THE TYRANT
 
 THE TYRANT 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. HENRY DE LA PASTURE 
 
 Author of 
 
 1 Peter's Mother," " Deborah of Tod's," " The Lonely Lady of Grosvenor 
 Square," " Catherine's Child," etc., etc. 
 
 O Richard, 6 man rot, 
 L'univers fabandonne! 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 E P BUTTON & COMPANY 
 31 West Twenty-Third Street
 
 Copyright, 1909 
 BY E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR i 
 
 II ANNIE AMONG THE PRIMROSES 25 
 
 III THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 41 
 
 IV THE GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE .... 61 
 
 V THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 81 
 
 VI THE GOD IN THE CAR 101 
 
 VII RICHARD AT HOME 118 
 
 VIII ANNIE IN THE HOSPITAL 133 
 
 IX RICHARD IN LONDON 147 
 
 X THE DEED IN THE Box 164 
 
 XI MR. TURLEY IN His OFFICE 186 
 
 XII ANNETTE IN LONDON 202 
 
 XIII SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 223 
 
 XIV ANNIE IN PARADISE 239 
 
 XV MRS. EYEWATER ON THE WATCH 257 
 
 XVI MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 275 
 
 XVII CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 295 
 
 XVIII COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 316 
 
 XIX CORNEY WITH THE LETTER 334 
 
 XX THE DAY OF RECKONING 345 
 
 XXI THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 363
 
 THE TYRANT
 
 THE TYRANT 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 
 
 THE village of Llanon, though containing scarcely a 
 hundred inhabitants, formed a little world complete 
 in itself. 
 
 It lay cradled among the hills of the Welsh bor- 
 derland; the situation was sheltered and the water 
 supply all that could be desired; sometimes more than 
 could be desired, for in autumn and winter the clouds 
 often floated below the level of the hill-tops, and 
 shrouded the dripping woods that clothed the hill- 
 sides; the rain was incessant, and the mountain 
 streams swelled into torrents, while the mountain 
 lanes became merely channels which served to con- 
 vey the overflowing waters to the river in the valley 
 below. 
 
 But Llanon lay facing the south, so that it received 
 also a full share of the sunshine which blesses the 
 mild climate of the west; and if the rainfall were ex- 
 cessive, yet it increased the fertility of the soil and 
 promoted the rapid growth of timber. The inhabit- 
 ants were seldom heard to complain of it. 
 
 I
 
 2 THE TYRANT 
 
 The village was old and picturesque. Time 
 seemed to have passed it by. It looked down dis- 
 dainfully upon the railways and the traffic of the 
 lower levels. 
 
 Automobiles occasionally surprised it by climbing 
 the hills, but the narrow winding rocky roads were 
 not tempting to drivers, and there was little of inter- 
 est to be seen in Llanon by the undiscerning tourist, 
 though much to be observed by the antiquarian. 
 
 The guide books mentioned the old church of St. 
 Nevyn and the wishing well of St. Gwynnws, where 
 the mutilated and time-worn image of the saint still 
 occupied her niche beneath a stone archway above a 
 bubbling spring, but the latter was private property, 
 standing within the grounds of Nantgwilt Manor, 
 where had dwelt for many successive generations the 
 ancient family of Kemys. The guide books also 
 pointed out a cromlech just outside the village; and 
 upon an eminence in the Nantgwilt woods a large 
 British encampment; but the inhabitants thought 
 more of the lilies of the valley which grew over 
 these remains of antiquity, and which were to be 
 gathered in thousands when anyone chose to go a- 
 Maying there, than of what lay beneath them. 
 
 The great churchyard formed a level plateau, and 
 the little village, built on two sides of the square, 
 a humble collection of uneven stone-tiled roofs and 
 sloping gardens, looked the more insignificant be- 
 cause the square embattled church tower dating from 
 the 1 4th century was so imposing.
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 3 
 
 The main street consisted of a single row of cot- 
 tages and almshouses facing the churchyard wall, 
 and ending in the circular sweep before the Manor 
 House, which opened directly upon the road. 
 
 At right angles to the almshouses stood a line of 
 shops, and the Kemys Arms; with a wedged in resi- 
 dence of gentility known as the Red House. 
 
 The shops consisted of three general utility or 
 grocery stores, including the post-office. All three 
 stocked exactly the same class of goods, and dis- 
 played the same medley of cheap sweets, balls of 
 twine, coloured advertisements, fly-blown raisins, and 
 boxes of starch in their small dim windows. The 
 three shop keepers, ignoring the possibilities of com- 
 petition, serenely borrowed from each other when 
 demand exceeded supply; or bade their customers 
 wait until fresh goods were due to arrive in the usual 
 course of events. 
 
 Next the post-office came a smithy and a wheel- 
 wright's, and there the business houses of Llanon 
 ended; for the baker lived in an adjacent village, and 
 called twice a week upon the few inhabitants who did 
 not bake their own bread, and the butcher sent meat 
 on Fridays from the town of Llysdinam nearly seven 
 miles distant. No one dreamt of buying fruit, other 
 than oranges and lemons, since fruit in its season was 
 plentiful in Llanon, and the apple supply lasted from 
 July to April. 
 
 The Rectory hid itself modestly behind the aims- 
 houses, and its windows overlooked a portion of the
 
 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 gardens of Nantgwilt, although a narrow lane di- 
 vided the respective properties of squire and parson. 
 
 The Manor House turned its dark front upon the 
 churchyard; and the home-farm with its great barn 
 and low outbuildings, stretched across the far side of 
 the square, and met the walled-in domain where 
 dwelt old Mrs. Kemys, the mother of the present 
 lord of the manor. In this thatched ornamental cot- 
 tage she spent her days in great comfort and seclu- 
 sion, retired from the cares and worries which had 
 beset her during her reign over the great house; yet 
 able to keep an attentive watch upon the doings of 
 her successor. 
 
 Old Mrs. Kemys was liked but feared, in the vil- 
 lage, whereas young Mrs. Kemys, though liked even 
 better, was certainly not feared; and the respect she 
 inspired was mingled with the pity which to vulgar 
 minds is akin to contempt. 
 
 " Can't call her soul her own, poor thing," said 
 Mrs. Prickard, of the post-office. 
 
 "Well, she brought nothing into the family; the 
 poor old colonel, her pa, had nought but his pension 
 what died with him. What can you expect? It's 
 all the squire's, and he lets her know it. I don't 
 blame him," said Job Evanson, who was an inde- 
 pendent thatcher living at Llanon, but in great re- 
 quest all over the neighbourhood, where his art, as 
 he said himself, was dying out.
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 5 
 
 " Ah, like sides with like. You're a bit inclined 
 to be masterful yourself, Mr. Evanson," said Mrs. 
 Beddoe, a mild widow who took in washing, and 
 lived next door to the thatcher and his wife. Mrs. 
 Evanson was not one of those, she often remarked, 
 who were fond of making mysteries, and conse- 
 quently all her affairs were intimately known to her 
 neighbours. 
 
 " I know I'm masterful. I always was a bit in- 
 clined that way," said Mr. Evanson, with satisfac- 
 tion. " My opinion is that a man as is a man should 
 let people know it. Then he don't get imposed upon, 
 not by his wife nor by nobody else." 
 
 " I don't hold with extremes," said Mrs. Beddoe. 
 " My pore husband used to say * Live and let live,' 
 and we never had a word that I can remember. I 
 wish I'd ever come across another like him, and I'd 
 'a got married again." 
 
 " While there's life, there's hope, mum," said Mr. 
 Evanson, winking at Mrs. Prickard. 
 
 "No, I've left it too late," said Mrs. Beddoe, 
 thoughtfully. " That's what conies of living in 
 Llanon, year in, year out. The choice is so limited. 
 Never anyone new coming along." 
 
 " Ah well," said Mrs. Prickard, " we're never tired 
 of abusing Llanon, but all I can say is, I never go 
 down to Llysdinam but what I'm thankful to come up 
 home again, for all one hears of the gaieties of town 
 life. What else was you asking for, Mrs. Beddoe?
 
 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 Reckitt's blue ? I know I have a boxful somewheres. 
 There, I dumped down the new parcel of picture 
 postcards on the top and missed it." 
 
 Two little boys came into the shop. Flaxen- 
 haired, blue-eyed, in sailor jerseys, darned and re- 
 darned, and serge knickerbockers grown too tight 
 and displaying legs golden with sunburn. 
 
 The elder and broader was sturdy and healthy, 
 with a dimple set at the corner of a wide humorous 
 mouth ; the younger was shy and delicate. 
 
 " Master Corney, I declare," said Mrs. Prickard, 
 in a kind voice. " Now what do you be wanting this 
 morning, sir, out so early? And Master Manuel." 
 
 They wanted a pennyworth of bulls-eyes, and hav- 
 ing executed their commission, made themselves as 
 scarce as possible; looking first to the right and then 
 to the left, as though fearful of being caught, and 
 then racing down the road towards the Manor 
 House. 
 
 " I'd be ashamed to let my boys go about so 
 shabby," said Mrs. Prickard, looking after them 
 compassionately. " Did you see their socks, Mrs. 
 Beddoe?" 
 
 " I've seen them often enough," said Mrs. Bed- 
 doe. " Falls to pieces in the wash they do. So does 
 all their things. Sometimes I don't know how to 
 face Mrs. Sharman up to the Manor House, when I 
 take the washing home." 
 
 " Ah, poor thing, she must feel the pinch of
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR ^ 
 
 poverty, having seen better days when she was house- 
 keeper to the old man." 
 
 " Better days ! 'Tis my belief Squire Kemys has 
 more money than he knows what to do with. And 
 I've got good authority for saying so," said Mr. 
 Evanson, striking the counter. " If he don't choose 
 to lay it out on the backs of little boys, I don't blame 
 him, as I said before." 
 
 " If that be so, and I've heard it said till I'm bound 
 to believe there's something in it why he's no bet- 
 ter than a skinflint miser with the state all them cot- 
 tages out to the Glyn be in," said Mrs. Prickard, 
 contemptuously, " and I'm sorry for madam. She's 
 had a hard time, poor thing, and everyone knows it." 
 
 " A pretty girl she was in the old days, time she 
 lived in the Red House, with her pa, but her spirit's 
 broke," said Job Evanson. " I don't know what the 
 old colonel would say if he could see her now. He 
 was another sort to Squire Kemys, and I shan't never 
 forget him for one." 
 
 They were all silent, for everyone present remem- 
 bered the old days of which the thatcher spoke ; and 
 everyone present had kindly memories of the gentle 
 old soldier who had once been a familiar figure in 
 the village street, walking erect and cheerful, with 
 his pretty daughter clinging to his arm. 
 
 Colonel Myllon had been laid to rest beside his 
 wife in the square churchyard twenty years ago, but 
 the very sound of his name had a softening effect
 
 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 upon those inhabitants of Llanon whom he had 
 counted among his friends. 
 
 " I'll bid you good morning, Mrs. Prickard; 'tis 
 time I got back home again," said Mrs. Beddoe, in 
 subdued tones ; and with her departure the conversa- 
 tion flagged. 
 
 Stone-tiled and ivy-clad the front of the Manor 
 House presented a sombre and melancholy aspect. 
 The entrance faced the village street, and the win- 
 dows of the left wing, heavily overshadowed by trees, 
 looked across a narrow lane into the Rectory kitchen 
 garden: and on the right, upon the ancient tomb- 
 stones and aged yews of the churchyard. 
 
 The brightness of the other side of the house there- 
 fore took strangers by surprise. 
 
 Here the long low rooms, panelled with oak, and 
 rich with curiously wrought cornices and ceilings, 
 looked out upon a gay and charming garden, where 
 bright flower beds and old lawns gave place to finely 
 timbered meadow lands, bounded in their turn by 
 woods, which sloped downwards into the very heart 
 of the valley. 
 
 A grove of ilex sheltered the lawn on the west, and 
 a path through this grove, so deeply shaded as to be 
 almost a tunnel, led to the kitchen garden. 
 
 The wide lawn before the house was cut into old- 
 fashioned shapes of diamonds and hearts and circles, 
 now glowing with wall-flowers of every hue, from 
 deep red velvet to palest gold.
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 9 
 
 Crimson faced daisies edged the borders, and the 
 periwinkles, opening their eyes upon the spring world, 
 peeped over a rockery like little mirrors reflecting the 
 hue of the cloudless April sky. 
 
 The breath of the east wind was hushed to still- 
 ness; the sunshine lay calmly upon the tree-tops and 
 the distant hills. 
 
