said Nelly, passionately. 
 1 It isn't it isn't Bridget ! When the war's costing 
 so much and people are suffering and dying ' 
 
 ' Oh, I know ! ' said Bridget hastily. ' You 
 needn't preach to me my dear child. I only wanted 
 you to look at facts. You're always so incurably 
 sentimental ! ' 
 
 ' I'm not ! ' Nelly protested, helplessly. ' We make 
 the facts. If nobody bought the furs, the facts would 
 be different. George says it's wicked to squander 
 money, and live as if everything were just the same as 
 it used to be. And I agree with him ! ' 
 
 ' Of course you do ! ' laughed Bridget. ' You 
 don't squander money, my dear ! '
 
 1 MISSING ' 93 
 
 ' Only because I haven't got it to spend, you 
 mean ? ' said Nelly, flushing. 
 
 ' No but you should look at things sensibly. 
 The people who are making money are spending it 
 oceans of it ! And the people who have money, like 
 the Farrells, are spending it too. Wait till you see 
 how they live ! ' 
 
 * But there's the hospital ! ' cried Nelly. 
 
 Bridget shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 ' That's because they can afford to give the hospital, 
 and have the motor-cars too. If they had to choose 
 between hospitals and motor-cars ! ' 
 
 ' Lots of people do ! ' 
 
 ' You think Sir William Farrell looks like doing 
 without things ? ' said Bridget, provokingly. Then 
 she checked herself. ' Of course I like Sir William very 
 much. But then I don't see why he shouldn't have 
 motor-cars or any other nice thing he wants.' 
 
 ' That's because you don't think enough you 
 never think enough about the war ! ' said Nelly, 
 insistently. 
 
 Bridget's look darkened. 
 
 ' I would stop the war to-morrow I would make 
 peace to-morrow if I could you know I would. It 
 will destroy us all ruin us all. It's sheer, stark 
 lunacy. There, you know what I think ! ' 
 
 ' I don't see what it's ever cost you, Bridget 1 ' 
 said Nelly, breathing fast. 
 
 ' Oh, well, it's very easy to say that but it isn't 
 argument.' 
 
 Bridget's deep-set penetrating eyes glittered as 
 she turned them on her sister. ' However, for good- 
 ness' sake, don't let's quarrel about it. It's a lovely
 
 94 'MISSING' 
 
 day, and we don't often have a motor like this to 
 drive in ! ' 
 
 The speaker leant back, giving herself up to the 
 sensuous pleasure of the perfectly hung car, and the 
 rapid movement through the summer air. Wythburn 
 and Thirlmere were soon passed ; leaving them just 
 time to notice the wrack and ruin which Manchester 
 has made of the once lovely shore of Thirlmere, where 
 hideous stretches of brown mud, and the ruins of long 
 submerged walls and dwellings, reappear with every 
 dry summer to fling reproach in the face of the 
 destroyer. 
 
 Now they were on the high ground above Keswick ; 
 and to the west and north rose a superb confusion of 
 mountain-forms, peaked and rounded and cragged, 
 with water shining among them, and the silver cloud 
 wreaths looped and threaded through the valleys, 
 leaving the blue or purple tops suspended, high in air, 
 unearthly and alone, to parley with the setting sun. 
 Not yet setting indeed but already flooding the west 
 with a glory in which the further peaks had dis- 
 appeared, burnt away ; a shining holocaust to the 
 Gods of Light and Fire. 
 
 Then a sharp descent, a run through Keswick, 
 another and a tamer lake, a sinking of the mountain 
 forms, and they were nearing the woods of Carton. 
 Both sisters had been silent for some time. Nelly 
 was wrapt in thoughts of George. Would he get 
 leave before Christmas ? Suppose he were wounded 
 slightly just a wound that would send him home, and 
 let her nurse him ? a wound from which he would 
 be sure to get well not too quickly ! She could not 
 make up her mind to wish it to pray for it it seemed 
 like tempting Providence. But how she had envied
 
 ' MISSING ' 95 
 
 a young couple whom she sometimes met walking on 
 the Ambleside road ! a young private of one of the 
 Border regiments, with a bandaged arm, and his 
 sweetheart. Once, with that new freemasonry which 
 the war has brought about, she had stopped to speak 
 to them. The boy had been quite ready to talk about 
 his wound. It had seemed nothing at first just a 
 fragment of shrapnel he had scarcely known he was 
 hit. But abscess after abscess had formed a leading 
 nerve had been injured it might be months before he 
 could use it again. And meanwhile the plain but 
 bright-faced girl beside him was watching over him ; 
 he lodged with her parents as his own were dead ; 
 and they were to be married soon. No chance of his 
 going out again ! The girl's father would give him 
 work in his garage. They had the air of persons 
 escaped from shipwreck and ashamed almost of their 
 own secret happiness, while others were still battling 
 with and sinking in the waves. 
 
 A flowery lodge, a long drive through green stretches 
 of park, with a heather fell for background and then 
 the motor, leaving to one side a huge domed pile with 
 the Union Jack floating above it, ran through a wood, 
 and drew up in front of Carton Cottage, a low building 
 on the steps of which stood Sir William Farrell. 
 
 ' Delighted to see you ! Come in, and let Cicely 
 give you some tea. They'll see to your luggage ! ' 
 
 He led in Nelly, and Bridget followed, glancing 
 from side to side, with an eye shrewdly eager, an eye 
 that took in and appraised all it saw. A cottage 
 indeed ! It had been built by Sir Willam's father, for 
 his only sister, a maiden lady, to whom he was much 
 attached. ' Aunt Sophy ' had insisted on a house to
 
 96 ' MISSING ' 
 
 herself, being a person of some ruggedness and 
 eccentricity of character and averse to any sort of 
 dependence on other people's ways and habits. But 
 she had allowed her brother to build and furnish the 
 cottage for her as lavishly as he pleased, and during 
 his long widowhood she had been of much help to him 
 in the management of the huge household at Carton 
 Hall, and in the bringing up of his two children. After 
 her death, the house had remained empty for some time, 
 till, six months after the outbreak of war, Farrell had 
 handed over the Hall to the War Office, and he and 
 his sister had migrated to the smaller house. 
 
 Bridget was aware, as she followed her sister, of 
 rooms small but numerous opening out on many sides, 
 of long corridors with glistening teak floors, of windows 
 open to a garden ablaze with roses. Sir William led 
 them to what seemed a buzz of voices, and opened 
 a door. 
 
 Cicely Farrell rose languidly from a table 
 surrounded by laughing young men, and advanced 
 to meet the newcomers. Nelly found herself shaking 
 hands with the Captain Marsworth she had seen at 
 Loughrigg Tarn, and being introduced by Sir William 
 to various young officers, some in khaki, visitants from 
 a neighbouring camp, and some from the Hall, in 
 various forms of convalescent undress, grey flannel 
 suits, khaki tunics with flannel ' slacks,' or full khaki, 
 as the wearers pleased. The little lady in white had 
 drawn all the male eyes upon her as she came in, and 
 those who rapidly resumed their talk with Miss Farrell 
 or each other, interrupted by the entrance of the 
 newcomers, were no less aware of her than those who, 
 with Farrell, devoted themselves to supplying the 
 two sisters with tea.
 
 ' MISSING ' 97 
 
 Nelly herself, extremely shy, but sustained some- 
 how by the thought that she must hold her own in 
 this new world, was soon deep in conversation with a 
 charming youth, who owned a long, slightly lantern- 
 jawed face and fair hair, moved on crutches with a 
 slung knee, and took everything including his wound 
 as ' funny.' 
 
 ' Where is your husband ? ' he asked her. ' Sir 
 William thinks he is somewhere near Festubert ? 
 My hat, the Lanchesters have been having a hot time 
 there ! funny, isn't it ? But they'll be moved to an 
 easier job soon. They're always in luck the 
 Lanchesters funny, I call it ? what ? I wouldn't 
 worry if I were you. Your husband's got through 
 this all right mightn't have another such show for 
 ages. These things are awful chancey funny, isn't 
 it ? Oh, my wound ? well, it was just when I was 
 getting over the parados to move back to billets 
 that the brute got me. Funny, wasn't it ? Hullo ! 
 here's a swell ! My hat ! it's General Torr ! ' 
 
 Nelly looked up bewildered to see a group of 
 officers enter the room, headed by a magnificent 
 soldier, with light brown hair, handsome features, 
 and a broad be-ribboned chest. Miss Farrell greeted 
 him and his comrades with her best smiles ; and 
 Nelly observed her closely, as she stood laughing and 
 talking among them. Sir William's sister was in 
 uniform, if it could be called a uniform. She wore a 
 nurse's cap and apron over a pale blue dress of some 
 soft crapey material. The cap was a square of fine 
 lawn, two corners of which were fastened under the 
 chin with a brooch consisting of one large pearl. The 
 open throat showed a single string of fine pearls, and 
 diamonds sparkled in the small ears. Edging the
 
 98 ' MISSING ' 
 
 cap on the temples and cheeks, were little curls a la 
 Henrietta Maria and the apron, also of the finest 
 possible lawn, had a delicately embroidered edge. 
 The lips of the wearer had been artificially reddened, 
 her eyebrows and eyelids had been skilfully pencilled, 
 her cheeks rouged. A more extraordinary specimen 
 of the nursing sisterhood it would have been impossible 
 to find. Nevertheless the result was, beyond gain- 
 saying, both amusing and picturesque. The lad 
 beside Nelly watched Miss Farrell with a broad grin. 
 On the other hand, a lady in a thin black dress and 
 widow's veil, who was sitting near Bridget, turned 
 away after a few minutes' observation of the hostess, 
 and with a curling lip began to turn over a book lying 
 on a table near her. But whether the onlookers 
 admired or disapproved, there could be no question 
 that Miss Farrell held the field. 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear that Mrs. Sarratt has 
 good news of her husband ! ' said Captain Marsworth 
 courteously to Bridget, hardly able to make himself 
 heard however amid the din and laughter of the 
 central group. He too had been watching Cicely 
 Farrell but with a wholly impassive countenance. 
 Bridget made some indifferent answer, and then 
 eagerly asked who the visitors were. She was told 
 that they were officers from a neighbouring camp, 
 including the general commanding the camp. Sir 
 William, said Captain Marsworth, had built the whole 
 camp at his own expense, and on his own land, with- 
 out waiting for any government contractor. 
 
 1 1 suppose he is so enormously rich he can do 
 anything he wants ! ' said Bridget, her face kindling. 
 ' It must be grand never to think what you spend.' 
 
 Captain Marsworth was a trifle taken aback by
 
 ' MISSING ' 99 
 
 the remark, as Sir William was barely a couple of 
 yards away. 
 
 ' Yes, I daresay it's convenient,' he said, lightly. 
 ' And what do you find to do with yourself at 
 Eydal ? ' 
 
 Bridget informed him briefly that she was correcting 
 some proof-sheets for a friend, and would then have 
 an index to make. 
 
 Captain Marsworth looked at her curiously. 
 
 ' May one ask what the book is ? ' 
 
 ' It's something new about psychology,' said 
 Bridget, calmly. ' It's going to be a great deal talked 
 about. My friend's awfully clever.' 
 
 ' Ah ! Doesn't she find it a little difficult to 
 think about psychology just now ? ' 
 
 ' Why should she ? Somebody's got to think about 
 psychology,' was the sharp reply. ' You can't let 
 everything go, because there's a war.' 
 
 ' I see ! You remind me of a man I know, who's 
 translating Dante. He's just over military age, and 
 there he sits in a Devonshire valley, with a pile of books. 
 I happen to know a particular department in a public 
 office that's a bit hustled for want of men, and I 
 suggested that he should lend a hand. He said it 
 was his business to keep culture going ! ' 
 
 ' Well ? ' said Bridget. 
 
 The challenging obstinacy of her look daunted 
 him. He laughed. 
 
 ' You think it natural and right to take the 
 war like that ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I don't see who's got a right to interfere 
 with you if you do,' she said, stiffly. Then, however, 
 it occurred even to her obtuse and self-centred per- 
 ception, that she was saying something unexpected
 
 100 ' MISSING ' 
 
 and distasteful to a man who was clearly a great 
 friend of the Farrells, and therefore a member of the 
 world she envied. So she changed the subject. 
 
 ' Does Miss Farrell ever do any real nursing ? ' she 
 asked abruptly. 
 
 Captain Marsworth's look became, in a moment, 
 reserved and cold. ' She's always ready to do any- 
 thing for any of us ! ' 
 
 Then the speaker rose. ' I see Sir William's 
 preparing to take your sister into the gardens. You 
 certainly ought to see them. They're very famous. 1 
 
 The party itreamed out into the paths leading 
 through a wood, and past a series of water-lily pools 
 to the walled gardens. Sir William walked in front 
 with Nelly. 
 
 ' My brother's new craze ! ' said Cicely in the ear 
 of the General beside her, who being of heroic propor- 
 tions had to stoop some way to hear the remark. He 
 followed the direction of her eyes. 
 
 ' What, that little woman ? A vision ! Is it 
 only looks, or is there something besides ? ' 
 
 Cicely shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 1 1 don't know. I haven't found out. The sister's 
 plain, disagreeable, and stupid.' 
 
 ' She looks rather clever.' 
 
 ' Doesn't that show she's stupid ? Nobody ought 
 to look clever. Do you admire Mrs. Sarratt ? ' 
 
 ' Can one help it ? Or are you going also to 
 maintain,' laughed the general, ' that no one can be 
 beautiful who looks it ? ' 
 
 ' One could maintain it easily. The best kind of 
 beauty has always to be discovered. What do you 
 think, Captain Marsworth ? '
 
 ' MISSING ' 101 
 
 She turned provokingly to the soldier on her 
 left hand. 
 
 ' About beauty ? ' He looked up listlessly. ' I've 
 no idea. The day's too hot.' 
 
 Cicely eyed him. 
 
 ' You're tired ! ' she said peremptorily. ' You've 
 been doing too much. You ought to go and rest.' 
 
 He smiled, and standing back he let them pass 
 him. Turning into a side path he disappeared towards 
 the hospital. 
 
 ' Poor old fellow ! he still looks very delicate,' said 
 the General. ' How is he really getting on ? ' 
 
 ' The arm's improving. He's having massage and 
 electricity. Sometimes he seems perfectly well,' said 
 Cicely. An oddly defiant note had crept into the 
 last sentence. 
 
 ' He looks down out of spirits. Didn't he lose 
 nearly all his friends at Neuve Chapelle ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, some of his best friends.' 
 
 ' And half the battalion ! He always caied 
 enormously about his men. He and I, you know, 
 fought in South Africa together. Of course then he 
 was just a young subaltern. He's a splendid chap ! 
 I'm afraid he won't get to the front again. But of 
 course they'll find him something at home. He ought 
 to marry get a wife to look after him. By the way, 
 somebody told me there was some talk about him and 
 the daughter of the rector here. A nice little girl. 
 Do you know her ? ' 
 
 ' Miss Stewart ? Yes.' 
 
 ' What do you think of her ? ' 
 
 ' A little nincompoop. Quite harmless ! ' 
 
 The handsome hero smiled unseen by his 
 companion.
 
 102 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Meanwhile Farrell was walking with Nelly through 
 the stately series of walled gardens, which his grand- 
 father had planned and carried out, mainly it seemed 
 for the boredom of the grandson. 
 
 1 What do we want with all these things now ? ' 
 he said, waving an impatient hand, as he and Nelly 
 stood at the top flight of steps looking down upon the 
 three gardens sloping to the south, with their fragments 
 of statuary, and old leaden statuettes, ranged along 
 the central walks. ' They're all out of date. They 
 were before the war ; and the war has given them the 
 coup de grace. No more big estates no more huge 
 country houses ! My grandfather built and built, 
 for the sake of building, and I pay for his folly. After 
 the war ! what sort of a world shall we tumble 
 into ! ' 
 
 ' I don't want these gardens destroyed ! ' said 
 Nelly, looking up at him. ' No one ought to spoil 
 them. They're far too beautiful ! ' 
 
 She was beginning to speak with more freedom, 
 to be less afraid of him. The gap between her small 
 provincial experience and modes of thought, and his, 
 was narrowing. Each was beginning to discover the 
 inner personality of the other. And the more Farrell 
 explored her the more charmed he was. She was 
 curiously ignorant, whether of books or life. Even 
 the busy commercial life amid which she had been 
 brought up, as it seemed to him, she had observed 
 but little. When he asked her questions about 
 Manchester, she was generally vague or puzzled. He 
 saw that she was naturally romantic ; and her passion 
 for the absent Sarratt, together with her gnawing 
 anxiety about him which could not be concealed, made 
 her, again, very touching in the eyes of a man of
 
 ' MISSING ' 103 
 
 imagination whose feelings were quick and soft. Ho 
 walked about with her for more than an hour, dis- 
 coursing ironically on the Grecian temples, the rustic 
 bridges and pools and fountains, now in imitation of 
 the older Versailles and now of the Trianon, with which 
 his grandfather had burdened his descendants ; so 
 that the glorious evening, as it descended, presently 
 became a merry duel between him and her, she defend- 
 ing and admiring his own possessions, and he attacking 
 them. Her eyes sparkled, and a bright red a natural 
 red came back into her pale cheeks. She spoke 
 and moved with an evident exhilaration, as though 
 she realised her own developing powers, and was 
 astonished by her own readiness of speech, and the 
 sheer pleasure of talk. And something, no doubt, 
 entered in of the new scene ; its scale and magnificence, 
 so different from anything she had yet known ; its 
 suggestion of a tradition reaching back through many 
 generations, and of a series of lives relieved from all 
 vulgar necessities, playing as they pleased with art 
 and money, with water and wood. 
 
 At the same time she was never merely dazzled ; 
 and never, for one moment, covetous or envious. 
 He was struck with her simple dignity, and inde- 
 pendence ; and he perfectly understood that a being 
 so profoundly in love, and so overshadowed by a great 
 fear, could only lend, so to speak, her outer mind to 
 Carton or the persons in it. He gathered roses for her, 
 and did his utmost to please her. But she seemed to 
 him all the time like a little hovering elf smiling and 
 gay but quite intangible. 
 
 Dinner in the c cottage ' was short, but in Bridget's 
 eyes perfect. Personally, she was not enjoying her-
 
 104 ' MISSING ' 
 
 self very much, for she had made up her mind that she 
 did not get on with military men, and that it was their 
 fault, not hers : so that she sat often silent, a fact, 
 however, unnoticed in the general clatter of the table. 
 She took it quite calmly, and was more than 
 compensated for the lack of conversation by the whole 
 spectacle of the Farrell wealth ; the flowers, the silver, 
 the costly accessories of all kinds, which even in war- 
 time, and in a ' cottage,' seemed to be indispensable. 
 It would have been more amusing, no doubt, if it had 
 been the big house and not the cottage. Sometimes 
 through the open windows and the trees she caught 
 sight of the great lighted pile a little way off, and found 
 herself dreaming of what it would be to live there, and 
 to command all that these people commanded. She 
 saw herself sweeping through the magnificent rooms, 
 giving orders, inviting guests, entertaining royalty, 
 driving about the country in splendid motors. It 
 was a waking dream, and though she never uttered a 
 word, the animation of her thoughts infused a similar 
 animation into her aspect, and made her almost un- 
 conscious of her neighbours. Captain Marsworth made 
 several attempts to win her attention before she heard 
 him. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 She turned at last an absent glance upon him. 
 
 ' Miss Farrell talks of our all going over to the 
 hospital after dinner. She and Sir William often 
 spend the evening there,' said Captain Marsworth, 
 quite aware from Miss Farrell's frequent glances in 
 his direction that he was not in her opinion doing his 
 duty with Miss Cookson. 
 
 ' Will it take us long ? ' said Bridget, the vivacity 
 of her look dying away.
 
 ' MISSING ' 105 
 
 4 As long as you please to stay ! ' laughed the 
 Captain, drily. 
 
 That passage after dinner through the convalescent 
 wards of the finely equipped hospital was to Nelly 
 Sarratt an almost intolerable experience. She went 
 bravely through it, leaving, wherever she talked to 
 a convalescent, an impression of shy sweetness behind 
 her, which made a good many eyes follow her as 
 Farrell led her through the rooms. But she was thank- 
 f il when it was over ; and w T hen, at last, she was 
 alone in her room for the night, she flew for consola- 
 tion to the drawer in which she had locked her writing- 
 desk, and the letters she had received that morning. 
 The post had just arrived as they were leaving Rydal, 
 and she had hastily torn open a letter from George, 
 and thrust the others into a large empty envelope. 
 And now she discovered among them to her delight 
 a second letter from George, unopened. What unex- 
 pected joy ! 
 
 It too was dated ' Somewhere in France ' and 
 had been written two days after the letter she had 
 opened in the morning. 
 
 4 My darling we're having a real jolly time here 
 in an old village, far behind the line, and it is said 
 we shall be here for three whole weeks. Well, some of 
 us really wanted it, for the battalion has been in some 
 very hot fighting lately, and has had a nasty bit of the 
 line to look after for a long time with nothing very 
 much to show for it. My platoon has lost some of its 
 best men, and I've been pretty badly hit, as some of 
 them were real chums of mine the bravest and dearest 
 fellows. And I don't know why, but for the first time, 
 I've been feeling rather jumpy and run down. So I
 
 106 ' MISSING ' 
 
 went to a doctor, and he told me I'd better go off duty 
 for a fortnight. But just then, luckily, the whole 
 battalion was ordered, as I told you a week ago, into 
 what's called " divisional rest," so here we are for 
 three weeks ! Quite good billets an old French farm 
 with two good barns and lots of straw for the men, 
 and an actual bedroom for me and a real bed with 
 sheets ! Think of that ! I am as comfortable as possible. 
 Just at first I'm going to stay in bed for a couple of 
 days to please the doctor but then I shall be all right, 
 and shall probably take a course of gymnastics they're 
 starting here odd, isn't it ? like putting us to school 
 again ! so that I may be quite fit before going back 
 to the front. 
 
 ' One might almost forget the war here, if it weren't 
 for the rumble of the guns which hardly ever ceases. 
 They are about thirty-five miles away. The whole 
 country is quite peaceful, and the crops coming on 
 splendidly. The farm produces delicious brown eggs, 
 and you should see and taste the omelets the 
 farmer's wife makes ! Coffee too first-rate ! How these 
 French women work ! Our men are always helping 
 them, and the children hang round our Tommies like 
 flies. 
 
 ' These two days in bed are a godsend, for I can 
 read all your letters through again. There they are 
 spread out on my sheet ! By Jove, little woman, you've 
 treated me jolly well ! And now I can pay you back a 
 little. But perhaps you won't mind, dearest, if I don't 
 write anything very long, for I expect I ought to take 
 it easy for a bit I can't think why I should have 
 felt so slack. I never knew anything about nerves 
 before. But the doctor has been very nice and under- 
 standing a real, decent fellow. He declares I shall
 
 ' MISSING ' 107 
 
 be as fit as a fiddle, long before the three weeks are 
 done. 
 
 ' My bedroom door is open, and some jolly yellow 
 chickens are wandering in and out. And sometimes 
 the farmer's youngest a nice little chap of eight 
 comes to look at me. I teach him English or I try 
 but when I say the English words, he just doubles up 
 with laughing and runs away. Nelly, my precious 
 if I shut my eyes I can fancy your little head there 
 just inside the door and your eyes looking at me ! 
 . . . May the Lord give us good luck and may we 
 all be home by Christmas ! Mind you finish that 
 sketch ! ' 
 
 She put the letter down with a rather tremulous 
 hand. It had depressed her, and made her anxious. 
 She read in it that George had been through horrible 
 things and had suffered. 
 
 Then all that she had seen in the hospital came 
 back upon her, and rising restlessly she threw herself, 
 without undressing, face downwards on her bed. That 
 o fiicer, blanched to the colour of white wax, who had 
 lost a leg after frightful haemorrhage ; that other, the 
 merest boy, whose right eye had been excised she 
 could not get them out of her mind, nor the stories 
 they had told her of the actions in which they had 
 been wounded. 
 
 ' George George ! ' It was a moan of misery, 
 stifled in the darkness. 
 
 Then, suddenly, she remembered she had not said 
 good-night to Bridget. She had forgotten Bridget. 
 She had been unkind. She got up, and sped along the 
 passage to Bridget's room. 
 
 ' Bridget ! ' She just opened the door. ' May I 
 come in ? '
 
 108 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Come in/ 
 
 Bridget was already in bed. In her hands was a 
 cup of steaming chocolate which a maid had just 
 brought her, and she was lingering over it with a face 
 of content. 
 
 Nelly opened her eyes in astonishment. 
 
 ' Did you ask for it, Bridget ? ' 
 
 ' I did or rather the housemaid asked me what I 
 would have. She said " ladies have just what they 
 like in their rooms." So I asked for chocolate.' 
 
 Nelly sat down on the bed. 
 
 1 Is it good ? ' 
 
 ' Excellent/ said Bridget calmly. ' Whatever did 
 you expect ? ' 
 
 1 We seem to have been eating ever since we came ! ' 
 said Nelly frowning, ' and they call it economising ! ' 
 
 Bridget threw back her head with a quiet laugh. 
 
 ' Didn't I tell you so ? ' 
 
 ' I wondered how you got on at dinner ? ' said 
 Nelly hesitating. ' Captain Marsworth didn't seem 
 to be taking much trouble ? ' 
 
 ' It didn't matter to me/ said Bridget. ' That 
 kind of man always behaves like that.' 
 
 Nelly flushed. 
 
 ' You mean soldiers behave like that ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I don't like soldiers brothers-in-law 
 excepted, of course.' And Bridget gave her short, 
 rather harsh laugh. 
 
 Nelly got up. 
 
 ' Well, I shall be ready to go as early as you like 
 on Monday, Bridget. It was awfully good of you to 
 pack all my things so nicely ! ' 
 
 ' Don't I always ? ' Bridget laughed. 
 
 ' You do you do indeed. Good-night.'
 
 < MISSING ' 109 
 
 She touched Bridget's cheek with her lips and stole 
 away. 
 
 Bridget was left to think. There was a dim light 
 in the room showing the fine inlaid furniture, the 
 flowery paper, the chintz-covered arm-chairs and 
 sofa, and, through an open door, part of the tiled wall 
 of the bathroom. 
 
 Miss Cookson had never slept in such a room before, 
 and every item in it pleased a starved sense in her. 
 Poverty was hateful \ Could one never escape it ? 
 
 Then she closed her eyes, and seemed to be watching 
 Sir William and Nelly in the gardens, his protecting 
 eager air her face looking up. Of course she might 
 have married him with the greatest ease ! if only 
 George Sarratt had not been in the way. 
 
 But supposing 
 
 All the talk that evening had been of a new ' push ' 
 a new and steady offensive, as soon as the shell 
 supply was better. George would be in that ' push.' 
 Nobody expected it for another month. By that time 
 he would be back at the front. She lay and thought, 
 her eyes closed, her harsh face growing a little white 
 and pinched under the electric lamp beside her. 
 Potentially, her thoughts were murderous. The wish 
 that George might not return formed itself clearly, for 
 the first time, in her mind. Dreams followed, as to 
 consequences both for Nelly and herself, supposing lie 
 did not return. And in the midst of them she fell 
 asleep.
 
 CHAPTEE VII 
 
 AUGUST came, the second August of the war. The 
 heart of England was sad and sick, torn by the losses 
 at Gallipoli, by the great disaster of the Eussian 
 retreat, by the shortage of munitions, by the endless 
 small fighting on the British front, which eat away the 
 young life of our race, week by week, and brought us 
 no further. But the spirit of the nation was rising 
 and its grim task was becoming nakedly visible at last. 
 Guns men ! Nothing else to say nothing else to do. 
 
 George Sarratt's battalion returned to the fighting 
 line somewhere about the middle of August. ' But 
 we are only marking time,' he wrote to his wife. 
 ' Nothing doing here, though the casualties go on 
 every day. However we all know in our bones there 
 will be plenty to do soon. As for me I am more or 
 less all right again/ 
 
 Indeed, as September wore on, expectation 
 quickened on both sides of the Channel. Nelly went in 
 fear of she knew not what. The newspapers said little, 
 but through Carton and the Farrells, she heard a 
 great deal of military gossip. The shell supply was 
 improving the new Ministry of Munitions beginning 
 to tell a great blow was impending. 
 
 Weeks of rain and storm died down into an autumnal 
 gentleness. The bracken was turning on the hills, the 
 woods beginning to dress for the pageant of October. 
 
 no
 
 'MISSING' 111 
 
 The sketching lessons which the usual August deluge 
 had interrupted were to begin again, as soon as Farrell 
 came home. He had been in France for a fortnight, 
 at Etaples, and in Paris, studying new methods and 
 appliances for the benefit of the hospital. But whether 
 he was at home or no, the benefactions of Carton never 
 ceased. Almost every other day a motor from the 
 Hall drove up laden with fruit and flowers, with books 
 and magazines. 
 
 The fourth week of September opened. The 
 rumours of coming events crept more heavily and 
 insistently than ever through a sudden spell of heat 
 that hung over the Lakes. Nelly Sarratt slept little, 
 and wrote every day to her George, letters of which 
 long sections were often destroyed when written, con- 
 demned for lack of cheerfulness. 
 
 She was much touched by Farrell's constant 
 kindness, and grateful for it j especially because it 
 seemed to keep Bridget in a good temper. She was 
 grateful too for the visitors whom a hint from him 
 would send on fine afternoons to call on the ladies at 
 Rydal convalescent officers, to whom the drive from 
 Carton, and tea with ' the pretty Mrs. Sarratt ' were 
 an attraction, while Nelly would hang breathless on 
 their gossip of the war, until suddenly, perhaps, she 
 would turn white and silent, lying back in her garden 
 chair with the look which the men talking to her 
 brave, kind-hearted fellows soon learnt to under- 
 stand. Marsworth came occasionally, and Nelly grew 
 to like him sincerely, and to be vaguely sorry for him, 
 she hardly knew why. Cicely Farrell apparently forgot 
 them entirely. And in August and the first part of 
 September she too, according to Captain Marsworth's 
 information, had been away, paying visits.
 
 112 ' MISSING ' 
 
 On the morning of September 26th, the Manchester 
 papers which reached the cottage with the post 
 contained columns of telegrams describing the British 
 attack at Loos, and the French ' push ' in Champagne. 
 Among the letters was a short word from Sarratt, dated 
 the 24th. ' We shall probably be in action to-morrow, 
 dearest. I will wire as soon as I can, but you must 
 not be anxious if there is delay. As far as I can judge 
 it will be a big thing. You may be sure I shall take 
 all the precautions possible. God bless you, darling. 
 Your letters are everything.' 
 
 Nelly read the letter and the newspaper, her hands 
 trembling as she held it. At breakfast, Bridget eyed 
 her uncomfortably. 
 
 ' He'll be all right ! ' she said with harsh decision. 
 ' Don't fret.' 
 
 The day passed, with heavy heat mists over the 
 Lake, the fells and the woods blotted out. On pretence 
 of sketching, Nelly spent the hours on the side of 
 Loughrigg, trying sometimes to draw or sew, but for 
 the most part, lying with shut eyes, hidden among 
 the bracken. Her faculty for dreaming awake for 
 a kind of visualisation sharper than most people 
 possess had been much developed since George's 
 departure. It partly tormented, partly soothed her. 
 
 Night came without news. ' I can't hear till to- 
 morrow night,' she thought, and lay still all night 
 patient and sleepless, her little hands crossed on her 
 breast. The window was wide open and she could see 
 the stars peering over Loughrigg. 
 
 Next morning, fresh columns in the newspaper. 
 The action was still going on. She must wait. And 
 somehow it was easier to wait this second day ; she 
 felt more cheerful. Was there some secret voice
 
 'MISSING' 118 
 
 telling her that if he were dead, she would have 
 heard ? 
 
 After lunch she set out to take some of the Carton 
 flowers to the farmer's wife living in a fold of the fell, 
 who had lost her only son in the July fighting. Hester 
 Martin had guided her there one day, and some fellow- 
 feeling had established itself rapidly between Nelly, 
 and the sad, dignified woman, whose duties went on 
 as usual while all that gave them zest had departed. 
 
 The distance was short, and she left exact word 
 where she could be found. As she climbed the narrow 
 lane leading to the farm, she presently heard a motor 
 approaching. The walls enclosing the lane left 
 barely room to pass. She could only scramble 
 hurriedly up a rock which had been built into the wall, 
 and hold on to a young tree growing from it. The 
 motor which was large and luxurious passed slowly, and 
 in the car she saw two young men, one pale and sickly- 
 looking, wrapped in a great-coat though the day was 
 stuffily warm : the other, the driver, a tall and stalwart 
 fellow, who threw Nelly a cold, unfriendly look as they 
 went by. Who could they be ? The road only led 
 to the farm, and when Nelly had last visited Mrs. 
 Grayson, a week before, she and her old husband and 
 a granddaughter of fourteen had been its only inmates. 
 Mrs. Grayson received her with a smile. 
 1 Aye, aye, Mrs. Sarratt, coom in. Yo're welcome.' 
 But as Nelly entered the flagged kitchen, with its 
 joints of bacon and its bunches of dried herbs, hanging 
 from the low beamed ceiling, its wide hob grate, its 
 dresser, table and chairs of old Westmorland oak, 
 every article in it shining with elbow-grease, she 
 saw that Mrs. Grayson looked particularly tired and 
 pale.
 
 114 'MISSING' 
 
 ' Yo mun ha' passed them in t' lane ? ' said the 
 farmer's wife wearily, when the flowers had been 
 admired and put in water, and Nelly had been estab- 
 lished in the farmer's own chair by the fire, while his 
 wife insisted on getting an early cup of tea. 
 
 ' Who were they, Mrs. Gray son ? ' 
 
 ' Well, they're nobbut a queer soart, Mrs. Sarratt 
 and I'd be glad to see t' back on 'em. They're " con- 
 scientious objectors " that's what they are an my 
 husband coom across them in Kendal toother day. 
 He'd finished wi t' market, and he strolled into the 
 room at the Town Hall, where the men were coomin 
 in yo know to sign on for the war. An' he got 
 talkin' wi' these two lads, who were lookin' on as he 
 was. And they said they was " conscientious objec- 
 tors " and wouldn't fight not for nothing nor nobody. 
 But they wouldn't mind doing their bit in other ways, 
 they said. So John he upped and said would they 
 coom and help him with his second crop o' hay you 
 know we've lost nearly all our men, Mrs. Sarratt and 
 they said they would and that very evening he 
 brought 'em along. And who do you think they are ? ' 
 
 Nelly could not guess ; and Mrs. Grayson explained 
 that the two young men were the wealthy sons of a 
 wealthy Liverpool tradesman and were starting a 
 branch of their father's business in Kendal. They had 
 each of them a motor, and apparently unlimited 
 money. They had just begun to be useful in the hay- 
 making ' But they wouldn't touch the stock they 
 wouldn't kill nothing not a rat ! They wouldn't 
 even shoo the birds from the oats ! And last night one 
 of them was took ill and I must go and sit up with 
 him, while his brother fetched the big car from Kendal 
 to take him home. And there was he, groaning
 
 'MISSING' 115 
 
 nobbut a bit; of colic, Mrs. Sarratt, that anybody might 
 have ! and there I set thinking of our lads in the 
 trenches thinking of my boy that never grumbled 
 at anything and would ha' been just ashamed to 
 make such a fuss for such a little. And this afternoon 
 the brother's taken him away to be molly-coddled at 
 home. And, of course, they've left us, just when 
 they might ha' been o' soom real service. There's 
 three fields still liggin oot in t' wet and nobody to 
 lend a hand wi' them. But I doan't want them back ! 
 I doan't hold wi' foak like that. I doan't want 
 to see a mon like that settin' where my boy used to 
 set, when he came home. It goes agin me. I can't 
 soomhow put up wi' it.' 
 
 And as she sat there opposite Nelly, her gnarled and 
 work-stained hands resting on her knees, the tears 
 suddenly ran over her cheeks. But she quickly 
 apologised for herself. ' The truth is I am run doon, 
 Mrs. Sarratt. I've done nothing but cook and cook 
 since these young men coom along. They wouldn't 
 eat noa flesh soa I must always be cookin' summat 
 vegetables or fish or sweet things. I'm fair tired 
 oot!' 
 
 Nelly exclaimed indignantly. 
 
 ' Was it their religion made them behave like 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' Keligion ! ' Mrs. Grayson laughed. ' Well, they 
 was only the yan Sunday here but they took no 
 account o't, whativer. They went motorin' all day, 
 an niver set foot in church or chapel. They belong to 
 soom Society or other I couldna tell what. But 
 we'll not talk o' them ony more, Mrs. Sarratt, if yo 
 please. I'm just thankful they're gone. ... An 
 have ye heard this day of Mr. Sarratt ? '
 
 116 'MISSING' 
 
 The gentle ageing face bent forward tenderly. 
 Nelly lifted her own dark-rimmed eyes to it. Her 
 mouth quivered. 
 
 ' No, not yet, Mrs. Grayson. But I shall soon. 
 You'll have seen about this fighting in the newspapers ? 
 There's been a great battle I think he'll have been 
 in it. I shall hear to-night. I shall be sure to hear 
 to-night.' 
 
 ' The Lord protect him ! ' said Mrs. Grayson softly. 
 They both sat silent, looking into the fire. Through 
 the open door, the hens could be heard pecking and 
 clucking in the yard, and the rushing of a beck swollen 
 by the rain, on the fell side. Presently the farmer's 
 wife looked up 
 
 ' It's devil's work, is war ! ' she said, her eyes 
 blazing. Nelly held out her hand and Mrs. Grayson 
 put hers into it. The two women looked at each 
 other, the one who had lost, and the other who 
 feared to lose. 
 
 ' Yes, it's awful,' said Nelly, in a low voice. ' They 
 want us to be brave but ' 
 
 Mrs. Grayson shook her head again. 
 
 ' We can do it when they're settin there afore 
 us,' she said, ' but not when we're by our lone.' 
 
 Nelly nodded. 
 
 ' It's the nights that are worst ' she murmured, 
 under her breath ' because it's then they're fighting 
 when we're in bed sleeping.' 
 
 ' My boy was killed between one and two in the 
 morning ' whispered Mrs. Grayson. ' I heard from 
 one of his friends this morning. He says it was a 
 lovely night, and the daylight just comin' up. I 
 think of it when I'm layin' awake and hearing the 
 birds beginning.'
 
 'MISSING' 117 
 
 There was silence again, till Mrs. Grayson said, 
 suddenly, with a strange passion : 
 
 ' But I'd rather be Jim's mother, and be settin' 
 here without him, than I'd be the mother o' yan of 
 them young fellows as is just gone ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Nelly slowly ' yes. If we think too 
 much about keeping them safe just for ourselves 
 they despise they would despise us. And if anyone 
 hangs back, we despise them. It's a horrible puzzle.' 
 
 ' We can pray for them,' said Mrs. Grayson simply. 
 ' God can keep them safe if it's His will.' 
 
 * Yes ' said Nelly again. But her tone was flat 
 and hesitating. Her ever-present fear was very little 
 comforted by prayer. But she found comfort in Mrs. 
 Grayson. She liked to stay on in the old kitchen, 
 watching Mrs. Grayson's household ways, making 
 friends with the stolid tabby cat, or listening to stories 
 of Jim as a child. Sometimes she would read parts of 
 George's letters to this new friend. Bridget never 
 cared to hear them ; and she was more completely at 
 ease with the farmer's wife even than with Hester 
 Martin. 
 
 But she could not linger this afternoon. Her news 
 might come any time. And Sir William had telephoned 
 that morning to say that he and his sister would call 
 on their way from Windermere, and would ask for a 
 cup of tea. Marsworth would probably meet them at 
 Kydal. 
 
 As she descended the lane, she scolded herself for 
 ingratitude. She was glad the Farrells were coming, 
 because they would bring newspapers, and perhaps 
 information besides, of the kind that does not get 
 into newspapers. But otherwise why had she so 
 little pleasure now in the prospect of a visit from
 
 118 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Sir William Farrell ? He had never forced himself 
 upon them. Neither his visits nor his lessons had 
 been oppressively frequent, while the kindnesses 
 which he had showered upon them, from a distance, 
 had been unceasing. She could hardly have explained 
 her disinclination. Was it that his company had 
 grown so stimulating and interesting to her, that it 
 made her think too much of other things than the war ? 
 and so it seemed to separate her from George ? 
 Her own quiet occupations the needlework and 
 knitting that she did for a neighbouring war work- 
 room, the gathering and drying of the sphagnum moss, 
 the visiting of a few convalescent soldiers, a daily 
 portion of Wordsworth, and some books about him 
 these things were within her compass ; George knew 
 all about them, for she chronicled them in her letters 
 day by day. She had a happy peaceful sense of com- 
 munion with him while she was busy with them. But 
 Farrell's restless mind and wide culture at once tired 
 and fascinated her. He would often bring a volume 
 of Shelley, or Pater, or Hardy, or some quite modern 
 poet, in his pocket, and propose to read to her and 
 Bridget, when the sketching was done. And as he 
 read, he would digress into talk, the careless audacity 
 of which would sometimes distress or repel, and some- 
 times absorb her ; till suddenly, perhaps, she realised 
 how far she was wandering from that common ground 
 where she and George had moved together, and would 
 try and find her way back to it. She was always 
 learning some new thing ; and she hated to learn, 
 unless George changed and learnt with her. 
 
 Meanwhile Captain Marsworth was walking along 
 the road from Grasmere to Bydal with a rather
 
 'MISSING' 119 
 
 listless step. As a soldier he was by no means satisfied 
 with the news of the week. We ought to have been 
 in Lille and weren't. It seemed to him that was about 
 what the Loos action came to ; and his spirits were 
 low. In addition he was in one of those fits of depres- 
 sion which attack an able man who has temporarily 
 come to a stand-still in life, when his physical state is 
 not buoyant enough to enable him to fight them off. He 
 was beginning plainly to see that his own part in the 
 war was done. His shattered arm, together with 
 the neuralgic condition which had followed on the 
 wound, were not going to mend sufficiently within 
 any reasonable time to let him return to the fighting 
 line, where, at the moment of his wound, he was doing 
 divisional staff work, and was in the way of early 
 promotion. He was a man of clear and vigorous mind, 
 inclined always to take a pessimistic view of himself 
 and his surroundings, and very critical also of persons 
 in authority ; a scientific soldier, besides, indulging 
 a strong natural contempt for the politicians and all 
 their crew, only surpassed by a similar scorn of news- 
 papers and the press. He had never been popular as 
 a subaltern, but since he had conquered his place among 
 the ' brains ' of the army, his fame had spread, and 
 it was freely prophesied that his rise would be rapid. 
 So that his growing conviction that his active 
 military career was over had been the recent cause 
 in him of much bitterness of soul. It was a bitter 
 realisation, and a recent one. He had been wounded 
 at Neuve Chapelle in March, and up to July he had 
 been confident of complete and rapid recovery. 
 
 Well, there was of course some compensation. A 
 post in the War Office in the Intelligence Department 
 would, he understood, be offered him ; and by
 
 120 ' MISSING ' 
 
 October he meant to be at work. Meanwhile an old 
 school and college friendship between himself and 
 ' Bill Farrell,' together with the special facilities at 
 Carton for the treatment of neuralgia after wounds, 
 had made him an inmate for several months of the 
 special wing devoted to such cases in the splendid 
 hospital ; though lately by way of a change of 
 surroundings, he had been lodging with the old Eector 
 of the village of Carton, whose house was kept and 
 well kept by a sweet-looking and practical grand- 
 daughter, herself an orphan. 
 
 Marsworth had connections in high quarters, and 
 possessed some considerable means. He had been a 
 frequenter of the Parrells since the days when the old 
 aunt was still in command, and Cicely was a young 
 thing going to her first dances. He and she had sparred 
 and quarrelled as boy and girl. Now that, after a long 
 interval, they had again been thrown into close contact, 
 they sparred and quarrelled still. He was a man of 
 high and rather stern ideals, which had perhaps been 
 intensified made a little grimmer and fiercer than 
 before by the strain of the war ; and the selfish 
 frivolity of certain persons and classes in face of the 
 national ordeal was not the least atoned for in his eyes 
 by the heroism of others. The endless dress advertise- 
 ments in the daily papers affected him as they might 
 have affected the prophet Ezekiel, had the daughters 
 of Judah added the purchase of fur coats, priced 
 from twenty guineas to two hundred, to their other 
 enormities. He had always in his mind the agonies 
 of the war, the sights of the trenches, the holocaust 
 of young life, the drain on the national resources, 
 the burden on the national future. So that the 
 Farrell motor-cars and men servants, the costly sim-
 
 'MISSING' 121 
 
 plicity of the ' cottage,' Cicely's extravagance in dress, 
 her absurd and expensive uniform, her make-up and 
 her jewels, were so many daily provocations to a man 
 thus sombrely possessed. 
 
 And yet he had not been able so far to tear 
 himself away from Carton ! And he knew many things 
 about Cicely Farrell that Nelly Sarratt had not 
 discovered ; things that alternately softened and 
 enraged him ; things that kept him now, as for some 
 years past, provokingly, irrationally interested in her. 
 He had once proposed to her, and she had refused him. 
 That was known to a good many people. But what 
 their relations were now was a mystery to the friends 
 on both sides. 
 
 Whatever they were, however, on this September 
 afternoon Marsworth was coming rapidly to the 
 conclusion that he had better put an end to them. 
 His latent feelings of resentment and irritation had 
 been much sharpened of late by certain passages of 
 arms between himself and Cicely since she returned 
 from her visits with regard to that perfectly gentle 
 and inoffensive little maiden, Miss Daisy Stewart the 
 Eector's granddaughter. Miss Farrell had several 
 times been unpardonably rude to the poor child in 
 his presence, and, as it seemed to him, with the express 
 object of showing him how little she cared to keep on 
 friendly terms with him. 
 
 Nevertheless he found himself puzzling over 
 certain other incidents in his recent ken, of a different 
 character. The hospital at Carton was mainly for 
 privates, with a certain amount of accommodation for 
 officers. He had done his best during the summer 
 to be useful to some poor fellows, especially of his own 
 regiment, on the Tommies' side. And he had lately
 
 122 'MISSING' 
 
 come across some perplexing signs of a special thought- 
 fulness on Miss Farrell's part for these particular 
 men. He had discovered also that she had taken 
 pains to keep these small kindnesses of hers from his 
 knowledge. 
 
 ' I wasn't to tell you, sir ' said the boy who had 
 lost an eye ' not whatever. But when you come 
 along with them things ' a set of draughts and a 
 book ' why it do seem as though I be gettin' more 
 than my share ! ' 
 
 Well, she had always been incomprehensible and 
 he was weary of the attempt to read her. But he 
 wanted a home he wanted to marry. He began 
 to think again in leisurely fashion of the Eector's 
 granddaughter. 
 
 Was that Mrs. Sarratt descending the side-lane ? 
 The sight of her recalled his thoughts instantly to the 
 war, and to a letter he had received that morning from 
 a brother officer just arrived in London on medical 
 leave the letter of a ' grouser ' if ever there was one. 
 
 ' They say that this week is to see another big 
 push the French probably in Champagne, and we 
 south of Bethune. I know nothing first-hand, but 
 I do know that it can only end in a few kilometres of 
 ground, huge casualties, and, as you were ! We are 
 not ready we can't be ready for months. On the 
 other hand we must keep moving if only to kill a 
 few Germans, and keep our own people at home in 
 heart. I passed some of the Lanchesters on my way 
 down going up, as fresh as paint after three weeks' 
 rest what's left of them. They're sure to be in 
 it.' 
 
 The little figure in the mauve cotton had paused 
 at the entrance to the lane, perceiving him.
 
 ' MISSING ' 123 
 
 What about Sarratt ? Had she heard ? He hurried 
 on to meet her, and put his question. 
 