 In the center of the lawn a magnificent cedar 
 spread its level branches, forming an almost im- 
 penetrable shelter. At the foot of its mighty twisted 
 trunk a little rustic bench waited humbly. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys came slowly down the oak staircase, 
 passed the tall blue jars of pot-pourri on either side 
 of the open doorway, and crossed the lawn to her 
 favourite seat. 
 
 The setting was romantic, but there was nothing 
 romantic in her appearance. 
 
 She was about forty years old, though she looked 
 considerably older. * 
 
 Her face was careworn and colourless; her thin 
 hair parted above her brow was of that nondescript 
 tint which is the intermediate between gold and grey. 
 
 An anxious doubting spirit looked pathetically 
 from faded blue eyes; but the features were regular 
 and the face of a delicate oval shape, though the 
 cheeks and temples were so thin as to present almost 
 a sunken appearance. 
 
 Her dress was of the kind, which in a time 
 gone by would have been called ladylike, because un- 
 noticeable. It was of a flimsy black stuff dignified
 
 io THE TYRANT 
 
 with silk trimmings, and obviously the creation of a 
 provincial or village dressmaker. She wore as her 
 sole ornament an old-fashioned pearl brooch con- 
 taining her father's and mother's hair : the white and 
 the brown entwined. It fastened a narrow collar 
 of old lace. 
 
 Yet dowdy, shabby, faded as she was, she bore 
 herself with the unconscious quiet dignity of good 
 breeding; and in spite of her slight stoop and thin- 
 ness, there was something of grace in her movements. 
 
 She seated herself beneath the cedar, put her work- 
 basket, no pretty toy, but a solid receptacle for 
 mending, upon the rustic table before her, and de- 
 voted her attention to darning prosaic black hose. 
 
 She was not perhaps, insensible to the beauty 
 around her, but she was too much engrossed with her 
 own reflections to heed it consciously. Sewing does 
 not hinder, but rather encourages thought; and the 
 rhythm of the needle can form a pleasant accompani- 
 ment to the wordless song of memory or anticipa- 
 tion. 
 
 Between the two her reflections hovered, rather 
 than fix themselves upon the present, from which her 
 mind perhaps, welcomed the escape. 
 
 Annette Kemys, whose spirit the thatcher believed 
 to be broken, was by nature of a sanguine disposi- 
 tion: the doubts and fears, engendered by the daily 
 worries of a life which circumstances had not ren- 
 dered an easy one, were apt to be dispersed with
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR n 
 
 almost surprising facility under favourable condi- 
 tions. 
 
 Just now the conditions were favourable : the 
 monthly bills had been settled; her husband had 
 been unusually good-tempered at breakfast: her 
 children, so far as she knew, were all well; the sun 
 was shining, and the spirit of spring, joy-compelling, 
 was in the air. The lines on the white face relaxed, 
 and the light blue eyes, bent upon the task in hand, 
 grew tender and introspective. 
 
 A house-mother, however, is seldom permitted to 
 taste the soothing influence of solitude. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys worked for half an hour undisturbed ; 
 and then the sound of young voices preceded the 
 appearance of a little procession which issued from 
 the dark doorway, curtained with white clematis, 
 of the south front, into the brilliance of the morn- 
 ing sunshine. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys looked up and a faint smile dawned in 
 her tired eyes, and played about the delicately shaped 
 mouth: a smile instinct with those mingled feelings 
 of tenderness, pride and amusement, with which a 
 mother looks upon her children; above all upon her 
 children growing up. 
 
 Annie led the little procession as was her wont. 
 Tall and gracious, in the first careless loveliness of 
 maidenhood, she was so pretty that the shabbiness of 
 her washed-out pink cotton frock and the mended 
 brim of her coarse straw hat mattered nothing at all,
 
 la THE TYRANT 
 
 if she had but known it. But she did not know it, 
 and her soul was mortified within her whenever she 
 remembered the deficiencies of her attire. 
 
 A glance at Annie revealed her mother's past 
 beauty; a glance at her mother betrayed the possi- 
 bilities of Annie's future. 
 
 The little boys, Corney and Manuel, held on to 
 their sister, and danced round her, and were alter- 
 nately petted and pushed away according to her mood 
 and fancy, without conscious intention on one side or 
 the slightest resentment on the other. And Sophy 
 followed behind, which was also characteristic of 
 Sophy, and an equally unconscious manifestation of 
 her attitude towards her elder sister. Sophy fol- 
 lowed carrying some empty baskets and grumbling. 
 She always grumbled, but nevertheless she always 
 found herself carrying the baskets. A fair skin, light 
 blue eyes, abundant flaxen hair and a retrousse nose, 
 were Sophy's portion. She was not so tall as Annie, 
 and her piquant prettiness was of small account be- 
 side that frank loveliness. 
 
 She had a trim little figure and wore a blue cotton 
 gown. Sophy preferred pink, but Annie said it was 
 absurd for sisters to dress alike, so Sophy, protest- 
 ing, wore blue, and failed to observe that it became 
 her better than rose-colour. 
 
 " We are going to the woods to get primroses, 
 mother." 
 
 " My dears, the little boys haven't said their les- 
 sons " in reproving indulgent tones.
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 13 
 
 " If you'll hear them now, Mamma, they could 
 come with us," said Annie, coaxingly; and one or two 
 shabby lesson books were produced timidly by the 
 small students. 
 
 Seven year old Corney said his column of spelling 
 without a mistake, and standing beside his mother 
 with a sturdy pointed elbow digging into her thin 
 shoulder, he looked over the book and audibly 
 prompted his little brother. 
 
 She shook her head, but allowed the strong sun- 
 burnt little hand to close the book and hand up an- 
 other tattered volume. 
 
 Little Manuel's alarmed eyes never left his broth- 
 er's face as he stumbled over his multiplication table, 
 but with the help of nods and frowns from Corney 
 and his mother's indulgence, he managed to get 
 through his lesson, and the two little boys were re- 
 leased, and flew round the lawn, shrieking joy- 
 fully. 
 
 " Don't let Manuel get his feet wet." 
 
 " Mamma, you say that automatically whatever 
 the weather is. As if we should, when we know what 
 a to-do there is if he catches the commonest cold." 
 
 The little girl who was Manuel's twin sister had 
 died of consumption, and Mrs. Kemys sighed. 
 
 " My dear, he is so delicate." 
 
 Annie reproved Manuel with elder sisterly can? 
 dour as the child returned panting to the cedar, with 
 his face flushed and his great eyes shining. 
 
 " Don't go overheating yourself, to begin with,
 
 i 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 you little donkey," she said, first shaking and then 
 hugging him. 
 
 They went away across the sunny lawn, Corney 
 running back to kiss his mother with the honest 
 warmth which his kind little heart dictated. He em- 
 braced her with the natural roughness of extreme 
 youth which he shared with the boisterous puppy 
 gambolling at his heels, and the white-faced Here- 
 ford calf buffeting its grave parent in the meadow 
 beyond the garden paling. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys settled her ruffled hair and collar 
 placidly, and returned to her work with a sigh of 
 content. 
 
 After all, life held many pleasant hours. 
 
 The little boys her face softened at the familiar 
 term, which was, to her, a term of endearment in, 
 itself the little boys were so merry and affectionate 
 and so fond of each other. There was no quarrel- 
 ling between them as there had been always between 
 Rodric and Courtenay, her elder sons. But those 
 two had been on even terms, whereas Corney, young 
 as he was, would have scorned to squabble with such 
 a poor little weakling as Manuel. 
 
 Perhaps she had been imprudent to let Manuel go 
 into the woods in the wet moss but his boots were 
 thick; the nailed clodhopping boots of the little 
 country lad ; and Annie would take care of him. She 
 was always good to the little boys. 
 
 Her pretty Annie again the smile stole about the
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 15 
 
 mother's lips, and irradiated the faded face bent over 
 the mending basket. 
 
 " Annette, where are you? " 
 
 " I am here, Richard, under the cedar. Do you 
 want me? I'll come." 
 
 " No, stay where you are. I'll come out." 
 
 Richard Kemys strode across the lawn with a 
 packet of letters in his hand, and the London news- 
 papers, which had just arrived, in a bundle under his 
 arm. 
 
 He was a big broad-shouldered powerfully built 
 man, in his fiftieth year ; he was inclined to stoutness, 
 and the thick hair pushed off his frowning brow, was 
 iron-grey. 
 
 His bearing was characterized by an indefinable 
 suggestion of aggressiveness. His deep-coloured 
 blue eyes were choleric, twinkling angrily beneath 
 eyebrows that met across the bridge of his nose. His 
 ruddy face was clean-shaven, and his features, though 
 large, were undeniably handsome; but the jaw was 
 too heavy, and the corners of the mouth turned 
 down. 
 
 " Sewing as usual. Aren't there maids enough 
 about, eating their heads off, that you must be always 
 wrapped up in your stitching whenever I want you," 
 he said, pulling forward a garden chair and seating 
 himself with unnecessary force. " Where are those 
 idle girls, gadding off as usual? "
 
 16 THE TYRANT 
 
 " It is such a beautiful morning," said his wife, dep- 
 recatingly. " I gave them leave to go primrosing. 
 Annie wanted to fill the drawing-room vases this 
 morning, and you know you do not like the garden 
 flowers to be gathered." 
 
 Richard Kemys looked sharply round at the well- 
 filled flower beds and his frown relaxed slightly. He 
 had a weakness for his garden. 
 
 " I should think she might find something better 
 to do than go primrosing at her age," he grumbled. 
 
 " Oh Richard. What is the child to do? now that 
 she is eighteen and her lessons done with. It is not 
 so easy to find a great deal to do for a girl at home. 
 We may be thankful she enjoys such innocent pleas- 
 ures, which cost nothing," said Mrs. Kemys, sigh- 
 ing. 
 
 " If she busied herself with sensible work she 
 could save the keep of a servant, I suppose? But no, 
 she and her sister must sit with their hands in their 
 laps, to be waited upon," he said roughly. 
 
 " They took the little boys for their walk. Shar- 
 man is always busy on Monday morning and glad to 
 get them out of her way." 
 
 " Does it need two strapping young females to 
 take a couple of shavers like that for a walk? " said 
 Mr. Kemys, with an angry laugh. " Why should 
 they want to go for a walk? Isn't the garden good 
 enough for them to play in? Or the stableyard? 
 It was good enough for my brothers and me at that 
 age, I can tell you."
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 17 
 
 " I daresay it isn't exactly necessary," said the poor 
 lady, " but they are always so happy running after 
 Annie. You said you wanted me, Richard? " 
 
 "Of course you turn the conversation, you always 
 do if I say a word about the children," he said, with 
 heavy displeasure. " But I've come to talk about 
 them for all that, at least about one of them." 
 
 She dropped her work, upon which her eyes had 
 been steadily fastened, and looked anxiously at the 
 lowering face opposite her. Mr. Kemys laid his pa- 
 pers, with the bundle of letters uppermost, upon the 
 rustic table. 
 
 " Is is there anything wrong with the boys?" 
 she faltered. 
 
 " Aye, you are interested enough now," he said, 
 with that angry laugh which jarred upon her every 
 nerve, and which was the form of merriment to which 
 Richard Kemys was addicted when things went 
 wrong. 
 
 The woman who had been his devoted wife for 
 two and twenty years, who had borne him seven chil- 
 dren, and who knew every intonation of his voice and 
 every expression of his face, was uneasy now as she 
 looked and listened. 
 
 " Is it Courtenay or or Rodric? " she asked 
 nervously. 
 
 " We all know that Courtenay can do no wrong," 
 he said, evidently willing to trifle with her suspense 
 by indulging a heavy satire intended for playfulness. 
 " Courtenay is the model boy; the martyr who was
 
 1 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 sent to a cheap provincial school and revenged him- 
 self by winning all the scholarships, and going up to 
 idle away the best years of his life at Oxford, instead 
 of working as his father did before him. You 
 wouldn't believe anything bad of Courtenay even if 
 I told you." 
 
 Mr. Kemys was under the erroneous impression 
 that Courtenay was his mother's favourite son, but 
 she cherished that secret preference for her first-born 
 which is common to many women, and was only 
 thankful that the weakness had been so successfully 
 hidden in her heart. 
 
 " Perhaps Roddy would be the more likely to get 
 into a scrape of the two," she said guardedly, " but 
 I do not think either of them particularly inclined 
 to get into scrapes, for if Courtenay is the more con- 
 scientious in little things, Roddy has the most com- 
 mon sense, and he would not do anything he believed 
 dishonourable or unworthy for the whole world, poor 
 boy." 
 
 The poor lady knew that her sons were not perfect, 
 that they quarrelled only too often with each other, 
 and were sometimes as impatient of her gentle rule as 
 of their father's harshness. But she looked into her 
 own heart, and found it full of imperfections, and 
 thought also, in spite of herself, of their father's 
 faults. How could she expect perfection from their 
 children? 
 
 ' The poor boy, as you call him," said Mr. Kemys, 
 allowing his anger full play at last, " has had the
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 19 
 
 impudence to write and ask me to approve of his 
 leaving Jacobs & Bernstein's office, and to give him 
 some capital to play with into the bargain. Him 
 some capital ! He would be satisfied, he says very 
 kindly, with a thousand pounds, if I can't spare more. 
 // / can't spare more! He wishes, it appears, to go 
 off to the Argentine and seek his fortune with Jack 
 Meredydd and one or two other young fools. And 
 he has the further impudence to remind me that he 
 came of age last week, and that he only consented 
 to work in the office until he was entitled to his in- 
 dependence. I'll show him what his independence 
 means. Nantgwilt's no longer entailed, and I'd 
 rather leave it to Corney any day than to Rodric, 
 with his confounded cheek and airs of knowing some- 
 thing about the farm and the management of the es- 
 tate; or to his priggish bookworm of a brother 
 either." 
 
 " I'm sorry Roddy said anything about his coming 
 of age, but boys don't always think what is wisest. 
 He is impulsive, but I'm certain he meant no impu- 
 dence," said Mrs. Kemys, taking up her work with 
 trembling hands. " But so long as he's not got into 
 any trouble I was afraid " 
 
 "What were you afraid of? You are always 
 afraid of something. One would think a woman of 
 your age had got over such timidity. The fact is you 
 know lots of their misdoings which you take care to 
 hide from me, and are alarmed lest I should find 
 you out."
 
 20 THE TYRANT 
 
 " I know I am always afraid of something. It is 
 foolish of me," she said, trying to smile, " though it 
 is certainly not of their misdoings, as you call it. 
 But when one has two sons out in the world " 
 
 " Out in the world ! The one psalm-singing at 
 Oxford, and the other nailed to his desk in the city," 
 said Mr. Kemys, derisively. "And there he shall 
 stop, mind that, for all the help he'll get from me." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't make up your mind to that 
 without hearing what the boy has to say, Richard," 
 she said, pleadingly. " Be fair to him, even if 
 sometimes I almost think " 
 
 " Well why don't you end your sentence ? You 
 have a maddening way of stopping short in the 
 middle." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but it seemed a monstrous 
 thing to say," she faltered, colouring. " I have felt 
 at times that since poor Roddy grew up you have al- 
 most disliked him." 
 
 " When a boy grows up to be everything you dis- 
 approve of most, you can't be expected to like him 
 particularly," said Mr. Kemys. " What's he done 
 to make me like him? " 
 
 " He's been a good boy, Richard," she said sim- 
 ply. " Of course I know he didn't do as well at 
 school as Courtenay, but it's not in everybody's power 
 to get scholarships. And he was good at games." 
 
 " Good at games ! " repeated her husband, in scorn 
 unspeakable. 
 
 " I daresay he neglected his lessons a little," she
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 21 
 
 went on, with unusual persistence, " being captain of 
 his cricket eleven, and so forth; but all the same it 
 was a great blow to him when you took him away 
 from school and set your face against his going into 
 the army. It was very hard for him to give in. 
 And he's been wonderfully steady at the office work. 
 Three years is a long time, Richard, for a boy of his 
 age. You know how much he hates it." 
 
 " Why should he hate it? That's what I want to 
 know. I didn't hate office work," cried Mr. Kemys. 
 
 " How can I tell why ? We're all different. I 
 daresay he hasn't your ability for business. You 
 know I have none whatever. He may have taken 
 after me. But going out to one of these new coun- 
 tries cattle ranching it's just been the dream of 
 his life to do that if he couldn't become a soldier. 
 And as for the thousand pounds, why, dear Richard, 
 think how often you've told us all of your oppor- 
 tunity to start yourself in life, and how it came with 
 the legacy your godmother left you. Isn't it natural 
 that Roddy should want his chance too, to make a 
 fortune? " 
 
 " Who told you I made a fortune? " growled Mr. 
 Kemys. " He won't get a thousand pounds out of 
 me to go to the dogs with, nor yet a thousand pence. 
 It's sticking to work that makes fortunes, not going 
 on wild goose chases to the other end of the world." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 " The young blackguard has written to you too, 
 apparently," said Mr. Kemys, and he sorted the bun-
 
 22 THE TYRANT 
 
 die before him, and handed her a letter with a grudg- 
 ing air. 
 
 The post-bag came to Nantgwilt soon after break- 
 fast, and the master of the house unlocked it, and 
 gave forth the contents to the household at his own 
 will and pleasure. 
 
 If he were otherwise occupied it might lie for an 
 hour or more unopened upon the hall table. No one 
 else dared to touch it, nor to unfold the newspapers 
 which were taken instantly to his study. 
 
 He communicated what news he chose to the as- 
 sembled family at luncheon, where he could also thun- 
 der forth his own political opinions in the pleasing 
 certainty that he would not be contradicted, whether 
 he elected to condemn the Government, or abuse the 
 tactics of the opposition. His eloquence flowed 
 more easily in the direction of censure than of praise. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys was obliged to open her son's letter 
 in the presence of her lord, but Rodric had known 
 that she would probably be obliged to do so, and she 
 knew that he knew, so that she opened it without any 
 qualms. 
 
 Under the circumstances, however, it proved to be 
 a trifle more outspoken than usual, even for Rodric, 
 who dealt in frankness. 
 
 " Mother, dear," the boy wrote, " I shall be with 
 you before long now, for Easter, but before I come, 
 try and make my father understand that I'm in earn- 
 est about going to the Argentine. I've written him
 
 ANNETTE UNDER THE CEDAR 23 
 
 all the details, and reminded him that I always said 
 I wouldn't go on with my office work after I was one 
 and twenty. I've ornamented a three-legged stool 
 for three solid years to please him and I like it no 
 better now than I did at the start, but sticking it out 
 like that ought to show the governor I've got the stuff 
 in me. The old josser here finds fault now and then, 
 of course, just to keep his hand in, but there's never 
 been a real complaint. Remind Papa how my edu- 
 cation was cut short and how I wasn't allowed even 
 to try for the army. That was hard enough to bear, 
 though I'm willing to admit I mightn't have got 
 through with the exams. It takes a bookish fellow 
 like Courtenay, who'd hate practical soldiering, to get 
 into the army nowadays. But what's the good of 
 being a man, mother dear, if one can't follow one's 
 bent. You see how calmly and reasonably I'm writ- 
 ing, not impetuously, for once, am I ? 
 
 "If my father would give me the money I ask 
 for he'd never repent it. I swear he wouldn't. 
 
 " We've planned it all out very carefully. There 
 are five of us in it, including Jack Meredydd. His 
 uncle, John Meredydd, who used to be in old 
 Turley's office in Llysdinam once, has been out there 
 for years, and has a great estanda in Santa Fe. He 
 will stand in with us, and help us to start for our- 
 selves. It's too long to write about. Now you see 
 why I've been so keen over learning Spanish. It's 
 not a bit of use to hope to get on without it, I'm 
 told, and I've a pretty useful smattering now. EacK
 
 24 THE TYRANT 
 
 of the fellows in our trusty little syndicate has got 
 something, and it would be bitter hard luck upon me, 
 that am the only eldest son in the bunch, if my father 
 won't spare me anything. 
 
 " But it won't stop my going, for I've got my heart 
 in it, and know more about it than the others, who are 
 cockneys, poor chaps, except Jack; but all as keen 
 as mustard. Do try and get Papa to see it from my 
 point of view, mother dear. 
 
 " Your affec. son, 
 
 " RODRIC KEMYS." 
 
 Very faintly in the extreme corner of the letter 
 were scribbled Go to Granny. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys was inured to the necessity for small 
 duplicities. When she handed the letter meekly 
 across to her waiting spouse, the corner of the paper 
 was torn off. 
 
 His comment was characteristic. 
 
 "An eldest son, is he? I'll show him whether 
 he's an eldest son or not," said Richard Kemys, with 
 a laugh.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ANNIE AMONG THE PRIMROSES 
 
 THE woods above Llanon were still brown, save for 
 the snow of the wild cherry and the pale emerald of 
 the larch. 
 
 Annie chose a mountain path that led upwards 
 through a coppice which had been thinned a year 
 earlier, so that the little party came out upon a com- 
 paratively open space, where only trees of a certain 
 age remained standing. 
 
 The graceful silver birch, tossing delicate feathery 
 sprays, faintly promising foliage to come; the 
 straight young oaks, and the smooth-stemmed 
 beech, stood out upon the cleared woodland 
 against the blue sky; and from a bed of moss and 
 dead leaves the primroses had sprung in their thou- 
 sands as though by magic; in glad response to the 
 call of the sunshine and the winds after many sea- 
 sons of darkness. 
 
 " Surely we have climbed far enough," said Sophy, 
 seating herself upon a stump, and eying the exquisite 
 spring carpet spread at her feet, with calm indiffer- 
 ence. " One could not wish for a better bird's eye 
 yiew of the village than one gets from here." 
 
 '* You have come to pick primroses, not to look
 
 2 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 at the village," said Annie, going down upon her 
 knees and setting to work. "Ah, don't tread on 
 their dear little faces, boys; they are so happy look- 
 ing up at the sun." 
 
 Corney ostentatiously tiptoed through the yellow 
 masses, and set to work industriously beside his sis- 
 ter; who with deft fingers tied the primroses into 
 bunches as she gathered and tossed them into the bas- 
 ket. But Sophy remained seated, looking down 
 upon the little world below which lay exposed to her 
 view. 
 
 " How plainly you can see into the garden of the 
 Red House from here. There are old Perina and 
 Cynthia Eyewater, poking about among their vege- 
 tables as usual. I should think they would get sick 
 of gardening from morning till night, with their old 
 faces hidden in their old sun-bonnets. I suppose 
 they are afraid of spoiling their complexions." 
 
 Annie laughed with the candid whole-hearted 
 amusement of the young girl who has never yet taken 
 thought for the preservation of her good looks, and 
 who believes that her beauty will last, though sur- 
 rounded by a hundred evidences to the contrary. 
 
 " Everybody seems out and about this morning," 
 said Sophy vivaciously; for though the primroses 
 did not interest her, the movements of her neighbours 
 did. 
 
 ' The spring is calling them," said Annie. 
 " Old Meredydd is trotting down the street in his 
 broad-brimmed hat. There is a dogcart coming
 
 27, 
 
 the doctor of course. I bet anything he'll stop and 
 speak. Yes, Dr. Harries is getting out. He's go- 
 ing to see old Mother Eyewater, though there's not 
 a thing the matter with her." 
 
 " When one is her age one is always more or less 
 ill, I suppose," said Annie, leniently. " And besides 
 it's the only chance poor old Perry and Cider have 
 of talking to a man." 
 
 "A man of fifty!" said Sophy, and they both 
 laughed. 
 
 " I daresay fifty doesn't seem so very old to 
 them" said the indulgent Annie. ' You are idle, 
 Sophy." 
 
 Sophy rose with a sigh and picked two or three 
 primroses, wandering a few steps further afield, and 
 altogether indifferent to the charming picture pre- 
 sented by her pretty sister, who knelt in the sunshine, 
 which played fitfully through the interlacing boughs 
 upon the pure transparent colour of her oval face; 
 though the brim of her straw hat cast a shadow over 
 her long-lashed eyes. 
 
 Sophy dawdled and gathered and presently 
 strolled round a curve in the slope which hid her al- 
 together. 
 
 A few moments later the sound of voices made 
 Annie look up from her all-absorbing task. Sophy 
 was returning in haste, and by her side was a young 
 man, a sturdy freckled young man, with kind grey 
 eyes, and a pleasant honest countenance. 
 
 The flush upon Annie's face deepened, but Annie
 
 2 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 blushed at everything or at nothing. She rose and 
 straightened her young limbs, cramped with kneel- 
 ing; and held out her hand, which was eagerly taken. 
 
 "I couldn't think who it was. I didn't know 
 you were home, Jack," with the calmness of an old 
 playmate. 
 