 ' There can't be any telegram yet,' she said, her 
 pale cheeks flushing. ' But it will come to-night. 
 Shall we go back quickly ? ' 
 
 They walked on rapidly. He soon found she did 
 not want to talk of the news, and he was driven back 
 on the weather. 
 
 ' What a blessing to see the sun again ! this west 
 country damp demoralises me.' 
 
 1 1 think I like it ! ' 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 ' Do you only " say that to annoy " ? ' 
 
 ' No, I do like it ! I like to see the rain shutting out 
 everything, so that one can't make any plans or go any- 
 where.' She smiled, but he was well aware of the fever 
 in her look. He had not seen it there since the weeks 
 immediately following Sarratt's departure. His heart 
 warmed to the frail creature, tremulous as a leaf in the 
 wind, yet making a show of courage. He had often 
 asked himself whether he would wish to be loved 
 as Mrs. Sarratt evidently loved her husband ; whether 
 he could possibly meet such a claim upon his own 
 sensibility. But to-day he thought he could meet 
 it ; to-day he thought it would be agreeable. 
 
 Nelly had not told Marsworth, however, that one 
 reason for which she liked the rain was that it had 
 temporarily put an end to the sketching lessons. 
 Nor could she have added that this new distaste in her, 
 as compared with the happy stir of fresh or quickened 
 perception which had been the result of his early 
 teaching, was connected, not only with Sir William, 
 but with Bridget her sister Bridget.
 
 124 ' MISSING ' 
 
 But the truth was that something in Bridget's 
 manner, very soon after the Carton visit, had begun 
 to perplex and worry the younger sister. Why was 
 Bridget always insisting on the lessons ? always 
 ready to scold Nelly if one was missed and always 
 practising airs and graces with Sir William that she 
 wasted on no one else ? Why was she so frequently 
 away on the days when Sir William was expected ? 
 Nelly had only just begun to notice it, and to fall back 
 instinctively on Miss Martin's company whenever it 
 could be had. She hated her own vague annoyance 
 with Bridget's behaviour, just because she could 
 not pour herself out to George about it. It was 
 really too silly and stupid to talk about. She supposed 
 she dreaded that Bridget might be going to ask 
 Sir William some favour ; that she meant to make 
 use of his kindness to her sister in order to work 
 upon him. How horrible that would be ! how it 
 would spoil everything ! Nelly began sometimes 
 to dream of moving, of going to Borrowdale, or to the 
 coast at Seascale. And then, partly her natural 
 indolence, and partly her clinging to every rock and 
 field in this beautiful place where she had been so 
 happy, intervened ; and she let things slide. 
 
 Yet when Sir William and Cicely arrived, to find 
 Bridget making tea, and Nelly listening with a little 
 frown of effort, while Marsworth, pencil in hand, 
 was drawing diagrams a la Belloc, to explain to her 
 the Eussian retreat from Galicia, how impossible 
 not to feel cheered by Farrell's talk and company ! 
 The great bon enfant, towering in the little room, 
 and positively lighting it up by the red-gold of his 
 hair and beard, so easily entertained, so overflowing 
 with kind intentions, so fastidious intellectually,
 
 ' MISSING ' 125 
 
 and so indulgent morally : as soon as he appeared 
 he filled the scene. 
 
 ' No fresh news, dear Mrs. Sarratt, nothing what- 
 ever,' he had said at once, meeting her hungry eyes. 
 ' And you ? ' 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 ' Don't worry. You'll get it soon. I've sent 
 the motor back to Windermere for the evening 
 papers.' 
 
 Meanwhile Marsworth found himself reduced to 
 watching Cicely, and presently he found himself 
 more angry and disgusted than he had ever yet been. 
 How could she ? How dared she ? On this day 
 of all days, to be snobbishly playing the great lady 
 in Mrs. Sarratt's small sitting-room ! Whenever that 
 was Cicely's mood she lisped ; and as often as Mars- 
 worth, who was sitting far away from her, talking 
 to Bridget Cookson, caught her voice, it seemed to 
 him that she was lisping affectedly monstrously. 
 She was describing for instance a certain ducal house- 
 hold in which she had just been spending the week- 
 end, and Marsworth heard her say 
 
 ' Well at last, poor Evelyn * (' poor Evelyn ' 
 seemed to be a youthful Duchess, conducting a war 
 economy compaign through the villages of her hus- 
 band's estate) ' began to get threatening letters. 
 She found out afterwards they came from a nursemaid 
 she had sent away. " Madam, don't you talk to us, 
 but look at 'ome ! examine your own nursewy, Madam, 
 and hold your tongue ! " She did examine, and I 
 found her cwying. " Oh, Cicely, isn't it awful, I've 
 just discovered that Nurse has been spending seven 
 pounds a week on Baby's wibbons ! " So she's given 
 up war economy ! '
 
 126 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Why not the " wibbons ? " ' said Hester Martin, 
 who had just come in and heard the tale. 
 
 ' Because nobody gives up what they weally 
 want to have,' said Cicely promptly, with a more 
 affected voice and accent than before. 
 
 Bridget pricked up her ears and nodded triumphantly 
 towards Nelly. 
 
 ' Don't talk nonsense, Cicely/ said Farrell. ' Why, 
 the Duchess has planted the whole rose-garden with 
 potatoes, and sold all her Pekinese.' 
 
 ' Only because she was tired of the Pekinese, and 
 has so many flowers she doesn't know what to do with 
 them ! On the other hand the Duke wants parlour- 
 maids ; and whenever he says so, Evelyn draws all 
 the blinds down and goes to bed. And that annoys 
 him so much that he gives in ! Don't you talk, Willy. 
 The Duchess always gets wound you ! ' 
 
 ' I don't care twopence about her,' said Farrell, 
 rather savagely. ' What does she matter ? ' Then 
 he moved towards Nelly, whose absent look and 
 drooping attitude he had been observing for some 
 minutes. 
 
 ' Shan't we go down to the Lake, Mrs. Sarratt ? It 
 seems really a fine evening at last, and there won't be 
 so many more. Let me carry some shawls. Mars- 
 worth, lend a hand.' 
 
 Soon they were all scattered along the edge of the 
 Lake. Hester Martin had relieved Marsworth of 
 Bridget ; Farrell had found a dry rock, and spread 
 a shawl upon it for Nelly's benefit. Marsworth and 
 Cicely had no choice but to pair ; and she, with a grey 
 hat and plume half a yard high, preposterously short 
 skirts, and high-heeled boots buttoned to the knee, 
 condescended to stroll beside him, watching his grave
 
 ' MISSING ' 127 
 
 embarrassed look with an air of detachment as drama- 
 tically complete as she could make it. 
 
 ' You look awfully tired ! ' said Farrell to his 
 companion, eyeing her with most sincere concern. 
 ' I wonder what you've been doing to yourself.' 
 
 ' I'm all right,' she said with emphasis. ' Indeed 
 I'm all right. You said you'd sent for the papers ? ' 
 
 ' The motor will wait for them at Windermere. 
 But I don't think there'll be much more to hear. I'm 
 afraid we've shot our bolt.' 
 
 She clasped her hands listlessly on her knee, and 
 said nothing. 
 
 * Are you quite sure Sarratt has been in it ? ' he 
 asked her. 
 
 ' Oh, yes, I'm sure.' 
 
 There was a dull conviction in her voice. She 
 began to pluck at the grass beside her, while her dark 
 contracted eyes swept the Lake in front of her seeing 
 nothing. 
 
 ' Good God ! 'thought Farrell 1 Are they all 
 all the women suffering like this ? ' 
 
 ' You'll get a telegram from him to-morrow, I'm 
 certain you will ! ' he said, with eager kindness. ' Try 
 and look forward to it. You know the good chances 
 are five to one.' 
 
 ' Not for a lieutenant,' she said, under her breath. 
 ' They have to lead their men. They can't think of 
 their own lives.' 
 
 There was silence a little. Then Farrell said 
 floundering, ' He'd want you to bear up ! ' 
 
 ' I am bearing up ! ' she said quickly, a little resent- 
 fully. 
 
 4 Yes, indeed you are ! ' He touched her arm a
 
 128 ' MISSING ' 
 
 moment caressingly, as though in apology. It 
 was natural to his emotional temperament to express 
 itself so through physical gesture. But Nelly disliked 
 the touch. 
 
 ' I only meant ' Farrell continued, anxiously 
 1 that he would beg you not to anticipate trouble not 
 to go to meet it.' 
 
 She summoned smiles, altering her position a little, 
 and drawing a wrap round her. The delicate arm was 
 no longer within his reach. 
 
 And restlessly she began to talk of other things 
 the conscientious objectors of the morning Zeppelins 
 a recruiting meeting at Ambleside. Farrell had 
 the impression of a wounded creature that could not 
 bear to be touched ; and it was something new to his 
 prevailing sense of power in life, to be made to realise 
 that he could do nothing. His sympathy seemed to 
 alienate her ; and he felt much distressed and re- 
 buffed. 
 
 Meanwhile as the clouds cleared away from the 
 September afternoon, Marsworth and Cicely were 
 strolling along the Lake, and sparring as usual. 
 
 He had communicated to her his intention of 
 leaving Carton within a week or so, and trying some 
 fresh treatment in London. 
 
 ' You're tired of us ? ' she enquired, her head very 
 much in air. 
 
 ' Not at all. But I think now I might do a bit of 
 work.' 
 
 ' The doctors don't think so.' 
 
 ' Ah, well when a man's got to my stage, he must 
 make experiments on his own. It won't be France 
 I know that. But there's lots else.'
 
 ' MISSING ' 129 
 
 4 You'll break down in a week ! ' she said with 
 energy. ' I had a talk about you with Seaton yester- 
 day.' 
 
 He looked at her with amusement. For the 
 moment, she was no longer Cicely Farrell, extravagantly 
 dressed, but the shrewd hospital worker, who although 
 she would accept no responsibility that fettered her 
 goings and comings beyond a certain point, was yet, as 
 he well knew, invaluable, as a force in the background, 
 to both the nursing and medical staff of Carton. 
 
 ' Well, what did Seaton say ? ' 
 
 ' That you would have another bad relapse, if you 
 attempted yet to go to work.' 
 
 ' I shall risk it.' 
 
 ' That's so like you. You never take anyone's 
 advice.' 
 
 ' On the contrary, I am the meekest and most 
 docile of men.' She shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 'You were docile, I suppose, when Seaton begged 
 you not to go off to the Rectory, and give yourself all 
 that extra walking backwards and forwards to the 
 hospital every day ? ' 
 
 ' I wanted a change of scene. I like the old 
 Eector I even like family prayers.' 
 
 ' I am sure everything and everybody is perfect 
 at the Rectory ! ' 
 
 ' No not perfect but peaceable.' 
 
 He looked at her smiling. His grey eyes, under 
 their strong black brows, challenged her. She per- 
 ceived in them a whole swarm of unspoken charges. 
 Her own colour rose. 
 
 ' So peace is what you want ? ' 
 
 ' Peace and a little sympathy.' 
 
 ' And we give you neither ? '
 
 130 ' MISSING ' 
 
 He"hesitated. 
 
 ' Willy never fails one.' 
 
 1 So it's my crimes that are driving you away ? 
 It's all to be laid on my shoulders ? ' 
 
 He laughed uncertainly. 
 
 ' Don't you believe me when I say I want to do 
 some work ? ' 
 
 * Not much. So I have offended you ? ' 
 
 His look changed, became grave touched with 
 compunction. 
 
 ' Miss Farrell, I oughtn't to have been talking like 
 this. You and Willy have been awfully good to me/ 
 
 ' And then you call me " Miss Farrell " ! ' she 
 cried, passionately ' when you know very well that 
 you've called me Cicely for years.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said Marsworth suddenly, ' what was 
 that ? ' 
 
 He turned back towards Eydal. On the shore 
 path, midway between them and the little bay at the 
 eastern end of the lake, where Farrell and Nelly 
 Sarratt had been sitting, were Hester Martin and 
 Bridget. They too had turned round, arrested in 
 their walk. Beyond them, at the edge of the water, 
 Farrell could be seen beckoning. And a little way 
 behind him on the slope stood a boy with a bicycle. 
 
 4 He is calling us,' said Marsworth, and began to run. 
 
 Hester Martin was already running Bridget too. 
 
 But Hester and Marsworth outstripped the rest. 
 Farrell came to meet them. 
 
 ' Hester, for God's sake, get her sister ! ' 
 
 ' What is it ? ' gasped Hester. ' Is he killed ? ' 
 
 4 No " Wounded and missing ! " Poor, poor 
 child ! ' 
 
 ' Where is she ? '
 
 'MISSING' 131 
 
 1 She's sitting there dazed with the telegram. 
 She's hardly said anything since it came.' 
 
 Hester ran on. There, on a green edge of the bank 
 sat Nelly staring at a fluttering piece of paper. 
 
 Hester sank beside her, and put her arms round her. 
 
 ' Dear Mrs. Sarratt ! ' 
 
 ' What does it mean ? ' said Nelly turning her 
 white face. ' Bead it.' 
 
 ' " Deeply regret to inform you 'your husband 
 reported wounded and missing ! " 
 
 ' Missing ? That means a prisoner. George is 
 a prisoner and wounded ! Can't I go to him ? ' 
 
 She looked piteously at Hester. Bridget -had come 
 up and was standing near. 
 
 ' If he's a prisoner, he's in a German hospital. 
 Dear Mrs. Sarratt, you'll soon hear of him ! ' 
 
 Nelly stood up. Her young beauty of an hour 
 before seemed to have dropped from her like the petals 
 of a rose. She put her hand to her forehead. 
 
 ' But I shan't see him again ' she said slowly 
 ' till the end of the war the end of the war ' she 
 repeated, pressing her hands on her eyes. The note 
 of utter desolation brought the tears to Hester's 
 cheeks. But before she could say anything, Nelly 
 had turned sharply to her sister. 
 
 ' Bridget, I must go up to-night ! ' 
 
 ' Must you ? ' said Bridget reluctantly. ' I don't 
 see what you can do.' 
 
 ' I can go to the War Office and to that place where 
 they make enquiries for you. Of course, I must go to 
 London ! and I must stay there. There might be 
 news of him any time.' 
 
 Bridget and Hester looked at each other. The 
 same thought was in their minds. But Nelly, restored
 
 132 'MISSING' 
 
 to momentary calmness by her own suggestion, went 
 quickly to Farrell, who with his sister and Marsworth 
 was standing a little way off. 
 
 ' I must go to London to-night, Sir William. 
 Could you order something for me ? ' 
 
 ' I'll take you to Windermere, Mrs. Sarratt,' said 
 Cicely before her brother could reply. ' The motor's 
 there now.' 
 
 ' No, no, Cicely, I'll take Mrs. Sarratt,' said Farrell 
 impatiently. ' I'll send back a car from Ambleside, 
 for you and Marsworth.' 
 
 ' You forget Sir George Whitehead,' said Cicely 
 quietly. ' I'll do everything.' 
 
 Sir George Whitehead of the A.M.S.C. was expected 
 at Carton that evening on a visit of inspection to the 
 hospital. Farrell, as Commandant, could not possibly 
 be absent. He acknowledged the fact by a gesture 
 of annoyance. Cicely immediately took things in 
 charge. 
 
 A whirl of packing and departure followed. By 
 the time she and her charges left for Windermere, 
 Cicely's hat and high heels had been entirely blotted 
 out by a quite extraordinary display on her part of 
 both thoughtfulness and efficiency. Marsworth had 
 seen the same transformation before, but never so 
 markedly. He tried several times to make his peace 
 with her ; but she held aloof, giving him once or twice 
 an odd look out of her long almond-shaped eyes. 
 
 ' Good-bye, and good luck ! ' said Farrell to Nelly, 
 through the car window ; and as she held out her hand, 
 he stooped and kissed it with a gulp in his throat. 
 Her deathly pallor, and a grey veil thrown back and 
 tied under her small chin gave her a ghostly loveliness 
 which stamped itself on his recollection.
 
 'MISSING' 133 
 
 ' I am going up to town myself to-morrow. I shall 
 come and see if I can do anything for you.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Nelly mechanically. ' Oh yes, I 
 shall have thought of many things by then. Good- 
 bye.' 
 
 Marsworth and Farrell were left to watch the 
 disappearance of the car along the moonlit road. 
 
 ' Poor little soul ! ' said Farrell ' poor little 
 soul ! ' He walked on along the road, his eyes on the 
 ground. Marsworth offered him a cigar, and they 
 smoked in silence. 
 
 ' What'll the next message be ? ' said Farrell, after 
 a little while. " Eeported wounded and missing 
 now reported killed ? " Most probable ! ' 
 
 Marsworth assented sadly.
 
 CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 IT was a pale September clay. In the country, among 
 English woods and heaths the sun was still strong, 
 and trees and bracken, withered heath, and redden- 
 ing berries, burned and sparkled beneath it. But in 
 the dingy bedroom of a dingy Bloomsbury hotel, with 
 a film of fog over everything outside, there was no sun 
 to be seen ; the plane trees beyond the windows were 
 nearly leafless ; and the dead leaves scudding and 
 whirling along the dusty, airless streets, under a 
 light wind, gave the last dreary touch to the scene 
 that Nelly Sarratt was looking at. She was standing 
 at a window, listlessly staring at some houses 
 opposite, and the unlovely strip of garden which lay 
 between her and the houses. Bridget Cookson was 
 sitting at a table a little way behind her, mending 
 some gloves. 
 
 The sisters had been four days in London. For 
 Nelly, life was just bearable up to five or six o'clock 
 in the evening because of her morning and afternoon 
 
 visits to the Enquiry Office in D Street, where 
 
 everything that brains and pity could suggest was being 
 done to trace the ' missing ' ; where sat also that 
 kind, tired woman, at the table which Nelly by now 
 knew so well, with her pitying eyes, and her soft voice, 
 which never grew perfunctory or careless. ' I'm so 
 sorry ! but there's no fresh news.' That had been 
 
 134
 
 'MISSING' 135 
 
 the evening message ; and now the day's hope was 
 over, and the long night had to be got through. 
 
 That morning, however, there had been news a 
 letter from Sarratt's Colonel, enclosing letters from 
 two privates, who had seen Sarratt go over the parapet 
 in the great rush, and one of whom had passed him 
 wounded on the ground and tried to stay by him. 
 But ' Lieutenant Sarratt wouldn't allow it.' ' Never 
 mind me, old chap ' one witness reported him as 
 saying. ' Get on. They'll pick me up presently.' 
 And there they had left him, and knew no more. 
 
 Several other men were named, who had also seen 
 him fall, but they had not yet been traced. They 
 might be in hospital badly wounded, or if Sarratt had 
 been made prisoner, they had probably shared his 
 fate. ' And if your husband has been taken prisoner, 
 as we all hope,' said the gentle woman at the office 
 ' it will be at least a fortnight before we can trace 
 him. Meanwhile we are going on with all other possible 
 enquiries.' 
 
 Nelly had those phrases by heart. The phrases 
 too of that short letter those few lines the last she 
 had ever received from George, written two days 
 before the battle, which had reached her in West- 
 morland before her departure. 
 
 That letter lay now on her bosom, just inside 
 the folds of her blouse, where her hand could rest upon 
 it at any moment. How passionately she had hoped 
 for another, a fragment perhaps torn from his notebook 
 in the trenches, and sent back by some messenger at 
 the last moment ! She had heard of that happening 
 to so many others. Why not to her ! oh, why not 
 to her ? 
 
 Her heart was dry with longing and grief ; her
 
 136 ' MISSING ' 
 
 eyes were red for want of sleep. There were strange 
 numb moments when she felt nothing, and could 
 hardly remember why she was in London. And then 
 would come the sudden smart of reviving conscious- 
 ness the terrible returns of an anguish, under which 
 her whole being trembled. And always, at the back 
 of everything, the dull thought ' I always knew it 
 I knew he would die ! ' recurring again and again ; 
 only to be dashed away by a protest no less persistent 
 ' No, no ! He is not dead ! not dead ! In a fortnight 
 she said so there'll be news they'll have found 
 him. Then he'll be recovering and prisoners are 
 allowed to write. Oh, my George ! my George ! ' 
 
 It was with a leap of ecstasy that yet was pain, 
 that she imagined to herself the coming of the first 
 word from him. Prisoners' letters came regularly 
 no doubt of that. Why, the landlady at the hotel 
 had a son who was at Euhleben, and she heard once 
 a month. Nelly pictured the moment when the letter 
 would be in her hand, and she would be looking at it. 
 Oh, no doubt it wouldn't be addressed by him ! By 
 the nurse perhaps a German nurse or another 
 patient. He mightn't be well enough. All the same, 
 the dream filled her eyes with tears, that for a moment 
 eased the burning within. 
 
 Her life was now made up of such moments and 
 dreams. On the whole, what held her most was the 
 fierce refusal to think of him as dead. That morning, 
 in dressing, among the clothes they had hurriedly 
 brought with them from Westmoreland, she saw a 
 thin black dress a useful stand-by in the grime of 
 London and lifted her hands to take it from the peg 
 on which it hung. Only to recoil from it with horror. 
 That never ! And she had dressed herself with care
 
 ' MISSING ' 137 
 
 in a coat and skirt of rough blue tweed that George 
 had always liked ; scrupulously putting on her little 
 ornaments, and taking pains with her hair. And at 
 every step of the process, she seemed to be repelling 
 some attacking force ; holding a door with all her 
 feeble strength against some horror that threatened 
 to come in. 
 
 The room in which she stood was small and cheer- 
 less ; but it was all they could afford. Bridget frankly 
 hated the ugliness and bareness of it ; hated the dingy 
 hotel, and the slatternly servants, hated the boredom 
 of the long waiting for news to which apparently 
 she was to be committed, if she stayed on with 
 Nelly. She clearly saw that public opinion would 
 expect her to stay on. And indeed she was not with- 
 out some natural pity for her younger sister. There 
 were moments when Nelly's state caused her extreme 
 discomfort even something more. But when they 
 occurred, she banished them as soon as possible, and 
 with a firm will, which grew the firmer with exercise. 
 It was everybody's duty to keep up their spirits and 
 not to be beaten down by this abominable war. And 
 it was a special duty for those who hated the war, 
 and would stop it at once if they could. Yet Bridget 
 had entirely declined to join any ' Stop the War,' 
 or pacifist societies. She had no sympathy with 
 ' that sort of people.' Her real opinion about the 
 war was that no cause could be worth such wretched 
 inconvenience as the war caused to every one. She 
 hated to feel and know that probably the majority 
 of decent people would say, if asked, as Captain 
 Marsworth had practically said that she, Bridget 
 Cookson, ought to be doing V.A.D. work, or relieving 
 munition workers at week-ends, instead of fiddling with
 
 138 ' MISSING ' 
 
 an index to a text-book on ' The New Psychology.' 
 The mere consciousness of that was already an attack 
 on her personal freedom to do what she liked, which 
 she hotly resented. And as to that conscription of 
 women for war work which was vaguely talked of, 
 Bridget passionately felt that she would go to prison 
 rather than submit to such a thing. For the war 
 said nothing whatever to her heart or conscience. 
 All the great tragic side of it the side of death and 
 wounds and tears of high justice and ideal aims 
 she put away from her, as she always had put away 
 such things, in peace. They did not concern her 
 personally. Why make trouble for oneself ? 
 
 And yet here was a sister whose husband was 
 ' wounded and missing ' probably, as Bridget firmly 
 believed, already dead. And the meaning of that 
 fact that possibility was writ so large on Nelly's 
 physical aspect, on Nelly's ways and plans, that there 
 was really no getting away from it. Also there 
 were other people to be considered. Bridget did not 
 at all want to offend or alienate Sir William Farrell 
 now less than ever. And she was quite aware that 
 he would think badly of her, if he suspected she was 
 not doing her best for Nelly. 
 
 The September light waned. The room grew so 
 dark that Bridget turned on an electric light beside her, 
 and by the help of it stole a long look at Nelly, who 
 was still standing by the window. Would grieving 
 would the loss of George take Nelly's prettiness 
 away ? She had certainly lost flesh during the pre- 
 ceding weeks and days. Her little chin was very 
 sharp, as Bridget saw it against the window, and her 
 hair seemed to have parted with its waves and curls, 
 and to be hanging limp about her ears. Bridget
 
 ' MISSING ' 139 
 
 felt a pang of annoyance that anything should spoil 
 Nelly's good looks. It was altogether unnecessary 
 and absurd. 
 
 Presently Nelly moved back towards her sister. 
 
 ' I don't know how I shall get through the next 
 fortnight,' she said in a low voice. ' I wonder what 
 we had better do ? ' 
 
 ' Well, we can't stay here,' said Bridget sharply. 
 ' It's too expensive, though it is such a poky hole. 
 We can find a lodging, I suppose, and feed ourselves. 
 Unless of course we went back to Westmorland. 
 Why can't you ? They can always telegraph.' 
 
 Nelly flushed. Her hand lying on the back of 
 Bridget's chair shook. 
 
 ' And if George sent for me,' she said, in the 
 same low, strained voice, ' it would take eight hours 
 longer to get to him than it would from here.' 
 
 Bridget said nothing. In her heart of hearts 
 she felt perfectly certain that George never would 
 send. She rose and put down her needlework. 
 
 ' I must go and post a letter downstairs. I'll 
 ask the woman in the office if she knows anything 
 about lodgings.' 
 
 Nelly went back to her post by the window. Her 
 mind was bruised between two conflicting feelings 
 a dumb longing for someone to caress and comfort 
 her, some one who would meet her pain with a bearing 
 less hard and wooden than Bridget's and at the same 
 time, a pasionate shrinking from the bare idea of 
 comfort and sympathy, as something not to be endured. 
 She had had a kind letter from Sir William Farrell 
 that morning. He had spoken of being soon in London. 
 But she did not know that she could bear to see him 
 unless he could help get something done !
 
 140 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Bridget descended to the ground floor, and had 
 a conversation with the young lady in the office, 
 which threw no light at all on the question of lodgings. 
 The young lady in question seemed to be patting and 
 pinning up her back hair all the time, besides carrying 
 on another conversation with a second young lady 
 in the background. Bridget was disgusted with her 
 and was just going upstairs again, when the very 
 shabby and partly deformed hall porter informed her 
 that someone a gentleman was waiting to see her 
 in the drawing-room. 
 
 A gentleman ? Bridget hastened to the small and 
 stuffy drawing-room, where the hall porter had just 
 turned on the light, and there beheld a tall bearded 
 man pacing up and down, who turned abruptly as 
 she entered. 
 
 1 How is she ? Is there any news ? ' 
 
 Sir William Farrell hurriedly shook her offered 
 hand, frowning a little at the sister who always 
 seemed to him inadequate and ill-mannered. 
 
 1 Thank you, Sir William ; she is quite well. 
 There is a little news but nothing of any consequence.' 
 
 She repeated the contents of the hospital letter, 
 with the comments on it of the lady they had seen at 
 the office. 
 
 ' We shan't hear anything more for a fortnight. 
 They have written to Geneva.' 
 
 ' Then they think he's a prisoner ? ' 
 
 Bridget supposed so. 
 
 A.t any rate they hope he is. Well, I'm thank- 
 ful there's no worse news. Poor thing poor little 
 thing ! Is she bearing up eating ? sleeping ? ' 
 
 He asked the questions peremptorily, yet with a 
 real anxiety. Bridget vaguely resented the peremp-
 
 ' MISSING f 141 
 
 toriness, but she answered the questions. It was very 
 difficult to get Nelly to eat anything, and Bridget 
 did not believe she slept much. 
 
 Farrell shook his head impatiently, with various 
 protesting noises, while she spoke. Then drawing 
 up suddenly, with his hands in his pockets, he looked 
 round the room in which they stood. 
 
 ' But why are you staying here ? It's a dread- 
 ful hole ! That porter gave me the creeps. And 
 it's so far from everywhere,' 
 
 ' There is a tube station close by. We stay here 
 because it's cheap,' said Bridget, grimly. 
 
 Sir William walked up the room again, poking 
 his nose into the moribund geranium that stood, 
 flanked by some old railway guides, on the middle 
 table, surveyed the dirty and ill-kept writing-table, 
 the uncomfortable chairs, and finally went to look 
 out of the window ; after which he suddenly and 
 unaccountably brightened up and turned with a 
 smile to Bridget. 
 
 ' Do you think you could persuade your sister 
 to do something that would please me very much ? ' 
 
 ' I'm sure I don't know, Sir William.' 
 
 ' Well it's this. Cicely and I have a flat in 
 St. James' Square. I'm there very little just now, 
 and she less. You know we're both awfully busy 
 at Carton. We've had a rush of wounded the last 
 few weeks. I must be up sometimes on business 
 for the hospital, but I can always sleep at my 
 club. So what I want to persuade you to do, Miss 
 Cookson, is to get Mrs. Sarratt to accept the loan 
 of our flat, for a few weeks while she's kept in town. 
 It would be a real pleasure to us. We're awfully 
 sorry for her ! '
 
 142 ' MISSING ' 
 
 He beamed upon her, all his handsome face 
 suffused with kindness and concern. 
 
 Bridget was amazed, but cautious. 
 
 ' It's awfully good of you but shouldn't we 
 have to get a servant ? I couldn't do everything.' 
 
 Sir William laughed. 
 
 * Gracious I should think not ! There are always 
 servants there it's kept ready for us. I put in a 
 discharged soldier an army cook and his wife a 
 few months ago. They're capital people. I'm sure 
 they'd look after you. Well now, will you suggest 
 that to Mrs. Sarratt ? Could I see her ? ' 
 
 Bridget hesitated. Some instinct told her that 
 Nelly would not wish to accept this proposal. She 
 said slowly 
 
 ' I'm afraid she's very tired to-night.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't bother her then ! But just try and 
 persuade her won't you quietly ? And send me a 
 word to-night.' 
 
 He gave the address. 
 
 ' If I hear that you'll come, I'll make all the 
 arrangements to-morrow morning before I leave for 
 Westmorland. You can just take her round in a 
 taxi any time you like, and the servants will be quite 
 
 ready for you. You'll be close to D Street 
 
 close to everything. Now do ! ' 
 
 He stood with his hands on his side looking down 
 eagerly and a little sharply on the hard-featured 
 woman before him. 
 
 ' It's awfully good of you,' said Bridget again 
 ' most awfully good. Of course I'll tell Nelly what 
 you say.' 
 
 ' And drop me a line to-night ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I'll write.'
 
 ' MISSING ' 143 
 
 Sir William took up his stick. 
 
 ' Well, I shall put everything in train. Tell her, 
 please, what a pleasure she'd give us. And she won't 
 keep Cicely away. Cicely will be up next week. But 
 there's plenty of room. She and her maid wouldn't 
 make any difference to you. And please tell Mrs. 
 Sarratt too, that if there's anything I can do 
 anything she has only to let me know.' 
 
 Bridget went back to the room upstairs. As she 
 opened the door she saw Nelly standing under the 
 electric light motionless. Something in her attitude 
 startled Bridget. 
 
 She called 
 
 ' Nelly ! ' 
 
 Nelly turned slowly, and Bridget saw that she had 
 a letter in her hand. Bridget ran up to her. 
 
 ' Have you heard anything ? ' 
 
 ' He did write to me ! he did ! just the last 
 minute in the trench. I knew he must. He gave 
 it to an engineer officer who was going back fco Head- 
 quarters, to post. The officer was badly wounded as 
 he went back. They've sent it me from France. 
 The waiter brought me the letter just after you'd gone 
 down.' 
 
 The words came in little panting gasps. 
 
 Then, suddenly, she slipped down beside the table 
 at which Bridget had been working, and hid her face. 
 She was crying. But it was very difficult weeping 
 with few tears. The slight frame shook from top to 
 toe. 
 
 Bridget stood by her, not knowing what to do. 
 But she was conscious of a certain annoyance that 
 she couldn't begin at once on the subject of the
 
 144 'MISSING' 
 
 flat. She put her hand awkwardly on her sister's 
 shoulder. 
 
 ' Don't cry so. What does he say ? ' 
 
 Nelly did not answer for a little. At last she said, 
 her face still buried 
 
 ' It was only to tell me that he loved me ' 
 
 There was silence again. Then Nelly rose to her 
 feet. She pressed her hair back from her white face. 
 
 ' I don't want any supper, Bridget. I think I 
 should like to go to bed.' 
 
 Bridget helped her to undress. It was now nearly 
 dark and she drew down the blinds. When she 
 looked again at Nelly, she saw her lying white and 
 still, her wide eyes fixed on vacancy. 
 
 ' I found a visitor downstairs,' she said, abruptly. 
 ' It was Sir William Farrell.' 
 
 Nelly shewed no surprise, or interest. But she 
 seemed to find some words mechanically. 
 
 * Why did he come ? ' 
 
 Bridget came to the bedside. 
 
 ' He wants us to go and stay at his flat their flat. 
 He and his sister have it together in St. James' 
 Square. He wants us to go to-morrow. He's going 
 back to Carton. There are two servants there. We 
 shouldn't have any trouble. And you'd be close to 
 
 D Street. Any news they got they^ could send 
 
 round directly.' 
 
 Nelly closed her eyes. 
 
 ' I don't care where we go/ she said, under her 
 breath. 
 
 ' He wanted a line to-night,' said Bridget ' I can't 
 hear of any lodgings. And the boarding-houses are 
 all getting frightfully expensive because food's going 
 up so.'
 
 4 MISSING ' 145 
 
 1 Not a boarding-house ! ' murmured Nelly. A 
 shiver of repulsion ran through her. She was think- 
 ing of a boarding-house in one of the Bloomsbury 
 streets where she and Bridget had once stayed before 
 her marriage the long tables full of strange faces 
 the drawing-room crowded with middle-aged women, 
 who stared so. 
 
 ' Well, I can write to him to-night then, and say 
 we'll go to-morrow ? We certainly can't stay here. 
 The charges are abominable. If we go to their flat, 
 for a few days, we can look round us and find some- 
 thing cheap.' 
 
 ' W T here is it ? ' said Nelly faintly. 
 
 ' In St. James' Square.' 
 
 The address conveyed very little to Nelly. She 
 knew hardly anything of London. Two visits one 
 to some cousins in West Kensington, another to a 
 friend at Hampstead together with the fortnight 
 three years ago in the Bloomsbury boarding-house, 
 when Bridget had had some grand scheme with a 
 publisher which never came off, and Nelly had mostly 
 stayed indoors with bad toothache : her acquaint- 
 ance with the great city had gone no further. Of 
 its fashionable quarters both she and Bridget were 
 entirely ignorant, though Bridget would not have 
 admitted it. 
 
 Bridget got her writing-case out of her trunk 
 and began to write to Sir William. Nelly watched 
 her. At last she said slowly, as though she were 
 becoming a little more conscious of the world around 
 her : 
 
 ' It's awfully kind of them. But we needn't 
 stay long.' 
 
 ' Oh no, we needn't stay long.' 
 
 L
 
 146 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Bridget wrote the letter, and disappeared to post 
 it. Nelly was left alone in darkness. The air about 
 her seemed to be ringing with the words of her 
 letter. 
 
 ' MY OWN DARLING, We are just going over. I 
 have found a man going back to D.H.Q. who will 
 post this and I just want you to know that, whatever 
 happens, you are my beloved, and our love can't die. 
 God bless you, my dear, dear wife. . . . We are all 
 in good spirits everything ought to go well and 
 I will write the first moment possible. 
 
 ' GEORGE.' 
 
 She seemed to see him, tearing the leaf from the 
 little block she had given him, and standing in the 
 trench, so slim and straight in his khaki. And then, 
 what happened after ? when the rush came ? Would 
 she never know ? If he never came back to her, what 
 was she going to do with her life ? Waves of lonely 
 terror went through her terror of the long sorrow 
 before her terror of her own weakness. 
 
 And then again reaction. She sat up in bed, 
 angrily wrestling with her own lapse from hope. Of 
 course it was all coming right ! She turned on the 
 light, with a small trembling hand, and tried to read 
 a newspaper Bridget had brought in. But the words 
 swam before her ; the paper dropped from her grasp ; 
 and when Bridget came back, her face was hidden, she 
 seemed JjO be asleep. 
 
 ' Is this it ? ' said Nelly, looking in alarm at the 
 new and splendid house before which the taxi had 
 drawn up.
 
 ' MISSING ' 147 
 
 ' Well, it's the right number ! ' And Bridget, rather 
 flurried, looked at the piece of paper on which Farrell 
 had written the address for her, the night before. 
 She jumped out of the taxi and ran up some marble 
 steps towards a glass door covered with a lattice metal- 
 work, beyond which a hall, a marble staircase and a 
 lift shewed dimly. Inside, a porter in livery, at the 
 first sight of the taxi, put down the newspaper he was 
 reading, and hurried to the door. 
 
 ' Is this Sir William FarrelTs flat ? ' asked Bridget. 
 ' It's all right, Miss. They're expecting you. Sir 
 William went off this morning. I was to tell you he 
 had to go down to Aldershot to-day on business, but 
 he hoped to look in this evening, on his way to Euston, 
 to see that you had everything comfortable.' 
 
 Eeluctantly, and with a feeble step, Nelly descended, 
 helped by the porter. 
 
 ' Oh, Bridget, I wish we hadn't come ! ' She 
 breathed it into her sister's ear, as they stood together 
 in the hall, waiting for the lift which had been called. 
 Bridget shut her lips tightly, and said nothing. 
 
 The lift carried them up to the third floor, and 
 there at the top the ex-army cook and his wife were 
 waiting, a pair of stout and comfortable people, all 
 smiles and complaisance. The two small trunks were 
 shouldered by the man, and the woman led the way. 
 
 ' Lunch will be ready directly, Ma'am,' she said 
 to Nelly, who followed her in bewilderment across 
 a hall panelled in marble and carpeted with some- 
 thing red and soft. 
 
 ' Sir William thought you would like it about 
 one o'clock. And this is your room, please, Ma'am 
 unless you would like anything different. It's Miss 
 Farrell's room. She always likes the quiet side.
 
 148 ' MISSING ' 
 
 And I've put Miss Cookson next door. I thought 
 you'd wish to be together ? ' 
 
 : Nelly entered a room furnished in white and 
 pale green, luxurious in every detail, and hung with 
 engravings after Watteau framed in white wood. 
 Through an open door shewed another room a little 
 smaller, but equally dainty and fresh in all its 
 appointments. Bridget tripped briskly through 'the 
 open door, looked around her and deposited her bag 
 upon the bed. Nelly meanwhile was being shewn the 
 green-tiled and marble-floored bathroom attached to 
 her room, Mrs. Smithson chattering on the various 
 improvements and subtleties, which ' Miss Cicely ' had 
 lately commanded there. 
 
 ' But I'm sure you'll be wanting your lunch, 
 Ma'am,' said the woman at last, venturing a com- 
 passionate glance at the pale young creature beside 
 her. ' It'll be ready in five minutes. I'll tell Smith- 
 son he can serve it.' 
 
 She disappeared, and Nelly sank into a chair^ 
 Why had they come to this place ? Her whole 
 nature was in revolt. The gaiety and luxury of the 
 flat seemed to rise up and reproach her. What 
 was she doing in such surroundings ? when George 
 Oh, it was hateful hateful ! She thought with 
 longing of the little bare room in the Eydal lodgings, 
 where they had been happy together. 
 
 ' Well, are you ready ? ' said Bridget, bustling 
 in. ' Do take off your things. You look absolutely 
 done up ! ' 
 
 Nelly rose slowly, but her face had flushed. 
 ' I can't stay here, Bridget ! ' she said with energy 
 ' I can't ! I don't know why we came.' 
 
 ' Because we were asked,' said Bridget calmly.
 
 4 MISSING ' 149 
 
 ' We can stay, I think, for a couple of days, can't we, 
 till we find something else ? Where are your brushes ? ' 
 
 And she began vigorously unpacking for her 
 sister, helplessly watched by Nelly. They had just 
 
 come from D Street, where Nelly had been 
 
 shewn various letters and telegrams ; but nothing 
 which promised any real further clue to George 
 Sarratt's fate. He had been seen advancing seen 
 wounded by at least a dozen men of the regiment, 
 and a couple of officers, all of whom had now been 
 communicated with. But the wave of the counter- 
 attack temporarily successful had rushed over the 
 same ground before the British gains had been finally 
 consolidated, and from that fierce and confused 
 fighting there came no further word of George Sarratt. 
 It was supposed that in the final German retreat 
 he had been swept up as a German prisoner. He 
 was not among the dead found and buried by an 
 English search party on the following day so much 
 had been definitely ascertained. 
 
 The friendly volunteer in D Street whose 
 
 name appeared to be Miss Eustace had tried to 
 insist with Nelly that on the whole, and so far, 
 the news collected was not discouraging. At least 
 there was no verification of death. And for the rest, 
 there were always the letters from Geneva to wait 
 for. ' One must be patient,' Miss Eustace had said 
 finally. ' These things take so long ! But every- 
 body's doing their best.' And she had grasped 
 Nelly's cold hands in hers, long and pityingly. Her 
 own fine aquiline face seemed to have grown thinner 
 and more strained even since Nelly had known it. 
 She often worked in the office, she said, up to mid- 
 night.
 
 150 'MISSING' 
 
 All these recollections and passing visualisations 
 of words and faces, drawn from those busy rooms a 
 few streets off, in which not only George Sarratt's 
 fate, but her own, as it often seemed to Nelly, were 
 being slowly and inexorably decided, passed end- 
 lessly through her brain, as she mechanically took 
 off her things, and brushed her hair. 
 
 Presently she was following Bridget across the 
 hall to the drawing-room. Bridget seemed already 
 to know all about the flat. ' The dining-room opens 
 out of the drawing-room. It's all Japanese,' she 
 said complaisantly, turning back to her sister. ' Isn't 
 it jolly? Miss Farrell furnished it. Sir William let 
 her have it all her own way.' 
 
 Nelly looked vaguely round the drawing-room, 
 which had a blue Persian carpet, pale purple walls, 
 hung with Japanese colour prints, a few chairs, one 
 comfortable sofa, a couple of Japanese cabinets, and 
 pots of Japanese lilies in the corners. It was a room 
 not meant for living in. There was not a book in 
 it anywhere. It looked exactly what it was a 
 perching-place for rich people, who liked their own 
 ways, and could not be bored with hotels. 
 
 The dining-room was equally bare, costly, and 
 effective. Its only ornament was a Chinese Buddha, 
 a great terra cotta, marvellously alive, which had 
 been looted from some Eoyal tomb, and now sat 
 serenely out of place, looking over the dainty luncheon 
 table to the square outside, and wrapt in dreams 
 older than Christianity. 
 
 The flat was nominally lent to ' Mrs. Sarratt,' 
 but Bridget was managing everything, and had never 
 felt so much in her element in her life. She sat
 
 ' MISSING ' 151 
 
 at the head of the table, helped Nelly, gave all the 
 orders, and was extraordinarily brisk and cheerful. 
 
 Nelly scarcely touched anything, and Mrs. Smithson 
 who waited was much concerned. 
 
 ' Perhaps you'd tell Smithson anything you could 
 fancy, Madam,' she said anxiously in Nelly's ear, as 
 she handed the fruit. Nelly must needs smile when 
 anyone spoke kindly to her. She smiled now, though 
 very wearily. 
 
 ' Why, it's all beautiful, thank you. But I'm not 
 hungry.' 
 
 ' We'll have coffee in the drawing-room, please, 
 Mrs. Smithson,' said Bridget rising a tall masterful 
 figure, in a black silk dress, which she kept for best 
 occasions. ' Now, Nelly, you must rest.' 
 
 Nelly let herself be put on the sofa in the draw r ing- 
 room, and Bridget after praising the coffee, the 
 softness of the chairs, the beauty of the Japanese 
 lilies, and much speculation on the value of the Persian 
 carpet which, she finally decided, was old and priceless, 
 announced that she was going for a walk. 
 
 ' Why don't you come too, Nelly ? Come and 
 look at the shops. You shouldn't mope all day long. 
 If they do send for you to nurse George, you won't 
 have the strength of a cat.' 
 
 But Nelly had shrunk into herself. She said she 
 would stay in and write a letter to Hester Martin. 
 Presently she was left alone. Mrs. Smithson had cleared 
 away, and shut all the doors between the sitting-rooms 
 and the kitchen. Inside the flat nothing was to be 
 heard but the clock ticking on the drawing-room 
 mantelpiece. Outside, there were intermittent noises 
 and rattles from the traffic in the square, and beyond
 
 152 'MISSING' 
 
 that again the muffled insistent murmur which seemed 
 to Nelly this afternoon in her utter loneliness the 
 most desolate sound she had ever heard. The day 
 had turned to rain and darkness, and the rapid closing 
 of the October afternoon prophesied winter. Nelly 
 could not rouse herself to write the letter to Miss 
 Martin. She lay prone in a corner of the sofa, dream- 
 ing, as she had done all her life ; save that the faculty 
 of setting in motion at will a stream of vivid and 
 connected images which had always been one of her 
 chief pleasures, was now an obsession and a torment. 
 How often, in her wakeful nights at Kydal, had she 
 lived over again every moment in the walk to Blea 
 Tarn, till at last, gathered once more on George's 
 knees, and nestling to his breast, she had fallen asleep 
 comforted. 
 
 She went through it all, once more, in this strange 
 room, as the darkness closed ; only the vision ended 
 now, not in a tender thrill half conscious, fading 
 into sleep of remembered joy, but in an anguish of 
 sobbing, the misery of the frail tormented creature, 
 unable to bear its life. 
 
 Nevertheless sleep came. For nights she had 
 scarcely slept, and in the silence immediately round 
 her the distant sounds gradually lost their dreary 
 note, and became a rhythmical and soothing influence. 
 She fell into a deep unconsciousness. 
 
 An hour later, a tall man rang at the outer door 
 of the flat. Mrs. Smithson obeyed the summons, and 
 found Sir William Farrell on the threshold. 
 
 ' Well, have they come ? ' 
 
 / ' Oh, yes, sir.' And Mrs. Smithson gave a rapid, 
 sotto voce account of the visitors' arrival, their lunch,
 
 'MISSING' 153 
 
 Mrs. Sarratt's sad looks ' poor little lady ! ' and 
 much else. 
 
 Sir William stepped in. 
 
 ' Are they at home ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Smithson shook her head. 
 
 ' They went out after lunch, Sir William, and I 
 have not heard them come in.' 
 
 Which, of course, was a mistake on the part of 
 Mrs. Smithson, who, hearing the front door close half 
 an hour after luncheon and no subsequent movement 
 in the flat, had supposed that the sisters had gone out 
 together. 
 
 ' All right. I'll wait for them. I want to see 
 Mrs. Sarratt before I start. You may get me a cup of 
 tea, if you like.' 
 
 Mrs. Smithson disappeared with alacrity, and Farrell 
 crossed the hall to the drawing-room. He turned 
 on the light as he opened the door, and was at once 
 aware of Nelly's slight form on the sofa. She did not 
 move, and something in her attitude some rigidity 
 that he fancied alarmed him. He took a few steps, 
 and then saw that there was no cause for alarm. 
 She was only asleep, poor child, profoundly, pathetically 
 asleep. Her utter unconsciousness, the delicate hand 
 and arm lying over the edge of the sofa, and the gleam 
 of her white forehead under its muffing cloud of hair, 
 moved him strangely. He retreated as quietly as 
 he could, and almost ran into Mrs. Smithson bringing 
 a tray. He beckoned her into a small room which he 
 used as his own den. But he had hardly explained 
 the situation, before there were sounds in the drawing- 
 room, and Nelly opened the door, which he had closed 
 behind him. He had forgotten to turn out the light, 
 and its glare had awakened her.
 
 154 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Oh, Sir William ' she said, in bewilderment 
 ' Did you come in just now ? ' 
 
 He explained his proceedings, retaining the hand 
 she gave him, and looking down upon her with an 
 impulsive and affectionate pity. 
 
 * You were asleep. I disturbed you,' he said, 
 remorsefully. 
 
 ' Oh no, do come in.' 
 
 She led the way into the drawing-room. 
 