 " I only came late last night," said young Mere- 
 dydd, " and when I went over to the Manor House 
 this morning, old Pryse said you had gone prim- 
 rosing." 
 
 "A little further round the slope," said Sophy, 
 evincing scant interest in this explanation, " you can 
 see into our garden very plainly. Mamma is still 
 sitting under the cedar and Papa has taken out the 
 newspapers. He is waving them about like any- 
 thing. I expect they are having a row." 
 
 " They've got old Roddy's letter this morning," 
 said Jack. 
 
 " Rodric's letter ! What can he have written 
 about when he's coming home so soon? " said both 
 girls. They were interested immediately. 
 
 Then Annie gave a warning glance at the little 
 boys. " Go round the slope, Corney, and take Man- 
 uel with you, and see what Mamma is doing. But 
 don't come back till I call you." 
 
 Corney reluctantly removed himself and his 
 brother out of earshot. 
 
 "One must be careful before the children," said 
 Annie, with the dignity of eighteen. " Now, Jack."
 
 ANNIE AMONG THE PRIMROSES 29 
 
 ' Well, he said I might tell you," said young Mer- 
 edydd. " He's going to chuck the office." 
 
 " Of course, I knew he would do that as soon as 
 he was one and twenty," said Rodric's favourite sis- 
 ter, proudly. " He always meant to." 
 
 " But what will he do instead? " Sophy said, 
 round-eyed. 
 
 " Go out to the Argentine," said Annie. 
 
 "You knew!" 
 
 " I knew he would, sooner or later. Oh, Jack I 
 He hasn't gone without telling us? " 
 
 "No no. But he's written to tell them, and 
 he's given notice at the office burnt his boats." 
 
 " Oh, dear," said Sophy. " How unpleasant 
 luncheon will be to-day 1 " 
 
 " I hope he's doing wisely, but it's a long, long way 
 for him to go, poor Roddy, away from us all," said 
 Annie rather mournfully. 
 
 " I'm going with him," said young Meredydd, 
 modestly. 
 
 Her fair brow cleared. 
 
 " Then you'll be able to take care of him," she 
 said; but perceiving the mortified expression of his 
 open face, she added hastily, " we shall be very 
 sorry to lose you, too, Jack, of course." 
 
 " I wish I could think so," he said in a low voice; 
 with a quick glance that escaped even Sophy's lynx 
 eyes. 
 
 " It will be duller than ever when you've gone.
 
 3 o THE TYRANT 
 
 After all, you're the only young man in Llanon," said 
 Sophy. " We could pretend to dance at Christmas 
 with one young man to dance with besides the boys 
 now there'll be no one. Courtenay hates dancing, 
 and you'll be away." She looked from one to the 
 other in dismay. 
 
 "Our Christmas parties were always failures," 
 said Annie, consolingly. " They generally ended in 
 a row. Last year Papa boxed Corney's ears for up- 
 setting the snapdragon dish ; and sent me to bed, for 
 saying it was a shame." 
 Jack Meredydd grew red. 
 
 " You left in a huff, Jack, and very nice it was of 
 you to take my part," said Annie, warmly. 
 
 " I never heard of any one being sent to bed at 
 seventeen," he said, as though in excuse. 
 
 " Rodric said it would be his last Christmas at 
 home for many a long day," said Annie. " When 
 are you going, Jack? " 
 
 " As soon as possible after Easter." 
 " At least he will be here, and Courtenay too, for 
 Easter," said Annie. " That's something." 
 
 " Who'll pay Roddy's passage for I'm sure 
 Papa won't," said Sophy, who had a practical mind. 
 " I expect he's saved enough money for that; and 
 if he hasn't somebody's sure to lend it to him," said 
 young Meredydd, looking away. " There are five 
 of us going. We shall all stand by one another, you 
 may be sure. Of course Rodric hopes your father 
 will do something for him."
 
 " I should have thought he would have known 
 Papa better by this time," said Sophy, scornfully. 
 
 " After all, he's the eldest son," said Jack. 
 " Having come of age puts him, in a way, on a differ- 
 ent footing! " 
 
 Annie seated herself on a fallen log, and glanced 
 at Sophy, and the meaning of her glance was as clear 
 to her sister as though she had spoken the words, 
 Leave me alone with him, I shall get more out of him 
 by myself. 
 
 Sophy sauntered after the little boys. 
 
 Young Meredydd stood looking down upon the 
 maiden among the primroses. The washed-out 
 pink cotton gown betrayed every line of Annie's 
 pretty figure; and the sunshine searched the delicate 
 bloom of her face without revealing a single flaw. 
 
 " How kind of Sophy to go," he said, warmly. 
 " I wanted to see you alone, Annie. I hope she 
 won't come back." 
 
 " I made her a sign to go," said Annie, calmly. 
 "I wanted to ask you oh, Jack!" She leant 
 forward and looked up at him, clasping her hands. 
 " Rodric hasn't got into any trouble? " 
 
 " No, no," he hastened to reassure her. " Why 
 should you be always worrying about Rodric. He's 
 a splendid fellow and as steady as old Time in his 
 own way. Why should you think he's in trouble 
 just because he wants to get away from office-work 
 which doesn't suit him a bit? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. He's a boy," said Annie,
 
 32 THE TYRANT 
 
 sagely. " People always seem to expect boys to get 
 into trouble of one kind or another. That's why they 
 invented the excuse that Boys will be boys. No one 
 ever says Girls will be girls." 
 
 " One expects a girl to be more or less of an 
 angel," he said; and reddened as he stooped to 
 gather some white violets which he discerned hiding 
 in a clump of moss beside the log. He searched for 
 a wisp of dry grass to tie them together, making up a 
 tiny bunch very carefully. 
 
 " It is not a question of being angels," said Annie 
 simply. " It is just that we have more common 
 sense. We don't expect to get everything we want. 
 Jack, do you really think there's any chance of Papa's 
 giving Roddy money because he's come of age? " 
 
 " I think it will be an infernal shame if he doesn't," 
 said Jack, with the frankness of life-long intimacy. 
 " Rodric is heir to Nantgwilt, and everyone knows 
 what that's worth, more or less." 
 
 " I don't know," said Annie quickly. " Jack, I'm 
 grown-up now, and yet I don't know one single thing 
 about Papa's affairs. I don't believe poor Mamma 
 does, either. If anybody knows what Nantgwilt 
 is worth / might surely know. Why shouldn't you 
 tell me?" 
 
 " I only know what all the neighbourhood knows 
 vaguely," he said, reluctlantly. "I mean, of 
 course it's a big estate and very good land and 
 the farms are all very well let." 
 
 "Everything's let," said Annie, rather bitterly,
 
 ANNIE AMONG THE PRIMROSES 33 
 
 " and all the produce of the home-farm sold. 
 Mamma has trouble enough to get milk for the little 
 boys. Oh, Jack, what's the good of pretending with 
 you, whom we've known all our lives ? I've so often 
 wondered since I grew up whether Papa is really 
 so poor. Mamma says nothing, but you know how 
 things get into the air. Don't hide anything from 
 me." 
 
 " Indeed indeed I wouldn't. But I know 
 no more than Rodric and Courtenay and all of you 
 must know quite well. Of course your father has 
 has the reputation of being a very careful man." 
 
 " That means he's a miser." 
 
 He protested. 
 
 " But there are so many of us," she said, wistfully, 
 " and boys are expensive though girls cost so little. 
 Perhaps Papa is obliged to be careful." 
 
 Jack Meredydd could not tell her his opinion of 
 Richard Kemys. He was silent. 
 
 " I know the boys think all the pinching and screw- 
 ing unnecessary," she said, looking at him with ques- 
 tioning eyes. " Do you think so? " 
 
 Young Meredydd could not resist the look, though 
 he desired sincerely to change the subject. 
 
 "Yes, I do; since you ask me," he said, briefly. 
 " Of course I've no business to speak of your father's 
 affairs it would be beastly cheek on my part " 
 
 " But since I ask you? " said Annie, softly. 
 
 " Since you ask me," he said colouring, " Why 
 then the Nantgwilt estate must bring in two or
 
 34 THE TYRANT 
 
 three thousand a year at the very least if it brings 
 in a penny." 
 
 "Two or three thousand a year," said Annie, 
 
 under her breath. 
 
 " I should think three a very low estimate," said 
 Jack; now that he had fairly started he went reck- 
 lessly on to the finish. " No doubt there are the out- 
 goings but everyone says he was a rich man when 
 he succeeded your grandfather. Of course he may 
 have lost money in his business since." 
 
 "Lost money!" said Annie, quickly. "He has 
 boasted to us over and over again that since he started 
 life as a younger son with a thousand pounds pour 
 tout potage, he has never lost a halfpenny. But I 
 thought the estate perhaps swallowed up all he had 
 made. Jack if he's rich if he's even decently 
 well off, what a shame what a shame to have let 
 poor Mamma work and slave and pinch and scrape 
 all these years, and to have had all these rows with 
 the boys over the expenses of their education " she 
 stopped short. " I suppose I oughtn't to say such 
 things, but you've seen it all. It's just as though you 
 were one of our own brothers." 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and then he said, 
 without looking at her : 
 
 "But I want to be more to you than your 
 brother Annie. You know I've always loved you 
 
 - in a different way from that ever since I can 
 remember."
 
 ANNIE AMONG THE PRIMROSES 35 
 
 Annie knew it, but she uttered a faint sound of re- 
 proach or protest. 
 
 Jack Meredydd suddenly found himself reflecting 
 that it was much more difficult to make love to a girl 
 he had known all his life, than to a stranger. 
 
 He came and sat beside her, on the log. " Annie 
 dear," he said, straightforwardly, " I'm four and 
 twenty now ; at that age a fellow knows his own mind. 
 I've never really loved a girl in my life but you; and 
 even if if I've been a little attracted now and 
 then, by others " said poor Jack, who was as 
 honest as he was susceptible, " I've never even for a 
 moment dreamt of asking any girl in the world to be 
 my wife except you. I've always known I wanted 
 it to be Annie Kemys or nobody. I hadn't any 
 money to speak of and so I didn't dare ask you 
 but my old pater, now I've convinced him at last 
 that I never would, and never could be a parson, is 
 going to hand over my poor mother's little capital to 
 me at once; so I shall have my chance. I mean to 
 make a fortune in the Argentine just as Rodric does. 
 Annie darling, will you wait for me will you ? 
 and marry me when I come back? " 
 
 Young Meredydd, though but an awkward and in- 
 experienced lover, was so much in earnest that the 
 unaccustomed term of endearment rang truly, if 
 strangely in Annie's ears, and brought the warm 
 colour to her cheek, and the facile tears to her blue 
 eyes.
 
 36 THE TYRANT 
 
 " Annie darling, will you wait for me? " 
 
 Annie was tired of her dreams, woven about 
 imaginary heroes or knightly figures of the past. She 
 was ripe for love and brimming with romance as be- 
 came a maiden of her years. And there is a magic 
 in the first words of wooing actually spoken by a liv- 
 ing being of flesh and blood, which transcends the 
 magic of imagination: the surroundings also ap- 
 pealed to her sense of the fitness of things, the sun- 
 shine and warmth and stillness of the perfect April 
 morning the incense of the woodlands the rap- 
 turous song of the birds among the brown branches. 
 
 Yet her long eyelashes drooped, as though to hide 
 the regret and disappointment that caused her tears 
 to flow. 
 
 Poor young Meredydd, watching the lovely down- 
 cast face, luckily could not divine the thought in her 
 mind. Oh, if it had been anyone but Jack! 
 
 To wait while her lover made his fortune what 
 was that ? A period of ecstacy, of dreams brightened 
 by the reading and writing of love letters, by the 
 anticipation of golden hours ever drawing nearer; of 
 meeting, of happiness, of triumph the glory of a 
 wedding, the romance of a honeymoon, the dignity 
 of a home of her own. 
 
 To be poor? She had never known anything else, 
 Annie thought with a sigh, for she coveted pretty 
 dresses and trinkets with all the ardour of a healthy 
 normal young female, but she scorned the notion of 
 weighing these in the balance with love. To be con-
 
 ANNIE AMONG THE PRIMROSES 37 
 
 stant in absence? Annie was too frank not to be 
 true. 
 
 But to give up on the very threshold of woman- 
 hood all the wonderful possibilities that the future 
 might hold, for the sake of the good honest prosaic 
 boy whom she had known all her life, who had taken 
 her part in childish squabbles, and thrown apples to 
 her over the garden wall, and seen her at her worst 
 as a badly dressed, long-legged schoolgirl, who had 
 no single illusion concerning her this prospect 
 filled her with dismay. 
 