 ' I wanted specially to tell you some things I 
 heard at Aldershot to-day, which I thought might cheer 
 you,' said Farrell. 
 
 And sitting beside her, while Mrs. Smithson lit a 
 fire and spread a white tea-table, he repeated various 
 stories of the safe return of ' missing ' men which he 
 had collected for her that morning, including the 
 narrative of an escaped prisoner, who, although 
 badly wounded, had managed to find his way back, 
 at night, from the neighbourhood of Brussels, through 
 various hairbreadth adventures and disguises, and after 
 many weeks to the British lines. He brought the 
 tale to her, as an omen of hope, together with his 
 other gleanings ; and under the influence of his cheer- 
 ful voice and manner, Nelly's aspect changed ; the light 
 came back into her eyes, which hung upon him, as 
 Farrell talked on, persuading himself, as he persuaded 
 her. So that presently, when tea came in, and the 
 kettle boiled, she was quite ready to pour out for him, 
 to ask him questions about his night journey, and 
 thank him timidly for all his kindness. 
 
 ' But this this is too grand for us ! ' she said, 
 looking round her. ' We must find a lodging soon.' 
 
 He begged her earnestly to let the flat be of use
 
 ' MISSING ' 155 
 
 to her, and she, embarrassed and unwilling, but 
 dreading to hurt his feelings, was compelled at last 
 to submit to a week's stay. 
 
 Then he got up to go ; and she was very sorry 
 to say good-bye to him. As for him, in her wistful 
 and gracious charm, she had never seemed to him 
 more lovely. How she became grief ! in her measure 
 reserve ! 
 
 He ran down the stairs of the mansions just as 
 Bridget Cookson arrived with the lift at the third floor. 
 She recognised the disappearing figure, and stood a 
 moment at the~door of the flat, looking after it, a 
 gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
 
 PART II
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 4 Is she out ? ' 
 
 The questioner was William Farrell, and the 
 question was addressed to his cousin Hester, whom 
 he had found sitting in the little upstairs drawing-room 
 of the Rydal lodgings, partly knitting, but mostly 
 thinking, to judge from her slowly moving needles, 
 and her absent eyes fixed upon the garden outside 
 the open window. 
 
 ' She has gone down to the lake it is good for 
 her to be alone a bit.' 
 
 ' You brought her up from Torquay ? ' 
 
 ' I did. We slept in London, and arrived yester- 
 day. Miss Cookson comes this evening.' 
 
 * Why doesn't she keep away ? ' said Farrell, 
 impatiently. 
 
 He took a seat opposite his cousin. He was in 
 riding-dress, and looked in splendid case. From 
 his boyhood he had always been coupled in Hester's 
 mind with the Biblical words ' ruddy and of a 
 cheerful countenance ' ; and as he sat there flushed 
 with air and exercise, they fitted him even better 
 than usual. Yet there was modern subtlety too in 
 his restless eyes, and mouth alternately sensitive 
 and ironic. 
 
 Hester's needles began fco ply a little faster. A 
 .*" 169
 
 160 ' MISSING ' 
 
 spring wind came through the window, and stirred 
 her grey hair. 
 
 ' How did she get over it yesterday ? ' Farrell 
 presently asked. 
 
 ' Well, of course it was hard,' said Hester, quietly. 
 ' I let her alone, poor child, and I told Mrs. Weston 
 not to bother her. She came up to these rooms and 
 shut herself up a little. I went over to my own 
 cottage, and came back for supper. Then she had 
 got it over and I just kissed her and said nothing. 
 It was much best.' 
 
 ' Do you think she gives up hope ? ' 
 
 Hester shook her head. 
 
 ' Not the least. You can see that.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' When she gives up hope, she will put on a black 
 dress.' 
 
 Farrell gave an impatient sigh. 
 
 ' You know there can't be the smallest doubt 
 that Sarratt is dead ! He died in some German hos- 
 pital, and the news has never come through.' 
 
 ' The Ked Cross people at Geneva declare that if 
 he had died in hospital they would know. The 
 identification disks are returned to them so they 
 say with remarkable care.' 
 
 ' Well then, he died on the field, and the Germans 
 buried him.' 
 
 ' In which case the poor soul will know nothing 
 ever,' said Hester sadly. ' But, of course, she 
 believes he is a prisoner.' 
 
 ' My dear Hester, if he were, we should certainly 
 have heard ! Enquiries are now much more thorough, 
 and the results much more accurate, than they were 
 a year ago.'
 
 1 MISSING ' 161 
 
 ' Loss of memory ? shell-shock ? ' said Hester 
 vaguely. 
 
 ' They don't do away with your disk, and your 
 regimental marks, etc. Whatever may happen to a 
 private, an officer doesn't slip through and vanish 
 like this, if he is still alive. The thing is perfectly 
 clear.' 
 
 Hester shook her head without speaking. She 
 was just as thoroughly convinced as Farrell that 
 Nelly was a widow ; but she did not see how anybody 
 could proclaim it before Nelly did. 
 
 ' I wonder how long it will take to convince her,' 
 said Farrell, after a pause. 
 
 ' Well, I suppose when peace comes, if there's no 
 news then, she will have to give it up. By the way, 
 when may one legally presume that one's husband 
 is dead ? ' asked Hester, suddenly lifting her shrewd 
 grey eyes to the face of her visitor. 
 
 ' It used to be seven years. But I believe now you 
 can go to the Courts ' 
 
 ' If a woman wants to remarry ? Well that, of 
 course, Nelly Sarratt will never do ! ' 
 
 ' My dear Hester, what nonsense ! ' said Farrell, 
 vehemently. ' Of course she'll marry again. What 
 is she ? twenty-one ? It would be a sin and a 
 shame.' 
 
 ' I only meant she would never take any steps 
 of her own will to separate herself from Sarratt.' 
 
 ' Women look at things far too sentimentally ! ' 
 exclaimed Farrell, ' and they just spoil their lives. 
 However, neither you nor I can prophesy anything. 
 Time works wonders ; and if he didn't, we should all 
 be wrecks and lunatics ! ' 
 
 Hester said nothing. She was conscious of
 
 162 f MISSING' 
 
 suppressed excitement in the man before her. Farrell 
 watched her knitting fingers for a little, and then 
 remarked : 
 
 1 But of course at present what has to be done, 
 is to improve her health, and distract her thoughts.' 
 
 Hester's eyes lifted again. 
 
 ' And you want to take it in hand ? ' 
 
 Her emphasis on the pronoun was rather sharp. 
 Farrell's fair though sunburnt skin shewed a sudden 
 redness. 
 
 '(Yes I do. Why shouldn't I ? ' His look met 
 hers full. 
 
 ' She's very lonely very unprotected,' said Hester, 
 slowly. 
 
 ' You mean, you can't trust me ? ' he said, flushing 
 deeper. 
 
 ' No, Willy no ! ' Hester's earnest, perplexed look 
 appeased his rising anger. ' But it's a very difficult 
 position, you must see for yourself. Ever since 
 George Sarratt disappeared, you've been what shall 
 I say ? the poor child's earthly Providence. Her 
 illness her convalescence you've done everything 
 you've provided everything ' 
 
 ' With her sister's consent, remember ! and I 
 promised Sarratt to look after them ! ' 
 
 Farrell's blue eyes were now bright and stubborn. 
 Hester realised him as ready for an argument which 
 both he and she had long foreseen. She and Farrell 
 had always been rather intimate friends, and he had 
 come to her for advice in some very critical moments 
 of his life. 
 
 ' Her sister ! ' repeated Hester, contemptuously. 
 ' Yes, indeed, Bridget Cookson in my opinion is 
 a great deal too ready to accept everything you do !
 
 'MISSING' 163 
 
 But Nelly has fought it again and again. Only, in 
 her weakness, with you on one side and Bridget on 
 the other what could she do ? ' 
 
 She had taken the plunge now. Her own colour 
 had risen her hand shook a little on her needles. 
 And she had clearly roused some strong emotion in 
 Farrell. After a few moments' silence, he fell upon 
 her, speaking rather huskily. 
 
 ' You mean I have taken advantage of her ? ' 
 
 ' I don't mean anything of the kind ! ' Hester's 
 tone shewed her distress. ' I know that all you 
 have done has been out of pure friendship and 
 goodness ' 
 
 He stopped her. 
 
 ' Don't go on ! ' he said roughly. ' Whatever I 
 am, I'm not a hypocrite. I worship the ground she 
 treads on ! ' 
 
 There was silence. Hester bent again over her 
 work. The thoughts of both flew back over the 
 preceding six months. Nelly's utter collapse after 
 five or six weeks in London, when the closest 
 enquiries, backed by Farrell's intelligence, influence 
 and money he had himself sent out a special agent 
 to Geneva had failed to reveal the slightest trace 
 of George Sarratt ; her illness, pneumonia, the result 
 of a slight chill affecting a general physical state 
 depressed by grief and sleeplessness ; her long and 
 tedious convalescence ; and that pitiful dumbness 
 and inertia from which she had only just begun to 
 emerge. Hester was thinking too of the nurses, the 
 doctors, the lodgings at Torquay, the motor, the 
 endless flowers and books ! all provided, practi- 
 cally, by Farrell, aided and abetted by Bridget's 
 readiness a discreditable readiness, in the eyes of
 
 164 'MISSING' 
 
 a person of such Spartan standards as Hester Martin 
 to avail herself to any extent of other people's 
 money. The patient was not to blame. Even in the 
 worst times of her illness, Nelly had shewn signs of 
 distress and revolt. But Bridget, instructed by 
 Farrell, had talked vaguely of ' a loan from a friend ' ; 
 and Nelly had been too ill, too physically weak, to 
 urge enquiry further. 
 
 Seeing that he was to blame, Farrell broke in upon 
 Hester's recollections. 
 
 ' You know very well ' he said vehemently 
 ' that if anything less had been done for her, she 
 would have died ! ' 
 
 Would she ? It was the lavishness and costliness 
 of Farrell's giving which had shocked Hester's sense 
 of delicacy, and had given rise she was certain to 
 gossip among the Farrell friends and kindred that 
 could easily have been avoided. She looked at her 
 companion steadily. 
 
 ' Suppose we grant it, Willy. But now she's 
 convalescent, she's going to get strong. Let her live 
 her own life. You can't marry her and ' she added 
 it deliberately ' she is as much in love with her poor 
 George as she ever was ! ' 
 
 Farrell moved restlessly in his chair. She saw him 
 wince and she had intended the blow. 
 
 ' I can't marry her yet perhaps for years. But 
 why can't I be her friend ? Why can't I share with her 
 the things that give me pleasure books art and 
 all the rest ? Why should you condemn me to see 
 her living on a pittance, with nobody but a sister 
 who is as hard as nails, to look after her ? lonely, 
 and unhappy, and dull when I know that I could 
 help her, turn her mind away from her trouble make
 
 'MISSING' 165 
 
 her take some pleasure in life again ? You talk, 
 Hester, as though we had a dozen lives to play with, 
 instead of this one rickety business ! ' 
 
 His resentment grew with the expression of it. 
 But Hester met him unflinchingly. 
 
 ' I'm anxious because human nature is human 
 nature and risk is risk,' she said slowly. 
 
 He bent forward, his hands on his knees. 
 
 ' I swear to you I will be honestly her friend ! 
 What do you take me for, Hester ? You know very 
 well that I have had my adventures, and they're 
 over. I'm not a boy. I can answer for myself.' 
 
 ' All very well ! but suppose suppose before she 
 felt herself free and against her conscience she were 
 to fall in love with you ? ' 
 
 Farrell could not conceal the flash that the mere 
 words, reluctantly as they were spoken, sent through 
 his blue eyes. He laughed. 
 
 1 Well you're there ! Act watch-dog as much as 
 you please. Besides we all know you have just 
 said so that she does not believe in Sarratt's death, 
 that she feels herself still his wife, and not his widow. 
 That fact establishes the relation between her and me. 
 And if the outlook changes ' 
 
 His voice dropped to a note of pleading 
 
 ' Let me, Hester ! let me ! ' 
 
 * As if I could prevent you ! ' said Hester, rather 
 bitterly, bending again over her work. 
 
 ' Yes, you could. You have such influence with 
 her now, that you could banish me entirely if you 
 pleased. A word from you would do it. But it would 
 be hideously cruel of you and abominally unjust ! 
 However, I know your power over her and so over 
 me. And so I made up my mind it was no good
 
 166 ' MISSING ' 
 
 trying to conceal anything from you. I've told you 
 straight out. I love her and because I love her 
 you may be perfectly certain I shall protect her ! ' 
 
 Silence again. Farrell had turned towards the 
 open window. When Hester turned her eyes she saw 
 his handsome profile, his Nibelung's head and beard 
 against the stony side of the fell. A man with unfair 
 advantages, it seemed to her, if he chose to put out 
 his strength ; the looks of a king, a warm heart, 
 a sympathetic charm, felt quite as much by men as 
 by women, and ability which would have distinguished 
 him in any career, if his wealth had not put the drag on 
 industry. But at the moment he was not idle. He 
 was more creditably and fully employed than she had 
 ever known him. His hospital and his pride in it were 
 in fact Nelly Sarratt's best safeguard. Whatever 
 he wished, he could not possibly spend all his time at 
 her feet. 
 
 Hester tried one more argument the conventional. 
 
 ' Have you ever really asked yourself, Willy, how 
 it will look to the outside world what people will 
 think ? It is all very well to scoff at Mrs. Grundy, 
 but the poor child has no natural guardian. We both 
 agree her sister is no use to her.' 
 
 ' Let them think ! ' he turned to her again with 
 energy ' so long as you and I know. Besides I 
 shan't compromise her in any way, I shall be most 
 careful not to do so.' 
 
 ' Look at this room ! ' said Hester drily. She 
 herself surveyed it. Farrell's laugh had a touch of 
 embarrassment. 
 
 ' Well ? mayn't anyone give things to a sick 
 child ? Hush ! here she is ! ' 
 
 He drew further back into the room, and they
 
 ' MISSING ' 167 
 
 both watched a little figure in a serge dress crossing 
 the footbridge beyond the garden. Then she came 
 into the garden, and up the sloping lawn, her hat 
 dangling in her hand, and the spring sunshine upon 
 her. Hester thought of the preceding June ; of the 
 little bride, with her springing step, and radiant eyes. 
 Nelly, as she was now, seemed to her the typical figure 
 or rather, one of the two typical figures of the war 
 the man in action, the woman in bereavement. Sorrow 
 had marked her ; bitten into her youth, and blurred 
 it. Yet it had also dignified and refined her. She 
 was no less lovely. 
 
 As she approached, she saw them and waved to 
 them. Farrell went to the sitting-room door to meet 
 her, and it seemed both to him and Hester that in 
 spite of her emaciation and her pallor, she brought 
 the spring in with her. She had a bunch of willow cat- 
 kins and primroses in her hand, and her face, for all its 
 hollow cheeks and temples, shewed just a sparkle of 
 returning health. 
 
 It was clear that she was pleased to see Farrell. 
 But her manner of greeting him now was very different 
 from what it had been in the days before her loss. It 
 was much quieter and more assured. His seniority 
 there were nineteen years between them his 
 conspicuous place in the world, his knowledge and 
 accomplishment, had evidently ceased to intimidate 
 her. Something had equalised them. 
 
 But his kindness could still make her shy. 
 
 Half-way across the room, she caught sight of a 
 picture, on an easel, both of which Farrell had 
 brought with him. 
 
 1 Oh ! ' she said, and stopped short, looking 
 
 from it to him.
 
 168 ' MISSING ' 
 
 He enjoyed her surprise. 
 
 ' Well ? Do you remember admiring it at the 
 cottage ? I'm up to the neck in work. I never go 
 there. I thought you and Hester might as well take 
 care of it for a bit.' 
 
 Nelly approached it. It was one of the Turner 
 water-colours which glorified the cottage ; the most 
 adorable, she thought, of all of them. It shewed a 
 sea of downs, their grassy backs flowing away wave 
 after wave, down to the real sea in the gleaming 
 distance. Between the downs ran a long valley 
 floor cottages on it, woods and houses, farms and 
 churches, strung on a silver river ; under the mingled 
 cloud and sunshine of an April day. It breathed the 
 very soul of England, of this sacred long-descended 
 land of ours. Sarratt, who had stood beside her when 
 she had first looked at it, had understood it so at 
 once. 
 
 ' Jolly well worth fighting for this country ! 
 isn't it ? ' he had said to Farrell over her head, and 
 once or twice afterwards he had spoken to her of the 
 drawing with delight. ' I shall think of it over there. 
 It'll do one good.' 
 
 As she paused before it now, a sob rose in her 
 throat. But she controlled herself quickly. Then 
 something beyond the easel caught her eye a mass 
 of flowers, freesias, narcissus, tulips, tumbled on a 
 table ; then a pile of new books j and finally, a sur- 
 prising piece'of furniture. 
 
 ' What have you been doing now ? ' she asked 
 him, wondering, and, as Hester thought, shrinking 
 back a little. 
 
 ' It's from Cicely ' he said apologetically. ' She 
 made me bring it. She declared she'd sampled the
 
 ' MISSING ' 169 
 
 sofa here, ' he pointed to an ancient one in a corner 
 ' and it would disgrace a dug-out. It's her affair 
 don't blame me ! ' 
 
 Nelly looked bewildered. 
 
 ' But I'm not ill now. I'm getting well.' 
 
 ' If you only knew what a ghost you look still,' 
 he said vehemently, ' you'd let Cicely have her little 
 plot. This used to stand in my mother's sitting-room. 
 It was bought for her. Cicely had it put to rights.' 
 
 As he spoke, he made a hasty mental note that 
 Cicely would have to be coached in her part. 
 
 Nelly examined the object. It was a luxurious 
 adjustable couch, covered in flowery chintz, with a 
 reading-desk, and well supplied with the softest 
 cushions. 
 
 She laughed, but there was rather a flutter in her 
 laugh. 
 
 ' It's awfully kind of Cicely. But you know ' 
 
 Her eyes turned on Farrell with a sudden insistence. 
 Hester had just left the room, and her distant voice 
 with other voices could be heard in the garden. 
 
 ' You know you mustn't all of you spoil me 
 
 so, any more. I've got my life to face. You mean it 
 so kindly but ' 
 
 She sank into a chair by the window that Farrell 
 had placed for her, and her aspect struck him painfully. 
 There was so much weakness in it ; and yet a touch of 
 fierceness. 
 
 * I've got my life to face,' she repeated ' and you 
 mustn't, Sir William you mustn't let me get too 
 dependent on you and Cicely and Hester, Be 
 my friend my true friend and help me ' 
 
 She bent forward, and her pale lips just breathed 
 the rest
 
 170 ' MISSING ' 
 
 'Help mo to endure hardness! That's what I 
 want for George's sake and my own. I must find 
 some work to do. In a few months perhaps I might 
 be able to teach but there are plenty of things I 
 could do now. I want to be just neglected a little 
 treated as a normal person ! ' 
 
 Bhe smiled faintly at him as he stood beside her. 
 He felt himself rebuked abashed as though he had 
 been in some sort an intruder on her spiritual freedom ; 
 had tried to purchase her dependence by a kindness 
 she did not want. That was not in her mind, he knew. 
 But it was in Hester's. And there was not wanting 
 a certain guilty consciousness in his own. 
 
 But he threw it off. Absurdity ! She did need 
 his friendship ; and he had done what he had done 
 without the shadow of a corrupt motive en tout 
 bien, tout honneur. 
 
 It was intolerable to him to think of her as poor 
 and resourceless left to that disagreeable sister and 
 her own melancholy thoughts. Still the first need 
 of all was that she should trust him as a good friend, 
 who had slipped by force of circumstances into a 
 kind of guardian's position. Accordingly he applied 
 himself to the kind of persuasion that befits seniority 
 and experience. She had asked to be treated as a 
 normal person. He proved to her, gently laughing 
 at her, that the claim was preposterous. Ask her 
 doctor ! ask Hester ! As for teaching, time enough 
 to talk about that when she had a little flesh on her 
 bones, a little strength in her limbs. She might read, 
 of course ; that was what the couch was for. Lying 
 there by the window she might become as learned as 
 she liked, and get strong at the same time. He 
 would keep her stocked with books. The library at
 
 'MISSING' 171 
 
 Carton was going mouldy for lack of use. And as 
 for her drawing, he had hoped perhaps she might 
 some time take a lesson 
 
 Then he saw a little shiver run through her. 
 
 ' Could I ? ' she said in a low voice, turning her 
 face away. And he perceived that the bare idea of 
 resuming old pleasures the pleasures of her happy, 
 her unwidowed time was still a shock to her. 
 
 ' I'm sure it would help ' he said, persevering. 
 ' You have a real turn for water-colour. You should 
 cultivate it you should really. In my belief you might 
 do a great deal better with it than with teaching.' 
 
 That roused her. She sat up, her eyes brightening. 
 
 1 If I worked you really think ? And then,' 
 her voice dropped ' if George came back ' 
 
 ' Exactly,' he said gravely ' it might be of 
 great use. Didn't you wish for something normal 
 to do ? Well, here's the chance. I can supply you 
 with endless subjects to copy. There are more in the 
 cottage than you would get through in six months. 
 And I could send you over portfolios of my own 
 studies and academies, done at Paris, and in the 
 Slade, which would help you and sometimes we 
 could take some work out of doors.' 
 
 She said nothing, but her sad puzzled eyes, as 
 they wandered over the garden and the lake, shewed 
 that she was considering it. 
 
 Then suddenly her expression changed. 
 
 ' Isn't that Cicely's voice ? ' She motioned to- 
 wards the garden. 
 
 ' I daresay. I sent on the motor to meet her 
 at Windermere. She's been in town for two or three 
 weeks, selling at Eed Cross Bazaars and things. And 
 by George ! isn't that Marsworth ? '
 
 172 'MISSING' 
 
 He sprang up to look, and verified his guess. 
 The tall figure on the lawn with Cicely and Hester 
 was certainly Marsworth. He and Nelly looked at 
 each other, and Nelly smiled. 
 
 ' You know Cicely and I have become great 
 friends ? ' she said shyly. ' It's so odd that I should 
 call her Cicely but she makes me.' 
 
 ' She treats you nicely ? at last ? ' 
 
 ' She's awfully good to me,' said Nelly, with 
 emphasis. ' I used to be so afraid of her.' 
 
 ' What wrought the miracle ? ' 
 
 But Nelly shook her head, and would not tell. 
 
 ' I had a letter from Marsworth a week ago,' 
 said Farrell reflecting ' asking how and where we 
 all were. I told him I was tied and bound to 
 Carton no chance of getting away for ages but 
 that Cicely had kicked over the traces and gone up 
 to London for a month. Then he sent a post-card 
 to say that he was coming up for a fortnight's treat- 
 ment, and would go to his old quarters at the Eectory. 
 Ah! ' 
 
 He paused, grinning. The same thought occurred 
 to both of them. Marsworth was still suffering very 
 much at times from his neuralgia in the arm, and 
 had a great belief in one of the Carton surgeons, 
 who, with Farrell's aid, had now installed one of the 
 most complete electrical and gymnastic apparatus in 
 the kingdom, at the Carton hospital. Once, during 
 an earlier absence of Cicely's before Christmas, he 
 had suddenly appeared at the Rectory, for ten days' 
 treatment ; and now again ! Farrell laughed. 
 
 ' As for Cicely, you can never count on her for 
 a week together. She got home-sick, and wired 
 to me that she was coming to-night. I forgot all
 
 ' MISSING ' 173 
 
 about Marsworth. I expect they met at the station ; 
 and quarrelled all the way here. What on earth 
 is Cicely after in that direction ! You say you've 
 made friends with her. Do you know ? ' 
 
 Nelly looked conscious. 
 
 ' I I guess something,' she said. 
 
 1 But you mustn't tell ? ' 
 
 She nodded, smiling. Farrell shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 1 Well, am I to encourage Marsworth supposing 
 he comes to me for advice to go and propose to 
 the Eector's granddaughter ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not ! ' said Nelly, opening a pair of 
 astonished eyes. 
 
 1 Aha, I've caught you ! You've given the show 
 away. But you know ' his tone grew serious 
 ' it's not at all impossible that he may. She torments 
 him too much.' 
 
 ' He must do nothing of the kind,' said Nelly, 
 with decision. 
 
 ' Well, you tell him so. I wash my hands of 
 them. I can't fathom either of them. Here they 
 are!' 
 
 Voices ascending the stairs announced the party. 
 Cicely came in first ; tired and travel-stained, and 
 apparently in the worst of tempers. But she seemed 
 glad to see Nelly Sarratt, whom she kissed, to the 
 astonishment of her Cousin Hester, who was not as yet 
 aware of the new' relations between the two. And 
 then, flinging herself into a chair beside Nelly, she 
 declared that she was dead-beat, that the train had 
 been intolerably full of khaki, and that soldiers ought 
 to have trains to themselves. 
 
 ' Thank your stars, Cicely, that you are allowed to
 
 174 'MISSING' 
 
 travel at all,' said Farrell. ' No civilian nowadays 
 matters a ha'porth.' 
 
 ' And then we talk about Prussian Militarism ! ' 
 cried Cicely. And she went off at score describing the 
 invasion of her compartment at Eugby by a crowd 
 of young officers, whose manners were ' atrocious.' 
 
 ' What was their crime ? ' asked Marsworth, quietly. 
 He sat in the background, cigarette in hand, a strong 
 figure, rather harshly drawn, black hair slightly 
 grizzled, a black moustache, civilian clothes. He had 
 filled out since the preceding summer and looked much 
 better in health. But his left arm was still generally 
 in its sling. 
 
 ' They had every crime ! ' said Cicely impatiently. 
 4 It isn't worth discriminating.' 
 
 Marsworth raised his eyebrows. 
 
 ' Poor boys ! ' 
 
 Cicely flushed. 
 
 ' You think, of course, I have no right to criticise 
 anything in khaki ! ' 
 
 ' Not at all. Criticism is the salt of life.' His 
 eyes twinkled. 
 
 ' That I entirely deny ! ' said Cicely, firmly. She 
 made a fantastic but agreeable figure as she sat near the 
 window in the full golden light of the March evening. 
 Above her black toque there soared a feather which 
 almost touched the ceiling of the low room a panache, 
 nodding defiance ; while her short grey skirts shewed 
 her shapely ankles and feet, clothed in grey gaiters and 
 high boots of the very latest perfection. 
 
 ' What do you deny, Cicely ? ' asked her brother, 
 absently, conscious always, through all the swaying 
 of talk, of the slight childish form of Nelly Sarratt 
 beneath him, in her deep chair ; and of the eyes and
 
 1 MISSING ' 175 
 
 mouth, which after the few passing smiles he had 
 struck from them, were veiled again in their habitual 
 sadness. ' Here I and sorrow sit.' The words ran 
 through his mind, only to be passionately rejected. 
 She was young ! and life was long. Forget she 
 would, and must. 
 
 At her brother's question, Cicely merely shrugged 
 her shoulders. 
 
 ' Your sister was critical,' said Marsworth, laughing, 
 ' and then denies the uses of criticism.' 
 
 ' As some people employ it ! ' said Cicely, pointedly. 
 
 Marsworth's mouth twitched but he said nothing. 
 
 Then Hester, perceiving that the atmosphere was 
 stormy, started some of the usual subjects that relieve 
 tension ; the weather the possibility of a rush of 
 Easter tourists to the Lakes the daffodils that were 
 beginning to make beauty in some sheltered places. 
 Marsworth assisted her ; while Cicely took a chair 
 beside Nelly, and talked exclusively to her, in a low 
 voice. Presently Hester saw their hands slip together 
 Cicely's long and vigorous fingers enfolding Nelly's 
 thin ones. How had two such opposites ever come to 
 make friends ? The kindly old maid was very con- 
 scious of cross currents in the spiritual air, as she 
 chatted to Marsworth. She was keenly aware of 
 Farrell, and could not keep the remembrance of what 
 he had said to her out of her mind. Nelly's face 
 and form, also, as the twilight veiled them, were 
 charged for Hester with pitiful meaning. While at 
 the back of her thoughts there was an expectation 
 a constant and agitating expectation, of another 
 arrival. Bridget Cookson might be upon them at 
 any moment. To Hester Martin she was rapidly 
 becoming a disquieting and sinister element in this
 
 176 ' MISSING ' 
 
 group of people. Yet why, Hester could not really 
 have explained. 
 
 The afternoon was rapidly drawing in, and Farrell 
 was just beginning to take out his watch, and talk 
 of starting home, when the usual clatter of wheels and 
 hoofs announced the arrival of the evening coach. 
 Nelly sat up, looking very white and weary. 
 
 ' I am expecting my sister,' she said to Farrell. ' She 
 has no doubt come by this coach.' 
 
 And in a few more minutes, Bridget was in the 
 room, distributing to everybody there the careless 
 staccato greetings which were her way of protecting 
 herself against the world. Her entrance and her 
 manner had always a disintegrating effect upon other 
 human beings ; and Bridget had no sooner shaken 
 hands with the Farrells than everybody save Nelly 
 was upon their feet and ready to move. One of 
 Bridget's most curious and marked characteristics 
 were an unerring instinct for whatever news might 
 be disagreeable to the company in which she found 
 herself ; and on this occasion she brought some 
 bad war news a German advance at Verdun, with 
 corresponding French losses and delivered it with 
 the emphasis of one to whom it was not really unwel- 
 come. Cicely, to whom, flourishing her evening 
 paper, she had mainly addressed herself, listened 
 with the haughty and casual air she generally put on 
 for Bridget Cookson. She had succumbed for her 
 own reasons to the charm of Nelly. She was only the 
 more inclined to be rude to Bridget. Accordingly 
 she professed complete incredulity on the subject 
 of the news. ' Invented,' she supposed ' to sell 
 some halfpenny rag or other. It would all be con- 
 tradicted to-morrow. Then when Bridget, smarting
 
 ' MISSING ' 177 
 
 under so much scepticism, attempted to support her 
 tale by the testimony of various stale morsels of 
 military gossip, current in a certain pessimist and 
 pacifist household she had been visiting in Manchester, 
 as to the unfavourable situation in France, and the 
 dead certainty of the loss of Verdun ; passing glibly 
 on to the ' bad staff work ' on the British side, 
 and the poor quality of the new officers compared to 
 the old,' &c. Cicely visibly turned up her nose, and 
 with a few deft, cat-like strokes put a raw provincial 
 in her place. She, Cicely, of course she made it 
 plain, by a casual hint or two had just come from 
 the very centre of things ; from living on a social 
 diet of nothing less choice than Cabinet Ministers 
 and leading Generals Bonar Law, Asquith, Curzon, 
 Briand, Lloyd George, Thomas, the great Joffre 
 himself. Bridget began to scowl a little, and had 
 it been anyone else than Cicely Farrell who was thus 
 chastising her, would soon have turned her back upon 
 them. For she was no indiscriminate respecter of 
 persons, and cared nothing at all about rank or social 
 prestige. But from a Farrell she took all things 
 patiently ; till Cicely, suddenly discovering that her 
 victim was giving her no sport, called peremptorily 
 to ' Willy ' to help her put on her cloak. But Farrell 
 was having some last words with Nelly, and Marsworth 
 came forward 
 
 ' Let me ' 
 
 ' Oh thank you ! ' said Cicely carelessly, ' I can 
 manage it myself.' And she did not allow him to 
 touch it. 
 
 Marsworth retreated, and Hester, who had seen 
 the little incident, whispered indignantly in her cousin's 
 ear
 
 178 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Cicely ! you arc a wicked little wretch ! ' 
 
 But Cicely only laughed, and her feather made 
 defiant nods and flourishes all the way downstairs. 
 
 ' Come along Marsworth, my boy,' said Farrell 
 when the good-byes were said, and Hester stood 
 watching their departure, while Cicely chattered from 
 the motor, where she sat wrapped in furs against a 
 rising east wind. ' Outside or inside ? ' He pointed 
 to the car. 
 
 ' Outside, thank you,' said Marsworth, with decision. 
 He promptly took his place beside the chauffeur, 
 and Farrell and his sister were left to each other's 
 company. Farrell had seldom known his companion 
 more cross and provoking than she was during the 
 long motor ride home ; and on their arrival at Carton 
 she jumped out of the car, and with barely a nod to 
 Marsworth, vanished into the house. 
 
 Meanwhile Nelly had let Hester install her on the 
 Carton couch, and lay there well shawled, beside the 
 window, her delicate face turned to the lake and the 
 mountains. Bridget was unpacking, and Hester was 
 just departing to her own house. Nelly could hardly 
 let her go. For a month now, Hester had been with 
 her at Torquay, while Bridget was pursuing some 
 fresh ' work ' in London. And Nelly's desolate heart 
 had found both calm and bracing in Hester's tender- 
 ness. For the plain shapeless spinster was one of 
 those rare beings who in the Larnpadephoria of life, 
 hand on the Lamp of Love, pure and undefiled, as 
 they received it from men and women, like themselves, 
 now dead. 
 
 But Hester went at last, and Nelly was alone. 
 The lake lay steeped in a rich twilight, into which
 
 ' MISSING ' 179 
 
 the stars were rising. The purple breast of Silver 
 How across the water, breathed of shelter, of rest, 
 of things ineffable. Nelly's eyes were full of tears, 
 and her_hands clasped on her breast scarcely kept 
 down the sobbing. There, under the hands, was the 
 letter which George had written to her, the night 
 before he left her. She had been told of its existence 
 within a few days of his disappearance ; and though 
 she longed for it, a stubborn instinct had bade her 
 refuse to have it, refuse to open it. ' No ! I was 
 only to open it, if George was dead. And he is not 
 dead ! ' And as time went on, it had seemed to her 
 for months, as if to open it, would be in some mysterious 
 way to seal his fate. But at last she had sent for it 
 at last she had read it with bitter tears. 
 
 She would wear no black for him her lost lover. 
 She told herself to hope still. But she was, in truth, 
 beginning to despair. And into her veins, all un- 
 consciously, as into those of the old brown earth, the 
 tides of youth, the will to live, were slowly, slowly, 
 surging back.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ' You have gone far enough,' said Cicely imperi- 
 ously. ' I am going to take you home.' 
 ' Let me sit a little first. It's all so lovely.' 
 Nelly dropped into the soft springy turf, dried 
 by a mild east wind, and lay curled up under a rock, 
 every tremulous nerve in her still frail body played 
 on by the concert of earth and sky before her. It 
 was May ; the sky was china-blue, and the clouds 
 sailed white upon it. The hawthorns too were white 
 upon the fell-side, beside the ageing gold of the gorse, 
 while below, the lake lay like roughened silver in 
 its mountain cup, and on the sides of Nab Scar, 
 below the screes, the bronze of the oaks ran in and 
 out among the feathery green of the larch planta- 
 tions, or the flowering grass of the hay-meadows 
 dropping to the lake. The most spiritual moment 
 of the mountain spring was over. This was earth 
 in her moment of ferment, rushing towards the fruition 
 of summer. 
 
 Nelly's youth was keenly, automatically conscious 
 of the physical pleasure of the day ; except indeed 
 for recurrent moments, when that very pleasure 
 re-rived the sharpness of grief. Soon it would be 
 the anniversary of her wedding day. Every hour 
 of that day, and of the honeymoon bliss which 
 followed it seemed to be still so close to her. Surely 
 
 180
 
 ' MISSING ' 181 
 
 she had only to put out her hand to find his, and 
 all the horror and the anguish swept away. Directly 
 she shut her eyes on this spring scene, she was in 
 that other life, which had been, and therefore must 
 still be. 
 
 But she had not been talking of him with Cicely. 
 She very seldom talked of him now, or of the past. 
 She kept up correspondence with half a dozen men 
 of his company the brother officer to whom Sarratt 
 had given his last letter a sergeant, and three or 
 four privates, who had written to her about him. 
 She had made friends with them all, especially with 
 the young lieutenant. They seemed to like hearing 
 from her ; and she followed all their migrations and 
 promotions with a constant sympathy. One of 
 them had just written to her from a hospital at 
 Boulogne. He had been seriously wounded in a 
 small affair near Festubert early in May. He was 
 getting better he said, but he hardly cared whether 
 he recovered or not. Everybody he cared for in 
 the regiment had ' gone west ' in the fighting of the 
 preceding month. No big push either, just many 
 little affairs that came to nothing it was ' damned 
 luck ! ' There w r as one of his officers that he couldn't 
 get over he couldn't get over ' Mr. Edward ' being 
 killed. He the writer had been Mr. Edward's 
 servant for a month or two having known his people 
 at home and a nicer young fellow never stepped. 
 ' When I go back, I'm going to look for Mr. Edward 
 they say he was buried close to the trenches where 
 he fell, and I'm going to put him in some quiet place ; 
 and then when the war's over we can bring him back 
 to Baston Magna, and lay him with his own people 
 \n Baston churchyard.'
 
 182 i MISSING ' 
 
 ' I wonder who Mr. Edward was,' said Nelly to 
 herself, with half shut eyes. She had entirely for- 
 gotten Cicely's neighbourhood. But Cicely turned 
 round, and asked her what she was thinking of. Nelly 
 repeated the letter, and Cicely suddenly shewed 
 agitation ' Edward ! Baston Magna ! he means 
 Edward Longmore ! ' 
 
 Cicely rarely cried. When she was moved, she 
 had a way of turning a grey-white, and speaking 
 with particular deliberation, as though every word 
 were an effort. Of late, for some mysterious reason, 
 she only indulged occasionally in ' make-up ' ; there 
 was no rouge, at any rate, on this afternoon, to 
 disguise her change of colour. She looked oddly at 
 Nelly. 
 
 ' I danced with him at Christmas,' she said. 
 ' There was a very smart party at a house in Grosvenor 
 Square. The Prince was there, home on short leave, 
 and about twenty young men in khaki, and twenty 
 girls. Edward Longmore \vas there he wrote to 
 me afterwards. Oh, he was much younger than I. 
 He was the dearest, handsomest, bravest little fellow. 
 When I saw his name in the list I just ' she ground 
 her small white teeth ' I just cursed the war ! Do 
 you know ' she rolled over on the grass beside 
 Nelly, her chin in her hands ' the July before the 
 war, I used to play tennis in a garden near London. 
 There were always five or six boys hanging about 
 there jolly handsome boys, with everything that 
 anybody could want family, and money, and lots 
 of friends all the world before them. And there's 
 not one of them left. They're all dead dead I 
 Think of that ! Boys of twenty and twenty-one. 
 What '11 the girls do they used to play and dance
 
 ' MISSING ' 183 
 
 with ? All their playfellows are gone. They can't 
 inarry they'll never marry. It hadn't anything to do 
 with me, of course. I'm twenty-eight. I felt like 
 a mother to them ! But I shan't marry either ! ' 
 
 Nelly didn't answer for a moment. Then she 
 put out a hand and turned Cicely's face toward her. 
 VWhere is he ? and what is he doing ? ' she 
 said, half laughing, but always with that something 
 behind her smile which seemed to set her apart. 
 Cicely sat up. 
 
 ' He ? Oh, that gentleman ! Well, lie has got some 
 fresh work just the work he wanted, he says, in the 
 Intelligence Department, and he writes to Willy that 
 life is " extraordinarily interesting," and he's " glad 
 to have lived to see this thing, horrible as it is." 
 ' Well, you wouldn't wish him to be miserable ? ' 
 ' I should have no objection at all to his being miser- 
 able/ said Cicely calmly, ' but I am not such a fool 
 as to suppose that I should ever know it, if he were.' 
 1 Cicely ! ' 
 
 Cicely took up a stalk of grass, and began to bite 
 it. Her eyes seemed on fire. Nelly was suddenly 
 aware of the flaming up of fierce elemental things 
 in this fashionably dressed young woman whose time 
 was oddly divided between an important share in 
 the running of her brother's hospital, and ar hungry 
 search after such gaieties as a world at war might 
 still provide her with. She could spend one night 
 absorbed in some critical case, and eagerly rendering 
 the humblest V.A.D. service to the trained nurses 
 whom her brother paid ; and the next morning she 
 would travel to London in order to spend the second 
 night in one of those small dances at great houses 
 of which she had spoken to Nelly, where the presence
 
 184 ' MISSING ' 
 
 of men just come from, or just departing to, the firing 
 line lent a zest to the talk and the flirting, the jealousies 
 and triumphs of the evening that the dances of peace 
 must do without. Then after a morning of wild 
 spending in the shops she would take a midday train 
 back to Cumberland and duty. 
 
 Nelly, looking at her, wondered afresh how they 
 had ever come to bo friends. Yet they were friends, 
 and her interest in Cicely's affairs was one of the 
 slender threads drawing her back to life. 
 
 It had all happened when she was ill at the flat ; 
 after that letter from the Geneva Bed Cross which 
 reported that in spite of exhaustive enquiries among 
 German hospitals, and in the prisoners' camps no 
 trace of Lieutenant Sarratt could be found. On 
 the top of the letter, and the intolerable despair into 
 which it had plunged her, had come influenza. There 
 was no doubt Nelly's recollection faced it candidly 
 that she would have come off badly but for Cicely. 
 Bridget had treated the illness on the hardening 
 plan, being at the moment slightly touched with 
 Christian Science. Nelly should ' think it away.' 
 To stay in bed and give in was folly. She mean- 
 while had found plenty to do in London, and was 
 away for long hours. In one of these absences, 
 Cicely having been seized with a sudden hunger 
 for the flesh-pots of ' town ' appeared at the flat 
 with her maid. She discovered Nelly Sarratt in 
 bed, and so weak as to be hardly capable of answer- 
 ing any question. Mrs. Smithson was doing her 
 best ; but she gave an indignant account of Bridget's 
 behaviour, and Cicely at once took a strong line, 
 both as a professional nurse of sorts and as mistress 
 of the flat. Bridget, grimly defensive, was per-
 
 ' MISSING ' 185 
 
 emptorily put on one side, and Cicely devoted the 
 night she was to have spent in dancing to tending 
 her half -conscious guest. In the days that followed 
 she fell, quite against her will, under the touching 
 charm of Nelly's refinement, humility and sweetness. 
 Her own trenchant and masterful temper was utterly 
 melted, for the time, by Nelly's helpless state, by 
 the grief which threatened to kill her, and by a grate- 
 fulness for any kindness shewn her, which seemed 
 to Cicely almost absurd. 
 
 She fell in love impetuously with the little 
 creature thus thrown upon her pity. She sent for 
 a trained nurse, and their own doctor. She wired 
 for Hester Martin, and in forty-eight hours Bridget 
 had been entirely ousted, and Nelly's state had begun 
 to shew signs of improvement. Bridget took the 
 matter stoically. ' I know nothing about nursing,' 
 she said, with composure. ' If you wish to look after 
 my sister, by all means look after her. Many thanks. 
 I propose to go and stay near the British Museum, 
 and will look in here when I can.' 
 
 So she departed, and Cicely stayed in London 
 for three weeks until Nelly was strong enough to 
 go to Torquay. Then, reluctantly, she gave up her 
 charge to Bridget, she being urgently wanted at 
 Carton, and Hester at Eydal. Bridget reappeared 
 on the scene with the same sang-froid as she had 
 left it. She had no intention of quarrelling with 
 the Farrells whatever they might do ; and in an 
 eminently satisfactory interview with Sir William 
 quite unknown to Nelly she allowed him to give 
 her a cheque which covered all their expenses at 
 Torquay. 
 
 Meanwhile Nelly had discovered Cicely's secret
 
 186 'MISSING' 
 
 which indeed was not very secret. Captain Mars- 
 worth had appeared in London for the purpose of 
 attending his Medical Board, and called at the flat. 
 Nelly was by that time on the sofa, with Cicely keeping 
 guard, and Nelly could sometimes deaden her own 
 consciousness for a little in watching the two. What 
 were they after ? Marsworth's ethical enthusiasms 
 and resentments, the prophetic temper that was 
 growing upon him in relation to the war, his impatience 
 of idleness and frivolity and ' slackness,' of all modes 
 of life that were not pitched in a key worthy of that 
 continuous sacrifice of England's youngest and noblest 
 that was going on perpetually across the channel : 
 these traits in him made it very easy to understand 
 why, after years of philandering with Cicely Farrell, 
 he was now, apparently, alienated from her, and pro- 
 roked by her. But then, why did he still pursue 
 her ? why did he still lay claim to the privileges 
 of their old intimacy, and why did Cicely allow him 
 to do so ? 
 
 At last one evening, after a visit from Marsworth 
 which had been one jar from beginning to end, Cicely 
 had suddenly dropped on a stool, beside Nelly on 
 the sofa. 
 
 ' What an intolerable man ! ' she said with crimson 
 cheeks. ' Shall I tell Smithson not to let him in again? ' 
 
 Nelly looked her surprise, for as yet there had 
 been no confidence on this subject between them. 
 And then had come a torrent Cicely walking stormily 
 up and down the room, and pouring out her soul. 
 
 The result of which outpouring was that through 
 all the anger and denunciation, Nelly very plainly 
 perceived that Cicely was a captured creature, en- 
 deavouring to persuade herself that she was still free.
 
 ' MISSING ' 187 
 
 She loved Marsworth and hated him. She could 
 not make up her mind to give up for his sake the ' lust 
 of the eye and the pride of life,' as he clearly would 
 endeavour to make her give them up, the wild bursts 
 of gaiety and flirting for which she periodically 
 rushed up to town, the passion for dress, the reckless 
 extravagance with which it pleased her to shock him 
 whenever they met. And he also so it seemed 
 to Nelly was torn by contradictory feelings. As 
 soon as Cicely was within reach, he could not keep 
 away from her ; and yet when confronted with her, 
 and some new vagary, invented probably to annoy 
 him, though he might refrain ' even from good words,' 
 his critical mouth and eye betrayed him, and set the 
 offender in a fury. 
 
 However, it was the quarrels between these two 
 strange lovers, if they were lovers, that had made a 
 friendship, warm and real on Cicely's side even 
 impassioned between Nelly and Cicely. For Cicely 
 had at last found someone not of her own world 
 to whom she could talk in safety. Yet she had treated 
 the Sarratts cavalierly to begin with, just because 
 they were outsiders, and because ' Willy ' was making 
 such a fuss with them ; for she was almost as easily 
 jealous in her brother's case as in Marsworth's. But 
 now Nelly's sad remoteness from ordinary life, her 
 very social insignificance, and the lack of any links 
 between her and the great Farrell kinship of rela- 
 tions and friends, made her company, and her soft, 
 listening ways specially welcome and soothing to 
 Cicely's excited mood. 
 
 During the latter half of the winter they had cor- 
 responded, though Cicely was the worst of letter- 
 writers ; and since Nelly and her sister had been in
 
 188 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Bydal again there had been constant meetings. 
 Nelly's confidences in return for Cicely's were not 
 many nor frequent. The effects of grief were to 
 be seen in her aspect and movements, in her most 
 pathetic smile, in her increased dreaminess, and the 
 inertia against which she struggled in vain. Since 
 May began, she had for the first time put on black. 
 Nobody had dared to speak to her about it, so sharply 
 did the black veil thrown back from the childish brow 
 intensify the impression that she made, as of some- 
 thing that a touch might break. But the appearance 
 of the widow's dress seemed to redouble the tender- 
 ness with which every member of the little group of 
 people among whom she lived treated her always 
 excepting her sister. Nelly had in vain protested to 
 Farrell against the ' spoiling ' of which she was the 
 object. ' Spoiled ' she was, and it was clear both 
 to Hester and Cicely, after a time that though she 
 had the will, she had not the strength to resist. 
 
 Unless on one point. She had long since stopped 
 all subsidies of money from Farrell through Bridget, 
 having at last discovered the plain facts about them. 
 Her letter of thanks to him for all he had done for 
 her was at once so touching and so determined, that 
 he had not dared since to cross her will. All that he 
 now found it possible to urge was that the sisters 
 would allow him to lend them a vacant farmhouse of 
 his, not far from the Loughrigg Tarn cottage. Nelly 
 had been so far unwilling ; it was clear that her heart 
 clung to the Eydal lodgings. But Hester and Cicely 
 were both on Farrell's side. The situation of the 
 farm was higher and more bracing than Eydal ; 
 and both Cicely and Farrell cherished the notion of 
 making it a home for Nelly, until indeed
 
 ' MISSING ' 189 
 
 At this point Farrell generally succeeded in 
 putting a strong rein upon his thoughts, as part of 
 the promise he had made to Hester. But Cicely, 
 who was much cooler and more matter of fact than 
 her brother, had long since looked further ahead. 
 Willy was in love, irrevocably in love with Nelly 
 Sarratt. That had been plain to her for some time. 
 Before those days in the flat, when she herself had 
 fallen in love with Nelly, and before the disappearance 
 of George Sarratt, she had resented Willy's absurd 
 devotion to a little creature who, for all her beauty, 
 seemed to Cicely merely an insignificant member 
 of the middle classes, with a particularly impossible 
 sister. And as to the notion that Mrs. Sarratt might 
 become at some distant period her brother's wife, 
 Lady Farrell of Carton, Cicely would have received 
 it with scorn, and fought the realisation of it tooth 
 and nail. Yet now all the ' Farrell feeling,' the 
 Farrell pride, in this one instance, at any rate, was 
 gone. Why ? Cicely didn't know. She supposed 
 first because Nelly was such a dear creature, and 
 next because the war had made such a curious differ- 
 ence in things. The old lines were being rubbed 
 out. And Cicely who had been in her day as exclu- 
 sively snobbish as any other well-born damsel, felt 
 now that it would not matter in the least if they 
 remained rubbed out. Pereons who ' did things ' by 
 land or sea ; persons who invented things ; persons 
 with ideas ; persons who had the art of making 
 others follow them into the jaws of death ; these 
 were going to be the aristocracy of the future. Though 
 the much abused aristocracy of the present hadn't 
 done badly either ! 
 
 So she was only concerned with the emotional
 
 190 ' MISSING ' 
 
 aspects of her brother's state. Was Nelly now con- 
 vinced of her husband's death ? was that what 
 her black meant ? And if she were convinced, and 
 it were legally possible for her to marry again and 
 all that what chance would there be for Willy ? 
 Cicely was much puzzled by Nelly's relation to him. 
 She had seen many signs, pathetic signs, of a struggle 
 on Nelly's side against Farrell's influence ; especially 
 in the time immediately following her first return 
 to the north in March. She had done her best then, 
 it seemed to Cicely, to do without him and to turn to 
 other interests and occupations than those he set 
 her, and she had failed ; partly no doubt owing to her 
 physical weakness, which had put an end to many 
 projects, that of doing week-end munition work 
 for instance but still more, surely, to Farrell's own 
 qualities. ' He is such a charmer with women,' 
 thought Cicely, half smiling ; ' that's what it is.' 
 
 By which she meant that he had the very rare 
 gift of tenderness ; of being able to make a woman 
 feel, that as a human being, quite apart from any 
 question of passion, she interested and touched him. 
 It was just sympathy, she supposed, the artistic 
 magnetic quality in him, which made him so attractive 
 to women, and women so attractive to him. He was 
 no longer a young man in the strict sense ; he was a 
 man of forty, with the prestige of great accomplish- 
 ment, and a wide knowledge of life. It was generally 
 supposed that he had done with love-affairs, and 
 women instinctively felt it safe to allow him a personal 
 freedom towards them, which from other men would 
 have offended them. He might pat a girl's shoulder, or 
 lay a playful grasp on a woman's arm, and nobody 
 minded ; it was a sign of his liking, and most people
 
 ' MISSING ' 191 
 
 wished to be liked by him. However he never 
 allowed himself any half -caress of the kind towards 
 Nelly Sarratt now ; and once or twice, in the old 
 days, before Sarratt's disappearance, Cicely had 
 fancied that she had seen Nelly check rather sharply 
 one of these demonstrations of Willy's, which were 
 so natural to him, and in general so unconscious 
 and innocent. 
 
 And now he never attempted them. What did 
 that mean ? Simply so Cicely thought that he 
 was in love, and dared venture such things no 
 longer. But all the same there were plenty of devices 
 open to him by which week after week he surrounded 
 Nelly with a network of care, which implied that he 
 was always thinking of her ; which were in fact a 
 caress, breathing a subtle and restrained devotion, 
 more appealing than anything more open. And 
 Cicely seemed to see Nelly yielding unconsciously ; 
 unconsciously ' spoilt/ and learning to depend on 
 the ' spoiler.' Why did Hester seem so anxious 
 always about Farrell's influence with Nelly so ready 
 to ward him off, if she could ? For after all, thought 
 Cicely, easily, however long it might take for Nelly 
 to recover her hold on life, and to clear up the legal 
 situation, there could be but one end of it. Willy 
 meant to marry this little woman ; and in the long 
 run no woman would be able to resist him. 
 
 
 The friends set out to stroll homewards through 
 the long May evening, talking of the hideous Irish 
 news how incredible amid the young splendour of the 
 Westmorland May ! or of the progress of the war. 
 
 Meanwhile Bridget Cookson was walking to meet 
 them from the Eydal end of the Lake. She was
 
 192 ' MISSING ' 
 
 accompanied by a Manchester friend, a young doctor, 
 Howson by name,Vwho had known the sisters before 
 Nelly's marriage. He had come to Ambleside in 
 charge of a patient that morning, and was going 
 back on the morrow, and then to France. Bridget 
 had stumbled on him in Ambleside, and finding he 
 had a free evening had invited him to come and 
 sup with them. And a vivid recollection of Nelly 
 Cookson as a girl had induced him to accept. He 
 had been present indeed at the Sarratt wedding, and 
 could never forget Nelly as a bride, the jessamine 
 wreath above her dark eyes, and all the exquisite 
 shapeliness of her slight form, in the white childish dress 
 of fine Indian muslin, which seemed to him the prettiest 
 bridal garment he had ever seen. And now poor 
 little soul ! 
 
 ' You think she still hopes ? ' 
 
 Bridget shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 ' She says so. But she has put on mourning at 
 last a few weeks ago.' 
 
 ^'.i ' People do turn up, you know,' said the doctor 
 musing. ' There have been some wonderful 
 stories.' 
 
 ' They don't turn up now,' said Bridget positively 
 ' now that the enquiries are done properly. 1 
 
 ' Oh, the Germans are pretty casual and the 
 hospital returns are far from complete, I hear. How- 
 ever the probabilities, no doubt, are all on the side 
 of death.' 
 
 ' The War Office are certain of it,' said Bridget 
 with emphasis. ' But it's no good trying to persuade 
 her. I don't try.' 
 
 |? ' No, why should you ? Poor thing ! Well, I'm 
 off to X next week,' said tha young man. ' I
 
 ' MISSING ' 193 
 
 shall keep my eyes open there, in case anything 
 about him should turn up.' 
 
 Bridget frowned slightly, and her face flushed. 
 
 ' Should you know him again, if you saw him ? ' 
 she asked, abruptly. 
 
 ' I think so,' said the doctor with slight hesitation, 
 ' I remember him very well at the wedding. Tall 
 and slight ? not handsome exactly, but a good- 
 looking gentlemanly chap ? Oh yes, I remember him. 
 But of course, to be alive now, if by some miraculous 
 chance he were alive, and not to have let you know 
 why he must have had some brain mischief paralysis 
 or ' 
 
 ' He isn't alive ! ' said Bridget impatiently. ' The 
 War Office have no doubts whatever.' 
 
 Howson was rather surprised at the sudden acer- 
 bity of her tone. But his momentary impression 
 was immediately lost in the interest roused in him 
 by the emergence from the wood, in front, of Nelly 
 and Cicely. He was a warm-hearted fellow, himself 
 just married, and the approach of the black-veiled 
 figure, which he had last seen in bridal white, touched 
 him like an incident in a play. 
 
 Nelly recognised him from a short distance, and 
 went a little pale. 
 
 ' Who is that with your sister ? ' asked Cicely. 
 
 ' It is a man we knew in Manchester, Doctor 
 Howson.' 
 
 ' Did you expect him ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no.' After a minute she added ' He was 
 at our wedding. I haven't seen him since.' 
 
 Cicely was sorry for her. But when the walkers 
 met, Nelly greeted the young man very quietly. He 
 himself was evidently moved. He held her hand a
 
 194 ' MISSING ' 
 
 little, and gave her a quick, scrutinising look. Then he 
 moved on beside her, and Cicely, in order to give 
 Nelly the opportunity of talking to him for which 
 she evidently wished, was forced to carry off Bridget, 
 and endure her company patiently all the way home. 
 
 When Nelly and the doctor arrived, following 
 close on the two in front, .Cicely cried out that Nelly 
 must go and lie down at once till supper. She looked 
 indeed a deplorable little wraith ; and the doctor, 
 casting, again, a professional eye on her, backed up 
 Cicely. 
 
 Nelly smiled, resisted, and finally disappeared. 
 
 ' You'll have to take care of her,' said Howson 
 to Bridget. ' She looks to me as if she couldn't 
 stand any strain.' 
 
 ' Well, she's not going to have any. This place 
 is quiet enough ! She's been talking of munition 
 work, but of course we didn't let her.' 
 
 Cicely took the young man aside and expounded 
 her brother's plan of the farm on the western side 
 of Loughrigg. Howson asked questions about its 
 aspect, and general comfort, giving his approval 
 in the end. 
 
 ' Oh, she'll pull through,' he said kindly, ' but she 
 must go slow. This kind of loss is harder to bear 
 physically than death straight out. I've promised 
 her ' he turned to Bridget ' to make all the en- 
 quiries I can. She asked me that at once.' 
 
 After supper, just as Howson was departing, 
 Farrell appeared, having driven himself over through 
 the long May evening, ostensibly to take Cicely home, 
 but really for the joy of an hour in Nelly's company. 
 
 He sat beside her in the garden, after Howson's
 
 ' MISSING ' 195 
 
 departure, reading to her, by the lingering light, the 
 poems of a great friend of his who had been killed 
 at Gallipoli. Nelly was knitting, but her needles 
 were often laid upon her knee, while "she listened 
 with all her mind, and sometimes with tears in her 
 eyes, that were hidden by the softly dropping 
 dusk. She said little, but what she did say came 
 now from a greatly intensified inner life, and a 
 sharpened intelligence ; while all the time, the charm 
 that belonged to her physical self, her voice, her 
 movements, was at work on Farrell, so that he felt his 
 hour with her a delight after his hard day's work. 
 And she too rested in his presence, and his friendship. 
 It was not possible now for her to rebuff him, to refuse 
 his care. She had tried, tried honestly, as Cicely 
 saw, to live independently to ' endure hardness.' 
 And the attempt had broken down. The strange, 
 protesting feeling, too, that she was doing some wrong 
 to George by accepting it was passing away. She 
 was George's, she would always be his, to her dying 
 day ; but to live without being loved, to tear her- 
 self from those who wished to love her for that she 
 had proved too weak. She knew it, and was not 
 unconscious of a certain moral defeat ; as she looked 
 out upon all the strenuous and splendid things that 
 women were doing injihe war. 
 
 Farrell and Cicely sped homeward through a 
 night that was all but day. Cicely scarcely spoke ; 
 she was thinking of Marsworth. Farrell had still 
 in his veins the sweetness of Nelly's presence. But 
 there were other thoughts too in his mind, the natural 
 thoughts of an Englishman at war. Once, over their 
 heads, through the luminous northern sky, there passed
 
 196 'MISSING' 
 
 an aeroplane flying south-west high above the fells. 
 Was it coming from the North Sea, from the neigh- 
 bourhood of that invincible Fleet, on which all hung, 
 by which all was sustained ? He thought of the great 
 ships, and the men commanding them, as greyhounds 
 straining in the leash. What touch of fate would 
 let them loose at last ? 
 
 The Carton hospital was now full of men fresh 
 from the front. The casualties were endless. A 
 thousand a night often along the French front and 
 yet no real advance. The far-flung battle was prac- 
 tically at a standstill. And beyond, the chaos in 
 the Balkans, the Serbian debacle ! No the world 
 was full of lamentation, mourning and woe ; and who 
 could tell how Armageddon would turn ? His quick 
 mind travelled through all the alternative possi- 
 bilities ahead, on fire for his country. But always, 
 after each digression through the problems of the 
 war, thought came back to the cottage at Eydal, 
 and Nelly on the lawn, her white throat emerging 
 from the thin black dress, her hands clasped on her 
 lap, her eyes turned to him as he read. 
 
 And all the time it was just conceivable that 
 Sarratt might still be discovered. At that thought, 
 the summer night darkened.
 
 CHAPTEE XI 
 
 IN the summer of 1916, a dark and miserable June, all 
 chilly showers and lowering clouds, followed on the 
 short-lived joys of May. But all through it, still more 
 through the early weeks of July, the spiritual heaven 
 for English hearts was brightening. In June, two 
 months before she was expected to move, Eussia flung 
 herself on the Eastern front of the enemy. Brussiloff's 
 victorious advance drove great wedges into the German 
 line, and the effect on that marvellous six months' 
 battle, which we foolishly call the Siege of Verdun, 
 was soon to be seen. Hard pressed they were, those 
 heroes of Verdun ! how hard pressed no one in England 
 knew outside the War Office and the Cabinet, till the 
 worst was over, and the Crown Prince, ' with his dead 
 and his shame,' had recoiled in sullen defeat from the 
 prey that need fear him no more. 
 
 Then on the first of July, the British army after a 
 bombardment the like of which had never yet been 
 seen in war, leapt from its trenches on the Somme front, 
 and England held her breath while her new Armies 
 proved of what stuff they were made. In those great 
 days ' there were no stragglers none ! ' said an eye- 
 witness in amazement. The incredible became every- 
 where the common and the achieved. Life was laid 
 down as at a festival. ' From your happy son ' wrote 
 a boy, as a heading to his last letter on this earth. 
 
 197
 
 198 ' MISSING ' 
 
 And by the end of July the sun was ablaze again on 
 the English fields and harvests. Days of amazing 
 beauty followed each other amid the Westmorland 
 fells ; with nights of moonlight on sleeping lakes, and 
 murmuring becks ; or nights of starlit dark, with 
 that mysterious glow in the north-west which in the 
 northern valleys so often links the evening with the 
 dawn. 
 
 How often through these, nights^ Nelly Sarratt lay 
 awake, in her new white room in Mountain Ash Farm ! 
 the broad low window beside her open to the night, 
 to that ' Venus's Looking Glass ' of Loughrigg Tarn 
 below her, and to the great heights beyond, now dis- 
 solving under the moon-magic, now rosy with dawn, 
 and now wreathed in the floating cloud which crept in 
 light and silver along the purple of the crags. To have 
 been lifted to this height above valley and stream, had 
 raised and strengthened her, soul and body, as Farrell 
 and Hester had hoped. Her soul, perhaps, rather 
 than her body ; for she was still the frailest of creatures, 
 without visible ill, and yet awakening in every quick- 
 eyed spectator the same misgiving as in the Manchester 
 doctor. But she was calmer, less apparently absorbed 
 in her own grief ; though only, perhaps, the more 
 accessible to the world misery of the war. In these 
 restless nights, her remarkable visualising power, 
 which had only thriven, it seemed, upon the flagging 
 of youth and health, carried her through a series of 
 waking dreams, almost always concerned with the war. 
 Under the stimulus of Farrell's intelligence, she had 
 become a close student of the war. She read much, 
 and what she read, his living contact with men and 
 affairs with that endless stream of wounded in par- 
 ticular, which passed through the Carton hospital and
 
 1 MISSING ' 199 
 
 his graphic talk illumined for her. Then in the night 
 arose the train of visions ; the trenches always the 
 trenches ; those hideous broken woods of the Somme 
 front, where the blasted soil has sucked the best life- 
 blood of England ; those labyrinthine diggings and 
 delvings in a tortured earth, made for the Huntings of 
 Death ' Death that lays man at his length ' for pant- 
 ing pursuit, and breathless flight, and the last crashing 
 horror of the bomb, in some hell-darkness at the end 
 of all : these haunted her. Or she saw visions of 
 men swinging from peak to peak above fathomless 
 depths of ice and snow on the Italian front ; climbing 
 precipices where the foot holds by miracle, and where 
 not only men but guns must go ; or vanishing, whole 
 lines of them, awfully forgotten in the winter snows, 
 to reappear a frozen and ghastly host, with the melt- 
 ing of the Spring. 
 
 And always, mingled with everything, in the tense 
 night hours that slender khaki figure, tearing the leaf 
 from his sketch book, leaping over the parados, 
 falling in the No Man's Land. But, by day, the 
 obsession of it now often left her. 
 
 It was impossible not to enjoy her new home. 
 Farrell had taken an old Westmorland farm, with its 
 white-washed porch, its small-paned windows outlined 
 in white on the grey walls, its low raftered rooms, and 
 with a few washes of colour pure blue, white, daffodil 
 yellow had made all bright within, to match the bright 
 spaces of air and light without. There was some 
 Westmorland oak, some low chairs, a sofa and a piano 
 from the old Manchester house, some etchings and 
 drawings, hung on the plain walls by Farrell himself, 
 with the most fastidious care ; and a few a very few 
 things from his own best stores, which Hester allowed
 
 200 ' MISSING ' 
 
 him to ' house ' with Nelly from time to time picture, 
 or pot, or tapestry. She played watch-dog steadily, 
 not resented by Farrell, and unsuspected by Nelly. 
 Her one aim was that the stream of Nelly's frail life 
 should not be muddied by any vile gossip ; and she 
 achieved it. The few neighbours who had made 
 acquaintance with ' little Mrs. Sarratt ' had, all of 
 them been tacitly, nay eagerly willing, to take their cue 
 from Hester. To be vouched for by Hester Martin, 
 the ' wise woman ' and saint of a country-side, was 
 enough. It was understood that the poor little 
 widow had been commended to the care of William 
 Farrell and his sister, by the young husband whose 
 gallant death was officially presumed by the War Office. 
 Of course, Mrs. Sarratt, poor child, believed that he was 
 still alive that was so natural ! But that hope would 
 die down in time. And then anything might happen ! 
 
 Meanwhile, elderly husbands the sole male inhabi- 
 tants left in the gentry houses of the district who 
 possessed any legal knowledge, informed their wives 
 that no one could legally presume the death of a 
 vanished husband, under seven years, unless indeed 
 they happened to have a Scotch domicile, in which case 
 two years was enough. Seven years I preposterous ! 
 in time of war, said the wives. To which the hus- 
 bands would easily reply that, in such cases as Mrs. 
 Sarratt 's, the law indeed might be ' an ass,' but there 
 were ways round it. Mrs. Sarratt might re-marry, 
 and no one could object, or would object. Only if 
 Sarratt did rise from the dead, the second marriage 
 would be ipso facto null and void. But as Sarratt 
 was clearly dead, what did that matter ? 
 
 So that the situation, though an observed one for 
 how could the Farrell comings and goings, the Farrell
 
 MISSING ' 201 
 
 courtesies and benefactions, possibly be hid ? was 
 watched only by friendly and discreet eyes, thanks 
 always to Hester. Most people liked William Farrell ; 
 even that stricter sect, who before the war had regarded 
 him as a pleasure-loving dilettante, and had been often 
 scandalised by his careless levity in the matter of his 
 duties as a landlord and county magnate. ' Bill 
 Farrell ' had never indeed evicted or dealt hardly with 
 any mortal tenant. He had merely neglected and 
 ignored them ; had cared not a brass farthing about 
 the rates which he or they paid why should he indeed, 
 when he w r as so abominably rich from other sources 
 than land ? nothing about improving their cows, 
 or sheep or pigs ; nothing about ' intensive culture,' 
 or jam or poultry, or any of the other fads with which 
 the persons who don't farm, plague the persons who do ; 
 while the very mention of a public meeting, or any sort 
 of public duty, put him to instant flight. Yet even 
 the faddists met him with pleasure, and parted from 
 him with regret. He took himself ' so jolly lightly ' ; 
 you couldn't expect him to take other people seriously. 
 Meanwhile, his genial cheery manner made him a 
 general favourite, and his splendid presence, combined 
 with his possessions and his descent, was universally 
 accepted as a kind of Cumberland asset, to which other 
 counties could hardly lay claim. If he wanted the littio 
 widow, why certainly, let him have her ! It was 
 magnificent what he had done for his hospital ; when 
 nobody before the war had thought him capable of a 
 stroke of practical work. Real good fellow, Farrell ! 
 Let him go in and win. His devotion, and poor Nelly's 
 beauty, only infused a welcome local element of 
 romance into the ever-darkening scene of war.
 
 202 ' MISSING ' 
 
 The first anniversary of Sarratt's disappearance 
 was over. Nelly had gone through it quite alone. 
 Bridget was in London, and Nelly had said to Cicely 
 ' Don't come for a few days nor Sir William 
 please ! I shall be all right.' 
 
 They obeyed her, and she spent her few days 
 partly on the fells, and partly in endless knitting and 
 sewing for a war-workroom recently started in her 
 immediate neighbourhood. The emotion to which 
 she surendered herself would soon reduce her to a 
 dull vacancy ; and then she would sit passive, not 
 forcing herself to think, alone in the old raftered 
 room, or in the bit of garden outside, with its phloxes 
 and golden rods ; her small fingers working endlessly 
 till the wave of feeling and memory returned upon 
 her. Those few days were a kind of ' retreat,' during 
 which she lived absorbed in the recollections of her 
 short married life, and, above all, in which she tried 
 piteously and bravely to make clear to herself what 
 she believed ; what sort of faith was in her for the 
 present and the future. It often seemed to her that 
 during the year since George's death, her mind had 
 been wrenched and hammered into another shape. 
 It had grown so much older, she scarcely knew it 
 herself. Doubts she had never known before had 
 come to her ; but also, intermittently, a much keener 
 faith. Oh, yes, she believed in God. She must ; not 
 only because George had believed in Him, but also 
 because she, her very self, had been conscious, again 
 and again, in the night hours, or on the mountains, 
 of ineffable upliftings and communings, of flashes 
 through the veil of things. And so there must be 
 another world ; because the God she guessed at 
 thus, with sudden adoring insight, could not have
 
 4 MISSING"' 203 
 
 made her George, only to destroy him ; only to give her 
 to him for a month, and then strike him from her for 
 ever. The books she learnt to know through Farrell, 
 belonging to that central modern literature, which 
 is so wholly sceptical that the ' great argument ' itself 
 has almost lost interest for those who are producing it, 
 often bewildered her, but did not really affect her. 
 Eeligion a vague, but deeply-felt religion soothed 
 and sheltered her. But she did not want to talk 
 about it. 
 
 After these days were over, she emerged conscious of 
 some radical change. She seemed to have been walking 
 with George ' on the other side,' and to have left him 
 there for a while. She now really believed him dead, 
 and that she had got to live her life without him. This 
 first full and sincere admission of her loss tranquillised 
 her. All the more reason now that she should turn 
 to the dear friendships that life still held, should 
 live in and for them, and follow where they led, through 
 the years before her. Farrell, Cicely, Hester they 
 stood between her weakness oh how conscious, 
 how scornfully conscious, she was of it ! and sheer 
 desolation. Cicely, ' Willy,' for somehow she and 
 he had slipped almost without knowing it into 
 Christian names had become to her as brother and 
 sister. And Hester too so strong ! so kind ! was 
 part of her life ; severe sometimes, but bracing. Nelly 
 was conscious, indeed, occasionally, that something in 
 Hester disapproved something in her. ' But it would 
 be all right,' she thought, wearily, ' if only I were 
 stronger.' Did she mean physically or morally ? The 
 girl's thought did not distinguish. 
 
 ' I believe you want me " hatched over again 
 and hatched different " ! ' she said one evening to
 
 204 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Hester, as she laid her volume of ' Adam Bode ' 
 aside. 
 
 ' Do I ever say so ? ' 
 
 ' No but if you were me you wouldn't stop 
 here moping ! ' said Nelly, with sudden passion. 
 ' You'd strike out do something ! ' 
 
 ' With these hands ? ' said Hester, raising one of 
 them, and looking at it pitifully. ' My dear does 
 Bridget feed you properly ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know. I never think about it. She 
 settles it.' 
 
 ' Why do you let her settle it ? ' 
 
 ' She will ! ' cried Nelly, sitting upright in her 
 chair, her eyes bright and cheeks flushing, as though 
 something in Hester's words accused her. ' I couldn't 
 stop her ! ' 
 
 ' Well, but when she's away ? ' 
 
 ' Then Mrs. Eowe settles it,' said Nelly, half 
 laughing. ' I never enquire. What does it matter ? ' 
 
 She put down her knitting, and her wide, sad 
 eyes followed the clouds as they covered the purple 
 breast of the Langdales, which rose in threatening, 
 thunder light, beyond the steely tarn in front. 
 Hester watched her anxiously. How lovely was the 
 brown head, with its short curls enclosing the delicate 
 oval of the face ! But Nelly's lack of grip on life, 
 of any personal demand, of any healthy natural 
 egotism, whether towards Bridget, or anybody else, 
 was very disquieting to Hester. In view of the 
 situation which the older woman saw steadily approach- 
 ing, how welcome would have been some signs of a 
 greater righting strength in the girl's nature ! 
 
 But Nelly had made two friends since the migration
 
 ' MISSING ' 205 
 
 to the farm with whom at any rate she laughed ; 
 and that, as Hester admitted, was something. 
 
 One was a neighbouring farmer, an old man, 
 with splendid eyes, under dark bushy brows, fine 
 ascetic features, grizzled hair, and a habit of carry- 
 ing a scythe over his shoulder which gave him 
 the look of ' Old Father Time,' out for the mowing 
 of men. The other was the little son of a neigh- 
 bouring parson, an urchin of six, who had suc- 
 cumbed to an innocent passion for the pretty lady 
 at the farm. 
 
 One radiant October afternoon, Nelly carried out 
 a chair and some sketching things into the garden. 
 But the scheme Farrell had suggested to her, of making 
 a profession of her drawing, had not come to much. 
 Whether it was the dying down of hope, and there- 
 with of physical energy, or whether she had been 
 brought up sharp against the limits of her small 
 and graceful talent, and comparing herself with 
 Farrell, thought it no use to go on in any case, she 
 had lately given it up, except as an amusement. 
 But there are days when the humblest artist feels 
 the creative stir ; and on this particular afternoon 
 there were colours and lights abroad on the fells, 
 now dyed red with withering fern, and overtopped 
 by sunny cloud, that could not be resisted. She 
 put away the splints she was covering, and spread 
 out her easel. 
 
 And presently, through every bruised and tired 
 sense, as she worked and worked, the ' Eternal 
 Fountain of that Heavenly Beauty ' distilled 
 His constant balm. She worked on, soothed and 
 happy. 
 
 In a few minutes there was a sound at the gate.
 
 206 ' MISSING ' 
 
 A child looked in black tumbled hair, dark eyes, 
 a plain but most engaging countenance. 
 
 ' I'm tomin in,' he announced, and without any 
 more ado, came in. Nelly held out a hand and kissed 
 him. 
 
 ' You must be very good.' 
 
 ' I is good,' said the child, radiantly. 
 
 Nelly spread a rug for him to lie on, and provided 
 him with a piece of paper, some coloured chalks and 
 a piece of millboard. He turned over on his front 
 and plunged into drawing 
 
 Silence till Nelly asked 
 
 ' What are you drawing, Tommy ? ' 
 
 ' Haggans and Hoons,' said a dreamy voice, the 
 voice of one absorbed. 
 
 ' I forget ' said Nelly gravely ' which are the 
 good ones ? ' 
 
 ' The Hoons are good. The Haggans are awfully 
 wicked ! ' said the child, slashing away at his drawing 
 with bold vindictive strokes. 
 
 ' Are you drawing a Haggan, Tommy ? ' 
 
 1 Yes.' 
 
 He held up a monster, half griffin, half crocodile, 
 for her to see, and she heartily admired it. 
 
 ' Where do the Haggans live, Tommy ? ' 
 
 ' In Jupe,' said the child, again drawing busily. 
 
 ' You mean Jupiter ? ' 
 
 ' I don't I ' said Tommy reproachfully, ' I said 
 Jupe, and I mean Jupe. Perhaps ' he conceded, 
 courteously ' I may have got the idea from that 
 other place. But it's quite different. You do believe 
 it's quite different don't you ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Nelly; 
 
 ' I'm glad of that because well, because I can't
 
 ' MISSING ' 207 
 
 be friends with people that say it isn't different. 
 You do see that, don't you ? ' 
 
 Nelly assured him she perfectly understood, and 
 then Tommy rolled over on his back, and staring at 
 the sky, began to talk in mysterious tones of ' Jupe,' 
 and the beings that lived in it, Haggans, and Hoons, 
 lions and bears, and white mice. His voice grew 
 dreamier and dreamier. Nelly thought he was asleep, 
 and she suddenly found herself looking at the little 
 figure on the grass with a passionate hunger. If 
 such a living creature belonged to her to call her 
 its very own to cling to her with its dear chubby 
 hands ! 
 
 She bent forward, her eyes wet, above the un- 
 conscious Tommy. But a step on the road startled 
 her, and raising her head she saw ' Old Father Time,' 
 with scythe on shoulder, leaning on the little gate 
 which led from the strip of garden to the road, and 
 looking at her with the expression which implied a 
 sarcastic view of things in general, and especially 
 of ' gentlefolk.' But he was favourably inclined 
 to Mrs. Sarratt, and when Nelly invited him in, 
 he obeyed her, and grounding his scythe, as though 
 it had been a gun, he stood leaning upon it, indul- 
 gently listening while she congratulated him on a 
 strange incident which, as she knew from Hester, 
 had lately occurred to him. 
 
 A fortnight before, the old man had received a 
 letter from the captain of his son's company in France 
 sympathetically announcing to him the death in 
 hospital of his eldest son, from severe wounds re- 
 ceived in a raid, and assuring him he might feel 
 complete confidence ' that everything that could be 
 done for your poor boy has been done.'
 
 208 ' MISSING ' 
 
 The news had brought woe to the cottage where the 
 old man and his wife lived alone, since the fledging of 
 their sturdy brood, under a spur of Loughrigg. The 
 wife, being now a feeble body, had taken to her bed 
 under the shock of grief ; the old man had gone to 
 his work as usual, ' nobbut a bit queerer in his wits,' 
 according to the farmer who employed him. Then 
 after three days came a hurried letter of apology from 
 the captain, and a letter from the chaplain, to say there 
 had been a most deplorable mistake, and ' your son, I 
 am glad to say, was only slightly wounded, and is 
 doing well ! ' 
 
 Under so much contradictory emotion, old Back- 
 house's balance had wavered a good deal. He received 
 Nelly's remarks with a furtive smile, as though he were 
 only waiting for her to have done, and when they 
 ceased, he drew a letter slowly from his pocket. 
 
 ' D'ye see that, Mum ? ' 
 
 Nelly nodded. 
 
 ' I'se juist gotten it from t' Post Office. They 
 woant gie ye noothin till it's forced oot on 'em. But 
 I goa regular, an to-day owd Jacob 'at's him as 
 keps t' Post Office handed it ower. It's from Donald, 
 sure enoof.' 
 
 He held it up triumphantly. Nelly's heart leapt 
 and sank. How often in the first months of her 
 grief, had she seen in visions that blessed symbolic 
 letter held up by some ministering hand ! only to 
 fall from the ecstasy of the dream into blacker depths 
 of pain. 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Backhouse, I'm so glad ! ' was all she 
 could find to say. But her sweet trembling face 
 spoke for her. After a pause, she added ' Does he 
 write with his own hand ? '
 
 ' MISSING ' 209 
 
 ' Yo mun see for yorsel.' He held it out to her. 
 She looked at it mystified. 
 
 ' But it's not opened ! ' 
 
 ' I hadna juist me spectacles,' said Father Time, 
 cautiously. ' Mebbee yo'll read it to me.' 
 
 ' But it's to his mother ! ' cried Nelly. ' I can't open 
 your wife's letter ! ' 
 
 ' You needn't trooble aboot that. You read it, 
 Mum. There'll be noothin' in it.' 
 
 He made her read it. There was nothing in it. It 
 was just a nice letter from a good boy, saying that he 
 had been knocked over in ' a bit of a scrap,' but was 
 nearly all right, and hoped his father and mother were 
 well, ' as it leaves me at present.' But when it was 
 done, Father Time took off his hat, bent his grey head, 
 and solemnly thanked his God, in broad Westmorland. 
 Nelly's eyes swam, as she too bowed the head, thinking 
 of another who would never come back ; and Tommy, 
 thumb in mouth, leant against her, listening atten- 
 tively. 
 
 At the end of the thanksgiving however, Backhouse 
 raised his head briskly. 
 
 ' Not that I iver believed that foolish yoong 
 mon as wrote me that Dick wor dead,' he said, con- 
 temptuously. ' Bit it's as weel to git things clear.' 
 
 Nelly heartily agreed, adding 
 
 ' I may be going to London next week, Mr. Back- 
 house. You say your son will be in the London 
 Hospital. Shall I go and see him ? ' 
 
 Backhouse looked at her cautiously. 
 
 ' I doan't know, Mum. His moother will be 
 goin, likely.' 
 
 ' Oh, I don't want to intrude, Mr. Backhouse. 
 But if she doesn't go ? '
 
 210 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Well, Mum, I will say you've a pleasant coonten- 
 ance, though yo're not juist sich a thrivin' body as 
 a'd like to see yer. But thoer's mony people as 
 du more harm nor good by goin' to sit wi' sick 
 foak.' 
 
 Nelly meekly admitted it ; and then she suggested 
 that she might be the bearer of anything Mrs. Back- 
 house would like to send her son clothes, for in- 
 stance ? The old man thawed rapidly, and the three, 
 Nelly, Tommy, and Father Time, were soon sincerely 
 enjoying each other's society, when a woman in a grey 
 tweed costume, and black sailor hat, arrived at the 
 top of a little hill in the road outside the garden, from 
 which the farm and its surroundings could be seen. 
 
 At the sight of the group in front of the farm, 
 she came to an abrupt pause, and hidden from them 
 by a projecting corner of wall she surveyed the scene 
 Nelly, with Tommy on her knee, and the old 
 labourer who had just shouldered his scythe again, 
 and was about to go on his way. 
 
 It was Bridget Cookson, who had been to Kendal for 
 the day, and had walked over from Grasmere, where 
 the char-a-banc, alias the ' Yellow Peril,' had deposited 
 her. She had passed the Post Office on her way, and 
 had brought thence a letter which she held in her 
 hand. Her face was pale and excited. She stood think- 
 ing ; her eyes on Nelly, her lips moving as though 
 she were rehearsing some speech or argument. 
 
 Then when she had watched old Backhouse make 
 his farewell, and turn towards the gate, she hastily 
 opened a black silk bag hanging from her wrist, 
 and thrust the letter into it. 
 
 After which she walked on, meeting the old man 
 in the lane, and run into by Tommy, who, head fore-
 
 MISSING ' 211 
 
 most, was rushing home to shew his glorious Haggan 
 to his ' mummy.' 
 
 Nelly's face at sight of her sister stiffened in- 
 sensibly. 
 
 ' Aren't you very tired, Bridget ? Have you 
 walked all the way ? Yes, you do look tired ! Have 
 you had tea ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, at Windermere.' 
 
 Bridget cleared the chair on which Nelly had 
 placed her paint-box, and sat down. She was silent 
 a little and then said abruptly 
 
 'It's a horrid bore, I shall have to go to London 
 again.' 
 
 ' Again ? ' Nelly's look of surprise was natural. 
 Bridget had returned from another long stay in the 
 Bloomsbury boarding-house early in October, and 
 it was now only the middle of the month. But 
 Bridget's doings were always a great mystery to 
 Nelly. She was translating something from the 
 Spanish that was all Nelly knew and also, that 
 wiien an offer had been made to her through a friend, 
 of some translating work for the Foreign Office, she 
 had angrily refused it. She would not, she said, be 
 a slave to any public office, 
 
 ' Won't it be awfully expensive ? ' said Nelly after 
 a pause, as Bridget did not answer. The younger 
 sister was putting her painting things away, and 
 making ready to go in. For though the day had 
 been wonderfully warm for October, the sun had just 
 set over Bowfell, and the air had grown suddenly 
 chilly. 
 
 ' Well, I can't help it,' said Bridget, rather roughly. 
 1 1 shall have to go.' 
 
 Something in her voice made Nelly look at her.
 
 212 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' I say you are tired ! Come in and lie down a 
 little. That walk from Grasrnere's too much for 
 you !' 
 
 Bridget submitted with most unusual docility. 
 
 The sisters entered the house together. 
 
 ' I'll go upstairs for a little,' said Bridget. ' I 
 shall be all right by supper.' Then, as she slowly 
 mounted the stairs, a rather gaunt and dragged figure 
 in her dress of grey alpaca, she turned to say 
 
 ' I met Sir William on the road just now. He 
 passed me in the car, and waved his hand. He called 
 out something I couldn't hear it.' 
 
 ' Perhaps to say he would come to supper,' said 
 Nelly, her face brightening. ' I'll go and see what 
 there is.' 
 
 Bridget went upstairs. Her small raftered room 
 was invaded by the last stormy light of the autumn 
 evening. The open casement window admitted a 
 cold wind. Bridget shut it, with a shiver. But 
 instead of lying down, she took a chair by the window, 
 absently removed her hat, and sat there thinking. 
 The coppery light from the west illumined her face 
 with its strong discontented lines, and her hands, 
 which were large, but white and shapely a source 
 indeed of personal pride to their owner. 
 
 Presently, in the midst of her reverie, she heard 
 a step outside, and saw Sir William Farrell approaching 
 the gate. Nelly, wrapped in a white shawl, was 
 still strolling about the garden, and Bridget watched 
 their meeting Nelly's soft and smiling welcome, and 
 FarrelTs eagerness, his evident joy in finding her alone. 
 
 ' And she just wilfully blinds herself ! ' thought 
 Bridget contemptuously ' talks about his being a 
 brother to her, and that sort of nonsense. He's in
 
 ' MISSING ' 213 
 
 love with her ! of course he's in love with her. And 
 as for Nelly she's not in love with him. But she's 
 getting used to him ; she depends on him. When he's 
 not there she misses him. She's awfully glad to see 
 him when he comes. Perhaps, it'll take a month or 
 two. I give it a month or two perhaps six months 
 perhaps a year. And then she'll marry him and 
 
 Here her thoughts became rather more vague and 
 confused. They were compounded of a fierce im- 
 patience with the war, and of certain urgent wishes 
 and ambitions, which had taken possession of a strong 
 and unscrupulous character. She wanted to travel. 
 She wanted to see the world, and not to be bothered by 
 having to think of money. Contact with very rich 
 people, like the Farrells, and the constant spectacle 
 of what an added range and power is given to the 
 human will by money, had turned the dull discontent 
 of her youth into an active fever of desire. She had 
 no illusions about herself at all. She was already a 
 plain and unattractive old maid. Nobody would 
 want to marry her ; and she did not want to marry 
 anybody. But she wanted to do things and to see 
 things, when the hateful war was over. She was full 
 of curiosities about life and the world, that were 
 rather masculine than feminine. Her education, 
 though it was still patchy and shallow, had been 
 advancing since Nelly's marriage, and her intelligence 
 was hungry. The satisfaction of it seemed, too, to 
 promise her the only real pleasures to which she could 
 look forward in life. On the wall of her bedroom 
 were hanging photographs of Home, Athens, the East. 
 She dreamt of a wandering existence ; she felt that she 
 would be insatiable of movement, of experience, if the 
 chance were given her.
 
 214 ' MISSING ' 
 
 But how could one travel, or buy books, or make 
 new acquaintances, without money ? something more 
 at any rate than the pittance on which she and Nelly 
 subsisted. 
 
 What was it Sir William was supposed to have, 
 by way of income ? thirty thousand a year ? Well, 
 he wouldn't always be spending it on his hospital, 
 and War income tax, and all the other horrible burdens 
 of the time. If Nelly married him, she would have an 
 ample margin to play with ; and to do Nelly justice, 
 she was always open-handed, always ready to give 
 away. She would hand over her own small portion to 
 her sister, and add something to it. With six or seven 
 hundred a year, Bridget would be mistress of her own 
 fate, and of the future. Often, lately, in waking 
 moments of the night, she had felt a sudden glow of 
 exultation, thinking what she could do with such a 
 sum. The world seemed to open out on all sides 
 offering her new excitements, new paths to tread in. 
 She wanted no companion, to hamper her with differing 
 tastes and wishes. She would be quite sufficient to 
 herself. 
 
 The garden outside grew dark. She heard Farrell 
 say ' It's too cold for you you must come in,' and 
 she watched Nelly enter the house in front of him 
 turning her head back to answer something he said 
 to her. Even through the dusk Bridget was conscious 
 of her sister's beauty. She did not envy it in the 
 least. It was Nelly's capital Nelly's opportunity. 
 Let her use it for them both. Bridget would be well 
 satisfied to gather up the crumbs from her rich 
 sister's table. 
 
 Then from the dream, she came back with chill 
 and desperation to reality. The letter in her pocket
 
 ' MISSING ' 215 
 
 the journey before her she pondered alternatives. 
 What was she to do in this case or in that ? Every- 
 thing might be at stake everything was at stake 
 her life and Nelly's 
 
 The voices from the parlour below came up to 
 her. She heard the crackling of a newly lighted fire 
 Farrell reading aloud and Nelly's gentle laughter. 
 She pictured the scene ; the two on either side of 
 the fire, with Nelly's mourning, her plain widow's 
 dress, as the symbol in Nelly's eyes of what 
 divided her from Farrell, or any other suitor, and 
 made it possible to be his friend without fear. Bridget 
 knew that Nelly so regarded it. But that of course 
 was just Nelly's foolish way of looking at things. 
 It was only a question of time. 
 
 And meanwhile the widow's dress had quite other 
 meanings for Bridget. She pondered long in the 
 dark, till the supper bell rang. 
 
 At supper, her silence embarrassed and infected 
 her companions, and Farrell, finding it impossible 
 to get another tete-a-tete with Nelly, took his leave 
 early. He must be up almost with the dawn so as 
 to get to Carton by nine o'clock. 
 
 Out of a stormy heaven the moon was breaking 
 as he walked back to his cottage. The solitude of 
 the mountain ways, the freshness of the rain-washed 
 air, and the sweetness of his hour with Nelly, after 
 the bustle of the week, the arrivals and departures, 
 the endless business, of a great hospital : he was 
 conscious of them all, intensely conscious, as parts 
 of a single, delightful whole to which he had looked 
 forward for days. And yet he was restless and far 
 from happy. He wandered about the mountain
 
 216 ' MISSING ' 
 
 roads for a long time watching the moon as it rose 
 above the sharp steep of Loughrigg and sent long 
 streamers of light down the Elterwater valley, and 
 up the great knees of the Pikes. The owls hooted 
 in the oak woods, and the sound of water the Brathay 
 rushing over the Skelwith rocks, and all the little 
 becks in fell and field, near and far murmured through 
 the night air, and made earth-music to the fells. 
 Farrell had much of the poet in him ; and the moun- 
 tains and their life were dear to him. But he was 
 rapidly passing into the stage when a man over- 
 mastered by his personal desires is no longer open 
 to the soothing of nature. He had recently had a 
 long and confidential talk with his lawyer at Carlisle, 
 who was also his friend, and had informed himself 
 minutely about the state of the law. Seven years ! 
 unless, of her own free will, she took the infinitesimal 
 risk of marriage before the period was up. 
 
 But he despaired of her doing any such thing. 
 He recognised fully that the intimacy she allowed 
 him, her sweet openness and confidingness, were all 
 conditioned by what she regarded as the fixed points 
 in her life ; by her widowhood, legal and spiritual, 
 and by her tacit reliance on his recognition of the 
 fact that she was set apart, bound as other widows 
 were not bound, protected by the very mystery of 
 Sarratt's fate, from any thought of re-marriage. 
 
 And he ! all the time the strength of a man's 
 maturest passion was mounting in his veins. And 
 with it a foreboding coming he knew not whence 
 like the sudden shadow that, as he looked, blotted 
 out the moonlight on the shining bends and loops 
 of the Brathay, whore it wandered through the Elter- 
 water fields.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 BRIDGET COOKSON slowly signed her name to the 
 letter she had been writing in the drawing-room of 
 the boarding-house where she was accustomed to 
 stay during her visits to town. Then she read the 
 letter through 
 
 ' I can't get back till the middle or end of next 
 week at least. There's been a great deal to do, of 
 one kind or another. And I'm going down to Woking 
 to-morrow to spend the week-end with a girl I met 
 here who's knocked up in munition work. Don't 
 expect me till you see me. But I daresay I shan't 
 be later than Friday.' 
 
 Bridget Cookson had never yet arrived at telling 
 falsehoods for the mere pleasure of it. On the whole 
 she preferred not to tell them. But she was well 
 aware that her letter to Nelly contained a good many, 
 both expressed and implied. 
 
 Well, that couldn't be helped. She put up her 
 letter, and then proceeded to look carefully through 
 the contents of her handbag. Yes, her passport 
 was all right, and her purse with its supply of notes. 
 Also the letter that she was to present to the Base 
 Commandant, or the Eed Cross representative at 
 the port of landing. The letter had been left open for 
 her to read. It was signed ' Ernest Howson, M.D.,' 
 and asked that Miss Bridget Cookson might be sent 
 
 217
 
 218 ' MISSING ' 
 
 forward to No. 102, General Hospital, X Camp, 
 France, as quickly as possible. 
 
 There was also another letter addressed to herself 
 in the same hand-writing. She opened it and glanced 
 through it 
 
 ' DEAR Miss COOKSON, I think I have made every- 
 thing as easy for you as I can on this side. You 
 won't have any difficulty. I'm awfully glad you're 
 eoming. I myself am much puzzled, and don't know 
 what to think. Anyway I am quite clear that my 
 right course was to communicate with you first. 
 Everything will depend on what you say.' 
 
 The following afternoon, Bridget found herself, 
 with a large party of V.A.D.'s, and other persons 
 connected with the Eed Cross, on board a Channel 
 steamer. The day was grey and cold, and Bridget 
 having tied on her life-belt, and wrapped herself 
 in her thickest cloak, found a seat in the shelter of 
 the deck cabins whence the choppy sea, the destroyer 
 hovering round them, and presently the coast of 
 France were visible. A secret excitement filled her. 
 What was she going to see ? and what was she going 
 to do ? All round her too were the suggestions of 
 war, commonplace and familiar by now to half the 
 nation, but not to Bridget who had done her best 
 to forget the war. The steamer deck was crowded 
 with officers returning from leave who were walking 
 up and down, all of them in life-belts, chatting and 
 smoking. All eyes were watchful of the sea, and 
 the destroyer ; and the latest submarine gossip 
 passed from mouth to mouth. The V.A.D.'s, with 
 a few army nurses, kept each other company on the 
 stern deck. The mild sea gave no one any excuse 
 for discomfort, and the pleasant -faced rosy girls
 
 1 MISSING ' 219 
 
 in their becoming uniforms laughed and gossiped 
 with each other, though not without a good many 
 side glances towards the khaki figures pacing the 
 deck, many of them specimens of English youth 
 at its best. 
 
 Bridget however took little notice of them. She 
 was becoming more and more absorbed in her own 
 problem. She had not in truth made up her mind 
 how to deal with it, and she admitted reluctantly 
 that she would have to be guided by circumstance. 
 Midway across, when the French coast and its light- 
 houses were well in view, she took out the same letter 
 which she had received two days before at the Gras- 
 mere post-office, and again read it through. 
 
 X Camp, 102, General Hospital. 
 
 ' DEAR Miss COOKSON, I am writing to you, in 
 the first instance instead of to Mrs. Sarratt, because 
 I have a vivid remembrance of what seemed to me 
 your sister's frail physical state, when I saw you 
 last May at Kydal. I hope she is much stronger, 
 but I don't want to risk what, if it ended in disap- 
 pointment, might only be a terrible strain upon her 
 to no purpose so I am preparing the way by writing 
 to you. 
 