 She could not bear to disappoint Jack Annie 
 was tender-hearted still less did she desire to go 
 husbandless to her grave, for she possessed a horror 
 of spinsterhood not unnatural in a very young girl 
 who had been brought up in circles where women who 
 do not marry are looked upon as failures, and are 
 neither adequately provided for by others, nor per- 
 mitted to work for themselves. 
 
 She combined a strong common sense with the 
 inexperience of her youth, and said to herself with a 
 sinking heart that here was probably her first and last 
 offer of marriage. She thought of the two Miss 
 Eyewaters in alarm, and of the dulness of Nantgwilt 
 in despair. But even these fears for her future did 
 not make it possible for her to connect honest Jack 
 with the romance which she felt, rather indignantly, 
 would have been so appropriate to the occasion and 
 the season, and to her own wishes. 
 
 She looked down upon the brown hand with its
 
 3 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 rather short plebeian fingers and square nails which 
 Jack had ventured, as a shy approach to a caress, to 
 lay gently upon the handle of the basket-full of 
 primroses in her lap, and the impulse to draw away 
 from it became irresistible. 
 
 " Oh Jack, I couldn't," she said. 
 
 The tone was so unmistakably sincere that it really 
 left no room for a lover's pleading, which is, after 
 all, most eloquent when resistance is felt to be rather 
 assumed than real. 
 
 " Then I shan't have anything to work for if you 
 won't wait for me," he said, blankly. 
 
 " You'll have just as much as Rodric. I hope he 
 isn't thinking of marrying," said Annie, in maternal 
 reproof. " And you know," suddenly melting, " it 
 isn't that I wouldn't wait or anything of that kind, 
 dear Jack, but only that I can't think of you in any 
 other sort of way but the sort of way I've thought 
 of you all my life." 
 
 " All right," said Jack, awkwardly, " I under- 
 stand." 
 
 Annie felt that even if he had taken her refusal 
 differently there might have been more chance of her 
 repenting her decision. But poor Jack was no hero 
 of romance, and did nothing appropriate to the oc- 
 casion. 
 
 He re-twisted the shred of dry grass round the 
 tiny bunch of scented white violets, and instead of 
 offering them to her with a reproachful glance which 
 would have haunted her memory with remorse, he
 
 ANNIE AMONG THE PRIMROSES 39 
 
 fitted them very carefully into his own button-hole. 
 
 Suddenly an inspiration appeared to visit him. 
 He looked up. 
 
 " You might," he suggested, " feel like this now, 
 and yet come to think differently in two or three years, 
 when you haven't seen me for a long time." 
 
 " I might" said Annie, doubtfully. Perhaps a 
 feminine reluctance to let her suitor go altogether, 
 dictated her next words. 
 
 "I'll try to unless " 
 
 "Unless what?" 
 
 Her perception of his stupidity made her tone im- 
 patient. 
 
 " Unless I fell in love with any one else, of course. 
 Not that I'm likely even to see any one else here," 
 she added, with unaffected regret. 
 
 The reflection, however, brought comfort to Jack, 
 and as he hated the unwonted sensation of melan- 
 choly, he accepted even so small a consolation with 
 alacrity. 
 
 " After all," he thought, " I must give her time 
 to get used to the idea. It's no use trying to rush 
 a girl/* 
 
 " Even a little hope that it might all come right 
 some day, would make all the difference to me," he 
 remarked, with a brightening face. " I couldn't ex- 
 pect you to jump at me, could I ? I only wanted you 
 to know what I wish, and always shall wish; the 
 whole world is welcome to know it; for I shall never 
 love any one else as I love you, Annie."
 
 40 THE TYRANT 
 
 At this appropriate moment Sophy thought fit to 
 return with the little boys, and interrupt the tete-a- 
 tete, which she judged had lasted long enough for 
 the extraction of all Jack's secrets. The slight ap- 
 prehension with which she looked at Annie was in- 
 stantly relieved by her sister's imperceptible nod. 
 
 " Oh, Sophy, what a quantity of primroses you 
 have gathered." 
 
 " I had nothing else to do," said Sophy. " If only 
 I had brought Papa's field-glasses I could have seen 
 what everybody was about so much more distinctly. 
 Mamma is alone now, so I suppose Papa got tired of 
 rowing her and went in to read the newspapers." 
 
 " Then since we have plenty of primroses now, 
 let's go home," said Annie. 
 
 " I'll come with you," said Jack. " I've got all 
 our plans and calculations written out to show your 
 father. It's not that Rodric funked it, of course, but 
 he couldn't get away from his work, and I had to 
 bring them to show my old pater. Besides, I'm the 
 senior partner, so to speak." 
 
 " It had much better be you," said Annie, " you are 
 calm, and Papa won't bully you, and Rodric is hot- 
 tempered and can't bear being mocked at, poor boy." 
 
 'Nobody could mock at a sensible project like 
 this," said Jack, stoutly, but he affected a confidence 
 he did not feel, for he believed that Richard Kemys 
 was quite capable of mocking the poor little syndi- 
 cate he represented.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 
 
 OLD Mr. Meredydd was a widower with an only 
 son. He had been rector of Llanon for five and 
 thirty years, and had known the father and the elder 
 brothers of Richard Kemys. 
 
 He was a rosy-faced, white bearded, cheerful old 
 man, not remarkable for discretion, nor for any 
 great amount of intelligence; but his manner was 
 kind, his deeds were charitable, and his expression 
 benign. The discerning villagers said of him in- 
 dulgently, that he meant well. 
 
 His beautiful old church, that was so out of pro- 
 portion to the population of Llanon, was not very 
 well filled, because most of his flock preferred the 
 little iron Bethel they had put up at their own ex- 
 pense: but he bore this misfortune with resignation, 
 visited churchgoers and chapelgoers alike, and filled 
 up his spare time with antiquarian research in a 
 country abounding with geological and historical in- 
 terest. 
 
 Mr. Meredydd was fond of his son and proud of 
 him; and though it was a disappointment that Jack 
 refused to enter the church, he was easily persuaded 
 to consent to his trying a very different career. 
 
 41
 
 42 THE TYRANT 
 
 "If you don't like it, my boy, you can always come 
 back," he said in his old trembling voice, that had 
 never uttered a harsh word to his son. " As long 
 as I'm alive, there'll always be a welcome for you, 
 so don't be afraid to let me know quite frankly if 
 the scheme doesn't turn out a success after all. I 
 grant you it looks well, very well indeed, on paper. 
 But youth is inclined to be sanguine, and there may 
 be drawbacks we know nothing about. But you'll 
 do your best, I know that very well indeed, my lad, 
 and it's not as though you were going alone. But 
 all the same you mustn't be afraid to come home and 
 tell me if it's a failure." 
 
 Jack laughed in his sleeve at the notion of his being 
 afraid to tell his father anything, and assured him 
 that failure was impossible. Then, carried away by 
 the old man's sympathy, he could not resist making 
 him a further confidence. 
 
 Mr. Meredydd listened with delight, for Annie 
 Kemys was a favourite with him, as with all the in- 
 habitants of Llanon; and being troubled by no diffi- 
 dence concerning his son's personal attractions, the 
 possibility of disappointment never remotely oc- 
 curred to him. 
 
 Jack had chosen wisely, he said, chuckling, and he 
 detained Jack, then burning to pursue his suit, to 
 assure him once more that if the Argentine project 
 failed he must not be too deeply concerned. 
 
 There would be enough to start life with, for a 
 young couple who had been brought up to be careful
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 43 
 
 and prudent. Jack could look about him and take 
 up another career at his leisure. There were plenty 
 of paths open to a young man who had got through 
 the University so creditably. 
 
 Jack listened impatiently to his father's platitudes, 
 and escaped as soon as he could to the Manor House. 
 
 When he was gone, Mr. Meredydd took his hat 
 and stick, and trotted down the village street. 
 
 The possession of such a secret warmed his heart, 
 and made his greetings to the passers-by doubly kind 
 and amiable. 
 
 " A beautiful spring morning," he cried out to the 
 doctor. " It does one good to be alive on such a 
 morning as this, eh, Harries? " 
 
 " You look as if it did," said the doctor, who had 
 fewer causes for self-congratulation. 
 
 He jumped down and greeted his old friend. 
 
 " I wish you'd carry some of your cheerfulness into 
 the house I've just left." 
 
 " So I will, so I will," said the rector, zealously, 
 " the post-office, I'm afraid? " 
 
 " Poor young Prickard is dying," said the doctor. 
 
 ".Is he worse? I saw him yesterday, he looked 
 better." 
 
 "Another hemorrhage; nothing can save him this 
 time. Well his life need not have been sacrificed; 
 if he'd gone off to South Africa with his brother; 
 they were much in the same state, and I've capital 
 accounts of the other fellow. However " the doc- 
 tor shrugged his shoulders " he wouldn't go.
 
 44 THE TYRANT 
 
 How any of you can live in this basin among the hills, 
 passes me." 
 
 "I've lived here thirty-five years," said Mr. 
 Meredydd, rather displeased. " You won't get me 
 to own there's anything wrong with the climate. It's 
 a bit moist." 
 
 " Moist ! It's a vapour bath ! " 
 
 " The Prickards have consumption in the family." 
 
 " They are not the only family in Llanon with a 
 tendency that way," said Dr. Harries, and he nodded 
 farewell and ran up the steps of the Red House, to 
 pay his weekly visit to old Mrs. Eyewater. 
 
 Mr. Meredydd went on his way with his cheerful- 
 ness somewhat impaired. He thought of the number 
 of his parishioners who had fallen victims of the 
 scourge of the west country, during his long residence 
 in Llanon ; among the names that rose to his memory 
 was that of little Lucy Kemys. 
 
 " But I never heard of any other Kemys having a 
 tendency to anything of the kind," he thought. 
 " Kemys himself is as strong as an ox, and I never 
 remember Mrs. Kemys having a day's illness, except 
 when her babies were born. They are all very 
 healthy, except perhaps little Manuel. Certainly 
 little Manuel is a delicate child. But he is the 
 youngest, and no doubt his mother has been over 
 careful with him. Still, he does remind me of poor 
 little Lucy. I wish Richard Kemys did not carry his 
 prejudice against doctors quite so far. I don't care 
 for over much doctoring myself but there's reason
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 45 
 
 in all things Manuel wants looking after no doubt. 
 Bless me, I wish the doctor had not put such an idea 
 into my head." 
 
 The rector like his son, could not bear melancholy, 
 and preferred always to take an optimistic view. He 
 determined to call in at the Manor House, feeling 
 vaguely that a glance at that clear-complexioned, 
 bright-eyed, well-grown family, would dispel the un- 
 easiness created by the doctor's words. He was 
 enabled to put this plan into execution the sooner be- 
 cause on calling at the post-office, Mrs. Prickard in- 
 formed him that the invalid was asleep, and asked 
 him to postpone his visit. 
 
 The rector promised to come again later in the 
 day, and returning on his way, called at the Manor 
 House and found Mrs. Kemys in her favourite rest- 
 ing-place beneath the cedar, occupied with her sew- 
 ing. 
 
 She was very glad to see him, and still more glad to 
 learn that the Argentine scheme which concerned her 
 so nearly, met with his approval. 
 
 The rector was not, perhaps, very practical, but at 
 least he was a man, and Mrs. Kemys had been 
 brought up to a blind belief in the masculine busi- 
 ness capacity. 
 
 " If you could only talk it over with my husband ! 
 I am afraid he is very much against Rodric's going," 
 she said. 
 
 She was aware of Richard's contempt for Mr. 
 Meredydd's understanding, but the rector's mild per-
 
 46 THE TYRANT 
 
 suasions might possibly induce him to listen to Rod- 
 ric's arguments in favour of the scheme. 
 
 " Jack is coming over to do that. He has all the 
 particulars at his fingers' ends. I do not see how 
 Mr. Kemys can object. My brother has been out 
 there for years. He is acting as their adviser, and 
 I need hardly say he is to be depended upon," said 
 Mr. Meredydd, amused at the bare possibility that 
 a relative of his own could be distrusted. 
 
 " Rodric is our eldest son," said Mrs. Kemys, gen- 
 tly defensive. "It is natural of course that his 
 father should wish to keep him at home." 
 
 " My dear lady, Jack is my only son, and I would 
 not lift a finger to keep him at home against his will," 
 cried the rector stoutly. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys smiled faintly. It seemed to her so 
 absurd that the rector could mention his homely plod- 
 ding son in the same breath as her strong splendid 
 Rodric; and the rector made a faint clacking sound 
 of deprecation as he reflected on the selfishness of 
 Richard Kemys. 
 
 Young Rodric was all very well, but what was he 
 fit for except emigration? He had had no Univer- 
 sity education ; he had never distinguished himself at 
 anything but cricket and football; a hot-tempered, 
 wilful boy, who would be all the better for knocking 
 about the world a bit; and if anything happened to 
 him, why there were Courtenay and Corney and little 
 Manuel still left. Whereas he was risking his all,
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 47 
 
 his good steady lad, Jack, who might easily have be- 
 come a bishop if he had but chosen to take orders. 
 
 While Mrs. Kemys smiled, the rector had tears in 
 his eyes; but it was the same emotion of parental 
 pride that produced these contrary results. 
 
 " The great thing is that each lad should have his 
 little bit of capital to start with," said the rector. 
 " Money breeds money. I'm handing over his poor 
 mother's money to Jack. It would have to come to 
 him at my death, you know, so what signifies letting 
 him have it a little sooner? And if he loses it, you 
 mustn't think that will be the end of all his hopes," 
 said the old man, suddenly bethinking himself. 
 " No no I've got a little bit of my own, you 
 know. Not much, but enough to make sure he will 
 always have plenty of bread and cheese, eh ? That 
 will all be tied up, safe and sound, on on your 
 on Jack's wife." The poor rector very nearly said, 
 " on your Annie," but he stopped himself in time, 
 with a guilty blush. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys started also, and looked keenly at the 
 rector's flushed face. Though circumstances had 
 kept her ignorant of business, she was quick-witted 
 enough on other matters. 
 
 She knew what was in the rector's mind just as 
 surely as though he had actually spoken Annie's name 
 aloud, and had some ado to conceal her resentment. 
 But the habit of self-control came to her aid, ancj 
 after a pause, she spoke quietly.
 
 48 THE TYRANT 
 
 "Jack is a good boy, and I hope he will find a 
 nice wife some day; but he is too young to think of 
 settling down yet, for a long time." 
 
 As this was also the rector's opinion, he could not 
 contradict Mrs. Kemys, but he realised vaguely a new 
 and indefinable want of sympathy in her tone and 
 manner. She spoke for the first time as though Jack 
 were a stranger, an outsider, on a different level. 
 
 It was impossible for the rector to suspect anyone 
 so uniformly gentle and humble as Mrs. Kemys of an 
 attempt to patronize Jack; but nevertheless for the 
 second time that morning, poor Mr. Meredydd's 
 happy content with himself and the world in general, 
 was disturbed. 
 
 His easily restored composure, however, returned 
 when the young people presently came through the 
 garden, talking and laughing, and laden with prim- 
 roses. 
 
 Annie looked a trifle more pensive than usual, as 
 became a maiden who had that morning received and 
 declined her first offer of marriage. Little Manuel 
 clung to her right hand, and Jack walked on her other 
 side. 
 
 The rector, looking from her lovely flushed face 
 to Jack's honest freckled countenance, thought with 
 delight that they made a handsome couple ; but Mrs. 
 Kemys saw an ordinary looking square-built young 
 man walking beside " a daughter of the gods, di- 
 vinely tall, and most divinely fair." Annie's mother 
 experienced a most unwonted sensation of indignation
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 49 
 
 and revolt. She would not have it. Her pretty 
 Annie 
 
 At the bottom of her heart she craved intensely 
 that her child should possess all the good things in 
 life that she had missed. Poverty and anxiety, care 
 and obscurity had been her lot always. They should 
 not be Annie's portion if she could help it. 
 
 If she could help it! But alas, how powerless she 
 was. A woman tied hand and foot by convention: 
 entirely dependent upon and subject to, an abnormally 
 selfish and imperious mate; and without a penny of 
 her own in the world. 
 
 It was that which rendered her so helpless. 
 
 Not a penny in the world of her own. 
 
 For the last two and twenty years of her life she 
 had been occupied entirely with child-bearing and 
 child-rearing, and a thousand household cares ; work- 
 ing harder than any servant in the house, and en- 
 tirely and submissively anxious to fail in no possible 
 duty. 
 
 She had seen old servants of the former owners of 
 Nantgwilt granted pensions after twenty years serv- 
 ice; for Richard's father had been liberal and gen- 
 erous. Even Sharman, the old nurse, took her an- 
 nual holiday. But neither holiday nor pension fell 
 to the share of her mistress. 
 
 Some day, if she outlived her husband, no doubt 
 both the holiday and the pension would be granted 
 to her; but Mrs. Kemys was far too busy a woman 
 not to live in the present, and too industrious to sigh
 
 5 o THE TYRANTi 
 
 for leisure. She sighed only for the children's sake 
 
 If she could have had anything of her own, how- 
 ever little. To be able to help the boys, secretly, to 
 some of the innocent pleasures arbitrarily denied 
 them ; to buy the extra luxury for the ailing child ; the 
 new dress or becoming hat for the pretty, discon- 
 tented daughter. 
 
 Even if her husband would have given her an al- 
 lowance for the household bills, from which she could 
 have saved secret aspiration of many a thrifty, 
 anxious housewife who has no reward for economy 
 to look for, when there is no possibility of margin; 
 when all her efforts only amount to the despairing 
 certainty that whatever she has spent, it is too much. 
 
 As though the children could be fed and clothed 
 and brought up for nothing, she had thought, during 
 those long years when worry robbed her of her sleep, 
 and stole the colour from her cheeks and the bright- 
 ness from her eyes, and drew lines of care down her 
 thin face. 
 
 Richard Kemys did not worry: when he was anx- 
 ious or discontented or annoyed, he let people know 
 it, as he would have said himself. His angry voice, 
 his ebullitions of temper, and his threats against his 
 household, were all so many safety valves. When the 
 storm of his indignation had burst he returned to his 
 senses and enjoyed his meals and his sleep, and the 
 contemplation of the figures in his bank books, which 
 occupied so many of his waking hours. 
 
 He hated parting with his money, and he grudged
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 51 
 
 every unnecessary expense, and not a few necessary 
 ones. 
 
 He said truly that if he had not done so when he 
 started life, as a younger son, with only his godmoth- 
 er's thousand pounds to fall back on, he would never 
 have made a fortune at all. He had mastered all 
 desire to spend his money then, and now in its turn 
 the love of saving had mastered him. 
 
 Like many another husband and father he had no 
 idea of making his wife in any way independent of 
 him, and preferred to inspect every detail of her 
 household and personal expenses, and to dole out to 
 her the exact sums required to defray them. 
 
 The items were often so fiercely disputed that the 
 trades-people, no less than Mrs. Kemys herself, 
 dreaded the monthly payday. He was so deter- 
 mined that no one should know his affairs, that he 
 kept two or three separate banking accounts; and at 
 the time of his marriage left the family solicitor, 
 Mr. Turley, who had managed the Nantgwilt estate 
 for years, for a stranger and rival, but recently settled 
 in Llysdinam. His wife knew that his London law- 
 yer, Mr. Toavan, assisted him in collecting the profits 
 from his business, now left almost entirely in the 
 hands of John Bond, his manager and head-clerk; 
 but of what these profits consisted she had not the 
 vaguest idea, yet she had grounds for believing them 
 to be not inconsiderable. It is difficult for a man to 
 be always on guard with his wife, and Mrs. Kemys 
 was observant, if she had learnt to be silent.
 
 5 2 THE TYRANT 
 
 She noted the expression on his face sometimes 
 when he had been shut up with the postbag in his 
 study, on certain mornings; and being aware of his 
 ruling passion, knew that the tidings he had received 
 must have gratified it in one form or another. But 
 he never relaxed the rule of economy in the slightest 
 degree. 
 
 During the previous summer, on Annie's eight- 
 eenth birthday, when his wife, taking her courage in 
 both hands, had proposed that they should give a gar- 
 den party, Mr. Kemys had flown into a rage which 
 had discomposed his trembling household for many 
 days. 
 
 Why should he be expected to entertain the coun- 
 ty? A plain country squire, who had not been 
 ashamed to go into business and to work longer hours 
 than any clerk he had ever seen? Every one knew 
 who he was and all about him. There had been a 
 Kemys of Nantgwilt before most of his neighbours 
 had ever been heard of. There was no need for him 
 to spend money to prove his position. 
 
 For Annie's sake, Mrs. Kemys had withstood him 
 more firmly than usual. She had even shed tears, 
 though she was a woman not given to the display of 
 emotion. The desire to weep had left her, no less 
 than the desire to laugh. But the tears in Annie's 
 blue eyes had power to move her as no grief of her 
 own would have moved her. 
 
 It would cost so little, she had pleaded. There 
 was the garden, the beautiful old china and silver put
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 53 
 
 away, it was a pity they should never be seen ; the fruit 
 in plenty, more than they could use. It meant little 
 more than new dresses for the girls. They must 
 have new dresses now, and then. She herself could 
 manage without poor Mrs. Kemys swallowed a 
 sigh. 
 
 " I daresay, and the next thing would be that you 
 would want to take Annie to other people's garden 
 parties, driving all over the country, dressing her up 
 and turning her head and killing the horses." 
 
 "Why not? It went to my heart to refuse to 
 take her to Artramont, and yet she had nothing fit 
 to wear. It's very hard on the girl that she should 
 go nowhere, poor Annie so pretty as she is, and 
 how is she ever to to meet any one? " 
 
 " So that is all your idea. To get her married. 
 I know what your meeting any one means. I can 
 tell you I have no wish to throw my daughter at peo- 
 ple's heads," thundered Mr. Kemys, with such indig- 
 nation that his wife really felt as though she had been 
 guilty of unwomanly scheming. 
 
 "If any man wishes to marry her, he can come 
 and tell me so. She's not shut up in prison. Every 
 one knows who she is, and where she is. I'll not 
 have her taught to squander money on clothes, nor 
 to gad about looking for a husband." 
 
 " Oh, Richard, you know I was far from thinking 
 of anything of the kind." 
 
 " What else do your plans amount to, I should 
 like to know," he said, and she was silent, conscience-
 
 5 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 stricken; yet presently returning bravely to the 
 charge. 
 
 " She is past eighteen. She ought to come out. 
 She has a right to expect that we should make a little 
 effort for her. Boys are sent out into the world, or 
 to college, and girls, who have so much less done 
 for them, who cost so little, poor things, have only 
 this to look forward to. A few years of youth and 
 prettiness and amusement, just time to look about 
 them, before they settle down for life. Even I had 
 that, Richard." 
 
 "How much the better were you for it?" he 
 asked derisively. " Yes, you were taken to London ; 
 where I've no doubt you'd take Annie if you 
 could" 
 
 " I would," she cried, with a touch of her old 
 spirit, so long quiescent. 
 
 " I thought so," he answered, scornfully. " You 
 would drag her up to town and make a fool of her, 
 because a silly old woman chose to take you up to 
 London when you were a girl. And what good did 
 it do you ? You came back to the Red House, where 
 you'd lived all your life, and were glad enough to 
 marry the man at whose doors you'd been brought 
 up." 
 
 A bright pink colour glowed in Annette's white 
 face. 
 
 [ had- other chances, Richard," she said. 
 Eut you preferred the man you'd known all your 
 life," he said, with that triumphant, angry laugh
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 55 
 
 which always jarred upon his wife, and to which she 
 was obliged to listen so often. 
 
 She shuddered, yet, womanlike, was quick to try 
 and turn to her purpose the rare allusion to that past 
 when he had loved her after his own fashion, or at 
 least, desired her with all the force and passion of 
 which his masterful and egotistical nature was capa- 
 ble. 
 
 She laid a thin hand, worn in his service, upon his 
 arm. 
 
 " And if I did prefer you, Richard," she said, in 
 a low tone, u it was because you fell in love with 
 me, wasn't it? " 
 
 " What's the good of asking questions like that 
 now? " he said impatiently. 
 
 " Because I want Annie to have her chance," she 
 said. " You wouldn't have looked at me, Richard, 
 if I'd never been outside Llanon, if I'd been 
 dressed as poor Annie is now " 
 
 " That's just like a woman. What have clothes 
 got to do. with it? When a man is fool enough to 
 get married he doesn't choose a girl for her clothes." 
 