 ' The fact is I want you to come over to France 
 at once. Can you get away, without alarming your 
 sister, or letting her, really, know anything about 
 it ? It is the merest, barest chance, but I think 
 there is just a chance, that a man who is now in hospital 
 here may be poor George Sarratt only don't build 
 upon it yet, please. The case was sent on here from 
 one of the hospitals near the Belgian frontier 
 about a month ago, in order that a famous nerve-
 
 220 ' MISSING ' 
 
 specialist, who has joined us here for a time might 
 give his opinion on it. It is a most extraordinary 
 story. I understand from the surgeon who wrote to 
 our Commandant, that one night, about three months 
 ago, two men, in German uniforms, were observed from 
 the British front-line trench, creeping over the No 
 Man's Land lying between the lines at a point some- 
 where east of Dixmude. One man, who threw up his 
 hands, was dragging the other, who seemed wounded. 
 It was thought that they were deserters, and a couple 
 of men were sent out to bring them in. Just as they 
 were being helped into our trench, however, one of 
 them was hit by an enemy sniper and mortally wounded. 
 Then it was discovered that they were not Germans at 
 all. The man who had been hit said a few incoherent 
 things about his wife and children in the Walloon 
 patois as he lay in the trench, and trying to point 
 to his companion, uttered the one word " Anglais " 
 that, everyone swears to and died. No papers were 
 found on either of them, and when the other man was 
 questioned, he merely shook his head, with a vacant 
 look. Various tests were applied to him, but it was 
 soon clear, both that he was dumb and deaf from 
 nerve shock, probably and that he was in a terrible 
 physical state. He had been severely wounded 
 apparently many months before in the shoulder and 
 thigh. The wounds had evidently been shockingly 
 neglected, and were still septic. The surgeon who 
 examined him thought that what with exposure, 
 lack of food, and his injuries, it was hardly probable 
 he would live more than a few weeks. However, 
 he has lingered till now, and the specialist I spoke of 
 has just seen him. 
 
 ' As to identification marks there were none. But
 
 ' MISSING ' 221 
 
 you'll hear all about that when you come. All I can 
 say is that, as soon as they got the man into hospital, 
 the nurses and surgeons became convinced that he 
 was English, and that in addition to his wounds, it was 
 a case of severe shell-shock acute and long-continued 
 neurasthenia properly speaking, loss of memory, and 
 all the rest of it. 
 
 ' Of course the chances of this poor fellow being 
 George Sarratt are infinitesimal I must warn you as 
 to that. How account for the interval between 
 September 1915 and June 1916 for his dress, his 
 companion for their getting through the German 
 lines ? 
 
 ' However, directly I set eyes on this man, which was 
 the week after I arrived here, I began to feel puzzled 
 about him. He reminded me of someone but of 
 whom I couldn't remember. Then one afternoon 
 it suddenly flashed upon me and for the moment I 
 felt almost sure that I was looking at George Sarratt. 
 Then, of course, I began to doubt again. I have tried 
 under the advice of the specialist I spoke of all 
 kinds of devices for getting into some kind of com- 
 munication with him. Sometimes the veil between 
 him and those about him seems to thin a little, and 
 one makes attempts hypnotism, suggestion, and so 
 forth. But so far, quite in vain. He has, however, 
 one peculiarity which I may mention. His hands are 
 long and rather powerful. But the little fingers are 
 both crooked markedly so. I wonder if you ever 
 noticed Sarratt 's hands ? However, I won't write 
 more now. You will understand, I am sure, that I 
 shouldn't urge you to come, unless I thought it seriously 
 worth your while. On the other hand, I cannot bear 
 to excite hopes which may which probably will
 
 222 ' MISSING ' 
 
 come to nothing. All I can feel certain of is that it 
 is my duty to write, and I expect that you will feel 
 that it is your duty to corne. 
 
 ' I send you the address of a man at the War Office 
 high up in the E.A.M.G. to whom I have already 
 written. He will, I am sure, do all he can to help you 
 get out quickly. Whoever he is, the poor fellow 
 here is very ill.' 
 
 The steamer glided up the dock of the Trench 
 harbour. The dusk had fallen, but Bridget was 
 conscious of a misty town dimly sprinkled with lights, 
 and crowned with a domed church ; of chalk downs, 
 white and ghostly, to right and left ; and close by, 
 of quays crowded with soldiers, motors, and officials. 
 Carrying her small suit-case, she emerged upon the 
 quay, and almost immediately was accosted by the 
 official of the Eed Cross who had been told off to 
 look after her. 
 
 ' Let me carry your suit-case. There is a motor 
 
 here, which will take you to X . There will be two 
 
 nurses going with you.' 
 
 Up the long hill leading southwards out of the 
 town, sped the motor, stopping once to show its pass 
 to the sentries khaki and grey, on either side of the 
 road, and so on into the open country, where an autumn 
 mist lay over the uplands, beneath a faintly star-lit 
 sky. Soon it was quite dark. Bridget listened vaguely 
 to the half-whispered talk of the nurses opposite, 
 who were young probationers going back to work 
 after a holiday, full of spirits and merry gossip about 
 ' Matron ' and ' Sister,' and their favourite surgeons. 
 Bridget was quite silent. Everything was strange 
 and dreamlike. Yet she was sharply conscious that
 
 ' MISSING ' 223 
 
 she was nearing perhaps some great experience, 
 some act some decision which she would have to 
 make for herself, with no one to advise her. Well, 
 she had never been a great hand at asking advice. 
 People must decide things for themselves. 
 
 She wondered whether they w T ould let her see 
 ' the man ' that same night. Hardly unless he 
 were worse in danger. Otherwise, they would be 
 sure to think it better for her to see him first in 
 daylight. She too would be glad to have a _ night's 
 rest before the interview. She had a curiously 
 bruised and battered feeling, as of some one who had 
 been going through an evil experience. 
 
 Pale stretches of what seemed like water to the 
 right, and across it a lighthouse. And now to the 
 left, a sudden spectacle of lines of light in a great 
 semi-circle radiating up the side of a hill. 
 
 The nurses exclaimed 
 
 ' There's the Camp ! Isn't it pretty at night ? ' 
 
 The officer sitting in front beside the driver turned 
 to ask 
 
 ' Where shall I put you down ? ' 
 
 'Number ' said both the maidens in concert. 
 The elderly major in khaki who in peace-time was 
 the leading doctor of a Shropshire country town 
 could not help smiling at the two lassies, and their 
 bright looks. 
 
 ' You don't seem particularly sorry to come back ! ' 
 he said. 
 
 ' Oh, we're tired of holidays,' said the taller of 
 the two, with a laugh. ' People at home think they're 
 so busy, and ' 
 
 ' You think they're doing nothing ? ' 
 
 ' Well, it don't seem much, when you've been
 
 224 ' MISSING ' 
 
 out hero ! ' said the girl more gravely ' and when 
 you know what there is to do ! ' 
 
 ' Aye, aye/ said the man in front. ' We could 
 do with hundreds more of your sort. Hope you 
 preached to your friends.' 
 
 * We did ! ' said both, each with the same young 
 steady voice. 
 
 ' Here we are Stop, please.' 
 
 For the motor had turned aside to climb the hill 
 into the semi-circle. On all sides now were rows 
 of low buildings hospital huts hospital marquees 
 stores canteens. Close to the motor, as it came 
 to a standstill, the door of a great marquee stood 
 open, and Bridget could see within, a lighted hospital 
 ward, with rows of beds, men in scarlet bed-jackets, 
 sitting or lying on them flowers nurses moving 
 about. The scene was like some bright and delicate 
 illumination on the dark. 
 
 ' I shall have to take you a bit further on,' said 
 the major to Bridget, as the two young nurses waved 
 farewell. ' We've got a room in the hotel for you. 
 And Dr. Howson will come for you in the morning. 
 He thought that would be more satisfactory both 
 for you and the patient than that you should go to 
 the hospital to-night.' 
 
 Bridget acquiesced, with a strong sense of relief. 
 And presently the camp and its lights were all left 
 behind again, and the motor was rushing on, first 
 through a dark town, and then through woods 
 pine woods as far as the faint remaining light 
 enabled her to see, till dim shapes of houses, and 
 scattered lamps began again to appear, and the motor 
 drew up. 
 
 ' Well, you'll find a bed here, and some food,'
 
 ' MISSING ' 225 
 
 said the major as he handed her out. ' Can't promise 
 much. It's a funny little place, but they don't look 
 after you badly.' 
 
 They entered one of the small seaside hotels 
 of the cheaper sort which abound in French watering- 
 places, where the walls of the tiny rooms seem to 
 be made of brown paper, and everyone is living in 
 their neighbour's pocket. But a pleasant young 
 woman came forward to take Bridget's bag. 
 
 ' Mademoiselle Cook Cookson ? ' she said in- 
 terrogatively. ' I have a letter for Mademoiselle, 
 Du medecin,' she added, addressing the major. 
 
 ' Ah ? ' That gentleman put down Bridget's bag 
 in the little hall, and stood attentive. Bridget opened 
 the letter a very few words and read it with an 
 exclamation. 
 
 ' DEAR Miss COOKSON, I am awfully sorry not to 
 meet you to-night, and at the hospital to-morrow. 
 But I am sent for to Bailleul. My only brother has 
 been terribly wounded they think fatally in a 
 bombing attack last night. I am going up at once 
 there is no help for it. One of my colleagues, Dr. 
 Vincent, will take you to the hospital and will tell 
 me your opinion. In haste. Yours sincerely, 
 
 'ERNEST HOWSON.' 
 
 ' H'm, a great pity ! ' said the major, as she handed 
 the note to him. ' Howson has taken a tremendous 
 interest in the case. But Vincent is next best. 
 Not the same thing perhaps but still Of course 
 the whole medical staff here has been interested in 
 it. It has some extraordinary features. You I 
 think have had a brother-in-law " missing " for some 
 time ? '
 
 226 ' MISSING ' 
 
 He had piloted her into the bare salle a manger, 
 where two young officers, with a party of newly arrived 
 V.A.D.'s were having dinner, and where through 
 an open window came in the dull sound of waves 
 breaking on a sandy shore. 
 
 ' My brother-in-law has been missing since the 
 battle of Loos/ said Bridget ' more than a year. 
 We none of us believe that he can be alive. But of 
 course when Dr. Howson wrote to me, I came at once.' 
 
 ' Has he a wife ? ' 
 
 * Yes, but she is very delicate. That is why Dr. 
 Howson wrote to me. If there were any chance of 
 course we must send for her. But I shall know I 
 shall know at once.' 
 
 ' I suppose you will yes, I suppose you will,' 
 mused the major. ' Though of course a man is 
 terribly aged by such an experience. He's English 
 that we're certain of. He often seems to understand 
 half understand a written phrase or word in 
 English. And he is certainly a man of refinement. 
 All his personal ways all that is instinctive and 
 automatic the subliminal consciousness, so to speak 
 seems to be that of a gentleman. But it is impos- 
 sible to get any response out of him, for anything 
 connected with the war. And yet we doubt whether 
 there is any actual brain lesion. So far it seems to 
 be severe functional disturbance which is neuras- 
 thenia aggravated by his wounds and general state. 
 But the condition is getting worse steadily. It is 
 very sad, and very touching. However, you will get 
 it all out of Vincent. You must have some dinner 
 first. I wish you a good-night.' 
 
 And the good man, so stout and broad-shouldered 
 that he seemed to be bursting out of his khaki,
 
 1 MISSING ' 227 
 
 hurried away. The lady seemed to him curiously 
 hard and silent ' a forbidding sort of party.' But 
 then he himself was a person of sentiment, expressing 
 all the expected feelings in the right places, and with 
 perfect sincerity. 
 
 Bridget took her modest dinner, and then sat by 
 the window, looking out over a lonely expanse of 
 sand, towards a moonlit sea. To right and left were 
 patches of pine wood, and odd little seaside villas, 
 with fantastic turrets and balconies. A few figures 
 passed nurses in white head dresses, and men in 
 khaki. Bridget understood after talking to the little 
 patronne, that the name of the place was Paris a la Mer, 
 that there was a famous golf course near, and that 
 large building, with a painted front to the right, was 
 once the Casino, and now a hospital for officers. 
 
 It was all like a stage scene, the sea, the queer 
 little houses, the moonlight, the passing figures. Only 
 the lights were so few and dim, and there was no 
 music. 
 
 ' Miss Cookson ? ' 
 
 Bridget turned, to see a tall young surgeon in 
 khaki, tired, pale and dusty, who looked at her with 
 a frown of worry, a man evidently over-driven, and 
 with hardly any mind to give to this extra task that 
 had been put upon him. 
 
 ' I'm sorry to be late but we've had an awful 
 rush to-day,' he said, as he perfunctorily shook hands. 
 ' There was some big fighting on the Somme, the night 
 before last, and the casualty trains have been coming 
 in all day. I'm only able to get away for five minutes. 
 
 * Well now, Miss Cookson ' he sat down opposite 
 her, and tried to get his thoughts into business shape 
 ' first let me tell you it's a great misfortune for you
 
 228 ' MISSING ' 
 
 that Howson's had to go off. I know something about 
 the case but not nearly as much as he knows. First 
 of all how old was your brother-in-law ? ' 
 
 ' About twenty-seven I don't know precisely.' 
 
 ' H'm. Well of course this man looks much older 
 than that but the question is what's he been through ? 
 Was Lieutenant Sarratt fair or dark ? ' 
 
 ' Eather dark. He had brown hair.' 
 
 ' Eyes ? ' 
 
 ' I can't remember precisely,' said Bridget, after a 
 moment. ' I don't notice the colour of people's eyes. 
 But I'm sure they were some kind of brown.' 
 
 ' This man's are a greenish grey. Can you recollect 
 anything peculiar about Lieutenant Sarratt 's hands ? ' 
 
 Again Bridget paused for a second or two, and 
 then said ' I can't remember anything at all peculiar 
 about them.' 
 
 The surgeon looked at her closely, and was struck 
 with the wooden irresponsiveness of the face, which 
 was however rather handsome, he thought, than 
 otherwise. No doubt, she was anxious to speak de- 
 liberately, when so much might depend on her evidence 
 and her opinion. But he had never seen any counten- 
 ance more difficult to read. 
 
 ' Perhaps you're not a close observer of such 
 things ? ' 
 
 ' No, I don't think I am.' 
 
 ' H'm that's rather a pity. A great deal may 
 turn on them, in this case.' 
 
 Then the face before him woke up a little. 
 
 ' But I am quite sure I should know my brother- 
 in-law again, under any circumstances,' said Bridget, 
 with emphasis.
 
 ' MISSING ' 229 
 
 ' Ah, don't be so sure ! Privation and illness 
 change people terribly. And this poor fellow has 
 suffered I ' he shrugged his shoulders expressively. 
 ' Well, you will see him to-morrow. There is of course 
 no external evidence to help us whatever. The un- 
 lucky accident that the Englishman's companion 
 who was clearly a Belgian peasant, disguised of that 
 there is no doubt was shot through the lungs at the 
 very moment that the two men reached the British line, 
 has wiped out all possible means of identification 
 unless, of course, the man himself can be recognised 
 by some one who knew him. We have had at least a 
 dozen parties relations of "missing" men much 
 more recent cases over here already to no purpose. 
 There is really no clue, unless ' the speaker rose with a 
 tired smile ' unless you can supply one, when you see 
 him. But I am sorry about the fingers. That has 
 always seemed to me a possible clue. To-morrow then; 
 at eleven ? ' 
 
 Bridget interrupted. 
 
 ' It is surely most unlikely that my brother-in-law 
 could have survived all this time ? If he had been 
 a prisoner, we should have heard of him, long ago. 
 Where could he have been ? ' 
 
 The young man shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 'There have been a few cases, you know of escaped 
 prisoners evading capture for a long time and 
 finally crossing the line. But of course it is very 
 unlikely most unlikely. Well, to-morrow ? ' He 
 bowed and departed. 
 
 Bridget made her way to her small carpetless 
 room, and sat for long with a shawl round her at 
 the open window. She could imagine the farm in
 
 230 ' MISSING ' 
 
 this moonlight. It was Saturday. Very likely both 
 Cicely and Sir William were at the cottage. She 
 seemed to see Nelly, with the white shawl over her 
 dark head, saying goodnight to them at the farm-gate. 
 That meant that it was all going forward. Some day, 
 and soon Nelly would discover that Farrell was 
 necessary to her that she couldn't do without him 
 just as she had never been able in practical ways to 
 do without her sister. 
 
 No, there was nothing in the way of Nelly's great 
 future, and^the free developement of her Bridget's 
 own life, but this sudden and most unwelcome stroke 
 of fate. If she had to send for Nelly supposing 
 it really ^were Sarratt and then if he died Nelly 
 might never get over it. 
 
 It might simply kill her why not ? All the world 
 knew that she was a weakling. And if it didn't kill 
 her, it would make it infinitely less likely that she 
 would marry Farrell in any reasonable time. Nelly 
 was not like other people. She was all feelings. 
 Actually to see George die and in the state that 
 these doctors described would rack and torture her. 
 She would never be the same again. The first shock 
 was bad enough ; this might be far worse. Bridget's 
 selfishness, in truth, counted on the same fact as 
 Farrell's tenderness. ' After all, what people don't see, 
 they can't feel' to quite the same degree. But if 
 Nelly, being Nelly, had seen the piteous thing, she 
 would turn against Farrell, and think it loyalty to 
 George to send her rich suitor about his business. 
 Bridget felt that she could exactly foretell the course 
 of things. A squalid and melancholy veil dropped over 
 the future. Poverty, struggle, ill-health for Nelly 
 poverty, and the starving of all natural desires and
 
 'MISSING' 231 
 
 ambitions for herself that was all there was to look 
 forward to, if the Farrells were alienated, and the 
 marriage thwarted. 
 
 A fierce revolt shook the woman by the window. 
 She sat on there till the moon dropped into the sea, 
 and everything was still in the little echoing hotel. 
 And then though she went to bed she could not sleep. 
 
 After her coffee and roll in the little salle a manger, 
 which with its bare boards and little rags of curtains 
 was only meant for summer guests, and was now, on 
 this first of November nippingly cold, Bridget wan- 
 dered a little on the shore watching the white dust of 
 the foam as a chill west wind skimmed it from the 
 incoming waves, then packed her bag, and waited 
 restlessly for Dr. Vincent. She understood she was 
 to be allowed, if she wished, two visits in the hospital, 
 so as to give her an opportunity of watching the 
 patient she was going to see, without undue hurry, and 
 
 would then be motored back to D in time for 
 
 the night boat. She was bracing herself therefore to 
 an experience the details of which she only dimly 
 foresaw, but which must in any case be excessively 
 disagreeable. What exactly she was going to do or 
 say, she didn't know. How could she, till the new 
 fact was before her ? 
 
 Punctually on the stroke of eleven, a motor arrived 
 in charge of an army driver, and Bridget set out. 
 
 They were to pick up Vincent in the town of X 
 
 itself and run on to the Camp. The sun was out by 
 this time, and all the seaside village, with its gimcrack 
 hotels and villas flung pell-mell upon the sand, and 
 among the pines, was sparkling under it. So were the 
 withered woods, where the dead leaves were flying
 
 232 ' MISSING ' 
 
 before the wind, the old town where Napoleon gathered 
 his legions for the attack on England, and the wide 
 sandy slopes beyond it, where the pine woods had 
 perished to make room for the Camp. The car 
 stopped presently on the edge of the town. To 
 the left spread a river estuary, with a spit of land 
 beyond, and lighthouses upon it, sharp against a 
 pale blue sky. Every shade of pale yellow, of lilac 
 and pearl, sparkled in the distance, in the scudding 
 water, the fast flying westerly clouds, and the sandy 
 inlets among the still surviving pines. 
 
 ' You're punctuality itself/ said a man emerging 
 from a building before which a sentry was pacing 
 ' Now we shall be there directly.' 
 
 The building, so Bridget was informed, housed 
 the Headquarters of the Base, and from it the busi- 
 ness of the great Camp, whether on its military or 
 its hospital side, was mainly carried on. And as they 
 drove towards the Camp her companion, with the 
 natural pride of the Englishman in his job, told the 
 marvellous tale of the two preceding years how 
 the vast hospital city had been reared, and organised 
 the military camp too the convalescent camp 
 the transports and the feeding. 
 
 ' The Boche thought they were the only organisers 
 in the world ! We've taught them better ! ' he said, 
 with a laugh in his pleasant eyes, the whole man of 
 him, so weary the night before, now fresh and alert 
 in the morning sunshine. 
 
 Bridget listened with an unwilling attention. 
 This bit of the war seen close at hand was beginning 
 to suggest to her some new vast world, of which she 
 was wholly ignorant, where she was the merest cypher 
 on sufferance. The thought was disagreeable to her
 
 ' MISSING ' 233 
 
 irritable pride, and she thrust it aside. She had 
 other things to consider. 
 
 They drew up outside one of the general hospitals 
 lined along the Camp road. 
 
 ' You'll find him in a special ward,' said Vincent, 
 as he handed her out. ' But I'll take you first to 
 Sister.' 
 
 They entered the first hut, and made their way 
 past various small rooms, amid busy people going 
 to and fro. Bridget was aware of the usual hos- 
 pital smell of mingled ansesthetic and antiseptic, and 
 presently, her companion laid a hasty hand on her 
 arm and drew her to one side. A surgeon passed 
 with a nurse. They entered a room on the right, 
 and left the door of it a little ajar. 
 
 ' The operating theatre,' said Vincent, with a 
 gesture that shewed her where to look ; and through 
 the open door Bridget saw a white room beyond, an 
 operating table and a man, a splendid boy of nine- 
 teen or twenty lying on it, with doctors and nurses 
 standing round. The youth's features shewed waxen 
 against the white walls, and white overalls of the 
 nurses. 
 
 ' This way,' said Vincent. ' Sister, this is Miss 
 Cookson. You remember Dr. Howson sent for 
 her.' 
 
 A shrewd-faced woman of forty in nurse's dress 
 looked closely at Bridget. 
 
 ' We shall be very glad indeed, Miss Cookson, if 
 you can throw any light on this case. It is one of the 
 saddest we have here. Will you follow me, please ? ' 
 
 Bridget found herself passing through the main 
 ward of the hut, rows of beds on either hand. She 
 seemed to be morbidly conscious of scores of eyes
 
 234 ' MISSING ' 
 
 upon her, and was glad when she found herself in 
 the passage beyond the ward. 
 
 The Sister opened a door into a tiny sitting-room, 
 and offered Bridget a chair. 
 
 ' They have warned you that this poor fellow is 
 deaf and dumb ? ' 
 
 ' Yes I had heard that.' 
 
 ' And his brain is very clouded. He tries to do 
 all we tell him it is touching to see him. But his 
 real intelligence seems to be far away. Then there 
 are the wounds. Did Dr. Howson tell you about 
 them ? ' 
 
 ' He said there were bad wounds.' 
 
 The Sister threw up her hands. 
 
 ' How he ever managed to do the walking he 
 must have done to get through the lines is a mystery 
 to us all. What he must have endured ! The wounds 
 must have been dressed to begin with in a German 
 field-hospital. Then on his way to Germany, before 
 the wounds had properly healed that at least is 
 our theory somewhere near the Belgian frontier he 
 must have made his escape. What happened then, of 
 course, during the winter and spring nobody knows ; 
 but when he reached our lines, the wounds were both in 
 a septic state. There have been two operations for 
 gangrene since he has been here. I don't think he'll 
 stand another.' 
 
 Bridget lifted her eyes and looked intently at 
 the speaker 
 
 ' You think he's very ill ? ' 
 
 ' Very ill,' said the Sister emphatically. ' If 
 you can identify him, you must send for his wife 
 at once at once I Lieutenant Sarratt was, I think, 
 married ? '
 
 ' MISSING ' 285 
 
 ' Yes,' said Bridget. ' Now may I see him ? ' 
 
 The Sister looked at her visitor curiously. She 
 was both puzzled and repelled by Bridget's manner, 
 by its lack of spring and cordiality, its dull sugges- 
 tion of something reserved and held back. But 
 perhaps the woman was only shy, and oppressed by 
 the responsibility of what she had come to do. The 
 Sister was a very human person, and took tolerant 
 views of everything that was not German. She 
 rose, saying gently 
 
 ' If I may advise you, take time to watch him, 
 before you form or express any opinion. We won't 
 hurry you.' 
 
 Bridget followed her guide a few steps along the 
 corridor. The Sister opened a door, and stood aside 
 to let Bridget pass in. Then she came in herself, and 
 beckoned to a young probationer who was rolling 
 bandages on the further side of the only bed the room 
 contained. The girl quietly put down her work and 
 went out. 
 
 There was a man lying in the bed, and Bridget 
 looked at him. Her heart beat so fast, that she felt 
 for a moment sick and suffocated. The Sister bent 
 over him tenderly, and put back the hair, the grey 
 hair which had fallen over his forehead. At the 
 touch, his eyes opened, and as he saw the Sister's 
 face he very faintly smiled. Bridget suddenly put 
 out a hand and steadied herself by a chair standing 
 beside the bed. The Sister however saw nothing 
 but the face on the pillow, and the smile. The smile 
 was so rare ! it was the one sufficient reward for all 
 his nurses did for him. 
 
 ' Now I'll leave you,' said the Sister, forbearing to 
 ask any further questions. 'Won't you sit down
 
 286 ' MISSING ' 
 
 there ? If you want anyone, you have only to touch 
 that bell.' 
 
 She disappeared. And Bridget sat down, her eyes 
 on the figure in the bed, and on the hand outside 
 the sheet. Her own hands were trembling, as they 
 lay crossed upon her lap. 
 
 How grey and thin the hair was how ghostly 
 the^face what suffering in every line ! 
 
 Bridget drew closer. 
 
 ' George ! ' she whispered. 
 
 No answer. The man's eyes were closed again. 
 He seemed to be asleep. Bridget looked at his hand 
 intently. Then she touched it. 
 
 The heavy blue-veined eye-lids rose again, as 
 though at the only summons the brain understood. 
 Bridget bent forward. What colour there had been in 
 it before ebbed from her sallow face ; her lips grew 
 white. The eyes of the man in the bed met hers 
 first mechanically without any sign of consciousness ; 
 then was it imagination ? or was there a sudden 
 change of expression a quick trouble a flickering 
 of the lids ? Bridget shook through every limb. 
 If he recognised her, if the sight of her brought 
 memory back even a gleam of it there was an end 
 of everything, of course. She had only to go to the 
 nearest telegraph office and send for Nelly. 
 
 But the momentary stimulus passed as she looked 
 the eyes grew vacant again the lids fell. Bridget 
 drew a long breath. She raised herself and moved 
 her chair farther away. 
 
 Time passed. The window behind her was open, 
 and the sun came in, and stole over the bed. The 
 sick man scarcely moved at all. There was com- 
 plete silence, except for the tread of persons in the
 
 ' MISSING ' 237 
 
 corridor outside, and certain distant sounds of musketry 
 and bomb practice from the military camp half a 
 mile away. 
 
 He was dying the man in the bed. That was 
 plain. Bridget knew the look of mortal illness. It 
 couldn't be long. 
 
 She sat there nearly an hour thinking. At the 
 end of that time she rang the hand-bell near 
 her. 
 
 Sister Agnes appeared at once. Bridget had risen 
 and confronted her. 
 
 4 Well,' said the Sister eagerly. But the visitor's 
 irresponsive look quenched her hopes at once. 
 
 4 1 see nothing at all that reminds me of my brother- 
 in-law,' said Bridget with emphasis. 4 1 am very 
 sorry but I cannot identify this person as George 
 Sarratt.' 
 
 The Sister's face fell. 
 
 4 You don't even see the general likeness Dr. 
 Howson thought he saw ? ' 
 
 Bridget turned back with her towards the bed. 
 
 4 1 see what Dr. Howson meant,' she said, slowly 
 4 But there is no real likeness. My brother-in-law's 
 face was much longer. His mouth was quite different. 
 And his eyes were brown.' 
 
 4 Did you see the eyes again ? Did he look at 
 you?' 
 
 4 Yes.' 
 
 4 And there was no sign of recognition.' 
 
 4 No.' 
 
 4 Poor dear fellow ! ' said the Sister, stooping 
 over him again. There was a profound and yearning 
 pity in the gesture. ' I wish we could have kept him 
 more alive more awake for you, to see. But there
 
 238 ' MISSING ' 
 
 had to be morphia this morning. He had a dread- 
 ful night. Are you quite sure ? Wouldn't you like 
 to come back this afternoon, and watch him again ? 
 Sometimes a second time Oh, and what of the hands ? 
 did you notice them ? ' And suddenly remembering 
 Dr. Howson's words, the Sister pointed to the long, 
 bloodless fingers lying on the sheet, and to the marked 
 deformity in each little finger. 
 
 ' Yet but George's hands were not peculiar in 
 any way.' Bridget's voice as she spoke, seemed to 
 herself to come from far away ; as though it were that 
 of another person speaking under compulsion. 
 
 * I'm sorry I'm sorry ! ' the Sister repeated. 
 It's so sad for him to be dying here all alone 
 nobody knowing even who he is when one thinks 
 how somebody must be grieving and longing for 
 him.' 
 
 ' Have you no other enquiries ? ' said Bridget, 
 abruptly, turning to pick up some gloves she had laid 
 down. 
 
 ' Oh yes we have had other visitors and I 
 believe there is a gentleman coming to-morrow. 
 But nothing that sounded so promising as your visit. 
 You won't come again ? ' 
 
 ' It would be no use,' said the even, determined 
 voice. ' I will write to Dr. Howson from London. 
 And I do hope' for tlie first time, the kindly 
 nurse perceived some agitation in this impassive 
 stranger ' I do hope that nobody will write to 
 my sister to Mrs. Sarratt. She is very delicate. 
 Excitement and disappointment might just kill her. 
 That's why I came.' 
 
 4 And that of course is why Dr. Howson wrote 
 to you first. Oh I am sure he will take every care.
 
 MISSING ' 239 
 
 He'll be very, very sorry ! You'll write to him ? And 
 of course so shall I.' 
 
 The news that the lady from England had failed 
 to identify the nameless patient to whom doctor and 
 nurses had been for weeks giving their most devoted 
 care, spread rapidly, and Bridget before she left the 
 hospital had to run the gauntlet of a good many 
 enquiries, at the hands of the various hospital chiefs. 
 She produced on all those who questioned her the 
 impression of an unattractive, hard, intelligent woman 
 whose judgment could probably be trusted. 
 
 ' Glad she isn't my sister-in-law ! ' thought Vincent 
 as he turned back from handing her into the motor 
 which was to take her to the port. But he did not 
 doubt her verdict, and was only sorry for 'old Howson,' 
 who had been so sure that something would come of 
 her visit. 
 
 The motor took Bridget rapidly back to D , 
 
 where she would be in good time for an afternoon 
 boat. She got some food, automatically, at a hotel 
 near the quay, and automatically made her way 
 to the boat when the time came. A dull sense of 
 something irrevocable, something horrible, over- 
 shadowed her. But the ' will to conquer ' in her 
 was as iron ; and, as in the Prussian conscience, left 
 no room for pity or remorse.
 
 CHAPTEE XIII 
 
 A PSYCHOLOGIST would have found much to interest 
 him in Bridget Cookson's mental state during the days 
 which followed on her journey to France. The imme- 
 diate result of that journey was an acute sharpening 
 of intelligence, accompanied by a steady, automatic 
 repression of all those elements of character or mind 
 which might have interfered with its free working. 
 Bridget understood perfectly that she had committed 
 a crime, and at first she had not been able to protect 
 herself against the normal reaction of horror or fear. 
 But the reaction passed very quickly. Conscience 
 gave up the ghost. Selfish will and keen wits held 
 the field ; and Bridget ceased to be more than occa- 
 sionally uncomfortable, though a certain amount of 
 anxiety was of course inevitable. 
 
 She did not certainly want to be found out, either 
 by Nelly or the Farrells ; and she took elaborate steps 
 to prevent it. She wrote first a long letter to Howson 
 giving her reasons for refusing to believe in his tentative 
 
 identification of the man at X as George Sarratt, 
 
 and begging him not to write to her sister. ' That 
 would be indeed cruel. She can just get along now, and 
 every month she gets a little stronger. But her heart, 
 which was weakened by the influenza last year, 
 would never stand the shock of a fearful disappoint- 
 ment. Please let her be. I take all the responsibility. 
 
 240
 
 ' MISSING ' 241 
 
 That man is not George Sarratt. I hope you may soon 
 discover who he is.' 
 
 Step No. 2 was to go, on the very morning after 
 she arrived in London, to the Enquiry Office in A 
 Street. Particulars of the case in France had that 
 morning reached the office, and Bridget was but just 
 in time to stop a letter from Miss Eustace to Nelly. 
 When she pointed out that she had been over to 
 France on purpose to see for herself, that there was 
 no doubt at all in her own mind, and that it would 
 only torment a frail invalid to no purpose to open up 
 the question, the letter was of course countermanded. 
 Who could possibly dispute a sister's advice in such 
 a case ? And who could attribute the advice to anything 
 else than sisterly affection ! 
 
 Meanwhile among the mountains an unusually 
 early winter was beginning to set in. The weather 
 grew bitterly cold, and already a powdering of snow 
 was on the fell-tops. For all that, Nelly could never 
 drink deep enough of the November beauty, as it 
 shone upon the fells through some bright frosty days. 
 The oaks were still laden with leaf ; the fern was still 
 scarlet on the slopes ; and the ghylls and waterfalls 
 leapt foaming white down their ancestral courses. 
 And in this austerer world, Nelly's delicate personality, 
 as though braced by the touch of winter, seemed to 
 move more lightly and buoyantly. She was more 
 vividly interested in things and persons in her 
 drawing, her books, her endless knitting and sewing 
 for the wounded. She was puzzled that Bridget 
 stayed so long in town, but alack ! she could do very 
 well without Bridget. Some portion of the savour of 
 life, of that infinity of small pleasures which each day 
 may bring for the simple and the pure in heart, was
 
 242 ' MISSING ' 
 
 again hers. Insensibly the great wound was healing. 
 The dragging anguish of the first year assailed her now 
 but rarely. 
 
 One morning she opened the windows in the little 
 sitting-room, to let in the sunshine, and the great 
 spectacle of the Pikes wrapped in majestic shadow, 
 purple-black, with the higher peaks ranged in a hier- 
 archy of light behind them. 
 
 She leant far out of the window, breathing in the 
 tonic smell of the oak leaves on the grass beneath her, 
 and the freshness of the mountain air. Then, as she 
 turned back to the white-walled raftered room with 
 its bright fire, she was seized with the pleasantness of 
 this place which was now her home. Insensibly it had 
 captured her heart, and her senses. And who was it 
 what contriving brain had designed and built it up, out 
 of the rough and primitive dwelling it had once been ? 
 
 Of course, William Farrell had done it all ! There 
 was scarcely a piece of furniture, a picture, a book, 
 that was not of his choosing and placing. Little by 
 little, they had been gathered round her. His hand 
 had touched and chosen them, every one. He took 
 far more pleasure and interest in the details of these 
 few rooms than in any of his own houses and costly 
 possessions. 
 
 Suddenly as she sat there on the window-ledge, 
 considering the room, her back to the mountains one 
 of those explosions of consciousness rushed upon Nelly, 
 which, however surprising the crash, are really long 
 prepared and inevitable. 
 
 What did that room really mean the artistic and 
 subtle simplicity of it ? the books, the flowers, and 
 the few priceless things, drawings or terra -cottas, 
 brought from the cottage, and changed every few
 
 ' MISSING ' 243 
 
 weeks by Farrell himself, who would arrive with them 
 under his arm, or in his pockets, and take them back 
 in like manner. 
 
 The colour flooded into Nelly's face. She dropped 
 it in her hands with a low cry. An agony seized 
 her. She loathed herself. 
 
 Then springing up passionately she began to pace 
 the narrow floor, her slender arms and hands locked 
 behind her. 
 
 Sir William was coming that very evening. So 
 was Cicely, who was to be her own guest at the farm, 
 while Mars worth, so she heard, was to have the 
 spare room at the cottage. 
 
 She had not seen William Farrell for some time 
 for what counted, at least, as some time in their 
 relation ; not since that evening before Bridget went 
 away more than a fortnight. But it was borne in 
 upon her that she had heard from him practically 
 every day. There, in the drawer of her writing-table, 
 lay the packet of his letters. She looked for them 
 now morning after morning, and if they failed her, 
 the day seemed blank. Anybody might have read 
 them or her replies. None the less Farrell's letters 
 were the outpouring of a man's heart and mind to 
 the one person with whom he felt himself entirely 
 at ease. The endless problems and happenings of 
 the great hospital to which he was devoting more 
 and more energy, and more and more wealth ; the 
 incidents and persons that struck him ; his loves and 
 hates among the staff or the patients ; the humour 
 or the pity of the daily spectacle ; it was all there in 
 his letters, told in a rich careless English that stuck 
 to the memory. Nelly was accustomed to read and 
 re-read them.
 
 244 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Yes, and she was proud to receive them ! proud 
 that he thought so much of her opinion and cared so 
 much for her sympathy. But wliy did ho write to 
 her, so constantly, so intimately ? what was the real 
 motive of it all ? 
 
 At last, Nelly asked herself the question. It 
 was fatal of course. So long as no question is asked 
 of Lohengrin who, what, and whence he is the 
 spell holds, the story moves. But examine it, as 
 we all know, and the vision fades, the gleam is gone. 
 
 She passed rapidly, and almost with terror, into 
 a misery of remorse. What had she been doing with 
 this kindest and best of men ? Allowing him to 
 suppose that after a little while she would be quite 
 ready to forget George and bo his wife ? That 
 threw her into a fit of helpless crying. The tears ran 
 down her cheeks as she moved to and fro. Her 
 George ! falling out there, in that ghastly No Man's 
 Land, dying out there, alone, with no one to help, 
 and quiet now in his unknown grave. And after 
 little more than a year she was to forget him, and 
 be rich and happy with a new lover a new husband ? 
 
 She seemed to herself the basest of women. Base 
 towards George and towards Farrell both ! What 
 could she do ? what must she do ? Oh, she must 
 go away she must break it all off ! And looking 
 despairingly round the room, which only an hour 
 before had seemed to her so dear and familiar, she 
 tried to imagine herself in exile from all it represented, 
 cut off from Farrell and from Cicely, left only to her 
 own weak self. 
 
 But she must she must ! That very evening she 
 must speak to Willy she must have it out. Of course 
 he would urge her to stay there he would promise
 
 ' MISSING ' 245 
 
 to go away and leave her alone. But that would 
 be too mean, too ungrateful. She couldn't banish 
 him from this spot that he loved, where he snatched 
 his few hours always now growing fewer of rest 
 and pleasure. No, she must just depart. Without 
 telling him ? Without warning ? Her will failed 
 her. 
 
 She got out her table, with its knitting, and its 
 bundles of prepared work which had arrived that 
 morning from the workroom, and began upon one of 
 them mechanically. But she was more and more 
 weighed down by a sense of catastrophe which was 
 also a sense of passionate shame. Why, she was 
 George's wife, still ! his wife for who could know, 
 for certain, that he was dead ? That was what the 
 law meant. Seven years ! 
 
 She spent the day in a wretched confusion of 
 thoughts and plans. A telegram from Cicely arrived 
 about midday ' Can't get to you till to-morrow. 
 Willy and Marsworth coming to-day Marsworth not 
 till late.' 
 
 So any hour might bring Farrell. She sat desper- 
 ately waiting for him. Meanwhile there was a post- 
 card from Bridget saying that she too would probably 
 arrive that evening. 
 
 That seemed the last straw. Bridget would merely 
 think her a fool ; Bridget would certainly quarrel 
 with her. Why, it had been Bridget's constant 
 object to promote the intimacy with the Farrells, 
 to throw her and Sir William together. Nelly remem- 
 bered her own revolts and refusals. They seemed 
 now so long ago ! In those days it was jealousy 
 for George that filled her, the fierce resolve to let no
 
 246 ' MISSING ' 
 
 one so much as dream that she could ever forget him, 
 and to allow no one to give money to George's wife, 
 for whom George himself had provided, and should 
 still provide. And at an earlier stage after George 
 left her, and before he died she could see herself, 
 as she looked back, keeping Sir William firmly at a 
 distance, resenting those friendly caressing ways, 
 which others accepted which she too now accepted, 
 so meekly, so abominably ! She thought of his weekly 
 comings and goings, as they were now ; how, in 
 greeting and good-bye, he would hold her hands, both 
 of them, in his ; how once or twice he had raised them 
 to his lips. And it had begun to seem quite natural 
 to her, wretch that she was ; because he pitied her, 
 because he was so good to her and so much older, 
 nearly twenty years. He was her brother and dear 
 friend, and she the little sister whom he cherished, 
 who sympathised with all he did, and would listen as 
 long as he pleased, while he talked of everything that 
 filled his mind the war news, his work, his books, 
 his companions ; or would sit by, watching breath- 
 lessly while his skilful hand put down some broad 
 ' note ' of colour or light, generally on a page of her 
 own sketch-book. 
 
 Ah, but it must end it must end ! And she must 
 tell him to-night. 
 
 Then she fell to thinking of how it was she had been 
 so blind for so long ; and was now in this tumult of 
 change. One moment, and she was still the Nelly of 
 yesterday, cheerful, patient, comforted by the love 
 of her friends ; and the next, she had become this 
 poor, helpless thing, struggling with her conscience, 
 her guilty conscience, and her sorrow. How had it 
 happened ? There was something uncanny, miraculous
 
 ' MISSING ' 247 
 
 in it. But anyway, there, in a flash it stood revealed 
 her treason to George her unkindness to Willy. 
 
 For she would never marry him never ! She 
 simply felt herself an unfaithful wife a disloyal 
 friend. 
 
 The November day passed on, cloudless, to its 
 red setting over the Coniston fells. Wetherlarn stood 
 black against the barred scarlet of the west, and all 
 the valleys lay veiled in a blue and purple mist, 
 traversed by rays of light, wherever a break in the 
 mountain wall let the sunset through. The beautiful 
 winter twilight had just begun, when Nelly heard the 
 step she waited for outside. 
 
 She did not run to the window to greet him as she 
 generally did. She sat still, by the fire, her knitting 
 on her knee. Her black dress was very black, with 
 the plainest white ruffle at her throat. She looked 
 very small and pitiful. Perhaps she meant to look it ! 
 The weak in dealing with the strong have always that 
 instinctive resource. 
 
 ' How jolly to find you alone ! ' said Farrell joyously, 
 as he entered the room. ' I thought Miss Bridget 
 was due,' He put down the books with which he had 
 come laden and approached her with outstretched hands. 
 ' I say ! you don't look well ! ' His look, suddenly 
 sobered, examined her. 
 
 ' Oh yes, I am quite well. Bridget comes to- 
 night.' 
 
 She hurriedly withdrew herself, and he sat down 
 opposite her, holding some chilly fingers to the blaze, 
 surveying her all the time. 
 
 ' Why doesn't Bridget stop here and look after 
 you?' '
 
 248 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Nelly laughed. ' Because she has much more in- 
 teresting things to do ! ' 
 
 'That's most unlikely! Have you been alone all 
 the week ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, but quite busy, thank you and quite 
 well.' 
 
 ' You don't look it,' he repeated gravely, after a 
 moment. 
 
 ' So busy, and so well,' she insisted, ' that even 
 I can't find excuses for idling here much longer.' 
 
 He gave a perceptible start. ' What does that 
 mean ? What are you going to do ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know. But I think ' she eyed him 
 uneasily ' hospital work of some kind.' 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 ' I wouldn't take you in my hospital ! You'd 
 knock up in a week.' 
 
 ' You're quite, quite mistaken,' she said, eagerly. 
 ' I can wash dishes and plates now as well as anyone. 
 Hester told me the other day of a small hospital 
 managed by a friend of hers where they want a 
 parlour-maid. I could do that capitally.' 
 
 ' Where is it ? ' he asked, after a moment. 
 
 She hesitated, and at last said evasively 
 
 ' In Surrey somewhere I think.' 
 
 He took up the tongs, and deliberately put the 
 fire together, in silence. At last he said 
 
 1 1 thought you promised Cicely and me that you 
 wouldn't attempt anything of the kind ? ' 
 
 ' Not till I was fit.' Her voice trembled a little. 
 ' But now I am quite fit.' 
 
 * You should let your friends judge that for you,' 
 he said gently. 
 
 ' No, no, I can't. I must judge for myself.' She
 
 1 MISSING ' 249 
 
 spoke with growing agitation. ' You have been so 
 awfully, awfully good to me ! and now ' she bent 
 forward and laid a pleading hand on his arm ' now 
 you must be good to me in another way ! you must let 
 me go. I brood here too much. I want not to think 
 I am so tired of myself. Let me go and think about 
 other people drudge a little and slave a little ! Let 
 me it will do me good ! ' 
 
 His face altered perceptibly during this appeal. 
 When he first came in, fresh from the frosty air, his 
 fair hair and beard flaming in the firelight, his eyes 
 all pleasure, he had seemed the embodiment of what- 
 ever is lusty and vigorous in life an overwhelming 
 presence in the little cottage room. But he had many 
 subtler aspects. And as he listened to her, the Viking, 
 the derm-god, disappeared. 
 
 ' And what about those to whom it will do 
 harm ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, it won't do harm to anybody,' she 
 faltered. 
 
 ' It will do the greatest harm ! ' he laid a sharp 
 emphasis on the words. ' Isn't it worth while to be 
 just the joy and inspiration of those who can work 
 hard so that they go away from you, renewed like 
 eagles ? Cicely and I come we tell you our troubles 
 our worries our failures^ and our successes. We 
 couldn't tell them to any one else. But you sit here ; 
 and you're so gentle and so wise you see things so 
 clearly, just because you're not in the crowd, not in 
 the rough and tumble that we go away bucked up ! 
 and run our shows the better for our hours with you. 
 Why must women be always bustling and hurrying, 
 and all of them doing the same things ? If you only 
 knew the blessing it is to find someone with a little
 
 250 ' MISSING ' 
 
 leisure just to feel, and think ! just to listen to what 
 one has to say. You know I am always bursting with 
 things to say ! ' 
 
 He looked at her with a laugh. His colour had 
 risen. 
 
 ' I arrive here often full of grievances and wrath 
 against everybody hating the Government hating 
 the War Office hating our own staff, or somebody 
 on it entirely and absolutely persuaded that the 
 country is going to the dogs, and that we shall bo at 
 Germany's mercy in six months. Well, there you sit 
 I don't know how you manage it ! but somehow 
 it all clears away. I don't want to hang anybody 
 any more I think we are going to win I think 
 our staff are splendid fellows, and the nurses, angels 
 (they ain't, though, all the same !) and it's all you ! 
 just by being you just by giving me rope enough 
 letting me have it all out. And I go away with twice 
 the work in me I had when I came. And Cicely's 
 the same and Hester. You play upon us all just 
 because ' he hesitated ' because you're so sweet to 
 us all. You raise us to a higher power ; you work 
 through us. Who else will do it if you desert 
 us?' 
 
 Her lips trembled. 
 
 ' I don't want to desert you, but what right 
 have I to such comfort such luxury when other 
 people are suffering and toiling ? ' 
 
 He raised his eyebrows. 
 
 ' Luxury ? This little room ? And there you 
 sit sewing and knitting all day ! And I'll be bound 
 you don't eat enough to keep a sparrow ! ' 
 
 There was silence. She was saying to herself 
 ' Shall I ever be able to go ? to break with them
 
 1 MISSING ' 251 
 
 all ? ' The thought, the image, of George flashed again 
 through her mind. But why was it so much fainter, 
 so much less distinct than it had been an hour ago ? 
 Yet she seemed to turn to him, to beg him piteously 
 to protect her from something vague and undefined. 
 