 She avoided argument. " It makes all the dif- 
 ference to the girl to be badly dressed. It makes 
 her unhappy and discontented even if she is the 
 sweetest girl on earth. And surely if we can afford 
 it " she urged. 
 
 "Who says we can afford it?" he said angrily. 
 " Understand once for all, I won't be told I can 
 afford this or that. Annie lives in a very different
 
 5 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 home from the Red House, and is surrounded by 
 every comfort. If she's discontented or ungrateful, 
 send her to me, that's all. Don't let me hear an- 
 other word on that subject." 
 
 The purport of this conversation returned to the 
 memory of Mrs. Kemys when she looked at Annie 
 walking beside Jack Meredydd, and thought de- 
 spairingly what could she do for her child? 
 
 Mr, Meredydd and Jack went off together imme- 
 diately to lay the particulars of the Argentine scheme 
 before Mr. Kemys in his study ; Sophy took the little 
 boys up to the nursery to be made ready for luncheon, 
 and Mrs. Kemys went slowly into the house and up 
 the shallow creaking stairs of oak, into her long low- 
 ceiled bedroom on the first floor; whither Annie fol- 
 lowed her, and stood beside the dressing-table play- 
 ing absently with the old-fashioned Dresden toilet 
 set. 
 
 "Mamma, what does Papa say about Rodric? 
 Jack has told us all about it. Will Papa give him 
 the money to go? Jack thought he would because 
 Roddy has come of age, but I don't believe that will 
 make any difference, will it? " 
 
 " My dear, how can I tell? Papa will do what 
 he thinks best," said Mrs. Kemys, sighing. 
 
 'You might be frank with me, Mamma," said 
 Annie, impatiently. " I'm not a child now. I am 
 sure a girl of eighteen nearly nineteen, is older 
 than a boy of one and twenty any day."
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 57 
 
 " That is true," Mrs. Kemys acknowledged. 
 " You are grown-up, darling, though it is so hard 
 to believe it. Sometimes I wish you could all have 
 remained little for ever. Life would have been so 
 much simpler." 
 
 " Oh, Mamma, what is the use of talking such 
 nonsense," Annie asked, with the despair of one who 
 asks for facts, and is obliged to listen to sentiment 
 altogether beside the point. " You might be thank- 
 ful we have grown up, and can stand up for our- 
 selves a little. And Roddy will; for if Papa won't 
 help him to go to the Argentine, he'll certainly go 
 all the same, only he'll be obliged to borrow the 
 money." 
 
 " Surely he would never do that," said Mrs. 
 Kemys in horror, " and who would lend it to him? " 
 
 " I suppose he could do what other eldest sons do, 
 and go to the Jews," said Annie, calmly. " One 
 reads of boys doing such things, selling their rever- 
 sion, or whatever they call it. And though Papa 
 wouldn't have any rejoicings for Roddy's coming of 
 age, or do anything that ordinary fathers do, it 
 doesn't alter the fact that Roddy is the eldest son, 
 and that Nantgwilt must be his one day." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys shook her head. 
 
 " I don't think poor Roddy could borrow any- 
 thing on the strength of that. The entail ended 
 with your grandfather it wasn't renewed. And 
 if Papa chose to leave the property away from Rod- 
 ric he could do it."
 
 5 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 " He would never do anything so wicked," said 
 Annie, vehemently. " Nantgwilt has been handed 
 down from father to son for generations, and which 
 of the others would take it while Rodric was alive? " 
 " Oh, my dear, I don't know. One never can tell 
 what anyone will do where property is concerned," 
 said Mrs. Kemys in her sad lifeless tones. " I hope 
 Roddy won't defy Papa." 
 
 But she knew that Rodric would go, and Annie 
 was aware that she knew. 
 
 " It will end in Jack Meredydd lending him the 
 money," she said, hastily turning away from the look- 
 ing glass, which reflected the deepening colour on her 
 tell-tale face. 
 
 " Did Jack say anything about it?" said Mrs. 
 Kemys, quickly. 
 
 " Yes, no he said somebody would lend it. Of 
 course he meant himself. He's got something to 
 lend now, and and you know how fond he is of 
 of Roddy." Annie faltered, and meeting her moth- 
 er's eyes, turned away petulantly. 
 
 " Annie dearest you wouldn't hide anything 
 from me," said Mrs. Kemys, entreatingly. 
 
 She came and put her arms about that soft, beau- 
 tiful figure, and drew the bright head on to her 
 shoulder. " Annie, darling." 
 
 ' There's nothing to tell," Annie said, but she suf- 
 fered her mother's embrace less impatiently than 
 usual. " He wanted me to to wait till he came 
 back."
 
 THE PARSON IN THE VILLAGE 59 
 
 ' You've not engaged yourself to him? " 
 
 " No, I said I couldn't. I've promised nothing. 
 I said he might I suppose it amounted to saying 
 he might try again when he came back if " 
 
 " If you found no one you liked better mean- 
 while?" 
 
 " I suppose that's what I meant. I said some- 
 thing like that," faltered Annie. 
 
 ' You don't care for him, then? " 
 
 "Not in that way Oh, Mother, how could I? 
 Jack Meredydd; it would take all the romance 
 out of everything." 
 
 " Thank God," said Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 Annie was surprised at the unusual vehemence of 
 her mother's tone. 
 
 " I don't know why you should thank God," she 
 said, dejectedly. ' Very likely I've done a foolish 
 thing. It would be better to marry Jack Meredydd, 
 I suppose, than to stick on here for ever, Sophy and 
 me; growing like the two Miss Eyewaters, and Papa 
 rowing us from morning till night." 
 
 " Oh, Annie, it won't be always like this. A way 
 will be found. You're only eighteen and a half. 
 Wait a little," said poor Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 " It's all very well to say a way will be found. 
 What way? " said Annie. " I know you'd do any- 
 thing you could, Mamma. It's not your fault. At 
 least, not altogether." 
 
 "Not altogether my fault!" said Mrs. Kemys. 
 She uttered an astonished sound between laughing
 
 60 THE TYRANT 
 
 and crying. " Why, what more could I do, An- 
 nie?" 
 
 Annie looked at her, half frightened at her own 
 daring, impatient and pitying at the same time. 
 
 " Oh, Mamma, if if only you had the cour- 
 age " she said, hardly above her breath. " Often 
 and often have we all said it, the boys and Sophy 
 and I, though we know very well how hard it is for 
 you but if only you had had the courage to hold 
 your own against Papa how much, much better 
 it would have been for us all."
 
 CHAPTER IV] 
 
 THE GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 
 
 THE midday meal at Nantgwilt was only, distin- 
 guished by conviviality when the master of the house 
 was absent. 
 
 On this particular day it was even gloomier than 
 usual. 
 
 Annie and Sophy were secretly resentful of their 
 parent's want of hospitality, since his audible dismis- 
 sal of the rector and his son on the plea that the 
 luncheon bell was ringing had reached their horrified 
 ears. 
 
 Mr. Meredydd was accustomed to the squire's 
 ways, and would not have stayed had he been in- 
 vited to remain instead of pressed to depart; but 
 Annie and Sophy exchanged glances of dismay none 
 the less, as they paused on the staircase landing, out 
 of sight of the vestibule where Mr. Kemys was 
 speeding his parting guests. 
 
 " He might have asked them," Sophy whispered 
 indignantly. " Considering they came here only on 
 Rodric's business." 
 
 " There is plenty of mutton in the house. Papa 
 knows that well enough, since old Pugh killed a sheep 
 
 61
 
 62 THE TYRANT 
 
 last Thursday," said Annie, "but I suppose he 
 grudges them even mutton." 
 
 " One comfort is they will get a much better lunch- 
 eon at home," said Sophy viciously. 'They are 
 laughing. Listen. Papa can't be so very cross. 
 He is telling them a funny story ! " 
 
 " Which? " said Annie, with unconscious satire. 
 
 The dining-room was dimly lighted by four low 
 windows with heavily leaded casements, framed in 
 Virginia creeper and climbing roses. 
 
 The portraits of the Kemys family which hung 
 upon the oak panels were black with age, and the gilt 
 frames tarnished. 
 
 The heavy carving of the oak ceiling, though ex- 
 quisite in itself, did not add to the brightness of the 
 room; and the prevailing gloom was reflected upon 
 the owner's face as he took his seat at the head of 
 the long table and uttered a short, angry grace. 
 
 The primroses had been hastily arranged in thin 
 battered bowls of Jacobean silver. 
 
 The plate at Nantgwilt was plentiful and valua- 
 ble, and numerous precautions were taken to safe- 
 guard it. The heavily embossed silver dishes, the 
 weighty Georgian candlesticks, the massive salvers, 
 jugs and drinking cups that ornamented table and 
 sideboard, were familiar objects in the eyes of the 
 Kemys children, and they would gladly have ex- 
 changed them all for pewter, if they could have been 
 assured of a greater variety and abundance in their
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 63 
 
 daily fare. For meals in the Manor House were 
 governed by the parsimony of the master, and boys 
 and girls alike revolted against perpetual mutton and 
 rice pudding. 
 
 Richard Kemys cared little what he ate or drank, 
 and often talked of selling the wine wherewith his 
 father had re-stocked the cellars : but as he had been 
 advised that the greater part of it would become 
 more valuable still, he deferred the proposed sale. 
 
 He attributed the excellent health he had always 
 enjoyed to his sparseness of diet, and held the theory 
 that all modern men and women ate and drank more 
 than was good for them. Mr. Kemys grew stout 
 notwithstanding his general abstemiousness, but his 
 growing boys and girls resented the application of 
 the theory to themselves, and the village cried shame 
 upon their squire, because his children were known 
 to spend their pocket-money on biscuits, though Mr. 
 Kemys remained equally unaware of this fact, and 
 of the comments it aroused. 
 
 He carved the mutton in a silence unbroken, and 
 the old man-servant handed it round, while Mrs. 
 Kemys ladled out the potatoes and the cauliflower. 
 
 The little boys in their blue jerseys sat still as mice; 
 their awestruck faces every now and then disappear- 
 ing into the silver tankards which held their meas- 
 ured allowance of milk, and re-emerging, flushed with 
 the double exertion of lifting the mugs and imbibing 
 the contents. 
 
 Annie and Sophy, as determined to save appear-
 
 6 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 ances as girls of their age usually are, made sotto 
 voce remarks across the table to each other, or to 
 their mother, at intervals, and surreptitiously fed the 
 spaniel, who lurked discreetly beneath the table out 
 of reach of his master's foot. 
 
 The appearance of a rhubarb tart evolved unwary 
 exclamations of pleasure from Corney and Manuel, 
 but their faces fell when their father remarked that 
 it was too sweet to need any sugar, and sent a mes- 
 sage of reproof to the cook. 
 
 Their wry faces over the rhubarb provoked a 
 sharp lecture, which culminated in dismissal, upon 
 Manuel's infantile attempt to soften the acidity by 
 pouring a little milk into his plate, which not unnat- 
 urally resulted in the upsetting of the heavy tank- 
 ard. 
 
 The culprit was led from the dining-room in tears, 
 by his brother, who prudently administered no con- 
 solation until he was safely out of his father's hear- 
 ing. 
 
 This incident and the outburst of parental wrath 
 it produced appeared to relieve the settled gloom 
 of Mr. Kemys. 
 
 He delivered a short soliloquy over his cheese and 
 single glass of port-wine, upon the want of common 
 intelligence displayed by his recent visitors during 
 their attempt to enlist his sympathy for the would- 
 be emigrants, and he became almost cheerful over 
 the recollection of their failure. 
 
 " Of course to me the whole thing is evident
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 65 
 
 enough," he said contemptuously. " Old Mere- 
 dydd's brother has an eye on a ranch next his own 
 out there, and doesn't know how to get hold of it, 
 so he inspires his fool of a nephew with a plan for 
 collecting sufficient capital to buy it, and bring out a 
 lot of young idiots to work it under his benevolent 
 supervision. Jack had the impudence to tell me that 
 Rodric was the only one of the precious gang who 
 had expectations. I'll show him what Rodric's ex- 
 pectations are worth. It's a plot to get money out of 
 me, neither more nor less. Well, I made it pretty 
 plain to them that if Rodric joined their fine syndi- 
 cate he'd not get a brass farthing from me now, nor 
 hereafter. He'll get his present allowance cut off, 
 and that will be the beginning and the end of it all, 
 so far as I am concerned." 
 
 His wife and daughters sat still, listening to this 
 tirade with downcast eyes. It was quicker in the 
 end, they had often told each other, not to interrupt 
 Papa. A scornful or indignant mien sometimes 
 roused him to redoubled wrath or eloquence; and 
 long practice had enabled them to banish expression 
 from their faces, and to listen without a sign of dis- 
 sent. 
 