 Suddenly a low voice spoke 
 
 * NeUy ! don't go ! ' 
 
 She looked up startled her childish eyes full of 
 tears. 
 
 He held out his hand, and she could not help it, 
 she yielded her own. 
 
 Farrell's look was full of energy, of determination. 
 He drew nearer to her, still holding her hand. But 
 he spoke with perfect self-control. 
 
 ' Nelly, I won't deceive you ! I love you ! You 
 are everything to me. It seems as if I had never 
 been happy never known what happiness could 
 possibly mean till I knew you. To come here every 
 week to see you like this for these few hours it 
 changes everything it sweetens everything because 
 you are in my heart because I have the hope that 
 some day ' 
 
 She withdrew her hand and covered her face. 
 
 ' Oh, it's my fault my fault ! ' she said, inco- 
 herently ' how could I ? how could I ? ' 
 
 There was silence again. He opened his lips 
 to speak once or twice, but no words came. One 
 expression succeeded another on his face ; his eyes 
 sparkled. At last he said ' How could you help 
 it ? You could not prevent my loving you. 1 
 
 ' Yes, I could I ought / she said, vehemently. 
 
 ' Only I was a fool I never realised. That's so like 
 me. I won't face things. And yet ' she looked at 
 him miserably ' I did beg you to let me live my own
 
 252 ' MISSING ' 
 
 life didn't I ? not to spoil me not not to bo so 
 kind to me.' 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 ' Yes. But then you see you were you ! ' 
 
 She sprang up, looking down upon him, as ho sat 
 by the fire. ' That's just it. If I were another person ! 
 But no ! no ! I can't bo your friend. I'm not old 
 enough or clever enough. And I can't ever be any- 
 thing else.' 
 
 ' Why ? ' He asked it very quietly, his eyes raised 
 to hers. He could see the quick beat of her breath 
 under her black dress. 
 
 ' Because I'm not my own. I'm not free you 
 know I'm not. I'm not free legally and I'm not 
 freo in heart. Oh, if George wore to come in at that 
 door ! ' she threw back her head with a passionate 
 gesture ' there would be nobody else in the world 
 for me nobody nobody ! ' 
 
 He stooped over the fire, fidgeting with it, so that 
 his face was hidden from her. 
 
 4 You know, I think, that if I believed there was 
 the faintest hope of that, I should never have said a 
 word of my own feelings. But as it is why must 
 you feel bound to break up this this friendship, 
 which means so much to us all ? What harm is there 
 in it ? Time will clear up a great deal. I'll hold my 
 tongue I promise you. I won't bother you. I won't 
 speak of it again for a year or more if you wish. 
 But don't forsake us ! ' 
 
 He looked up with that smile which in Cicely's 
 unbiassed opinion gave him such an unfair advantage 
 over womankind. 
 
 With a little sob, Nelly walked away towards the 
 window, which was still uncurtained though the night
 
 ' MISSING ' 253 
 
 had fallen. Outside there was a starry deep of sky, 
 above Wetherlam and the northern fells. The great 
 shapes held the valley in guard ; the river windings 
 far below seemed still to keep the sunset ; while here 
 and there shone scattered lights in farms and cottages, 
 sheltering the old, old life of the dales. 
 
 Insensibly Nelly's passionate agitation began to 
 subside. Had she been rilling her own path with 
 imaginary perils and phantoms? Yet there echoed 
 in her mind the low-spoken words ' I won't deceive 
 you ! I love you ! ' And the recollection both 
 frightened and touched her. 
 
 Presently Farrell spoke again, quite in his usual 
 voice. 
 
 ' I shall bo in despair if you leave me to tackle 
 Cicely alone. She's been perfectly mad lately. But 
 you can put it all right if you choose.' 
 
 Nelly was startled into turning back towards 
 him. 
 
 ' Oh ! how can I ? ' 
 
 ' Tell her she has been behaving abominably, and 
 making a good fellow's life a burden to him. Scold 
 her ! Laugh at her ! ' 
 
 ' What has she been doing ? ' said Nelly, still 
 standing by the window. 
 
 Farrell launched into a racy and elaborate account 
 the effort of one determined, coute que coute, to 
 bring the conversation back to an ordinary key of 
 Cicely's proceedings, during the ten days since Nelly 
 had seen her. 
 
 It appeared that Marsworth, after many weeks 
 during which they had heard nothing of him, had been 
 driven north again to his Carton doctor, by a 
 return of neuralgic trouble in his wounded arm ; and
 
 254 ' MISSING 
 
 as usual had put up at the Kuctory, where as usual 
 Miss Daisy, the Bector's granddaughter, had ministered 
 to him like the kind little brick she was. 
 
 ' You see, she's altogether too good to be true ! ' 
 said Farrell. ' And yet it is true. She looks after her 
 grandfather and the parish. She runs the Sunday 
 school, and all the big boys are in love with her. She 
 does V.A.D. work at the hospital. She spends nothing 
 on her dress. She's probably up at six every morning. 
 And all the time, instead of being plain, which of 
 course virtue ought to be, she's as pretty as possible 
 like a little bird. And Cicely can't abide her. I 
 don't know whether she's in love with Mars worth. 
 Probably she is. Why not ? At any rate, whenever 
 Mars worth and Cicely fall out, which they do every 
 day Cicely has the vile habit of course you know ! 
 of visiting Marsworth's sins upon little Daisy Stewart. 
 I understood she was guilty of some enormity at the 
 Eed Cross sale in the village last week. Marsworth 
 was shocked, and had it out with her. Consequently 
 they haven't been on speaking terms for days.' 
 
 ' What shall we do with them to-morrow ? ' cried 
 Nelly in alarm, coming to sit down again by the fire 
 and taking up her knitting. How strange it was 
 after that moment of tempestuous emotion to have 
 fallen back within a few minutes into this familiar, 
 intimate chat ! Her pulse was still rushing. She knew 
 that something irrevocable had happened, and that 
 when she was alone, she must face it. And meanwhile 
 here she sat knitting ! and trying to help him with 
 Cicely as usual ! 
 
 1 Oh, and to-morrow ! ' said Farrell with amuse- 
 ment, ' the fat will indeed be in the fire.' 
 
 And he revealed the fact that on his way through
 
 ' MISSING ' 255 
 
 Grasmere he had fallen in with the Stewarts. The 
 old man had been suffering from bronchitis, and the 
 two had come for a few days' change to some cousins 
 at Grasmere. 
 
 ' And the old man's a bit of a collector and wants 
 to see the Turners. He knows Carton by heart. So 
 I had to ask them to come up to-morrow and there 
 it is ! Cicely will find them in possession, with Mars- 
 worth in attendance ! ' 
 
 ' Why does she come at all ? ' said Nelly, wondering. 
 ' She knows Captain Marsworth will be here. She 
 said so, in her telegram.' 
 
 Farrell shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' It taks aw soarts to mak a worrld,' as they say 
 up here. But Marsworth and Cis are queer specimens ! 
 I am privately certain he can't do for long without 
 seeing her. And as for her, I had no sooner arranged 
 that he should join me here to-night, than she tele- 
 graphed to you ! Just like her ! I had no idea 
 she thought of coming. Well, I suppose to quarrel 
 yourself into matrimony is one of the recognised 
 openings ! ' 
 
 The talk dropped. The joint consciousness behind 
 it was too much for it. It fell like a withered leaf. 
 
 Farrell got up to go. Nelly too rose, trembling, 
 to her feet. He took her hand. 
 
 ' Don't leave us,' he repeated, softly. ' You are 
 our little saint you help us by just living. Don't 
 attempt things too hard for you. You'll kill yourself, 
 and then ' 
 
 She looked at him mutely, held by the spell of his 
 eyes, 
 
 ' Well then/ he finished, abruptly, ' there won't 
 be much left for one man to live for. Good-night.'
 
 256 * MISSING ' 
 
 He was gone, and sho was loft standing in the 
 firelight, a small, bewildered creature. 
 
 ' What shall I do ? ' she was saying to herself > 
 1 Oh, what ought I to do ? ' 
 
 She sank down on the floor, and hid her face against 
 a chair. Helplessly, sho wished that Hester would 
 come ! some one wise and strong who would tell her 
 what was right. The thought of supplanting George, 
 of learning to forget him, of letting somebody else 
 take his place in her heart, was horrible even 
 monstrous to her. Yet she did not know how sho 
 would ever find the strength to make Farrell suffer. 
 His devotion appealed not to any answering passion 
 in her there was none but to an innate lovingness, 
 that made it a torment to her to refuse to love and be 
 loved. Her power of dream, of visualisation, shewed 
 him to her alone and unhappy ; when, perhaps, sho 
 might still without harm have been a help to him 
 have shewn him her gratitude. She felt herself 
 wavering and retreating ; seeking, as usual, the easiest 
 path out of her great dilemma. Must she either 
 bo disloyal to her George ? her dead, her heroic 
 George ! or unkind to this living man, whose unselfish 
 devotion had stood between her and despair ? After 
 all, might it not still go on ? She could protect 
 herself. She was not afraid. 
 
 But she was afraid ! She was in truth held by the 
 terror of her own weakness, and FarrelTs strength, 
 as she lay crouching there by the fire. 
 
 Outside the wind was rising. Great clouds were 
 coming up from the south-west. The rain had begun. 
 Soon it was lashing the windows, and pouring from 
 the eaves of the old farm-house. 
 
 Nelly went back to her work ; and the wind and
 
 ' MISSING ' 257 
 
 rain grew wilder as the hours passed. Just as she 
 was thinking wearily of going to bed, there were 
 sounds of wheels outside. 
 
 Bridget ? so late ! Nelly had long since given her 
 up. What a night on which to face the drive from 
 Windermere ! Poor horse ! poor man ! 
 
 Yes, it was certainly Bridget ! As Nelly half rose, 
 she heard the harsh, deep voice upon the stairs. A 
 tall figure, heavily cloaked, entered. 
 
 ' My dear Bridget I'd quite given you up ! ' 
 
 ' No need,' said Bridget coolly, as she allowed 
 Nelly to kiss her cheek. ' The afternoon train from 
 Euston was a little late. You can't help that with all 
 these soldiers about.' 
 
 ' Come and sit down by the fire. Have you done 
 all you wanted to do ? ' 
 
 1 Yes.' 
 
 Bridget sat down, after taking off her wet water- 
 proof, and held a draggled hat to the blaze. Nelly 
 looking at her was struck by the fact that Bridget's 
 hair had grown very grey, and the lines in her 
 face very deep. What an extraordinary person 
 Bridget was ! What had she been doing all this 
 time ? 
 
 But nothing could be got out of the traveller. 
 She sat by the fire for a while, and let Nelly get her 
 a tray of food. But she said very little, except to 
 complain of the weather, and, once, to ask if the 
 Farrells were at the cottage. 
 
 ' Sir William is there with Captain Marsworth,' 
 said Nelly. ' Cicely comes here to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Does she expect me to give her my room ? ' said 
 Bridget sharply. 
 
 ' Not at all. She likes the little spare-room.'
 
 258 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Or pretends to ! Has Sir William been here 
 to-day ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, he came round.' 
 
 A few more questions and answers led to silence 
 broken only by the crackling of the fire. The fire- 
 light played on Nelly's cheek and throat, and on her 
 white languid hands. Presently it caught her wedding- 
 ring, and Bridget's eye was drawn to the sparkle 
 of the gold. She sat looking absently at her sister. 
 She was thinking of a tiny room in a hut hospital 
 of the bed and of those eyes that had opened on 
 her. And there sat Nelly knowing nothing ! 
 
 It was all a horrible anxiety. But it couldn't 
 last long.
 
 CHAPTEE XIV 
 
 ' So you are not at church ? ' 
 
 The voice was Marsworth's as he stepped inside 
 the flagged passage of the farm, Nelly having just 
 opened the door to him. 
 
 ' It's so far ! in winter,' said Nelly a little guiltily. 
 ' I go to Grasmere in summer.' 
 
 ' Oh ! don't apologise to a heathen like me ! I'm 
 only too thankful to find you alone. Is your sister 
 here ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. But we've made a room for her in one of 
 the outhouses. She works there.' 
 
 ' What at ? Is she still learning Spanish ? ' asked 
 Marsworth, smiling, as he followed Nelly into the 
 little white drawing-room. 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Nelly, after a moment, in a 
 tone of depression. ' Bridget doesn't tell me.' 
 
 The corners of Marsworth's strong mouth shewed 
 amusement. He was not well acquainted with Bridget 
 Cookson, but as far as his observation went, she seemed 
 to him a curious specimen of the half-educated pre- 
 tentious woman so plentiful in our modern life. In 
 place of ' psychology ' and ' old Spanish,' the subjects 
 in which Miss Cookson was said to be engaged, he 
 would have liked to prescribe for her and all her kin 
 courses of an elementary kind in English history 
 and vulgar fractions. 
 
 259
 
 260 ' MISSING ' 
 
 But, for Nelly Sarratt, Marsworth felt the tender 
 and chivalrous respect that natures like hers exact 
 easily from strong men. To him, as to Farrell, she was 
 the ' little saint ' and peacemaker, with her lovingness, 
 her sympathy, her lack of all the normal vanities and 
 alloys that beset the pretty woman. That she was 
 not a strong character, that she was easily influenced 
 and guided by those who touched her affections, he 
 saw. But that kind of weakness in a woman when 
 that woman also possesses the mysterious something, 
 half physical, half spiritual, which gives delight is 
 never unpleasing to such men as Marsworth, nor indeed 
 to other women. It was Marsworth's odd misfortune 
 that he should have happened to fall in love with a 
 young woman who had practically none of the qualities 
 that he naturally and spontaneously admired in the 
 sex. 
 
 It was, however, about that young woman that he 
 had come to talk. For he was well aware of Nelly's 
 growing intimacy with Cicely, and had lately begun 
 to look upon that as his last hope. 
 
 Yet he was no sooner alone with Nelly than he felt 
 a dim compunction. This timid creature, with her 
 dark haunting eyes, had problems enough of her own 
 to face. He perceived clearly that Farrell's passion 
 for her was mounting fast, and he had littb or no idea 
 what kind of response she was likely to make to it. 
 But all the same his own need drove him on. And 
 Nelly, who bad scarcely slept all night, caught eagerly 
 at some temporary escape from her own perplexities. 
 
 ' Dear Mrs. Sarratt ! have you any idea, whether 
 Cicely cares one brass farthing for me, or not ? ' 
 
 To such broad and piteous appeal was a gallant 
 officer reduced. Nelly was sorry for him, but could
 
 'MISSING' 261 
 
 not hide the smile in her eyes,^ as she surveyed 
 him. 
 
 ' Have you really asked her ? ' 
 
 ' Asked her ? Many times ! in the dark ages. It 
 is months, however, since she gave me the smallest 
 chance of doing it again. Everything I do or say 
 appears to annoy her, and of course, naturally, I have 
 relieved her of my presence as much as possible.' 
 
 Nelly had taken up her knitting. 
 
 ' If you never come perhaps Cicely thinks you 
 are tired of her.' 
 
 Marsworth groaned. 
 
 ' Is that her line now ? And yet you know you are 
 witness ! of how she behaves when I do come.' 
 
 Nelly looked up boldly. 
 
 ' You mustn't be angry, but why can't you 
 accept her as she is without always wanting her 
 different ? ' 
 
 Marsworth flushed slightly. The impressive effect 
 of his fine iron-grey head, and marked features, his 
 scrupulously perfect dress, and general look of com- 
 petence and ability, was deplorably undone by the 
 signs in him of bewilderment and distress. 
 
 ' You mean you think I bully her ? she thinks 
 so?' 
 
 ' She she feels you so dreadfully disapprove of 
 her ! ' said Nelly, sticking to it, but smiling. 
 
 ' She regards me as a first-class prig in fact ? ' 
 
 ' No but she thinks you don't always under- 
 stand.' 
 
 ' That I don't know what a splendid creature she 
 is, really ? ' said Marsworth with increasing agita- 
 tion. ' But I do know it ! I know it up and down. 
 Why everybody except those she dislikes ! at that
 
 262 ' MISSING ' 
 
 hospital, adores her. She's wearing herself out at 
 the work. None of us are fit to black her boots. But 
 if one ever tries to tell her so my hat ! ' 
 
 ' Perhaps she doesn't like being praised either,' 
 said Nelly softly. ' Perhaps she thinks an old friend 
 should take it all for granted.' 
 
 ' Good Lord ! ' said Marsworth holding his head in 
 desperation ' whatever I do is wrong ! Dear Mrs. 
 Sarratt ! look here I must speak up for myself. 
 You know how Cicely has taken of late to being 
 intolerably *rude to anybody she thinks is my friend. 
 She castigates me through them. That poor little 
 girl, Daisy Stewart why she's ready at any moment 
 to worship Cicely ! But Cicely tramples on her 
 you know how she does it and if I interfere, I'm 
 made to wish I had never been born ! At the present 
 moment, Cicely won't speak to me. There was some 
 silly shindy at a parish tea last week by the way, she's 
 coming to you to-day ? ' 
 
 ' She arrives for lunch,' said Nelly, looking at the 
 clock. 
 
 * And the Stewarts are coming to the cottage in 
 the afternoon ! ' said Marsworth in despair. ' Can 
 you keep her away ? ' 
 
 ' I'll try but you know it's not much good trying 
 to manage Cicely.' 
 
 ' Don't I know it ! I return to my first question 
 does she care a ha'po'rth ? ' 
 
 Nelly was looking dreamily into the fire. 
 
 ' You mean does she care enough to give up her 
 ways and take to yours ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose I do mean that,' he said, with 
 sudden seriousness. 
 
 Nelly shook her head, smiling.
 
 ' MISSING * 263 
 
 ' I don't know ! But Cicely's worth a deal of 
 trouble.' 
 
 He assented with a mixture of fervour and de- 
 pression. 
 
 ' We've known each other since we were boy and 
 girl. That's what makes the difficulty, perhaps. We 
 know each other too well. When she was a child of 
 fourteen, I was already in the Guards, and I used to 
 try and tackle her because no one else would. Her 
 father was dead. Her mother had no influence with 
 her ; and Willy was too lazy. So I tried my hand. 
 And I find myself doing the same thing now. But of 
 course it's fatal it's fatal ! ' 
 
 Nelly tried to cheer him up, but she was not herself 
 very hopeful. She perceived too clearly the martinet 
 in him and the rebel in Cicely. If something were 
 suddenly to throw them together, some common 
 interest or emotion, each might find the other's heart 
 in a way past undoing. On the other hand the jarring 
 habit, once set up, has a way of growing worse, and 
 reducing everything else to dust and ashes. Finally 
 she wound up with a timid but emphatic counsel. 
 
 ' Please please don't be sarcastic.' 
 
 He looked injured. 
 
 ' I never am ! ' 
 
 Nelly laughed. 
 
 ' You don't know when you are. And be* very 
 nice to her this afternoon.' 
 
 ' How can I, if she shews me at once that I'm 
 unwelcome ? You haven't answered my question.' 
 
 He was standing ready for departure. Nelly's face 
 changed became all sad and tender pity. 
 
 ' You must ask it yourself ! ' she said eagerly. ' Go 
 on asking it. It would be too too dreadful, wouldn't
 
 264 ' MISSING ' 
 
 it ? to miss everything <by being proud, or offended, 
 
 for nothing ' 
 
 ' What do you mean by everything ? ' 
 ' You know,' she said, after a moment, shielding 
 her eyes as they looked into the fire ; ' I'm sure you 
 know. It is everything.' 
 
 As he walked back to the cottage, he found himself 
 speculating not so much about his own case as about 
 his friend's. Willy was certainly in love. And Nelly 
 Sarratt was as softly feminine as Cicely was mannish 
 and strong. But he somehow did not feel that Willy's 
 chances were any safer than his own. 
 
 A car arrived at one o'clock bringing Cicely, much 
 wrapped up in fur coat and motor-veils. She came 
 impetuously into the sitting-room, and seemed to fill 
 it. It took some time to peel her and reduce her to 
 the size of an ordinary mortal. She then appeared 
 in a navy-blue coat and skirt, with navy-blue boots 
 buttoned almost to the knees. The skirt was im- 
 mensely full and immensely short. When the strange 
 erection to which the motor-veil was attached was 
 removed, Cicely showed a dark head with hair cut 
 almost short, and parted on the left side. Her eye- 
 brows were unmistakably blackened, her lips un- 
 mistakably strengthened ; and Nelly saw at once 
 that her guest was in a very feverish and irritated 
 condition. 
 
 ' Are you alone ? ' said Cicely, glancing imperiously 
 round her, when the disrobing was done. 
 ' Bridget is here.' 
 
 ' What are you going to do this afternoon ? ' 
 ' Can't we have a walk, you and I, together ? ' 
 ' Of course we can. Why should we be bothered 
 with anyone else ? '
 
 1 MISSING ' 265 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Nelly timidly ' they will come 
 in to tea ? ' 
 
 ' " They " ? Oh ! you mean Willy and Captain 
 Marsworth ? It is such a pity Willy can't find some- 
 body more agreeable for these Sundays.' 
 
 Cicely threw herself back in her chair, and lifted 
 a navy-blue boot to the fire. 
 
 ' More agreeable than Captain Marsworth ? ' 
 
 ' Exactly. Willy can't do anything without him, 
 when he's in these parts ; and it spoils everything ! ' 
 
 Nelly dropped a kiss on Cicely's hair, as she stood 
 beside her. 
 
 ' Why didn't you put off coming till next week ? ' 
 
 ' .Why should I allow my plans to be interfered with 
 by Captain Marsworth ? ' said Cicely, haughtily. ' I 
 came to see you ! ' 
 
 1 Well, we needn't see much of him,' said Nelly, 
 soothingly, as she dropped on a stool beside her 
 friend. 
 
 ' I'm not going to be kept out of the cottage, by 
 Captain Marsworth, all the same ! ' said Cicely hastily. 
 ' There are several books there I want.' 
 
 ' Oh, Cicely, what have you been doing ? ' said 
 Nelly, laying her head on her guest's knees. 
 
 ' Doing ? Nothing that I hadn't a perfect right 
 to do. But I suppose that very particular gentleman 
 has been complaining ? ' 
 
 Nelly looked up, and met an eye, fiercely interroga- 
 tive, yet trying hard not to be interrogative. 
 
 ' I've been doing my best to pick up the pieces.' 
 
 ' Then he has been complaining ? ' 
 
 ' A little narrative of facts,' said Nelly mildly. 
 
 ' Facts facts ! ' said Cicely, with the air of a 
 disturbed lioness. 'As if a man whose ideas of
 
 266 ' MISSING ' 
 
 manners and morals date from about a million years 
 before the Flood.' 
 
 ' Dear ! there weren't any manners or morals 
 a million years before the Flood.' 
 
 Cicely drew a breath of exasperation. 
 
 ' It's all very well to laugh, but if you only knew 
 how impossible that man is ! ' 
 
 ' They why not get a Sunday free from him ? ' 
 
 Cicely flushed against her will, and said nothing. 
 Nelly's black eyes observed her with as much sarcasm 
 in their sweetness as she dared to throw into them. 
 She changed her tone. 
 
 ' Don't go to the cottage this afternoon, Cicely.' 
 
 ' Why ? ' The voice was peremptory. 
 
 ' Well, because ' Nelly described Farrell's 
 
 chance meeting with the Stewarts and the inevitable 
 invitation. Cicely's flush deepened. But she tried 
 to speak carelessly. 
 
 ' Of course, the merest device on that girl's part ! 
 She arranged it all.' 
 
 ' I really don't think she did.' 
 
 ' Ah, well, you haven't seen what's been going on. 
 A more shameless pursuit ' 
 
 Cicely stopped abruptly. There was a sudden 
 sparkle in Nelly's look, which seemed to shew that the 
 choice of the word ' pursuit ' had been unlucky. 
 
 Miss Farrell quieted down. 
 
 ' Of course,' she said, with a very evident attempt 
 to recapture whatever dignity might be left on the field, 
 ' neither Willy nor I like to see an old friend throwing 
 himself away on a little pink and white nonentity 
 like Daisy Stewart. We can't be expected to smile 
 upon it.' 
 
 ' But I understand, from one of the parties
 
 ' MISSING ' 267 
 
 principally concerned, that there is really nothing 
 in it ! ' said Nelly, smiling. 
 
 ' One of the perjuries I suppose at which Jove 
 laughs ! ' said Cicely getting up, and hastily re- 
 arranging her short curls with the help of various 
 combs, before the only diminutive looking-glass the 
 farm sitting-room provided. ' However, we shall 
 see what happens. I have no doubt Miss Daisy has 
 arranged the proposal scene for this very afternoon. 
 We shall be in for the last act of the play.' 
 
 ' Then you are going to the cottage ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly ! ' said Cicely, with a clearing brow. 
 ' Don't let's talk any more about it. Do give me 
 some lunch ! I'm ravenous. Ah, here's your sister ! ' 
 
 For through a back window looking on what had 
 once been a farm-yard, and was now a small garden, 
 Cicely saw Bridget emerge from the rebuilt outhouse 
 where an impromptu study had been devised for her, 
 and walk towards the farm. 
 
 ' I say, what's happened to your sister ? ' 
 
 ' Happened to her ? What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' She looks so much older.' 
 
 ' I suppose she's been working too hard,' said 
 Nelly, remorsefully. ' I wish I knew what it was all 
 about.' 
 
 ' Well, I can tell you ' said Cicely laughing and 
 whispering ' that Willy doesn't think it's about 
 anything in particular ! * 
 
 * Hush ! ' said Nelly, with a pained look. ' Per- 
 haps we shall all turn out to be quite wrong. We 
 shall discover that it was something ' 
 
 ' Desperately interesting and important ? Not it ! 
 But I'm going to be as good as good. You'll 
 see.'
 
 268 ' MISSING ' 
 
 And when Bridget appeared, Cicely did indeed 
 behave herself with remarkable decorum. Her opinion 
 was that Nelly's strange sister had grown more unlike 
 other people than ever since she had last seen her. 
 She seemed to be in a perpetual brown study, which 
 was compatible, however, with a curious watchfulness 
 which struck Cicely particularly. She was always 
 aware of any undercurrent in the room of anyone 
 going in or out of persons passing in the road. At 
 lunch she scarcely opened her lips, but Cicely was all 
 the time conscious of being observed. After luncheon 
 Bridget got up abruptly, and said she was going down 
 to Grasmere to post a letter. 
 
 ' Oh, then,' said Nelly ' you can ask if there are 
 any for me.' 
 
 .For there was no delivery at the farm on Sunday 
 morning. Bridget nodded, and they soon saw her 
 emerge from the farm gate and take the Grasmere 
 road. 
 
 ' I must say your sister seems greatly to prefer 
 her own company to ours,' said Cicely, lighting her 
 cigarette. 
 
 Again Nelly looked distressed. 
 
 ' She was always like that,' she said at last. ' It 
 doesn't really mean anything.' 
 
 ' Do I know you well enough to ask whether you 
 get on with her ? ' 
 
 Nelly coloured. ' I try my best ' she said, rather 
 despairingly. Then she added ' she does all sorts 
 of things for me that I'm too lazy to do for 
 myself ! ' 
 
 ' I believe she likes Willy better than most people ! ' 
 laughed Cicely. ' I'm not suggesting, please, that 
 she has designs upon him. But she is certainly
 
 1 MISSING ' 269 
 
 more forthcoming to him than to anybody else, isn't 
 she?' 
 
 Nelly did not reply. The remark only clouded 
 her look still more. For her inner mind was perfectly 
 aware of Bridget's attitude towards William Farrell, 
 and understood it only too well. She knew by this 
 time, past any doubt, that Bridget was hungry for 
 the Farrell wealth, and was impatient with herself 
 as a little fool who had not yet made certain of it. 
 If she stuck to her purpose if she went away and cut 
 off all communication with Carton Bridget would 
 probably quarrel with her for good. 
 
 Would she stick to her purpose ? Her mind was 
 miserably swaying to and fro. She felt morally as 
 she had once felt physically on a summer afternoon 
 long before, when she, who could not swim, had gone 
 imperceptibly out of her depth, while bathing, and 
 had become suddenly aware of a seaward current, 
 carrying her away. No help was near. For five 
 minutes, which had seemed five years, she had wrestled 
 against the deadly force, which if her girlish strength 
 had been a fraction less, would have swept her out, 
 a lifeless plaything to the open sea. Spiritually, it 
 was the same now. Farrell's will, and infinitely 
 less important, but still, to be reckoned with Bridget's 
 will, were pressing her hard. She did not know if 
 she could keep her footing. 
 
 Meanwhile Cicely, in complete ignorance of the 
 new and agonised tension in Nelly's mind, was thinking 
 only of her own affairs. As soon as her after-luncheon 
 cigarette was done, she sprang up and began to put 
 on her hat. 
 
 ' So you are going to the cottage ? ' said Nelly, 
 
 ' Certainly. How do you like my boots ? '
 
 270 ' MISSING ' 
 
 She held up one for inspection. 
 
 ' I don't like them ! ' 
 
 ' Fast, you think ? Ah, wait till you see my next 
 costume ! High Kussian boots, delicious things, up 
 to there ! ' Cicely indicated a point above the knee, 
 not generally reached by the female boot ' hand- 
 painted and embroidered with tassels you know ! 
 corduroy trousers ! ' 
 
 ' Cicely ! you won't ! ' 
 
 ' Shan't I and a pink jersey, the new shade ? I 
 saw a friend of mine in this get-up, last week. 
 Eipping ! Only she had red hair, which completed 
 it. Perhaps I might dye mine ! ' 
 
 They sallied forth into a mild winter afternoon. 
 Nelly would have avoided the cottage and Farrell if 
 she could, but Cicely had her own way as usual. 
 Presently they turned into a side lane skirting the tarn, 
 from which the cottage and its approaches could be 
 seen, at a distance. From the white-pillared porch, 
 various figures were emerging, four in all. 
 
 Cicely came to a stop. 
 
 ' There, you see ! ' she said, in her sharpest voice 
 ' Look there ! ' For two of the figures, whom it was 
 easy to identify as Captain Marsworth and Miss 
 Stewart, diverging from the other pair, went off by 
 themselves in the direction of Skelwith,with a gay wave 
 of the hand to the old Eector and Farrell left behind. 
 
 Cicely's sudden scarlet ebbed in a moment, leaving 
 her quite white. She walked on with difficulty, her 
 eyes on the ground. Nelly dared not address her, or 
 slip a sympathising hand into hers. And it was too 
 late to retreat. Farrell had perceived them, and he 
 and his companion came towards them. Cicely pulled 
 herself rapidly together.
 
 ' MISSING ' 271 
 
 Nelly too had need of a minute or two's recollec- 
 tion before Farrell joined them. He and she were 
 still to meet as usual, while meeting was possible 
 wasn't that how it stood ? After all, her new plans 
 could not be made in a moment. She had promised 
 nothing ; but he had promised would she be able 
 to hold him to it ? Her heart trembled as he came 
 nearer. 
 
 But he met her in a sunny mood, introducing her 
 to the white-haired old clergyman, and watching 
 Cicely with eyes that shewed a hidden amusement. 
 
 ' The other two seemed to have some private 
 business to discuss,' he said carelessly. ' So they've 
 got rid of us for a while. They're walking round the 
 other side of the tarn and will join us at the top of 
 Eed Bank. At least if you're up to a walk ? ' 
 
 He addressed Nelly, who could do nothing but 
 assent, though it meant a tete-a-tete with him, while 
 Cecily and the old Eector followed. 
 
 Mr. Stewart found Miss Farrell anything but an 
 agreeable companion. He was not a shrewd observer, 
 and the love-affairs especially of his fellow-creatures 
 were always a surprise and a mystery to him. But 
 he vaguely understood that his little granddaughter 
 was afraid of Miss Farrell and did not get on with her. 
 He, too, was afraid of Cicely and her sharp tongue, 
 while her fantastic dress and her rouge put him also 
 in mind of passages in the prophet Ezekiel, the sacred 
 author of whom he was at that moment making a 
 special study with a view to a Cambridge University 
 sermon. It would be terrible if Daisy were ever to 
 take to imitating Miss Farrell. He was a little dis- 
 turbed about Daisy lately. She had been so absent- 
 minded, and sometimes even a little flighty. She
 
 272 MISSING ' 
 
 had forgotten the day before, to look out some passages 
 for him ; and there was a rent in his old overcoat 
 she had not mended. He was disagreeably conscious 
 of it. And what could she have to say to Captain 
 Marsworth ? It was all rather odd and annoying. 
 He walked in a preoccupied silence. 
 
 Farrell and Nelly meanwhile were, it seemed, in 
 no lack of conversation. He told her that he might 
 possibly be going to France, in a week or two, for a 
 few days. The Allied offensive on the Somme was ap- 
 parently shutting down for the winter. ' The weather 
 in October just broke everybody's heart, vile luck ! 
 Nothing to be done but to make the winter as dis- 
 agreeable to the Boche as we can, and to go on piling 
 up guns and shells for the spring. I'm going to look 
 
 at hospitals at X ' he named a great base camp 
 
 ' and I daresay they'll let me have a run along some 
 bit of the front, if there's a motor to be had.' 
 
 Nelly stopped abruptly. He could see the colour 
 fluctuating in her delicate face. 
 
 4 You're going to X ? You you might see 
 
 Dr. Howson ? ' 
 
 ' Howson ? ' he said, surprised. ' Do you know 
 him ? Yes, I shall certainly see Howson. He's 
 now the principal surgeon at one of the General 
 Hospitals there, where I specially want to look at 
 some new splints they've been trying.' 
 
 Nelly moved on without speaking for a little. 
 At last she said, almost inaudibly 
 
 ' He promised me to make enquiries.' 
 
 ' Did he ? ' Farrell spoke in the grave, deep voice 
 he seemed to keep for her alone, which was always 
 sweet to her ear. ' And he has never written ? ' She 
 shook her head. ' But he would have written
 
 ' MISSING ' 273 
 
 instantly you may be quite sure, if there had been 
 the slightest clue.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I know, I know,' she said hastily. 
 ' Give me any message for him you like or any 
 questions you'd like me to ask.' 
 
 ' Yes ' she said, vaguely. 
 
 It seemed to him she was walking languidly, and 
 he was struck by her weary look. The afternoon 
 had turned windy and cold with gusts of rain. But 
 when he suggested an immediate return to the cottage, 
 Nelly would have none of it. 
 
 ' We were to meet Captain Marsworth and Miss 
 Stewart. Where are they ? ' 
 
 They emerged at the moment from the cottage 
 grounds, upon the high road ; Farrell pointed ahead, 
 and Nelly saw Marsworth and Miss Stewart walking 
 fast up the hill before them, and evidently in close 
 conversation. 
 
 ' What can they have to talk about ? ' said Nelly, 
 wondering. 
 
 ' Wouldn't you like to know ! ' 
 
 ' You're not going to tell me ? ' 
 
 4 Not a word.' 
 
 His eyes laughed at her. They walked on beside 
 each other, strangely content. And yet, with what 
 undercurrents of sensitive and wounded conscious- 
 ness on her side, of anxiety on his 1 
 
 At the top of Red Bank they came up with Mars- 
 worth and Miss Stewart. Nelly's curiosity was more 
 piqued than ever. If all that Marsworth had said to 
 her was true, why this evident though suppressed 
 agitation on the girl's part, and these shades of mystery 
 in the air ? Daisy Stewart was what anybody would
 
 274 ' MISSING ' 
 
 have called ' a pretty little thing. '^ She ,!was small, 
 round-cheeked, round-eyed, round-limbed ; light upon 
 her feet ; shewing a mass of brown hair brushed with 
 gold under her hat, and the fresh complexion of a 
 mountain maid. Nelly guessed her age about three 
 and twenty, and could not help keenly watching 
 the meeting between her and Cicely. She saw Cicely 
 hold out a limp hand, and the girl's timid, almost 
 entreating eyes. 
 
 But, the next moment, her attention was diverted 
 to a figure slowly mounting the steep hill from 
 Grasmere, on the top of which the cottage party 
 were now standing, uncertain whether to push on 
 for their walk, or to retreat homewards before the 
 increasing rain. The person approaching was Bridget. 
 As she perceived her, Nelly was startled into quick 
 recollection of Cicely's remark of the morning ' Your 
 sister seems to have grown much older.' But not only 
 older different ! Nelly could not have analysed her 
 own impression, but it was so painful that she ran 
 
 down to meet her. 
 
 ' Bridget, it's too far for you to Grasmere ! and 
 
 coming back up this awful hill ! You look quite done. 
 
 Do go home and lie down, or will you come to the 
 
 cottage for tea first ? It's nearer.' 
 Bridget looked at her coldly. 
 ' Why do you make such a fuss ? I'm all right. 
 
 But I'm not coming to the cottage, thank you. I've 
 
 got things to do.' 
 
 The implication was that everyone else was idle. 
 
 Nelly drew back, rebuffed. And as Bridget reached 
 
 the group at the top of the hill it was as though 
 
 the rain and darkness suddenly deepened. All talk 
 
 dropped. Farrell, indeed, greeted her courteously,
 
 ' MISSING ' 275 
 
 introduced her to the Stewarts, and asked her to come 
 back to the cottage for tea. But he was refused as 
 Nelly had been. Bridget went on her way alone 
 towards the farm. But after parting from the others 
 she turned back suddenly to say 
 
 ' There^were no letters for you, Nelly.' 
 
 ' What a mercy ! ' said Farrell, as Bridget dis- 
 appeared. ' Don't you'think so ? I never have any 
 forwarded here.' 
 
 ' Ah, but you get so many,' said Nelly wistfully. 
 ' But still, letters don't matter to me now.' 
 
 He said nothing, but it roused in him a kind of 
 fierce soreness that she would always keep the past 
 so clearly before herself and him. 
 
 Violent rain came on, and they hurried back to 
 the cottage for shelter. Cicely was talking extrava- 
 gantly all the time. She was tired to death, she said, 
 of everything patriotic. The people who prattled 
 about nursing, and the people who prattled about the 
 war especially the people who talked about women's 
 work were all equally intolerable. She meant to 
 give up everything very soon. Somebody must amuse 
 themselves, or the world would go mad. Farrel] 
 threw at her some brotherly jibes ; the old Eector 
 looked scared ; and Marsworth said nothing. 
 
 There were bright fires in the cottage, and the 
 dripping walkers were glad to crowd round them ; all 
 except Cicely and Marsworth, who seemed to Nelly's 
 watching sense to be oddly like two wrestlers pacing 
 round each other, and watching the opportunity to 
 close. Each would take out a book from the shelves 
 and put it back, or take up a newspaper from the 
 tables crossing repeatedly, but never speaking. And
 
 276 * MISSING ' 
 
 meanwhile Nelly also noticed that Daisy Stewart, 
 now that Cicely's close contact was removed, was 
 looking extraordinarily pretty. Eadiance, not to be 
 concealed, shone from her charming childish face. 
 
 Suddenly Marsworth paused in front of Cicely, 
 intercepting her as she was making for the door. 
 
 ' Would you be an angel, Miss Farrell, and help 
 me to find a particular Turner drawing I want to see ? 
 Willy says it's in the studio somewhere.' 
 
 Cicely paused, half haughty, half irresolute. 
 
 ' Willy knows his way about the portfolios much 
 better than I do.' 
 
 Marsworth came nearer, and leaning one hand 
 on the table between them, bent over to her. He was 
 smiling, but there was emotion in his look. 
 
 ' Willy is looking after these people. Won't you ? ' 
 
 Cicely considered. 
 
 ' All right ! ' she said carelessly, at last, and led 
 the way.
 
 CHAPTEE XV 
 
 THE studio was empty. A wood fire burnt on the 
 wide hearth, making a pleasant glow in the wintry 
 twilight. Cicely seated herself on the end of a sofa, 
 crossed her feet, and took out a cigarette. But to 
 Marsworth's intense relief she had taken off the helmet- 
 like erection she called a hat, and her black curly 
 hair strayed as it pleased about her brow and 
 eyes. 
 
 ' Well ? ' she said, at last, looking at him coolly. 
 Marsworth could not help laughing. He brought a 
 chair, and placed it where he could see her from below, 
 as he lay back in it, his hands behind his head. 
 
 ' Of course, you don't want to look at the port- 
 folio,' she resumed, ' that was your excuse. You want 
 to tell me of your engagement to Miss Stewart.' 
 
 Marsworth laughed again. Her ear caught what 
 seemed to be a note of triumph. 
 
 ' Make haste, please ! ' she said, breathing quickly. 
 ' There isn't very much time.' 
 
 His face changed. He sat up, and held out his 
 hand to her. 
 
 ' Dear Cicely, I want you to do something for me.' 
 
 But she put her own behind her back. 
 
 ' Have you been quarrelling already ? Because 
 if you want me to make it up, that really isn't my 
 vocation.' 
 
 277
 
 278 'MISSING' 
 
 He was silent a moment surveying her. Then he 
 said quietly 
 
 ' I want you to help me. I want you to be kind 
 to that little girl.' 
 
 ' Daisy Stewart ? Thank you. But I've no gift 
 at all for mothering babes ! Besides she'll now have 
 all the advice, and all the kindness she wants.' 
 
 Marsworth's lips twitched. 
 
 ' Yes, that's true if you and I can help her out. 
 Cicely ! aren't you a great friend of Sir John Eaine ? ' 
 
 He named one of the chiefs of the Army Medical 
 Department, a man whose good word was the making 
 of any aspirant in the field he ruled. 
 
 Cicely looked rather darkly at her ^questioner. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' I want you to help me get an appointment for 
 somebody.' 
 
 ' For whom ? ' 
 
 ' For the man Daisy Stewart wants to marry.' 
 
 Cicely could not conceal her start. 
 
 ' I don't like being mystified,' she said coldly. 
 
 Marsworth allowed his smile to shew itself. 
 
 ' I'm not trying to mystify you in the least. Daisy 
 Stewart has been engaged for nearly a year to one of 
 the house-surgeons in your hospital young Fellows. 
 Nobody knows it not Willy even. It has been 
 kept a dead secret, because that wicked old man the 
 Eector won't have it. Daisy makes him comfortable, 
 and he won't give her up, if he can help it. And as 
 young Fellows has nothing but his present pay 160 
 a year with board and lodging it seemed hopeless. 
 But now he has got his eye on something.' 
 
 And in a quiet business-like voice Marsworth put 
 the case of the penniless one his qualifications, his
 
 'MISSING' 279 
 
 ambitions, and the particular post under the Army 
 Medical Board on which he had set his hopes. If 
 only somebody with influence would give him a leg up ! 
 
 Cicely interrupted. 
 
 ' Does Willy know ? ' 
 
 ' No. You see, I have come to you first.' 
 
 ' How long have you known ? ' 
 
 ' Since my stay with them last autumn. I sus- 
 pected something then, just as I was leaving ; and 
 Miss Daisy confessed when I was there in May. 
 Since then she seems to have elected me her chief 
 adviser. But, of course, I had no right to tell any- 
 body anything.' 
 
 ' That is what you like to advise people ? ' 
 
 Marsworth considered it. 
 
 ' There was a time ' he said, at last, in a different 
 voice, ' when my advice used to be asked by someone 
 else and sometimes taken.' 
 
 Cicely pretended to light another cigarette, but her 
 slim fingers shook a little. 
 
 ' And now you never give it ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I do,' he said, with sudden bitterness 
 ' even unasked. I'm always the same old bore.' 
 
 There was silence. His right hand stole towards 
 her left that was lying limply over her knee. Cicely's 
 eyes looking down were occupied with his disabled 
 arm, which, although much improved, was still glad to 
 slip into its sling whenever it was not actively wanted. 
 
 But just as he was capturing her, Cicely sprang up. 
 
 ' I must go and see about Sir John Eaine.' 
 
 ' Cicely I don't care a brass farthing about Sir 
 John Eaine ! ' 
 
 ' But having once brought him in, I recommend you 
 to stick to him,' said Cicely, with teasing eyes. ' And
 
 280 ' MISSING ' 
 
 don't go advising young women. It's not good for the 
 military. I'm going to take this business in hand.' 
 
 And she made for departure. But Marsworth 
 got to the door first, and put his back against it. 
 
 ' Find me the Turner, Cicely.' 
 
 ' A man who asks for a thing on false pretences 
 shouldn't have it.' 
 
 A silence. Then a meek voice said 
 
 ' Captain Marsworth, my brother, Sir William 
 Farrell, will be requiring my services at tea ! ' 
 
 Marsworth moved aside and she forward. But 
 as the neared him, he caught her passionately in his 
 arms and kissed her. She released herself, crimson. 
 
 ' Do I like being kissed ? ' she said in a low voice 
 ' do I ? Anyway don't do it again ! and if you dare 
 to say a word yet to anyone ' 
 
 Her eyes threatened ; but he saw in them revela- 
 tions her pride could not check, and would have dis- 
 obeyed her at once ; but she was too quick for him. 
 In a second she had opened the door and was gone. 
 
 During the rest of the afternoon, her brother and 
 Nelly watched Cicely's proceedings with stupefaction ; 
 only equalled by the bewilderment of Miss Daisy 
 Stewart. For that young lady was promoted to the 
 good graces of Sir William's formidable sister with a 
 rapidity and completeness, which only natural good 
 manners, and good sense could have enabled her to 
 deal with ; considering the icy exclusion to which she 
 had been so long condemned. But as she possessed 
 both, she took it very simply ; always with the same 
 serene light in her grey eyes. 
 
 Marsworth said to himself presently that young 
 Fellows' chances were good. But in truth he hardly 
 remembered anything about them, except that by the
 
 1 MISSING ' 281 
 
 help of them he had kissed Cicely ! And he had yet 
 to find out what that remarkable fact was to mean, 
 either to himself or to her She refused to let him take 
 her back to the farm, and she only gave him a finger 
 in farewell. No* did she say a word of what had 
 happened, even to Nelly. 
 
 Nelly spent again a very wakeful night. Farrell 
 had walked home with them, and she understood from 
 him that, although he was going over early to Carton 
 the following morning, he would be at the cottage 
 again before many days were over. It seemed to her 
 that in telling her so he had looked at her with eyes 
 that seemed to implore her to trust him. And she, 
 on hearing it, had been merely dumb and irresponsive, 
 not forbidding or repellent, as she ought to have been. 
 The courage to wound him to the quick to leave him 
 bereft, to go out into the desert herself, seemed to be 
 more and more oozing away from her. 
 
 Yet there beside her bed, on the table which held 
 hei Testament, and the few books almost all given 
 her by W. F. to which she was wont to turn in her 
 wakeful hours, was George's photograph in uniform. 
 About three o'clock in the morning she lit her candle, 
 and lay looking at it, till suddenly she stretched out her 
 hand for it, kissed it repeatedly, and putting it on her 
 breast, clasped her hands over it, and so fell asleep. 
 
 But before she fell asleep, she was puzzled by the 
 sounds in Bridget's room next door. Bridget seemed 
 to be walking about pacing up and down incessantly. 
 Sometimes the steps would cease ; only to begin 
 again after a while with the same monotony. What 
 could be the matter with Bridget ? This vague worry 
 about her sister entered into and heightened all 
 Nelly's other troubles. Yet all the same, in the end,
 
 282 ' MISSING ' 
 
 she fell asleep ; and the westerly wind blowing over 
 Wetherlam, and chasing wild flocks of grey rain- 
 clouds before him, found no one awake in the cottage 
 or the farm to listen to the concert he was making 
 with the fells, but Bridget and Cicely. 
 
 Bridget Cookson had indeed some cause for wake- 
 fulness. Locked away in the old workbox, where she 
 kept the papers to which she attached importance, 
 was a letter bearing the imprint ' O.A.S.,' which 
 had been delivered to her on Sunday afternoon by 
 the Grasmere postmistress. It ran as follows : 
 
 ' DEAR Miss COOKSON, I know of course that you 
 are fully convinced the poor fellow we have here in 
 charge has nothing to do with your brother-in-law. But 
 as you saw him, and as the case may throw light on 
 other cases of a similar nature, I thought I would just 
 let you know that owing apparently to the treatment 
 we have been carrying out, there are some very 
 interesting signs of returning consciousness since your 
 visit, though nothing very definite as yet. He is 
 terribly ill, and physically I see no chance for him. 
 But I think he may be able to tell us who he is before 
 the end, in which case I will inform you, lest you 
 should now or at any future time feel the smallest 
 misgiving as to your own verdict in the matter. This 
 is very unlikely, I know, for I understand you were 
 very decided ; but still as soon as we have definite 
 information if we get it you may wish to inform 
 poor Mrs. Sarratt of your journey here. I hope she 
 is getting stronger. She did indeed look very frail 
 when I saw her last. 
 
 ' Yours very truly, 
 
 ' ROBERT HOWSON.'
 
 1 MISSING ' 283 
 
 Sinco the receipt of that letter Bridget's reflections 
 had been more disagreeable than any she had yet 
 grappled with. In Nelly's company the awfulness of 
 what she had done did sometimes smite home to her. 
 Well, she had staked everything upon it, and the only 
 possible course was to brazen it out. That George 
 should die, and die quickly without^any return of 
 memory or speech, was what she terribly and pas- 
 sionately desired. In all probability he would die 
 quickly ; he might even now be dead. She saw the 
 thing perpetually as a race between his returning mind 
 if he still lived, and it was returning and his ebbing 
 strength. If she had lived in old Sicilian days, she 
 would have made a waxen image like the Theocritean 
 sorceress, and put it by the fire, that as it wasted, so 
 George might waste. As it was, she passed her time 
 during the forty-eight hours after reading Howson's 
 letter in a silent and murderous concentration on one 
 thought and wish George Sarratt's speedy death. 
 
 What a release indeed for everybody ! if people 
 would only tell the truth, and not dress up their real 
 feelings and interests in stale sentimentalisms. Farrell 
 made happy at no very distant date ; Nelly settled 
 for life with a rich man who adored her ; her own future 
 secured with the very modest freedom and oppor- 
 tunity she craved : all this on the one side futile 
 tragedy and suffering on the other. None the less, 
 there were moments when, with a start, she realised 
 what other people might think of her conduct. But 
 after all she could always plead it was a mistake 
 an honest mistake. Are there not constantly cases in 
 the law courts, which shew how easy it is to fail in 
 identifying the right person, or to persist in identifying 
 the wrong one ?
 
 284 ' MISSING ' 
 
 During the days before Farrell returned, the two 
 sisters were alone together. Bridget would gladly 
 have gone away out of sight and hearing of Nelly. 
 But she did not dare to leave the situation above 
 all, the postman unwatched. Meanwhile Nelly made 
 repeated efforts to break down the new and inexplicable 
 barrier which seemed to have arisen between herself 
 and Bridget. Why would Bridget always sit alone 
 in that chilly outside room, which even with a large 
 fire seemed to Nelly uninhabitable ? She tried to 
 woo her sister, by all the small devices in her power. 
 
 ' Why won't you come and sit with me a bit, 
 Bridget ? I'm so dull all alone ! ' she would say 
 when, after luncheon or high tea, Bridget shewed signs 
 of ^immediately shutting herself up again. | 
 
 ' I can't. I must do some work. 1 
 
 ' Do tell me what you're doing, Bridget ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, you wouldn't understand.' 
 (J I Well, other people don't always think me a born 
 idiot ! ' Nelly would say, not without resentment. 
 ' I really could understand, Bridget, if you'd try.' 
 
 ' I haven't the time.' 
 
 ' And you're killing yourself with so many hours 
 of it. Why should you slave so ? If you only would 
 come and help me sometimes with the Red Cross work, 
 I'd do any needlework for you, that you wanted.' 
 
 i You know I hate needlework.' 
 
 ' You're not doing anything not anything for the 
 war, Bridget ! ' Nelly would venture, wistfully, at last. 
 
 ' There are plenty of people to do things for the 
 war. I didn't want the war ! Nobody asked my 
 opinion.' 
 
 i . And presently the door would shut, and Nelly 
 would be left to watch the torrents of rain outside,
 
 1 MISSING ' 285 
 
 and to endeavour by reading and drawing, by needle- 
 work and the society of her small friend Tommy, 
 whenever she could capture him, to get through the 
 day. She pined for Hester, but Hester was doing 
 Welfare work in a munition factory at Leeds, and 
 could not be got at. 
 
 So there she sat alone, brooding and planning, too 
 timid to talk to Bridget of her own schemes, and, in 
 her piteous indecision, longing guiltily for Farrell's 
 return. Meanwhile she had written to several acquaint- 
 ances who were doing V.A.D. work in various 
 voluntary hospitals, to ask for information. 
 
 Suddenly, after the rain came frost and north 
 wind finally snow ; the beginning in the north of the 
 fiercest winter Western Europe has known for many 
 years. Over heights and dales alike spread the white 
 Leveller, melting by day in the valley bottoms, and 
 filling up his wastage by renewed falls at night. Nelly 
 ventured out sometimes to look at the high glories of 
 Wetherlam and the Pikes, under occasional gleams of 
 sun. Bridget never put a foot out of doors, except 
 when she went to the garden gate to look for the post- 
 man in the road, and take the letters from him. 
 
 At last, one evening, when after a milder morning 
 a bitter blast from the north springing up at dusk 
 had, once more, sent gusts of snow scudding over the 
 fells, Nelly's listening ear heard the well-known step 
 at the gate. She sprang up with a start of joy. She 
 had been so lonely, so imprisoned with her own sad 
 thoughts. The coming of this kind, strong man, so 
 faithful to his small friend through all the stress of 
 his busy and important life, made a sudden impression 
 upon her, which brought the tears to her eyes. She 
 thought of Carton, of its splendid buildings, and the
 
 286 ' MISSING ' 
 
 great hospital which now absorbed them ; she seemed 
 to see Farrell as the king of it all, the fame of his doings 
 spreading every month over the north, and wiping 
 out all that earlier conception of him as a dilettante 
 and an idler of which she had heard from Hester. 
 And yet, escaping from all that activity, that power, 
 that constant interest and excitement, here he was, 
 making use of his first spare hour to come through the 
 snow and the dark, just to spend an hour with Nelly 
 Sarratt, just to cheer her lonely little life. 
 
 Nelly ran to the window and opened it. 
 
 ' Is that really you ? ' she called, joyously, while 
 the snow drifted against her face. 
 
 Farrell, carrying a lantern, was nearing the porch. 
 The light upon his face as he turned shewed her his 
 look of delight. 
 
 ' I'm later than I meant, but the roads are awful. 
 May I walk in ? ' 
 
 She ran down to meet him; then hung back rather 
 shyly in the passage, while he took off his overcoat 
 and shook the snow from his beard. 
 
 ' Have you any visitors ? ' he asked, still dusting 
 away the snow. 
 
 ' Only Bridget. I asked Hester, but she couldn't 
 come.' 
 
 He came towards her along the narrow passage, 
 to the spot where she stood tremulous on the lowest 
 step of the stairs. A lamp burning on a table revealed 
 her slight figure in black, the warm white of her throat 
 and face, the grace of the bending head, and the brown 
 hair wreathed about it. He saw her as an exquisite 
 vision in a dim light and shade. But it was not that 
 which broke down his self-control so much as the 
 pathetic look in her dark eyes, the look of one who is
 
 'MISSING' 287 
 
 glad, and yot shrinks from her own gladness tragically 
 conscious of her own weakness, and yet happy in it. 
 It touched his heart so profoundly that whether the 
 effect was pain or pleasure he could not have told. 
 But as he reached the step, moved by an irresistible 
 impulse, he held out his arms, and she melted into 
 them. For one entrancing instant, he held her close 
 and warm upon his breast, while the world went by. 
 But the next moment she had slipped away, and 
 was sitting on the step, her face in her hands. 
 
 He did not plead or excuse himself He just stood 
 by her, endeavouring to still and control his pulses 
 till at last she looked up. The lamp shewed her his 
 face, and the passion in it terrified her. For there had 
 been no passion in her soft and sudden yielding. Only 
 the instinct of the child that is forsaken and wants com- 
 forting, that feels love close to it, and cannot refuse it. 
 ' There, you see ! ' she said, desperately ' You see 
 I must go ! ' 
 
 ' No ! It's I who must go. Unless ' his voice 
 sank almost to a whisper ' Nelly ! couldn't you 
 marry me ? You should never, never regret it.' 
 
 She shook her head, and as she dropped her face 
 again in her hands he saw a shudder run through her. 
 At the sight his natural impulse was to let passion 
 have its way, to raise her in his arms again, and whisper 
 to her there in the dark, as love inspired him, his cheek 
 on hers. But he did not venture He was well aware 
 of something intangible and incalculable in Nelly that 
 could not be driven. His fear of it held him in check. 
 He knew that she was infinitely sorry for him and 
 tender towards him. But he knew too that she was 
 not in love with him. Only he would take his chance 
 of that, if only she would marry him.
 
 288 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Dear ! ' he said, stooping to her, and touching her 
 dark curls with his hand. ' Let's call in Hester ! 
 She's dreadfully wise ! If you were with her I should 
 feel happy I could wait. But it is when I see you 
 so lonely here and so sad nobody to care for you ! 
 that I can't bear it ! ' 
 
 Through the rush of the wind, a sound of some- 
 one crossing the yard behind the farm came to 
 their ears. Nelly sprang to her feet and led the 
 way upstairs. Farrell followed her, and as they 
 moved, they heard Bridget open the back door and 
 come in. 
 
 The little sitting-room was bright with lamp and 
 fire, and Farrell, perceiving that they were no longer 
 to be alone, and momentarily expecting Bridget's 
 entrance, put impatience aside and began to talk of 
 his drive from Carton. 
 
 ' The wind on Dunmail Eaise was appalling, and 
 the lamps got so be-snowed, we had to be constantly 
 clearing them. But directly we got down into the 
 valley it mended, and I managed to stop at the post- 
 office, and ask if there were any letters for you. There 
 were two and a telegram. What have I done with 
 them ? ' He began to search in his pockets, his wits 
 meanwhile in such a whirl that it was difficult for him 
 to realise what he was doing. 
 
 At that point Bridget opened the door. He turned 
 to ehake hands with her, and then resumed his 
 fumbling. 
 
 ' I'm sure they did give them to me ' he said, 
 in some concern, 'two letters and a telegram.' 
 
 ' A telegram ! ' said Bridget, suddenly, hurrying 
 forward, ' it must be for me.' 
 
 She peremptorily held out her hand, and as she did
 
 ' MISSING ' 289 
 
 BO, Nelly caught sight of her sister. Startled out of 
 all other thoughts she too made a step forward. What 
 was wrong with Bridget ? The tall, gaunt woman 
 stood there livid, her eyes staring at Farrell, her hand 
 unsteady as she thrust it towards him. 
 
 ' Give me the telegram, please ! I was expecting 
 one,' she said, trying to speak as usual. 
 
 Farrell turned to her in surprise. 
 
 ' But it wasn't for you, Miss Cookson. It was for 
 Mrs. Sarratt. I saw the address quite plainly. Ah, 
 here they are. How stupid of me ! What on earth 
 made me put them in that pocket.' 
 
 He drew out the letters and the telegram. Bridget 
 said again ' Give it me, please ! I know it's for me ! ' 
 And she tried to snatch it. Farrell's face changed. 
 He disliked Bridget Gookson heartily, mainly on Nelly's 
 account, and her rude persistence nettled a temper 
 accustomed to command. He quietly put her aside. 
 
 ' When your sister has read it, Miss Cookson, she 
 will no doubt let you see it. As it happens, the post- 
 mistress made me promise to give it to Mrs. Sarratt 
 myself. She seemed interested I don't know why.' 
 
 Nelly took it. Farrell who began to have some 
 strange misgiving stood between her and Bridget. 
 Bridget made no further movement. Her eyes were 
 fixed on Nelly. 
 
 Nelly, bewildered by the little scene and by Bridget's 
 extraordinary behaviour, tore open the brown envelope, 
 and read slowly 
 
 ' Please come at once. Have some news for you. 
 'Your sister will explain. Howson, Base Headquarters, 
 X , France.' 
 
 ' Howson ? ' said Nelly. Then the colour began 
 to ebb from her face. ' Dr. Howson ? ' she repeated.
 
 290 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' What news ? What does he mean ? Oh I 'the cry 
 rang through the room 'it's George.! it's George! 
 He's found ! he's found ! ' 
 
 She thrust the telegram prteously into FarrelTs 
 hands. He read it, and turned to Bridget. 
 
 ' What does Dr. Howson mean, Miss Cookson, and 
 why does he refer Mrs. Sarratt to you ? ' 
 
 For some seconds she could not make her pale 
 lips reply. Finally, she said 
 
 ' That's entirely my own affair, Sir William. I shall 
 tell my sister, of course. But Nelly had better go at 
 once, as Dr. Howson advises. I'll go and see to things.' 
 
 She turned slowly away. Nelly ran forward and 
 caught her. 
 
 ' Oh, Bridget don't go you mustn't go ! What 
 news is it ? Bridget, tell me ! you couldn't you 
 couldn't be so cruel not to tell me if you knew any- 
 thing about George ! ' 
 
 Bridget stood silent. 
 
 ' Oh, what can I do what can I do ? ' cried Nelly. 
 
 Then her eyes fell on the letters still in her hand. 
 She tore one open and read it with mingled cries 
 of anguish and joy. Farrell dared not go near her. 
 There seemed already a gulf between her and him. 
 
 ' It's from Miss Eustace ' she said, panting, as 
 she looked up at last, and handed the letter to him ' it's 
 George he's alive they've heard from France he 
 asks for me but but he's dying.' 
 
 Her head dropped forward a little. She caught 
 at the back of a chair, nearly fainting. But when 
 Farrell approached her, she put up a hand in protest. 
 
 ' No, no, I'm all right. But, Bridget, Miss Eustace 
 says you've actually seen him you've been to France. 
 When did you, go ? '
 
 ' MISSING ' 291 
 
 ' About three weeks ago,' said Bridget, after a 
 moment's pause. ' Oh, of course I know ' she threw 
 back her head defiantly ' you'll all set on me you'll 
 all blame me. But I suppose I may be mistaken 
 like anybody else mayn't I ? I didn't think the man 
 I saw was George I didn't ! And what was the good 
 of disturbing your mind ? ' 
 
 But as she told the lie, she told it so lamely and 
 unconvincingly that neither of the other two believed 
 it for a moment. Nelly stood up tottering but 
 mistress of herself. She looked at Farrell. 
 
 ' Sir William can you take me to Windermere, 
 for the night-train ? I know when it goes 10.20. 
 I'll be ready by nine.' She glanced at the clock, 
 which was just nearing seven. 
 
 ' Of course,' said Farrell, taking up his hat. ' I'll 
 go and see to the motor. * But ' he looked at her with 
 entreaty ' you can't go this long journey alone ! ' 
 
 The words implied a bitter consciousness that his 
 own escort was impossible. Nelly did not notice it. 
 She only said impatiently 
 r ' But, of course, I must go alone.' 
 
 She stood silent mastering the agony within 
 forcing herself to think and will. When the pause was 
 over, she said quietly ' I will be quite ready at nine.' 
 And then mechanically ' It's very good of you.' 
 
 He went away, passing Bridget, who stood with 
 one foot on the fender, staring down into the fire. 
 
 When the outer door had closed upon him, Nelly 
 looked at her sister. She was trembling all over. 
 
 ' Bridget why did you do it ? ' The voice was 
 low and full of horror. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? I made a mistake that's 
 all!'
 
 292 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' Bridget you knew it was George ! You couldn't 
 be mistaken. Miss Eustace says in the letter 'she 
 pointed to it' they asked you about his hands. Do 
 you remember how you used to mock at them ? ' 
 
 ' As if one could remember after a year and 
 a half ! ' 
 
 ' No, you couldn't forget, Bridget a thing like 
 that I know you couldn't. And what made you do 
 it ! Did you think I had forgotten George ? ' 
 
 At that the tears streamed down her face, un- 
 heeded. She approached her sister piteously. 
 
 ' Bridget, tell me what he looked like ! Did you 
 speak to him did you see his eyes open ? Oh my 
 poor George ! and I here never thinking of him ' 
 she broke off incoherently, twisting her hands. ' Miss 
 Eustace says he was wounded in two places severely 
 that she's afraid there's no hope. Did they say 
 that to you, Bridget tell me ! for Heaven's sake 
 tell me ! ' 
 
 'You'll make yourself ill,' said Bridget harshly. 
 ' You'd better lie down, and let me pack^for you.' 
 
 Nelly laughed out. 
 
 ' As if I'd ever let you do anything for me any 
 more ! No, that's done with. You've been so 
 accustomed to manage me all these years. You 
 thought you could manage me now you thought 
 you could let George die and I should never know 
 and you'd make me marry William Farrell. Bridget 
 I hate you ! ' 
 
 She broke off, shivering, but resumed almost at 
 once ' I see it all I think I see it all. And now it's 
 all done for between you and me. If George dies, 
 I shall never come back to live with you again. You'd 
 better make plans, Bridget, It's over for ever.'
 
 1 MISSING ' 298 
 
 1 You don't know what you're saying, now,' said 
 Bridget, coldly. 
 
 Nelly did not hear her, she was lost in a whirl of 
 images and thoughts. And governed by them she 
 went up to Bridget again, thrusting her small white 
 face under her sister's eyes. 
 
 ' What sort of a room was he in, Bridget ? Who 
 was nursing him ? Are you sure he didn't know 
 you ? Did you call him by his name ? Did you 
 make him understand ? ' 
 
 ' He knew nobody,' said Bridget, drawing back, 
 against her will, before the fire in Nelly's wild eyes. 
 1 He was in a very good room. There was a nurse 
 sitting with him.' 
 
 ' Was he was he very changed ? ' 
 
 ' Of course he was. If not, I should have known 
 him.' 
 
 Nelly half smiled. Bridget could never have 
 thought that soft mouth capable of so much scorn. 
 But no words came. Then Nelly walked away to a 
 drawer where she kept her accounts, her cheque-book, 
 and any loose money she might be in possession of. 
 She took out her cheque-book and some two or three 
 pounds that lay there. 
 
 ' If you want money, I can lend you some,' said 
 Bridget, catching at the old note of guardianship. 
 
 ' Thank you. But I shall not want it.' 
 
 ' Nelly, don't be a fool ! ' said Bridget, stung at 
 last into speech. ' Suppose all you think is true I 
 don't admit it, mind but suppose it's true. How was 
 I doing such a terrible wrong to you ? in the eyes, I 
 mean, of sensible people in not disturbing your mind. 
 Nobody expected that man I saw to know anybody 
 again or to live more than a few days. Even if I
 
 294 ' MISSING ' 
 
 had been certain and how could I be certain ? wasn't 
 it reasonable to weigh one thing against another ? You 
 know very well it's childish to ignore it what's 
 been going on here 
 
 But she paused. Nelly, writing a letter, was not 
 apparently concerned with anything Bridget had been 
 saying. It did not seem to have reached her ears. 
 A queer terror shot through Bridget. But she dis- 
 missed it. As if Nelly could ever really get on without 
 her. Little, feckless, sentimental thing ! 
 
 Nelly finished her letter and put it up. 
 
 ' I have written to Sir William's agent, Bridget ' 
 she said turning towards her sister ' to say that I 
 give up the farm. I shall pay the servant. Hester 
 will look after my things, and send them when I 
 want them.' 
 
 ' Why, Hester ? ' said Bridget, with something of 
 a sneer. 
 
 Nelly did not answer. She put up her letter, took 
 the money and the cheque-book and went out of the 
 room. Bridget heard her call their one servant, Mrs. 
 Dowson, and presently steps ascended the stairs and 
 Nelly's door shut. The sound of the shutting door 
 roused in her again that avenging terror. Her first 
 impulse was to go and force herself into Nelly's room, 
 so as to manage and pack for her as usual. But some- 
 thing stopped her. She consoled herself by going 
 down to the kitchen to look after the supper. Nelly, 
 of course, must have some food before her night 
 journey. 
 
 Behind that shut door, Nelly was looking into the 
 kind weather-beaten face of Mrs. Dowson. 
 
 ' Mrs. Dowson, I'm going away to-night and I'm 
 not coming back. Sir William knows.'
 
 1 MISSING ' 295 
 
 Then she caught the woman's gnarled hands, and 
 her own features began to work. 
 
 1 Mrs. Dowson, they've found my husband ! Did 
 Sir William tell you ? He's not dead he's alive 
 But he's very, very ill.' 
 
 ' Oh, you poor lamb ! ' cried Mrs. Dowson. ' No 
 Sir William tellt me nowt. The Lord be gracious 
 to you ! ' Bathed in sudden tears, she kissed one of 
 the hands that held hers, pouring out incoherent 
 words of hope. But Nelly did not cry, and presently 
 she said firmly 
 
 ' Now, please, you must help me to pack. Sir 
 William will be here at nine.' 
 
 Presently all was ready. Nelly had hunted out 
 an old grey travelling dress in which George had often 
 seen her, and a grey hat with a veil. She hastily put 
 all her black clothes aside. 
 
 ' Miss Martin will send me anything I want. I 
 have asked her to come and fetch my things.' 
 
 ' But Miss Cookson will be seein' to that ! ' said 
 Mrs. Dowson wondering. Nelly made no reply. She 
 locked her little box, and then stood upright, looking 
 round the small room. She seemed to be saying 
 ' Good-bye ' for ever to the Nelly who had lived, and 
 dreamed, and prayed there. She was going to George 
 that was all she knew. 
 
 Downstairs, Bridget was standing at the door of 
 the little dining-room. ' I have put out some cold 
 meat for you,' she said, stiffly. ' You won't get any- 
 thing for a long time.' 
 
 Nelly acquiesced. She drank some tea, and ate as 
 much as she could. Neither she nor Bridget spoke, 
 till Bridget, who was at the window looking out 
 into the snow, turned round to say 'Here's the motor.
 
 296 ' MISSING ' 
 
 Nelly rose, and tied her veil on closely. Mrs. 
 Dowson brought her a thick coat, which had been part 
 of her trousseau, and wrapped her in it. 
 
 ' You had better take your grey shawl,' said 
 Bridget. 
 
 ' I have it here, Miss,' said Mrs. Dowson, producing 
 it. ' I'll put it over her in the motor.' 
 
 She disappeared to open the door to Sir William's 
 knock. 
 
 Nelly turned to her sister. 
 
 ' Good-bye, Bridget.' 
 
 Bridget flamed out. 
 
 ' And you don't mean to write to me ? You mean 
 to carry out this absurd plan of separation ! ' 
 
 ' I don't know what I shall do till I have seen 
 George,' said Nelly steadily. ' He'll settle for me. 
 Only you and I are not sisters any more.' 
 
 Bridget shrugged her shoulders, with some angry 
 remark about ' theatrical nonsense.' Nelly went out 
 into the passage, threw her arms about Mrs. Dowson's 
 neck, for a moment, and then hurried out towards the 
 car. It stood there in the falling snow, its bright lights 
 blazing on the bit of Westmorland wall opposite, and 
 the overhanging oaks, still heavy with dead leaf. 
 Farrell was standing at the door, holding a fur rug. 
 He and Mrs. Dowson tucked it in round Nelly's small 
 cloaked figure. 
 
 Then without a word, Farrell shut the door of the 
 car, and took the seat beside the driver. In another 
 minute Bridget w r as watching the lights of the lamps 
 rushing along the sides of the lane, till at a sharp bend 
 of the road it disappeared. 
 
 There was a break presently in the snow-fall, and 
 as they reached the shores of Windermere, Nelly was
 
 ' MISSING ' 297 
 
 aware of struggling gleams of moonlight on steely 
 water. The anguish in her soul almost resented the 
 break in the darkness. She was going to George ; 
 but George was dying, and while he had been lying 
 there in his lonely suffering, she had been forgetting 
 him, and betraying him. The recollection of Farrell's 
 embrace overwhelmed her with a crushing sense of 
 guilt. George indeed should never know. But that 
 made no difference to her own misery. 
 
 The miles flew by. She began to think of her 
 journey, to realise her helplessness and inexperience 
 in the practical things of life. She must get her pass- 
 port, and some money. Who would advise her, and 
 tell her how to get to France under war conditions ? 
 Would she be allowed to go by the short sea passage ? 
 For that she knew a special permit was necessary. 
 Could she get it at once, or would she be kept waiting 
 in town ? The notion of having to wait one un- 
 necessary hour tortured her. Then her thoughts 
 fastened on Miss Eustace of the Enquiry Office, who 
 had written her the letter which had arrived simul- 
 taneously with Dr. Howson's telegram. ' Let me 
 know if I can be of any use to you, for your journey. 
 If there is anything you want to know that we can 
 help you in, you had better come straight to this 
 office.' 
 
 Yes, that she would do. But the train arrived in 
 London at 7 A.M. And she could not possibly see Miss 
 Eustace before ten or eleven. She must just sit in the 
 waiting-room till it was time. And she must get some 
 money. She had her cheque-book and would ask 
 Sir William to tell her how to get a cheque cashed in 
 London. She was ashamed of her own ignorance 
 in these small practical matters.
 
 298 'MISSING ' 
 
 The motor stopped. Sir William jumped down, 
 but before he came to open the door for her, she saw 
 him turn round and wave his hand to two persons 
 standing outside the station. They hurried towards 
 the motor, and as Nelly stepped down from it, she felt 
 herself grasped by eager hands. 
 
 1 You poor darling ! I thought we couldn't be in 
 time. But we flew. Don't trouble about anything. 
 We've done it all.' 
 
 Cicely ! and behind her Marsworth. 
 
 Nelly drew back. 
 
 1 Dear Cicely ! ' she said faintly ' but I can manage 
 I can manage quite well.' 
 
 Eesistance, however, was useless. Marsworth and 
 Cicely, it seemed, were going to London with her 
 Cicely probably to France ; and Marsworth had already 
 telegraphed about her passport. She would have 
 gladly gone by herself, but she finally surrendered 
 for George's sake, that she might get to him the 
 quicker. 
 
 Then everything was done for her. Amid the 
 bustle of the departing train, she was piteously aware 
 of Farrcll, and just before they started, she leant out 
 to give him her hand. 
 
 ' I will tell George all you have done for me,' she 
 said, gulping down a sob. 
 
 He pressed her hand before releasing it, but said 
 nothing. What was there to say ? Meanwhile, 
 Cicely, to ease the situation, was chattering hard, 
 describing how Farrell had sent his chauffeur to 
 Ambleside on a motor bicycle, immediately after 
 leaving Nelly, and so had got a telephone message 
 through to Cicely. 
 
 ' We had the small car out and ready in ten minutes,
 
 ' MISSING ' 299 
 
 and, by good luck, there was a motor-transport man 
 on leave, who had come to see a brother in the hospital. 
 We laid hands on him, and he drove us here. But 
 it's a mercy we're not sitting on the Eaise ! You 
 remember that heap of stones on the top of the Eaise, 
 that thing they say is a barrow the grave of some old 
 British party before the Flood ? well, the motor 
 gave out there ! Herbert and the chauffeur sat under 
 it in the snow and worked at it. I thought the river 
 was coming over the road, and that the wind would 
 blow us all away. But it'll be all right for your crossing 
 to-morrow the storm will have quite gone down. 
 Herbert thinks you'll start about twelve o'clock, 
 and you'll be at the camp that same night. Oh, isn't 
 it wonderful ! isn't it ripping ? ' cried Cicely under her 
 breath, stooping down to kiss Nelly, while the two 
 men talked at the carriage window. ' You're going 
 to get him home ! We'll have the best men in London 
 to look after him. He'll pull through, you'll see 
 he'll pull through ! ' 
 
 Nelly sank into a seat and closed her eyes. Cicely's 
 talk why did she call Marsworth ' Herbert ' ? was 
 almost unbearable to her. She knew through every 
 vein that she was going across the Channel to see 
 George die. If only she were in time ! if only she 
 might hold him in her arms once more ! Would the 
 train never go ? 
 
 Farrell, in spite of snow and storm, pushed his way 
 back to Carton that night. In that long motor drive 
 a man took counsel with himself on whom the war 
 had laid a chastening and refining hand. The human 
 personality cannot spend itself on tasks of pity and 
 service without taking the colour of them, without
 
 800 ' MISSING ' 
 
 rising insensibly to the height of them. They may 
 have been carelessly adopted, or imposed from with- 
 out. But the more doing of them exalts. As the 
 dyer's hand is ' subdued to what it works in,' so the 
 man that is always about some generous business for 
 his fellow men suffers thereby, insensibly, . a change, 
 which is part of the ' heavenly alchemy ' for over alive 
 in the world. It was so at any rate with William 
 Farrell. The two years of his hospital work hard, 
 honest grappling with the problems of human pain 
 and its relief had made a far nobler man of him. 
 So now, in this solitary hour, he looked his trouble 
 courageously, chivalrously in the face. The crash 
 of all his immediate hopes was bitter indeed. What 
 matter ! Let him think only of those two poor 
 things about to meet in France. 
 
 As to the future, he was well aware of the 
 emotional depths in Nelly's nature. George 
 Sarratt's claim upon her life and memory would now 
 be doubly strong. For, with that long and intimate 
 observation of the war which his hospital experience 
 had brought him, Farrell was keenly aware of the 
 merciful fact that the mere distance which, generally 
 speaking, the war imposes between the man dying on 
 the battle-field, and those who love him at home, 
 inevitably breaks the blow. The nerves of the woman 
 who loses her husband or her son are, at least, not 
 tortured by the actual sight of his wounds and death. 
 The suffering is spiritual, and the tender benumbing 
 touch of religion or patriotism, or the remaining affec- 
 tions of life, has less to fight with than when the physical 
 senses themselves are racked with acute memories of 
 bodily wounds and bodily death. It is not that sorrow 
 is less deep, or memory less tenacious ; but both are
 
 1 MISSING ' 801 
 
 less ruinous to the person sorrowing. So, at least, 
 Farrell had often seen it, among even the most loving 
 and passionate of women. Nelly's renascence in the 
 quiet Westmorland life had been a fresh instance of 
 it ; and he had good reason for thinking that, but for 
 the tragic reappearance of George Sarratt, it would not 
 have taken very long, a few months more, perhaps 
 before she would have been persuaded to let herself 
 love, and bo loved again. 
 
 But now, every fibre in her delicate being physical 
 and spiritual would be racked by the sight of Sarratt 's 
 suffering and death. And no doubt pure, scrupulous 
 little soul ! she would be tormented by the thought 
 of what had just passed between herself and him, before 
 the news from France arrived. He might as well 
 look that in the face. 
 
 Well ! patience and time there was nothing 
 else to look to. He braced himself to both, as he sped 
 homeward through the high snowy roads, and dropped 
 through sleeping Keswick to Bassenthwaite and Carton. 
 Then with the sight of the hospital, the Eed Cross flag 
 drooping above its doorway, as he drove up to it, 
 the burden and interest of his great responsibilities 
 returned upon him. He jumped out to say a few cheery 
 words of thanks to his chauffeur, and went on with a 
 rapid step to his office on the ground floor, where he 
 found important letters and telegrams awaiting him. 
 He dealt with them till far into the night. But the 
 thought of Nelly never really left him ; nor that 
 haunting physical memory of her soft head upon his 
 shoulder.
 
 CHAPTEB XVI 
 
 OF the weary hours which intervened between her 
 meeting with Cicely and Marsworth at Windermere 
 station, and her sight of Dr. Howson on the rain-beaten 
 quay at Boulogne, Nelly Sarratt could afterwards 
 have given no clear account. Of all the strings that 
 were pulled, and the exalted persons invoked, in order 
 to place her as quickly as possible by the side of her 
 dying husband, she knew practically nothing. Cicely 
 and Marsworth, with Farrell to help them at the other 
 end of a telegraph wire, did everything. Passports 
 and special permits were available in a minimum of 
 time. In the winter dawn at Euston Station, there 
 was the grey-headed Miss Eustace waiting ; and two 
 famous Army doctors journeyed to Charing Cross a 
 few hours later, on purpose to warn the wife of the 
 condition in which she was likely to find her husband, 
 and to give her kindly advice as to how she could help 
 him most. The case had already made a sensation at 
 the Army Medical Headquarters ; the reports on it 
 from France were being eagerly followed ; and when 
 the young wife appeared from the north, her pathetic 
 beauty quickened the general sympathy. Nelly's 
 path to France was smoothed in every possible way. 
 No Eoyalty could have been more anxiously thought 
 for. 
 But she herself realised scarcely anything about it. 
 
 302
 
 ' MISSING ' 303 
 
 It was her nature to be grateful, sweet, responsive ; but 
 ber gratitude and ber sweetness during tbese hours were 
 automatic, unconscious. She was the spectator, so to 
 speak, of a moving picture which carried her on with 
 it, in which she was merely passive. The crowded 
 boat, the grey misty sea, the destroyers to right and 
 left, she was aware of them in one connection only 
 as part of the process by which she and George w y ere 
 to meet again. 
 
 But at last the boat was alongside the quays of the 
 French port, and through sheets of rain t-he saw the 
 lights of a climbing town, and the gleaming roadways 
 of the docks. Crowds of men in khaki ; a park of big 
 guns, their wet nozzles glittering under the electric 
 lamps overhead ; hundreds of tethered horses ; a long 
 line of motor lorries ; the scene to her was all a vague 
 confusion, as Cicely, efficient and masterful as usual, 
 made a way for them both along the deck of the steamer 
 through close ranks of soldiers a draft waiting their 
 orders to disembark. Then as they stepped on land, 
 perception sharpened in a moment. A tall man in 
 khaki whom she recognised as Dr. Howson came 
 eagerly forward. 
 
 ' Mrs. Sarratt ! I hope you're not too tired. Would 
 you rather get some food here, in the town, or push on 
 at once ? ' 
 
 ' At once, please. How is he ? ' 
 
 A pair of kind grey eyes looked down upon her 
 sadly. 
 
 ' Very ill, very ill ! but quite sensible. I know 
 you will be brave.' 
 
 He carried her along tho quay while Cicely was 
 taken possession of by a nurse in uniform, who talked 
 rapidly in an undertone.
 
 804 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' I have two cars,' said Howson to Nolly ' You and 
 I will go first. Our head Sister, Miss Parrish, who has 
 been in charge of the case for so long, will bring Miss 
 Farrell. 1 
 
 And as they reached the two waiting motors, Nelly 
 found her hand grasped by a comely elderly woman, in 
 a uniform of grey and red. 
 
 ' He was quite comfortable when we left him, Mrs. 
 Sarratt. There's a wonderful difference, even since 
 yesterday, in his mind. He's beginning to remember 
 everything. He knows you're coming. He said 
 " Give her my dear love, and tell her I'm not going to 
 have my supper till she comes. She shall give it me." 
 Think of that ! It's like a miracle. Three weeks ago, 
 he never spoke, he knew nobody.' 
 
 Nelly's white face trembled, but she said nothing. 
 Howson put her into the foremost car, and they 
 were soon off, threading their way through the busy 
 streets of the base, while the Sister followed with 
 Cicely. 
 
 ' Oh, it was cruel not to let Mrs. Sarratt know 
 earlier ! ' said the Sister indignantly, in answer to a 
 hurried question from Cicely as soon as they were 
 alone. ' She might have had three weeks with him, 
 and now there can only be a day or two. What was 
 Miss Cookson about ? Even if she were just mistaken, 
 she might at least have brought her sister over to see for 
 herself instead of preventing it by every means in 
 her power. A most extraordinary woman ! ' 
 
 Cicely felt her way in reply. She really knew 
 nothing except what Farrell had been able hurriedly 
 to say to Marsworth at Windermere station which 
 had been afterwards handed on to her. Farrell himself 
 was entirely mystified, ' The only motive I can
 
 ' MISSING ' 305 
 
 suggest ' he had said to Marsworth ' is that Miss 
 Cookson had an insane dislike of her brother-in-law. 
 But, even so, why did she do it ? ' 
 
 Why, indeed ? Cicely now heard the whole story 
 from her companion ; and her shrewd mind very 
 soon began to guess at reasons. She had always 
 observed Bridget's complaisance towards her brother, 
 and even towards herself a clumsy complaisance 
 which had never appealed at all either to her or 
 him. And she had noticed many small traits and inci- 
 dents that seemed to shew that Bridget had resented 
 her sister's marriage, and felt bitterly that Nelly 
 might have done far better for herself. Also that 
 there was a strong taste for personal luxury in Bridget, 
 which seemed entirely lacking in Nelly. 
 
 ' She wanted Willy's money ! ' thought Cicely 
 ' and couldn't get it for herself. So when poor Sarratt 
 disappeared, she saw a way of getting it through 
 Nelly. Not a bad idea ! if you are to have ideas 
 of that kind. But then, why behave like an idiot 
 when Providence had done the thing for you ? ' 
 
 That was really the puzzle. George Sarratt was 
 dying. Why not let poor Nelly have her last weeks 
 with him in peace, and then in time marry her 
 safely and lawfully to Willy ? 
 
 But Cicely had again some inkling of Bridget's 
 probable reply. She had not been intimate with 
 Nelly for more than a year without realising that 
 she was one of those creatures so rare in our modern 
 world who do in truth live and die by their affections. 
 The disappearance of her husband had very nearly 
 killed her. In the first winter after he was finally 
 reported as ' Missing believed killed,' and when she 
 had really abandoned hope, the slightest accident a
 
 306 'MISSING' 
 
 bad chill an attack of childish illness any further 
 shock might have slit the thin-spun life in a few days 
 or weeks. The Torquay doctor had told Hester that 
 she was on the brink of tuberculosis, and if she were 
 exposed to infection would certainly develop it. Since 
 then she had gained greatly in vitality and strength. 
 If only Fate had left her alone ! ' With happiness 
 and Willy, she'd have been all right ! ' thought 
 Cicely, who was daily accustomed to watch the effect 
 of mind on body in her brother's hospital. But now, 
 with this fresh and deeper tragedy before her tearing 
 at the poor little heart crushing the life again out 
 of the frail being why, the prospects of a happy 
 ending were decidedly less. The odious Bridget 
 might after all have acted intelligibly, though 
 abominably. 
 
 As to the history of Sarratt's long disappearance, 
 Cicely found that very little was known. 
 
 ' We don't question him,' said the Sister. ' It 
 only exhausts him ; and it wouldn't be any good. 
 He may tell his wife something more, of his own 
 accord, but we doubt whether he knows much more 
 than he told Dr. Howson. He remembers being 
 wounded at Loos lying out undiscovered, he thinks 
 for two days then a German hospital and a long, 
 long journey. And that's practically all. But just 
 lately this week, actually ! Dr. Howson has got 
 some information, through a family of peasants living 
 near Cassel, behind the British lines. They have 
 relations across the Belgian border, and gradually 
 they have discovered who the man was who came 
 over the frontier with Mr. Sarratt. He came from 
 a farm, somewhere between Brussels and Courtrai, 
 and now they've managed to get a letter through from
 
 ' MISSING ' 307 
 
 his brother. You know the man himself was shot 
 just as they reached the British lines. But this letter 
 really tells a good deal. The brother says that they 
 found Mr. Sarratt almost dead, and, as they thought, 
 insane in a wood near their house. He was then 
 wearing the uniform of a British officer. They guessed 
 ho was an escaped prisoner, and they took him in 
 and hid him. Then news filtered through to them 
 of two English officers who had made their escape 
 from a hospital train somewhere south-west of 
 Brussels ; one slightly wounded, and one severely ; 
 the severely wounded man suffering also from shell- 
 shock. And the slightly wounded man was shot, 
 while the other escaped. The train, it was said, was 
 lying in a siding at the time at the further edge of 
 the forest bordering their farm. So, of course, they 
 identified the man discovered by them as the severely 
 wounded officer. Mr. Sarratt must have somehow 
 just struggled through to their side of the forest, 
 where they found him. 
 
 ' What happened then, we can't exactly trace. Ho 
 must have been there all the winter. He was deaf 
 and dumb, from nerve shock, and could give no account 
 of himself at all. The men of the farm, two unmarried 
 sons, were good to him, but their old mother, whoso 
 family was German, always hated his being there. She 
 was in terror of the German military police who used to 
 ride over the farm, and one day, when her sons were 
 away, she took Mr. Sarratt's uniform, his identification 
 disk, and all the personal belongings she could find, and 
 either burned or buried them. The sons, who were 
 patriotic Belgians, were however determined to pro- 
 tect him, and no doubt there may have been some 
 idea of a reward, if they could find his friends. But
 
 308 ' MISSING ' 
 
 they wore afraid of their tyrannical old mother, and 
 of what sho might do. So at last they made up their 
 minds to try somehow and get him over the French 
 frontier, which was not far off, and through the German 
 linos. Ono of the brothers, whoso name was Benoit 
 Desalles, to whom they say poor Mr. Sarratt was 
 much attached, wont with him. They must have had 
 an awful time, walking by night, and hiding by day. 
 Mr. Sarratt 'g wounds must have boon in a bad state, for 
 they were only half healed when he escaped, and they 
 had been neglected all the winter. So how ho dragged 
 himself the distance ho did, the doctors can't imagine. 
 And the peasants near the frontier from whom we 
 have got what information we have, have no knowledge 
 at all of how he and his Belgian guide finally got through 
 the German lines. But when they reached our lines, 
 they were both, as Dr. Howson wrote to Miss Cookson, 
 in German uniforms. His people suppose that Benoit 
 had stripped some German dead, and that in the 
 confusion caused in the German line at a point where 
 it ran through a Belgian village by a British raid, 
 at night, they got across the enemy trenches. And 
 no doubt Benoit had local knowledge which helped. 
 
 ' Then in the No Man's Land, between the lines, 
 they were under both shell and rifle-fire, till it was seen 
 by our men that Benoit had his hands up, and that the 
 other was wounded. The poor Belgian was dragging 
 Mr. Sarratt who was unconscious, and at last wasn't 
 it ill-luck ? just as our men were pulling them into the 
 trench, Benoit was shot through the head by a German 
 sniper. That, at least, is how we now reconstruct the 
 etory. As far as Mr. Sarratt is concerned, we let it 
 alone. We have no heart to worry him. Poor fellow 
 poor, gallant, patient fellow ! '
 
 1 MISSING ' 309 
 
 And the Sister's strong face softened, as Bridget 
 had seen it soften at Sarratt's bed-side. 
 
 ' And there is really no hope for him ? ' asked 
 Cicely after a time. The Sister shook her head. 
 
 ' The wounds have never healed and they drain 
 his life away. The heart can't last out much longer. 
 But he's not in pain now thank God ! It's just 
 weakness. I assure you, everybody almost in this 
 huge camp, asks for him and many pray for him.' 
 The Sister's eyes filled with tears. ' And now that 
 the poor wife's come in time, there'll be an excitement ! 
 I heard two men in one of our wards discussing it 
 this morning. " They do say as Mrs. Sarratt will 
 be here to-day," said one of them. " Well, that's a 
 bit of all right, ain't it ? " said the other, and they 
 both smoked away, looking as pleased as Punch. 
 You see Miss Cookson's behaviour has made the whole 
 thing so extraordinary.' 
 
 Cicely agreed. 
 
 ' I suppose she thought it would be all over in a 
 day or two,' she said, half-absently. 
 
 The Sister looked puzzled. 
 
 ' And that it would be better not to risk the effect 
 on his wife ? Of course Mrs. Sarratt does look dread- 
 fully delicate. So you don't think it was a mistake ? 
 It's very difficult to see how it could be ! The hands 
 alone one would think that anybody who really 
 knew him must have recognised them.' 
 
 Cicely said no more. But she wondered how 
 poor Nelly and her sister would ever find it possible 
 to meet again. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the car ahead, Howson was gently 
 and tenderly preparing the mind of Nelly for her 
 husband's state. He described to her also, the first
 
 310 ' MISSING ' 
 
 signs of Sarratt's returning consciousness the excite- 
 ment among his doctors and nurses the anxious 
 waiting for the first words the first clear evidence 
 of restored hearing. And then, at last, the dazed 
 question ' Where am I ? ' and the perplexed effort 
 to answer Howson's ' Can you tell us your name 
 and regiment ? ' 
 
 Howson described the breathless waiting of himself 
 and another doctor, and then the slow coming of the 
 words : ' My name is George Sarratt, Lieutenant, 
 21st Lanchesters. But why ? ' 
 
 A look of bewilderment at nurses and doctors, 
 and then again sleep. 
 
 ' The next time he spoke, it was quite distinctly 
 and of his own accord. The nurse heard him saying 
 softly it was in the early morning " I want my wife 
 send for her." She told him you had been already 
 sent for, and ho turned his head round at once and 
 went to sleep.' 
 
 Howson could hardly go on, so keenly did he realise 
 the presence of the woman beside him. The soft 
 fluttering breath unmanned him. But by degrees Nelly 
 heard all there was to know ; especially the details 
 of the rapid revival of hearing, speech, and memory, 
 which had gone on through the preceding three 
 days. 
 
 ' And what is such a blessing,' said Howson, with 
 the cheerfulness of the good doctor ' is that he seems 
 to be quite peaceful quite at rest. He's not unhappy. 
 He's just waiting for you. They'll have given him 
 an injection of strychnine this evening to help him 
 through.' 
 
 ' How long ? ' The words were just breathed into 
 the darkness.
 
 ' MISSING ' 311 
 
 ' A day or two certainly perhaps a week,' he said 
 reluctantly. ' It's a question of strength. Sometimes 
 it lasts much longer than we expect.' 
 
 He said nothing to her of her sister's visit. Instinc- 
 tively he suspected some ugly meaning in that story. 
 And Nelly asked no questions. 
 
 Suddenly, she was aware of lights in the darkness, 
 and then of a great camp marked out in a pattern of 
 electric lamps, stretching up and away over what 
 seemed a wide and sloping hill-side. Nelly put down 
 the window to see. 
 
 ' Is it here ? ' 
 
 'No. A little further on.' 
 
 It seemed to her interminably further. The car 
 rattled over the rough pavement of a town, then 
 through the darkness of woods threading its way 
 through a confusion of pale roads until, with a violent 
 bump, it came to a stop. 
 
 In the blackness of the November night, the 
 chauffeur, mistaking the entrance to a house, had run 
 up a back lane and into a sand-bank. 
 
 ' Do you hear the sea ? ' said Howson, as he helped 
 Nelly to alight. ' There'll be wind to-night. But here 
 we are.' 
 
 She looked round her as they walked through a 
 thin wood. To her right beyond the bare trees was a 
 great building with a glass front. She could see lights 
 within the passing figures of nurses rows of beds 
 and men in bed jackets high rooms frescoed in bright 
 colours. 
 
 ' That used to be the Casino. Now it's a Bed Cross 
 Hospital. There are always doctors there. So when 
 we moved him away from the camp, we took this little 
 house close to the Hospital. The senior surgeon there
 
 312 ' MISSING ' 
 
 can be often in and out. He's looking after him 
 splendidly.' 
 
 A small room in a small house, built for summer 
 lodgings by the sea ; bare wooden walls and floor ; 
 a stove ; open windows through which came the slow 
 boom of waves breaking on a sandy shore ; a bed, and 
 in it an emaciated figure, propped up. 
 
 Nelly, as the door closed behind her, broke into 
 a run like the soft flight of a bird, and fell on her knees 
 beside the bed. She had taken off her hat and cloak. 
 Excitement had kindled two spots of red in her pale 
 cheeks. The man in the bed turned his eyes towards 
 her, and smiled. 
 
 ' Nelly ! ' 
 
 Howson and the Sister went on tiptoe through a 
 side door into another room. 
 
 ' KissJnejNelly ! ' 
 
 Nelly, trembling, put her soft lips to his. But as 
 she did so, a chill anguish struck her the first bitter- 
 ness of the naked truth. As yet she had only seen 
 it through a veil, darkly. Was this her George this 
 ghost, grey-haired, worn out, on the brink of the un- 
 known ? The old passionate pressure of the mouth gone 
 for ever ! Her young husband her young lover 
 she saw him far back in the past, on Eydal lake, the 
 dripping oars in his hand. This was a spirit which 
 touched her a spiritual love which shone upon 
 her. And she had never yet known r so sharp an 
 agony. 
 
 So sharp it was that it dried all tears. She knelt 
 there with his hands in hers, kissing them, and gazing 
 at him. 
 
 1 Nelly, it's hard luck ! Darling, I'd better have 
 been patient. In time, perhaps, I should have come
 
 ' MISSING ' 313 
 
 back to you. How I got away who planned it I 
 don't remember. I remember nothing of all 
 that time. But Howson has heard something, 
 through some people near Cassel has he told 
 you?' 
 
 ' Yes but don't try to remember.' 
 
 He smiled at her. How strange the old sweetness 
 on these grey lips ! 
 
 1 Have you missed me dreadfully ? Poor little 
 Nelly ! You're very pale a little shadow ! Darling ! 
 I would like to live ! ' 
 
 And at that at last the eyes of both, as they 
 gazed at each other, filled with tears. Tears 
 for the eternal helplessness of man, the ' tears of 
 things.' 
 
 But he roused himself, snatching still at a little 
 love, a little brightness before the dark. The 
 strychnine injected had given him strength. 
 
 ' Give me that jelly and the champagne. Feed 
 me, Nelly ! But have you had any food ? ' 
 
 The stress laid on the ' you,' the tone of his voice, 
 were so like his old self that^Nelly caught her breath. 
 A ray of mad hope stole in. She began to feed 
 him, and as she did so, the Sister, as though 
 she had heard Sarratt's question, came quietly in 
 with a tray on which was some food for Nelly, and 
 put it down beside her. Then she disappeared 
 again. 
 
 With difficulty, Sarratt swallowed a few mouthfuls 
 of jelly and champagne. Then his left hand the 
 right was helpless made a faint but peremptory sign, 
 and Nelly obediently took some food under his dimly 
 smiling eyes. 
 
 ' I have thought of this so often,' he murmured
 
 314 ' MISSING ' 
 
 ' I know you'd come. It's been like someone walking 
 through a dark passage that was getting lighter. Only 
 once I had a curious dream. I thought I saw 
 Bridget.' 
 
 Nelly, trembling, took away his tray and her own, 
 and then knelt down again beside him. She kissed his 
 forehead, and tried to divert his thoughts by asking 
 him if he was warm enough. His hands were very 
 cold. Should she make up the fire ? 
 
 ' Oh, no, it's all right. But wasn't it strange ? 
 Suddenly, I seemed to be looking at her quite close 
 and she at me. And I was worried because I had 
 seen her more distinctly than I could remember you. 
 Come nearer put your dear head against me. Oh, 
 if I could only hold you, as I used to ! ' 
 
 There was silence a little. But the wine had flushed 
 him, and when the bloodless lids lifted again, there 
 was more life in the eyes. 
 
 ' Nelly, poor darling, have you been very lonely ? 
 Were the Farrells kind to you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, George, very kind. They did everything 
 everything they could.' 
 
 ' Sir William promised mo ' ho said, grate- 
 fully. ' And where have you been all the time ? At 
 Kydal ? ' 
 
 'No. I was ill after the news came ' 
 
 ' Poor Nelly ! ' 
 
 ' And Sir William lent us one of his farms near 
 his cottage do you remember ? ' 
 
 ' A little. That was land of him very kind. 
 Nelly I want to send him a message ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 1 Give him my grateful thanks, darling, and and 
 my blessing.'
 
 'MISSING' 315 
 
 Nelly hid her face against him, and he,. felt the 
 convulsion of tearless sobbing that passed through 
 her. 
 
 ' Poor Nelly ! ' he said again, touching her hand 
 tenderly. Then after another pause ' Sit there, 
 darling, where I can see you your dear head, and 
 your eyes, and your pretty neck. You must go to bed 
 soon, you know but just a little while ! Now tell 
 me what you have been doing. Talk to me. I won't 
 talk. I'll rest but I shall hear. That's so wonderful 
 that I can hear you. I've been living in such a 
 queer world no tongue no ears no mind, hardly 
 only my eyes.' 
 
 She obeyed him by a great effort. She talked to 
 him of what, she hardly knew ! about her months 
 in London and Torquay about her illness the farm 
 Hester Martin and Cicely. 
 
 When she came to speak of her friendship with 
 Cicely, he smiled in surprise, his eyes still shut. 
 
 ' That's jolly, dearest. You remember, I didn't 
 like her. She wasn't at all nice to you once. But 
 thank her from me please.' 
 
 ' She's here now, George, she brought me here. 
 She wouldn't let me come alone.' 
 
 ' God bless her ! ' he said, under his breath. ' I'll 
 see her to-morrow. Now go on talking. You won't 
 mind if I go to sleep ? They won't let you stop here, 
 dear. You'll be upstairs. But you'll come early 
 won't you ? ' 
 
 They gave him morphia, and he went to sleep under 
 her eyes. Then the night nurse came in, and the 
 surgeon from the hospital opposite, with Howson. 
 And Cicely took Nelly away. 
 
 Cicely had made everything ready in the little bare
 
 316 ' MISSING ' 
 
 room upstairs. But when sho had helped Nelly to 
 undress, she did not linger. 
 
 ' Knock on the wall, if you want me. It is only 
 wood, I shall hear directly.' 
 
 Nelly kissed her and she went. For nothing in her 
 tender service that day was Nolly more grateful to her. 
 
 Then Nelly put out her light, and drawing up the 
 blind, she sat for long staring into the moonlight 
 night. The rain had stopped, but the wind was high 
 over the sea, which lay before her a tumbled mass of 
 waves, not a hundred yards away. To her right was 
 the Casino, a subdued light shining through the blinds 
 of its glass verandahs, behind which she sometimes 
 saw figures passing nurses and doctors on their 
 various errands. Were there men dying there to- 
 night like her George ? 
 
 The anguish that held her, poor child, was no simple 
 sorrow. Never she knew it doubly now had she 
 ceased to love her husband. She had told Farrell 
 the truth ' If George now were to come in at that 
 door, there would be no other man in the world for 
 me ! ' And yet, while George was dying, and at the 
 very moment that he was asking for her, she had been 
 in Farrell's arms, and yielding to his kisses. George 
 would never know ; but that only made her remorse 
 the more torturing. She could never confess to him 
 that indeed was her misery. He would die, and 
 her unfaith would stand between them for ever. 
 
 A cleverer, a more experienced, a more practical 
 woman, in such a case, would have found a hundred 
 excuses and justifications for herself that never occurred 
 to Nelly Sarratt, to this young immature creature, 
 in whom the passionate love of her marriage had 
 roused feelings and emotions, which, when the man
 
 ' MISSING ' 817 
 
 on whom they were spent was taken from her, were 
 still the master-light of all her seeing still so strong 
 and absorbing, that, in her widowed state, they were 
 like blind forces searching unconsciously for some 
 new support, some new thing to love. She had nearly 
 died for love and then when her young strength 
 revived it had become plain that she could only live 
 for love. Her hands had met the hands seeking hers, 
 inevitably, instinctively. To refuse, to stand aloof, 
 to cause pain that had been the torment, the impos- 
 sibility, for one who had learnt so well how to give and 
 to make happy. There was in it no sensual element 
 only Augustine's ' love of loving.' Yet her stricken 
 conscience told her that, in her moral indecision, if 
 the situation had lasted much longer, and she had not 
 been able to make up her mind to marry Farrell 
 quickly, she might easily have become his mistress, 
 through sheer weakness, sheer dread of his suffering, 
 sheer longing to be loved. 
 
 Explanations and excuses, for any more seasoned 
 student of human nature, emerged on every hand. 
 Nelly in her despair allowed herself none of them. 
 It merely seemed to her, in this night vigil, that she 
 was unworthy to touch her George, to nurse him, to 
 uphold him ; utterly unworthy of all this reverent 
 pity and affection that was being lavished upon her 
 for his sake. 
 
 She sat up most of the night, wrapped in her fur 
 cloak, alive to any sound from the room below. And 
 about four in the morning, she stole down the stairs 
 to listen at his door. There one of the nurses found 
 her, and moved with pity, brought her in. They 
 settled her in an arm-chair near him ; and then with 
 the tardy coming of the November day, she watched
 
 818 ' MISSING ' 
 
 the sad waking that was BO many hours noaror death, 
 at that moment when man's life is at its wrctchcdest, 
 and all the forces of the underworld seem to be let 
 loose upon it. 
 
 And there, for five days and nights; with the briefest 
 possible intervals for food, and the sleep of exhaustion, 
 she sat beside him. She was dimly conscious of tho 
 people about her, of tho boundless tenderness and 
 skill that was poured out upon tho poor sufferer at 
 her side ; she did everything for George that the nurses 
 could shew her how to do it was tho one grain of 
 personal desire left in her, and doctors and nurses 
 developed tho most ingenious pity in devising things 
 for her to do, and in letting every remedy that soothed 
 his pain, or cleared his mind, go, as far as possible, 
 through her hands. And there were moments when 
 she would walk blindly along the sea beach with 
 Cicely, finding a stimulus to endure in the sharpness 
 of the winter wind, or looking in vague wonder at tho 
 great distant camp, with its streets of hospitals, its 
 long lines of huts, its training grounds, and the 
 bodies of men at work upon them. Here, the war came 
 home to her, as a vast machine by which George, like 
 millions of others, had been caught and crushed. 
 She shuddered to think of it. 
 
 At intervals Sarratt still spoke a good deal, though 
 rarely after their third day together. He asked her 
 once ' Dear, did you ever send for my letter ? ' She 
 paused a moment to think. ' You mean the letter you 
 left for me in case ? ' Ho made a sign of assent, and 
 then smiled into the face bending over him. ' Head 
 it again, darling. I mean it all now, as I did then.' 
 She could only kiss him softly without tears. After 
 tho first day she never cried.
 
 ' MISSING; sio 
 
 On the last night of his life, when she thought that 
 all speech was over, and that she would never hear 
 his voice, or see a conscious look, again, he opened 
 his eyes suddenly, and she heard ' I love you, 
 sweetheart ! I love you, sweetheart ! ' twice over. 
 That was the last sound. Towards midnight he 
 died. 
 
 Next morning Cicely wrote to Farrell : 
 
 ' We are coming home to-morow after they bury 
 him in the cemetery here. Please get Hester what- 
 ever she may be doing to throw it up, and come and 
 meet us. She is the only person who can help Nelly 
 now for a bit. Nelly pines for Eydal where they 
 were together. She would go to Hester's cottage. 
 Tell Hester. 
 
 ' Why, old boy, do such things happen ? That's 
 what I keep asking not being a saint, like these dear 
 nurses here, who really have been angelic. I am the 
 only one who rebels. George Sarratt was so patient 
 so terribly patient ! And Nelly is just crushed for the 
 moment, though I sometimes expect to see a strange 
 energy in her before long. But I keep knocking my head 
 all day, and part of the night the very small part 
 that I'm not asleep against the questions that every- 
 body sesms to have asked since the world began 
 and I know that I am a fool, and go on doing it. 
 
 ' George Sarratt, I think, was a simple Christian, 
 and died like one. He seemed to like the Chaplain, 
 which was a comfort. How much any of that means 
 to Nelly I don't know.' 
 
 She also wrote to Marsworth : 
 
 ' Meet us, please, at Charing Cross. I have no spirit 
 to answer your last letters as they deserve. But I 
 give you notice that I don't thrive on too sweet a diet
 
 320 ' MISSING ' 
 
 and praise is positively bad for me. It wrinkles 
 me up the wrong way. 
 
 ' What can be done about that incredible sister ? 
 She ought to know that Nolly is determined not to 
 see her. Just think ! they might have had nearly 
 a month together, and she cut it down to five days ! 
 
 (' Dear Herbert, say anything you like, and the 
 sweeter the better !) 
 
 ' Yours, 
 
 ' CICELY.'
 
 CHAPTEE XVII 
 
 ' WELL what news ? ' said Farrell abruptly. 
 
 For Cicely had come into his library with a letter 
 in her hand. The library was a fine eighteenth- 
 century room still preserved intact amid the general 
 appropriation of the big house by the hospital, and 
 when he was not busy in his office, it was his place of 
 refuge. 
 
 Cicely perched herself on the edge of his writing- 
 table. 
 
 ' Hester has brought her to Eydal all right,' she 
 said cheerfully. 
 
 ' How is she ? ' 
 
 * As you might expect. But Hester says she talks 
 of nothing but going to work. She has absolutely 
 set her heart upon it, and there is no moving her.' 
 
 ' It is, of course, an absurdity,' said Farrell, 
 frowning. 
 
 ' Absurdity or not, she means to do it, and Hester 
 begs that nobody will try to persuade her against 
 it. She has promised Hester to stay with heu for 
 three weeks, and then she has already made her 
 arrangements.' 
 
 f What is she going to do ? ' 
 
 * She is going to a hospital near Manchester. They 
 want a V.A.D. housemaid.' 
 
 Farrell rose impatiently, and stretching out hii 
 
 321 y
 
 322 MISSING ' 
 
 hand for his pipe, began to pace the room, steeped 
 evidently in disagreeable reflection. 
 
 ' You know as well as I do ' he said at last ' that 
 she hasn't the physical strength for it.' 
 
 ' Well then she'll break down, and we can put her to 
 bed. But try she will, and I entirely approve of it,' 
 said Cicely firmly. ' Hard physical work till you 
 drop till you're so tired, you must go to sleep that's 
 the only thing when you're as miserable as poor Nelly, 
 You know it is, Will. Don't you remember that poor 
 Mrs. Henessy whose son died here ? Her letters to 
 me afterwards used to be all about scrubbing. If she 
 could scrub from morning till night, she could just 
 get along. She scrubbed herself sane again. The 
 bigger the floor, the better she liked it. When bed- 
 time came, she just slept like a log. And at last she 
 got all right. But it was touch-and-go when she left 
 here.' 
 
 ' She was a powerfully-built w r oman,' said Farrell 
 gloomily. 
 
 ' Oh, well, it isn't always the strapping ones that 
 come through. Anyway, old boy, I'm afraid you 
 can't do anything to alter it.' 
 
 She looked at him a little askance. It was perfectly 
 understood between them that Cicely was more or less 
 acquainted with her brother's plight, and since her 
 engagement to Marsworth had been announced it was 
 astonishing how much more ready Farrell had been to 
 confide in her, and she to be confided in. 
 
 But for her few days in France, however, with 
 Nelly Sarratt, Marsworth might still have had some 
 wrestles to go through with Cicely. At the very 
 moment when Farrell's telephone message arrived, 
 imploring her to take charge of Nelly on her journey,
 
 ' MISSING ' 328 
 
 Cicely was engaged in fresh quarrelling with her long- 
 suffering lover. But the spectacle of Sarratt's death, 
 and Nelly's agony, together with her own quick divina- 
 tion of Nelly's inner mind, had worked profoundly on 
 Cicely, and Marsworth had never shewn himself a 
 better fellow than in his complete sympathy with her, 
 and his eager pity for the Sarratts. ' I haven't the 
 heart to tease him ' Cicely had said candidly after 
 her return to England. ' He's been so horribly nice 
 to me ! ' And the Petruchio having once got the 
 upper hand, the Katherine was like her prototype 
 almost overdoing it The corduroy trousers, Eussian 
 boots, and flame-coloured jersey actually arrived. 
 Cicely looked at them wistfully and locked them up. 
 As to the extravagances that still remained, in hats, 
 or skirts, or head-dressing, were they to be any further 
 reduced, Marsworth would probably himself implore 
 her not to be too suddenly reasonable. For, without 
 them, Cicely would be only half Cicely. 
 
 But his sister's engagement, perhaps, had only made 
 Farrell feel more sharply than ever the collapse of his 
 own hopes. Ti ree days after Sarratt's death Nelly 
 had written to him to give him George's dying message, 
 and to thank him on her own account for all that he 
 had done to help her journey. The letter was phrased 
 as Nelly could not help phrasing anything she wrote. 
 Cicely, to whom Nelly dumbly shewed it, thought it 
 ' sweet.' But on Farrell's morbid state, it struck like 
 ice, and he had the greatest difficulty in writing a 
 letter of sympathy, such as any common friend must 
 send her, in return. Every word seemed to him either 
 too strong or too weak. The poor Viking, indeed, had 
 begun to look almost middle-aged, and Cicely with a 
 pang had discovered or fancied some streaks of grey
 
 324 ' MISSING ' 
 
 in tha splendid red beard, and curly hair. At the same 
 time her half-sarcastic sense perceived that he was 
 far better provided than Nelly, with the means of sclf- 
 protection against his trouble. ' Men always are/ 
 thought Cicely ' they have so much more interesting 
 things to do.' And she compared the now famous 
 hospital, with its constant scientific developments, 
 the ever-changing and absorbing spectacle of the life 
 within it, and Farrell's remarkable position amid its 
 strenuous world with poor Nelly's ' housemaiding.' 
 
 But Nelly was choosing the path that suited her 
 own need, and in the spiritual world, the humblest 
 means may be the best. It was when she was cooking 
 for her nuns that some of St. Teresa's divinest ecstasies 
 came upon her ! Not that there was any prospect of 
 ecstasy for Nelly Sarratt. She seemed to herself to 
 be engaged in a kind of surgery the cutting or burning 
 away of elements in her own nature that she had come 
 to scorn. Hester, in whom the saintly temperament was 
 strong, came near to understanding her. Cicely could 
 only wonder. But Hester perceived, with awe, a 
 fierceness in Nelly almost a cruelty towards herself, 
 with which she knew well, from a long experience of 
 human beings, that it was no use to argue. The little, 
 loving, easy-going thing had discovered in her own 
 gentleness and weakness, the source of something des- 
 picable that is, of her failure to love George as stead- 
 fastly and truly as he had loved her. The whole 
 memory of her marriage was poisoned for her by this 
 bitter sense that in little more than a year after she 
 had lost him, while he was actually still alive, and 
 when the law even, let alone the highest standards of 
 love, had not released her, ehe had begun to yield to 
 the wooing of another man, Perhaps only chance,
 
 1 MISSING ' 325 
 
 under all the difficult circumstances of her intimacy 
 with Farrell, had saved her from a shameful yielding 
 from dishonour, as well as a broken faith. 
 
 ' What had brought it about ? ' she asked herself. 
 And she asked it with a desperate will, determined to 
 probe her own sin to the utmost. ' Soft living ! ' was 
 her own reply moral and physical indolence. The 
 pleasure of being petted and spoiled, the readiness to 
 let others work for her, and think for her, what people 
 called her ' sweetness ! ' She turned upon it with 
 a burning hatred and contempt. She would scourge 
 it out of herself. And then perhaps some day she 
 would be able to think of George's last faint words 
 with something else than remorseful anguish ' I love 
 you, sweetheart ! I love you, sweetheart ! ' 
 
 During the three weeks, however, that she was with 
 Hester, she was very silent. She clung to Hester 
 without words, and with much less than her usual 
 caressingness. She found it was evident a certain 
 comfort in solitary walks, in the simple talk of Mrs. 
 Tyson, and ' Father Time,' who came to see her, and 
 scolded her for her pale cheeks with a disrespectful 
 vigour which brought actually a smile to her eyes. 
 Tommy was brought over to see her ; and she sat 
 beside him, while he lay on the floor drawing Hoons 
 and Haggans, at a great rate, and brimful of fresh 
 adventures in ' Jupe.' But he was soon conscious 
 that his old playfellow was not the listener she had 
 been ; and he presently stole away with a wistful 
 look at her. 
 
 One evening early in December, Hester coming in 
 from marketing in Ambleside found Nelly, sitting by 
 the fire, a book open on her knee, so absorbed in thought 
 that she had not heard her friend's entrance, Yet her
 
 326 ' MISSING ' 
 
 lips seemed to be moving. Hester came softly, and 
 knelt down beside her. 
 
 ' Darling, I have been such a long time away ! ' 
 
 Nelly drew a deep breath. 
 
 ' Oh, no ! I I've been thinking.' 
 
 Hester looked at the open book, and saw that it was 
 ' The Letters of St. Ignatius ' a cheap copy, belonging 
 to a popular theological ' Library,' she herself had 
 lately bought. 
 
 ' Did that interest you, Nelly ? ' she asked, 
 wondering. 
 
 ' Some of it ' said Nolly, flushing a little. And 
 after a moment's hesitation, she pointed to a passage 
 under her hand : 
 
 ' For I fear your love, lest it injure me, for it is 
 easy to do what you will ; but it is difficult for me to 
 attain unto God, if ye insist on sparing me.' 
 
 And suddenly Hester remembered that before 
 going out she had entreated Nelly to give herself 
 another fortnight's rest before going to Manchester. 
 It would then be only six weeks since her husband's 
 death. ' And if you break down, dear,' she had 
 ventured ' it won't only be trouble to you but to 
 them ' meaning the hospital authorities. Whereupon 
 for the first time since her return, Nelly's eyes had 
 filled with tears. But she made no reply, and Hester 
 had gone away uneasy. 
 
 ' Why will you be so hard on yourself ? ' she mur- 
 mured, taking the lovely childish face in her two hands 
 and kissing it. 
 
 Nelly gently released herself, and pointed again, 
 mutely, to a passage further on the famous passage 
 in which the saint, already in the ecstasy of martyrdom, 
 appeals again to the Christian church in Borne, whether
 
 'MISSING' 327 
 
 he is bound, not to save him from the wild beasts of 
 the arena. ' I entreat you, shew not unto me an 
 unseasonable love ! Suffer me to be the food of wild 
 beasts, through whom it is allowed me to attain unto 
 God. I am the corn of God ; let me be ground by the 
 teeth of the wild beasts, that I may be found the pure 
 bread of Christ. . . . Pardon me in this. I know what 
 is expedient for me. I am but now beginning to be 
 a disciple.' 
 
 ' Nelly dear what do you mean ? ' 
 
 A faint littb smile crossed Nelly's face. 
 
 ' Oh, nothing only ' she sighed again ' It's 
 so splendid ! Such a will ! such a faith ! No one 
 thinks like that now. No one is willing to be " the 
 corn of God." ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes they are ! ' said Hester, passionately. 
 ' There are thousands of men and women in this 
 war, who are willing to do everything suffer every- 
 thing for others their country their people at 
 home.' 
 
 ' Well, then they're happy ! and why hold anyone 
 back ? ' said Nelly, with soft reproach. And letting 
 her head drop on Hester's shoulder, she said, slowly 
 
 ' Let me go, dear Hester let me go ! It's drudgery 
 I want drudgery,' she repeated with intensity. ' Some- 
 thing that I don't want to do something that's against 
 the grain all day long.' Then she laughed and 
 roused herself. ' Not much likeness between me and 
 St. Ignatius, is there ? ' 
 
 Hester considered her gravely. 
 
 * When people like you are wrestling all day and 
 every day with something too hard for them, their 
 strength gives way. They think they can do it, but 
 they can't.'
 
 828 ' MISSING ' 
 
 1 My strength won't give way,' said Nelly, with 
 quiet conviction. Then, after pausing a moment, she 
 aaid with a strange ardour ' I once hoard a story 
 a true story of a man, who burnt his own hand off, 
 because it had struck his friend. He held it in a flame 
 till there was only the burnt stump, and after that he 
 forgave himself and could bear to live again.' 
 
 ' But whom have you struck, you poor child ! ' 
 cried Hester. 
 
 1 George 1 ' said Nelly, looking at her with bitterly 
 shining eyes. 
 
 Hester's arms enfolded her, and they talked far 
 into the night. Before they separated, Hester had 
 agreed that the date of Nelly's departure should bo 
 not postponed, but quickened. 
 
 And during the few remaining days they were 
 together, Hester could only notice with growing amaze- 
 ment the change in all the small ways and habits that 
 had once characterised Nelly Sarratt especially since 
 her Torquay illness ; the small invalidisms and self- 
 indulgences, the dependence on a servant or on Bridget. 
 Now the ascetic, penitential passion had come upon 
 her ; as it comes in different forms, upon many a man 
 or woman in the selva osctira of their life ; and Hester 
 knew that there was no resisting it. 
 
 Hester went back to her ' Welfare ' work. Cicely 
 travelled between Carton and London, collecting her 
 trousseau and declaring that she would be married in 
 Lent, whatever people might say. Farrell was deeply 
 engaged in introducing a new antiseptic treatment of 
 an extremely costly kind throughout his hospital, in 
 watching the results of it, and in giving facilities for 
 the study of it, to the authorities and officials of all 
 kinds who applied to him. A sorrowful man but a
 
 1 MISSING ' 829 
 
 very busy one. Marsworth was making his mark in 
 the Intelligence Department of the War Office, and 
 was being freely named as the head of an important 
 Military Mission to one of the Allied Headquarters. 
 What would become of Cicely and the wedding, if the 
 post were given him, and as was probable at a 
 day's warning was not quite clear. Cicely, however, 
 took it calmly. 4 They can't give us less than three 
 hours' notice and if it's after two o'clock, we can 
 always get married somehow by five. You scurry round, 
 pay fifty pounds, and somebody at Lambeth does it. 
 Then I should see him safely off in the evening 1 ' 
 
 Meanwhile Bridget Cookson was living in her usual 
 Bloomsbury boarding-house, holding herself quite aloof 
 from the idle ways of its inmates, who, in the midst of 
 tha world-war, were still shopping as usual in the 
 mornings and spending the afternoons in tea and gossip. 
 Bridget, however, was scarcely employing her own time 
 to any greater profit for a burdened country. She was 
 learning various languages, and attending a number 
 of miscellaneous lectures. Her time was fairly full, 
 and she lived in an illusion of multifarious knowledge 
 which flattered her vanity. She was certainly far 
 cleverer and better-educated than the other women 
 of her boarding-house ; and she was one of those 
 persons who throughout life, prefer to live with their 
 inferiors. ' The only remedy against a superiority,' 
 says some French writer ' is to love it.' But 
 Bridget was so made that she could not love it ; she 
 could only pull it down and belittle it. 
 
 But all the same, Bridget Cookson was no monster, 
 though she was probably without feelings and instincts 
 that most people possess. She missed Nelly a good 
 deal, more than Nelly herself would have believed.
 
 830 ' MISSING ' 
 
 And she thought now, that she had behaved like a fool 
 in not recognising Sarratt at once, and so preserving 
 her influence with her sister. Morally, however, she 
 saw no great harm in what she had done. It was 
 arguable, at any rate. Everything was arguable. As 
 to the effect on Nelly of the outward and visible facts 
 of Sarratt's death, it seemed to have been exactly what 
 she, Bridget, had foreseen. Through some Manchester 
 acquaintance she succeeded in getting occasional news 
 of Nelly, who was, it appeared, killing herself with 
 hard and disagreeable work. She heard also from the 
 woman left in charge of the Loughrigg farm that all 
 Mrs. Sarratt's personal possessions had been sent to 
 the care of Miss Martin, and that Sir William had shut 
 up the cottage and never came there. Sometimes 
 Bridget would grimly contrast this state of things with 
 what might have happened, had her stroke succeeded, 
 and had George died unrecognised. In that event 
 how many people would have been made happy, who 
 were now made miserable ! 
 
 The winter passed away, the long and bitter winter 
 which seemed to sharpen for English hearts and 
 nerves all the suffering of the war. On the Somme the 
 Germans were secretly preparing the retreat which 
 began with the spring, while the British armies were 
 growing to their full stature, month by month, and 
 England was becoming slowly accustomed to the new 
 and amazing consciousness of herself as a great military 
 power. And meanwhile death in the trenches still 
 took its steady toll of our best and dearest ; and at sea, 
 while British sea-power pressed home its stifling grasp 
 on the life of Germany, the submarine made England 
 anxious, but not afraid. 
 
 March shewed some pale gleams of spring, but April
 
 1 MISSING ' 331 
 
 was one of the coldest and dreariest in the memory of 
 living man. The old earth in sympathy with the great 
 struggle that was devastating and searing her, seemed 
 to be withholding leaf and flower, and forbidding the 
 sun to woo her. 
 
 Till the very first days of May ! Then, with a great 
 return upon herself, Nature flew to work. The trees 
 rushed into leaf, and never had there been such a 
 glorious leafage. Everything was late, but everything 
 was perfection. And nowhere was the spring loveliness 
 more lovely than in Westmorland. The gentle valleys 
 of the Lakes had been muffled in snow and scourged 
 with hail. The winter furies had made their lairs in 
 the higher fells, and rushed shrieking week after week 
 through delicate and quiet scenes not made for them. 
 The six months from November to May had been for 
 the dale-dwellers one long endurance. But in one May 
 week all was forgotten and atoned for. Beauty, ' an 
 hourly presence,' reigned without a rival. From the 
 purple heights that stand about Langdale and Derwent- 
 water, to the little ferns and mountain plants that 
 crept on every wall, or dipped in every brook, the 
 mountain land was all alive and joyful. The streams 
 alone made a chorus for the gods. 
 
 Hester, who was now a woman of sixty, had 
 reluctantly admitted, by the middle of the month, that, 
 after a long winter spent in a munition factory and a 
 Lancashire town, employed on the most strenuous 
 work that she, an honest worker all her life, had ever 
 known, a fortnight's holiday was reasonable. And she 
 wrote to Nelly Sarratt, just as she was departing north- 
 wards, to say cunningly that she was very tired and 
 run down, and would Nelly come and look after her 
 for a little ? It was the first kindness she had ever
 
 332 f MISSING ' 
 
 asked of Nelly, to whom she had done so many. Nelly 
 telegraphed in reply that in two days she would be at 
 Eydal. 
 
 Hester spent the two days in an expectation half- 
 eager, half-anxious. It had been agreed between them 
 that in their correspondence the subject of Nelly's 
 health was to ba tabooed. In case of a serious break- 
 down, the Commandant of Nelly's hospital would write. 
 Otherwise there were to be no enquiries and no sym- 
 pathy. Cicely Marsworth before her marriage in early 
 March had seen Nelly twice and had reported against 
 the grain that although ' most unbecomingly thin,' 
 the obstinate little creature said she was well, and 
 apparently was well. Everybody in the hospital, 
 said Cicely, was at Nelly's feet. ' It is of course non- 
 sense for her to lay down that she won't be petted, 
 Nature has settled that for her. However, I am bound 
 to say it is the one thing that makes her angry, and 
 the nurses are all amazed at what she has been able 
 to stand. There is a half-blind boy, suffering from 
 " shock " in one of the wards, to whom they say she has 
 devoted herself for months. She has taught him to 
 speak again, and to walk, and the nerve-specialist 
 who has been looking after the poor fellow, told her he 
 would trust her with his worst cases, if only she would 
 come and nurse for him. That did seem to please her. 
 She flushed up a little when she told me. Otherwise 
 she has become horribly impersonal 1 Her wings are 
 growing rapidly. But oh, Hester, I did and do prefer 
 the old Nelly to any angel I've ever known. If I 
 hadn't married Herbert, I should like to spend all 
 my time in tempting her the poor darling ! as 
 the devil who was such a fool ! tempted St. 
 Anthony, I know plenty of saints ; but I know only
 
 1 MISSING ' 333 
 
 one little, soft, kissable Nelly, She shan't be taken 
 from us ! ' 
 
 So horribly impersonal ! What did Cicely mean ? 
 Well, Cicely with the object described in full view 
 would soon be able to tell her. For the Marsworths 
 were coming to Carton for a week, before starting for 
 Eome, and would certainly come over to her to say 
 good-bye. As to William would it really be necessary 
 to leave him behind ? Nelly must before long brace 
 herself to see him again, as an ordinary friend. He 
 had meant no harm and done no harm poor 
 William ! Hester was beginning secretly to be his 
 warm partisan. 
 
 Twenty-four hours later, Nelly arrived. As Hester 
 received her from the coach, and walked with her arm 
 round the tiny waist to the cottage by the bend of the 
 river, where tea beside the sun-flecked stream was set 
 for the traveller, the older friend was at once startled 
 and reassured. Keassured because, after these six 
 months, Nelly, could laugh once more, and her step 
 was once more firm and normal ; and startled, by 
 the new and lonely independence she perceived in her 
 frail visitor. Nelly was in black again, with a small 
 black hat from which her widow's veil fell back over 
 her shoulders. The veil, the lawn collar and cuffs, 
 together with her childish slightness, and the curls 
 on her temples and brow that she had tried in vain 
 to straighten, made her look like a little girl mas- 
 querading. And yet, in truth, what struck her 
 hostess was the sad maturity for which she seemed 
 to have exchanged her old clinging ways. She spoke, 
 for the first time, as one who was mistress of her own 
 life and its issues ; with a perfectly clear notion of 
 what there was for her to do. She had made up her
 
 334 ' MISSING ' 
 
 mind, she told Hester, to take work offered her in one 
 of the new special hospitals for nervous cases which 
 were the product of the war. ' They think I have a 
 turn for it, and they are going to train me. Isn't it 
 kind and dear of them ? ' 
 
 ' But I am told it is the most exhausting form of 
 nursing there is,' said Hester wondering. ' Are you 
 quite sure you can stand it ? ' 
 
 ' Try me ! ' said Nelly, with a strange brightness 
 of look. Then reaching out a hand she slipped it 
 contentedly into her friend's. ' Hester ! isn't it 
 strange what we imagine about ourselves and what 
 is really true ? I thought the first weeks that I was 
 in hospital, I must break down. I never dreamt 
 that anyone could feel so tired so deadly ill and 
 yet go on. And then one began, little by little, to 
 get hardened, of course I'm only now beginning 
 to feel that ! and it seems like being born again, 
 with a quite new body, that one can make yes, 
 make do as one likes. That's what the soldiers tell 
 me about their training. And they wonder at it, 
 as I do.' 
 
 ' My "dear, you're horribly thin,' interrupted Hester. 
 
 ' Oh^not too thin ! ' said Nelly, complacently. 
 
 Then she lifted up her eyes suddenly, and saw the 
 lake in a dazzle of light, and Silver How, all purple, as 
 of old ; yet another family of wild duck swimming 
 where the river issued from the lake ; and just beyond, 
 the white corner of the house where she and George 
 had spent their few days of bliss. Slowly, the eyes 
 filled with brimming tears. She threw off her hat and 
 veil, and slipping to the grass, she laid her head 
 against her friend's knee, and there was a long silence. 
 
 Hester broke it at last,
 
 ' MISSING ' 335 
 
 ' I want you to come a little way up the fell, and 
 look at a daffodil field. We'll leave a message, and 
 Cicely can follow us there.' And then she added, 
 not without trepidation ' and I asked her to bring 
 William, if he had time.' 
 
 Nelly was silent a moment, and then said quietly 
 
 ' Thank you. I'm glad you did.' 
 
 They left the garden and wandered through some 
 rocky fields on the side of the fell, till they came to one 
 where Linnaeus or any other pious soul might well 
 have gone upon his knees for joy. Some loving hand 
 had planted it with daffodils the wild Lent lily of 
 the district, though not now very plentiful about the 
 actual lakes. And the daffodils had come back rejoic- 
 ing to their kingdom, and made it their own again. 
 They ran in lines and floods, in troops and skirmishers, 
 all through the silky grass, and round the trunks of 
 the old knotted oaks, that hung as though by one foot 
 from the emerging rocks and screes. Above, the bloom 
 of the wild cherries made a wavering screen of silver 
 between the daffodils and the May sky ; amid the 
 blossom the golden-green of the oaks struck a strong 
 riotous note ; and far below, at their feet, the lake 
 lay blue, with all the sky within it, and ths softness 
 of the larch-woods on its banks. 
 
 Nelly dropped into the grass among the daffodils. 
 One could not have called her the spirit of the spring 
 the gleeful, earthly spring as it would have been 
 natural to do, in her honeymoon days. And yet, as 
 Hester watched her, she seemed in her pale, changed 
 beauty, to be in some strange harmony with that 
 grave, renewing, fruitful heart of all things, whereof 
 the daffodils and the cherry-blossom were but symbols. 
 
 Presently there were voices beneath them climb-
 
 336 ' MISSING 
 
 ing voices that came nearer of a man and a woman. 
 Nelly's hand begun to pluck restlessly at the grass 
 beside her. 
 
 Cicely emerged first, Cicely in white, very bridal, 
 and very happy. Very conscious too, though she 
 did not betray it by a movement or a look, of the 
 significance of this first meeting, since Sarratt's death, 
 between her brother and Nelly. But they met very 
 simply. Nelly went a little way down the steep to 
 meet them. She kissed Cicely, and gave Farrell her 
 hand. 
 
 ' It was very good of you to come.' 
 
 But then it seemed to Hester, who could not help 
 watching it, that Nelly's face, as she stood there looking 
 gravely at Farrell, shewed a sudden trouble and 
 agitation. It was gone very quickly, however, and she 
 and he walked on together along a green path skirting 
 the fells, and winding through the daffodils and the 
 hawthorns. 
 
 Cicely and Hester followed, soon perceiving that 
 the two ahead had slipped into animated conver- 
 sation. 
 
 ' What can it be about ? ' said Cicely, in Hester's 
 ear. 
 
 ' I heard the word " Charcot," ' said Hester. 
 
 The bride listened deliberately. 
 
 ' And William's talking about an article in the 
 Lancet he's been boring Herbert and me with, by that 
 very specialist that Nelly's so keen about, the man 
 that going to have her trained to nurse his cases. 
 Something about the new treatment of " shock." I 
 say, Hester, what an odd sort of fresh beginning ! ' 
 
 Cicely turned a look half grave, half laughing on 
 her companion adding hastily
 
 MISSING ' 837 
 
 ' The specialist's married ! ' 
 
 Hester frowned a little. 
 
 1 Beginning of what ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know,' said Cicely, with a shrug. 
 ' But life is long, Mademoiselle Hester, and now they've 
 got a common interest outside themselves. They 
 can talk about things not feelings. Goodness ! 
 did you hear that ? William is head over ears in his 
 new antiseptic and look at Nelly she's quite pink ! 
 That's what I meant by her being horribly impersonal. 
 She used the word " scientific " to me, three times, 
 when I went to see her Nelly ! ' 
 
 ' If she's impersonal, I should doubt whether 
 William is,' said Hester drily. 
 
 ' Ah, no poor Willy ! ' was Cicely's musing reply. 
 ' It's a hard time for him. I don't believe she's ever 
 out of his mind. Or at least, she wouldn't be, if it 
 weren't for his work. That's the blessed part for 
 both of them. And now you see it gives them 
 such a deal to talk about ' her gesture indicated 
 the couple in front. ' It's like two sore surfaces, 
 isn't it, that mustn't touch you want something 
 between.' 
 
 ' All the same, William mustn't pst his heart ' 
 
 ' And Hester dear old thing ! mustn't preach ! ' 
 said Cicely laughing, and pinching her cousin's arm. 
 ' What's the good of saying that, about a man like 
 William, who knows what he wants ? Of course he's 
 set his heart, and will go on setting it. But he'll wait 
 as long as she likes.' 
 
 ' It'll be a long time.' 
 
 ' All right ! They're neither of them Methuselahs 
 yet. Heavens ! What are they at now ? Ambrine ! 
 she's talking to him.'
 
 838 ' MISSING ' 
 
 But some deep mingled instinct, at once of sym- 
 pathy with Nelly and pity for Farrcll, made Hester 
 unwilling to discuss the subject any more. George's 
 death was too recent ; peace and a happy future too 
 remote. So she turned on Cicely. 
 
 ' And please, what have you done with Herbert ? 
 I was promised a bridegroom.' 
 
 ' Business ! ' said Cicely, sighing. ' We had hardly 
 arrived for our week's leave, when the wretched War 
 Office wired him to come back. He went this morning, 
 and I wanted to go too, but I'm not to racket just 
 now.' 
 
 Cicely blushed, and Hester, smiling, pressed her 
 hand. 
 
 ' Then you're not going to Eome ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly I am ! But one has to give occasional 
 sops to the domestic tyrant.' 
 
 They sauntered back to tea in Hester's garden by 
 the river, and there the talk of her three guests was 
 more equal and unfettered, more of a real interchange, 
 than Hester ever remembered it. Of old, Farrell had 
 been the guardian and teacher, indoctrinating Nelly 
 with his own views on art, reading to her from his 
 favourite poets, or surrounding her in a hundred small 
 matters with a playful and devoted homage. But 
 now in the long wrestle with her grief and remorse, 
 she had thought, as well as felt. She was as humble 
 and simple as ever, but her companions realised that 
 she was standing on her own feet. And this some- 
 thing new in her which was nothing but a streng- 
 thened play of intelligence and will had a curious 
 effect on Farrell. It seemed to bring him out, also ; 
 so that the nobler aspects of his life, and the nobler 
 proportions of his character shewed themselves, uncon-
 
 ' MISSING ' 889 
 
 sciously. Hester, with anxious joy, guessed at the 
 beginnings of a new moral relation, a true comrade- 
 ship, between himself and Nelly, such as there had 
 never yet been which might go far. It masked the 
 depths in both of them ; or rather it was a first bridge 
 thrown over the chasm between them. What would 
 come of it ? 
 
 Again she rebuked herself even for the question. 
 But when the time for departure came, and Nelly 
 took Cicely into the house to fetch the wraps which 
 had been left there, Farrell drew his chair close to 
 Hester's. She read agitation in his look. 
 
 1 So she's actually going to take up this new 
 nursing ? She says she is to have six months' 
 training.' 
 
 ' Yes don't grudge it her ! ' 
 
 Farrell was silent a moment, then broke out 
 
 ' Did you ever see anything so small and trans- 
 parent as her hands are ? I was watching them as she 
 sat there.' 
 
 ' But they're capable ! ' laughed Hester. ' You 
 should hear what her matron says of her.' 
 
 Farrell sighed. 
 
 ' How much weight has she lost ? ' 
 
 ' Not more as yet than she can stand. There's 
 an intense life in her a spiritual life that seems to 
 keep her going.' 
 
 ' Hester dear Hester watch over her ! ' 
 
 He put out a hand and grasped his cousin's, 
 
 ' Yes, you may trust me.' 
 
 ' Hester ! do you believe there'll ever be any hope 
 for ine ? ' 
 
 ' It's unkind even to think of it yet,' she said 
 gravely.
 
 340 ' MISSING ' 
 
 He drew himself up, recovering self-control. 
 
 4 1 know I know. I hope I'm not quite a fool ! 
 And indeed it's better than I thought. She's not going 
 to banish me altogether. When this new hospital's 
 open in another month or so and she's settled 
 there she asks me to call upon her. She wants me to 
 go into this man's treatment.' There was a touch of 
 comedy in the words ; but the emotion in his face was 
 painful to see. 
 
 ' Good ! ' said Hester, smiling. 
 
 When the guests were gone, Nelly came slowly 
 back to Hester from the garden gate. Her hands 
 were loosely clasped before her, her eyes on the ground. 
 When she reached Hester she looked up and Hester 
 saw that her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 4 He'll miss her very much,' she said, sadly. 
 
 ' Cicely ? ' 
 
 ' Yes she's been a great deal more to him lately 
 than she used to be.' 
 
 Nelly stood silently looking out over the lake for 
 a while. In her mind and Hester's there were thoughts 
 which neither could express. Suddenly, Nelly turned 
 to Hester. Her voice sounded strained and quick. 
 4 1 never told you on my way here, I went to see 
 Bridget.' 
 
 Hester was taken by surprise. After a moment's 
 silence she said 
 
 4 Has she ever repented over asked your forgive 
 ness ? ' 
 
 Nelly shook her head. 
 
 4 But I think she would be sorry if she could. 
 I shall go and see her sometimes. But she doesn't 
 want me. She seems quite busy and satisfied.' 
 
 ' Satisfied ! ' said Hester, indignantly.
 
 MISSING ' 341 
 
 1 1 mean with what she is doing with her way 
 of living.' 
 
 There was silence. But presently there was a 
 stifled sob in the darkness ; and Hester knew that 
 Nelly was thinking of those irrecoverable weeks of 
 which Bridget's cruelty had robbed her. 
 
 Then presently bed-time came, and Hester saw her 
 guest to her room. But a little while after, as she was 
 standing by her own window she heard the garden 
 door open and perceived a small figure slipping down 
 over the lawn a shadow among shadows towards the 
 path along the lake. And she guessed of course that 
 Nelly had gone out to take a last look at the scene of 
 her lost happiness, before her departure on the morrow. 
 Only twenty-two with all her life before her if 
 she lived ! 
 
 Of course, the probability was that she would live 
 and gradually forget and in process of time marry 
 William Farrell. But Hester could not be at all sure 
 that the story would so work out. Supposing that 
 the passion of philanthropy, or the passion of religion, 
 fastened upon her on the girlish nature that had 
 proved itself with time to be of so much finer and rarer 
 temper than those about her had ever suspected ? 
 Both passions are absorbing ; both tend to blunt in 
 many women the natural instinct of the woman towards 
 the man. Moreover, Nelly had been an old-fashioned, 
 simple girl, brought up in a backwater of life. Now 
 she was being drawn through her nursing, and her 
 independence, into that world of the new woman 
 where are women policemen, women engineers, women 
 in khaki, women in overalls and breeches, and 
 many other strange types; The war has shown 
 us suddenly and marvellously the adaptability of
 
 342 ' MISSING ' 
 
 women. Would little Nelly, too, prove as plastic as 
 the rest, and in the excitement of meeting now demands, 
 and reaching out to new powers, forget the old needs 
 and sweetnesses ? 
 
 It might bo so ; but in her heart of hearts, Hester 
 did not believe it would bo so. 
 
 Meanwhile Nolly was wandering through the May 
 dusk along the lake. She walked through flowers. 
 The scents of a rich earth were in the air ; daylight 
 lingered, but a full and golden moon hung over Lough- 
 rigg to the south ; and the tranced water of the lake 
 was marvellously giving back the beauty amid which it 
 lay form, and colour, and distance and all the magic 
 of the hour between day and night. There was no 
 boat, alack, to take her to the island ; but there it 
 lay, dreaming on the silver water, with a great haw- 
 thorn in full flower shewing white upon its rocky side. 
 She made her way to the point nearest to the island, 
 and there sat down on a stone at the water's edge. 
 
 Opposite to her was the spot where she and George 
 had drifted with the water on their last night together. 
 If she shut her eyes she could see his sunburnt face, 
 blanched by the moonlight, his strong shoulders, his 
 hands which she had kissed lying on the oars. And 
 mingling with the vision was that other of a grey, 
 dying face, a torn and broken body. 
 
 Her heart was full of intensest love and yearning ; 
 but the love was no longer a torment. She knew now 
 that if she had been able to tell George everything, ho 
 would never have condemned her ; he would only 
 have opened his arms and comforted her. 
 
 She was wrapped in a mystical sense of communion 
 with him, as she sat dreaming there. But in such a 
 cairn and exaltation of spirit, that there was ample
 
 1 MISSING ' 343 
 
 room besides in her mind for the thought of William 
 Farrell her friend. Her most faithful and chivalrous 
 friend ! She thought of Farrell's altered aspect, 
 of the signs of a great task laid upon him, straining 
 even his broad back. And then, of his loneliness. 
 Cicely was gone his ' little friend ' was gone. 
 
 What could she still do for him ? It seemed to her 
 that even while George stood spiritually beside her, 
 in this scene of their love, he was bidding her think 
 kindly and gratafully of the man whom he had blessed 
 in dying the man who, in loving her, had meant him 
 no harm. 
 
 Her mind formed no precise image of the future. 
 She was incapable, indeed, as yet, of forming any that 
 would have disturbed that intimate life with George 
 which was the present fruit in her of remorseful love 
 and pity. The spring shores of Eydal, the meadows 
 steeping their flowery grasses in the water, the new 
 leaf, the up-curling fern, breathed in her unconscious 
 ears their message of re-birth. But she knew only 
 that she was uplifted, strengthened to endure and 
 serve. 
 
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