 " I'll take one of you girls into Llysdinam with 
 me in the dogcart, if you like," said Mr. Kemys, 
 when he was at last convinced that he had made his 
 intentions as regarded Rodric sufficiently clear. 
 " I'm going to see Machon on business, and if one 
 of you comes, there'll be no need to take Thomas
 
 66 THE TYRANT 
 
 away from his work to hold the horse outside the 
 office," 
 
 " I'll come," said Annie, at once interpreting and 
 replying to the look of entreaty on her mother's 
 face. 
 
 " Mind you don't put on a flyaway hat or any 
 nonsense of that kind," said her father gruffly, but 
 his brow cleared slightly at the readiness of her ac- 
 ceptance. 
 
 As soon as he had departed to the study, the ladies 
 shut themselves safely into the drawing-room and 
 the reason for Annie's alacrity was made manifest. 
 
 " We want to finish our white gowns, Mamma, 
 and I must get some embroidery cotton. Sophy has 
 a lovely pattern." 
 
 " My dear, I can give you no more money, and 
 you know Papa does not like you to do commissions 
 when you're out with him." 
 
 " Don't worry yourself, mother dear. He's 
 always ages and ages in Mr. Machon's office, and I 
 shall persuade someone to hold the horse and get my 
 commissions done in a moment. He will be none the 
 wiser. I rather like playing him a little trick," said 
 Annie coaxingly; "and as for money, Sophy and I 
 have found a way to raise a little." 
 
 "Annie! You said it should be private," said 
 Sophy warningly. 
 
 I don't mind Mamma, she won't give us away." 
 
 " But she might forbid us." 
 
 " She won't."
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 67 
 
 " Children, I hope you are doing nothing wrong," 
 said Mrs. Kemys with anxious looks. 
 
 ' There's nothing wrong. The things were our 
 own," said Annie fearlessly. " We saw an adver- 
 tisement about old jewelry being bought and we sent 
 our coral necklaces and got seven shillings each for 
 them, and we're going to send some more of our 
 things." 
 
 " My dears ! Those pretty old corals mounted 
 in gold, they were worth far more than that," said 
 Mrs. Kemys in dismay. 
 
 " They weren't worth more than that to us" said 
 Sophy. " Our new frocks are worth more to us 
 than sets of baby corals. White cotton frocks would 
 be just nothing without embroidery. I am sure we 
 shall have to work hard enough as it is." 
 
 " Mother, think how we need new frocks," said 
 Annie reproachfully. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys could not deny their need. She 
 looked round at the Buhl cabinets ranged against the 
 panel of the drawing-room. Cabinets and contents 
 were worth a small fortune. The price of a single 
 article of vertu among the many which surrounded 
 her would have eased her daily burden. 
 
 There was a Vandyck portrait of the most im- 
 portant of the past owners of Nantgwilt, one Cor- 
 nelius Kemys, the son of a Dutch heiress, and himself 
 known as the Miser, since he had bought all his 
 neighbour's lands and added them to the estate which 
 had formerly been but small and insignificant. This
 
 68 THE TYRANT 
 
 picture was known to be worth several thousand 
 pounds. It hung above a mantel carved by Grinling 
 Gibbons. A Venetian chandelier of the rarest kind 
 was suspended from the painted ceiling; and a con- 
 noisseur was said to have offered its weight in gold 
 for the collection of old Nankin china. 
 
 Mr. Kemys might have been tempted to sell the 
 family treasures had he not been firmly persuaded 
 that every year of waiting would increase their value 
 in the market. 
 
 But of what avail were such buried riches to the 
 daughters of the old house, who were forced to part 
 with their personal ornaments to buy themselves 
 clothes ; or to the son and heir, who would be driven 
 to borrow money for his own start in life. 
 
 " Oh children, do as you like. I haven't the 
 heart to scold you," said Mrs. Kemys, " even if I had 
 the right " 
 
 14 The right! Of course you have the right," said 
 Annie, putting a protecting arm about the slender 
 bent form. " Poor old Mummie, if only you knew 
 how to scold, which thank Heaven, you don't." 
 
 " No, no. I haven't the right," she said, kissing 
 softly yet passionately, the fresh velvet cheek that 
 was pressed against her thin face. " Because I 
 I did the same thing long ago with my own poor lit- 
 tle trinkets, the things I had as a girl, which should 
 have been yours: But they were worth so little it 
 didn't much matter except that I am afraid it 
 would have pained my poor father to think I could
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 69 
 
 part with them. I I sold them all when Rod- 
 ric and Courtenay went to school," said Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 Old Mrs. Kemys sat at the open window of her 
 cottage, enjoying the pleasant breath of the spring, 
 and watching the movements of her odd man, who 
 was working in the little garden below. The sitting- 
 room was on the first floor, plainly and even scantily 
 furnished, contrasting strangely with the wealth of 
 garniture in the rooms of the Manor House. 
 
 But old Mrs. Kemys did not care for furniture 
 except in so far as it administered to her personal 
 comfort. Her armchair, if modern and ugly, was 
 luxurious, and a heavy screen ornamented by 
 scraps from illustrated papers cut out and pasted on 
 by her own hands protected her from any possible 
 draught. On a low table convenient to her hand lay 
 her knitting, her spectacle-case and her Daily Mail. 
 
 She was a handsome old lady, well-featured like 
 her son, and with the same fiery dark blue eyes and 
 ruddy complexion, but the abundant white hair 
 parted on her forehead softened the harshness of the 
 clear-cut face. 
 
 She wore a white cap tied beneath her chin, and a 
 small white shawl crossed over her bent shoulders, 
 upon the well worn black silk gown. 
 
 She was seventy years old and the very frankness 
 of her acceptance of the role of grandmother lent her 
 a dignity and a picturesqueness which no straining 
 after an appearance of youth or fashion could have
 
 70 THE TYRANT 
 
 produced ; the restfulness of her attitude gave a sense 
 of repose. 
 
 Here was a woman conscious that she had ended 
 her life's work, that she had fulfilled her duty by her 
 race and her country in her own generation. She 
 had suffered and borne children, and brought them up 
 to the best of her ability, and worked for them 
 strenuously through the burden and heat of the day. 
 Now, in the evening of life, she was entitled to enjoy 
 the little space of leisure that might be granted to her 
 before she was called away altogether from the scene 
 of her past labours. 
 
 And she did enjoy it, even though she was par- 
 tially crippled with rheumatism ; her cheerfulness was 
 unimpaired, and the interest she took in her surround- 
 ings appeared rather to increase than diminish with 
 years. 
 
 She regarded her daughter-in-law much as the vil- 
 lage in general regarded their squire's wife, with a 
 mixture of liking and pity; and the younger Mrs. 
 Kemys was instinctively aware of the exact measure 
 of her mother-in-law's regard. 
 
 But she was also aware that the old lady was loyal 
 to her in her own fashion, upheld her whenever she 
 could, and was more dependent upon her daily visits 
 for amusement than she herself altogether realised. 
 
 There was an odd confidence between them, born 
 
 of mutual respect for a sincerity common to both. 
 
 31d Mrs. Kemys was troubled by no illusions with 
 
 regard to her son, and it was this fact which further
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 711 
 
 simplified her intercourse with her daughter-in-law. 
 
 " You're later than usual," she said, lifting her 
 face for the formal kiss of greeting. 
 
 " I waited to see Annie off with her father. He 
 has driven her in to Llysdinam," said Annette. 
 " Sharman has taken her work into the garden to 
 watch over the little boys, and Sophy is busy in the 
 schoolroom. She is really very clever with her; 
 needle, poor child." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys sank into her low chair with a weari- 
 ness that did not escape the old lady's keen glance. 
 
 " Anything wrong? " she said, sympathetically. 
 
 " Yes, dear Granny, or it seems so," said Annette, 
 despondently. She made a faint effort to laugh. 
 "Perhaps it is Annie who is right: it would have 
 been better for them all if I had had the courage to 
 to stand up to him long ago," she said. 
 
 " I have always told you so," said Mrs. Kemys, 
 " though Annie had no business to say anything of 
 the kind, but children say what they like nowadays. 
 What has happened, my dear ? " 
 
 Mrs. Kemys drew Rodric's letter from her pocket 
 and handed it across in silence ; and his grandmother, 
 putting on her glasses with hands that trembled a 
 little, read it through. 
 
 " He has asked his father for a thousand 
 pounds " 
 
 They looked at each other hopelessly. 
 
 " I always knew the boy would never be content 
 in that office," said old Mrs. Kemys, querulously.
 
 72 THE TYRANT 
 
 " If you had been firmer if you had insisted on 
 his being allowed his way about the army " 
 
 " I wish I had," said Annette. It was almost a 
 relief to both that she should take this pretense of 
 blame upon herself. " I'm afraid he will go, 
 Granny." 
 
 " Of course he will go ; and what is more he is just 
 the kind of boy who would do well for himself, if 
 his father would but see it," said old Mrs. Kemys. 
 "Strong as an ox; persevering and steady, with a 
 spirit nothing can dash." 
 
 " That's just it I dread what is bound to come, 
 what has been coming all these years. He has 
 just been waiting that is like my poor boy till 
 he came of age to have it out with his father. 
 And Richard will cut him off, as he threatens." 
 
 " He would never do that. He may fight with 
 Roddy, but he must respect him ; and he would never 
 make Courtenay his heir, he looks down upon him as 
 a bookworm too much," said Mrs. Kemys, as though 
 trying to re-assure herself and her daughter-in-law. 
 
 " Not Courtenay, but little Corney he talks of 
 " said Annette, with her wan smile; " the little fel- 
 low who's hardly had time yet to offend him who's 
 too young to defy him or to understand." 
 
 " Rodric had better go, if he must go, without see- 
 ing his father again," said Mrs. Kemys energetically. 
 
 11 How can he go without the money? " Annette 
 scanned the old lady's face wistfully. She thought 
 that she saw signs of agitation of indecision in
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 73 
 
 her mother-in-law's expression and a trembling 
 hope came into her own. 
 
 " If there were anything you could do, dear 
 Granny," she faltered. " Oh I know, I know you 
 have very little, and I have never, never asked you be- 
 fore, though indeed you have been so good to the 
 children there has been no need." 
 
 " Good to the children ! They are my own flesh 
 and blood," said the old lady sharply: then her voice 
 broke. " Do you think I would wait to be asked? " 
 she said querulously. " What is that you are hold- 
 ing out to me? It's so small I can't see it." 
 
 It was the corner of Rodric's letter that his 
 mother held up mutely. She fitted it into the torn 
 page, and Rodric's grandmother read it, and 
 trembled more than ever. 
 
 " The boy takes it as a matter of course, you see," 
 she said, holding her handsome old chin high. 
 " He knows me better than you do, Annette, God 
 bless him." 
 
 Then she wrung her hands piteously. 
 
 " I can do nothing, Annette, nothing. I handed 
 over my little capital to Richard years ago. He per- 
 suaded me that he could do much better with it than 
 old Turley; and I'll not deny he gives me better 
 interest than I got before. I couldn't lay my hand 
 on fifty pounds, my dear, without going to Richard." 
 
 " Then it is hopeless," said Annette, and her head 
 dropped on her breast. 
 
 " Of course I could get it back. I could insist
 
 74 THE TYRANT 
 
 on getting it back. Turley would see to that. But 
 you know better than I what the result would be. 
 There would be an open rupture. I have never got 
 on with Richard, but I've steered clear of that, 
 Annette." 
 
 " It's not to be thought of." 
 
 " I've thought of it many a time," said the old 
 lady, stoutly. " I'd risk it if there were anything 
 definite to be gained. But to get a thousand pounds 
 that way, would do the boy more harm than good," 
 she faltered. " It's not that I mind being pinched 
 for money my dear, but but none of you would 
 ever be allowed to come near me again," she said 
 piteously. 
 
 " Dear Granny, say no more about it," said 
 Annette, wearily. " Of course it is of no use if it 
 cannot be done without Richard's knowledge. 
 Roddy must try elsewhere." She did not attempt 
 to disguise the resentfulness of her tone as she added : 
 " It seems Jack Meredydd is willing to lend it to 
 him." 
 
 " Jack Meredydd! .What has he got to do with 
 it? He has no money," said Mrs. Kemys sharply. 
 
 " His father has transferred his mother's little 
 fortune to him." 
 
 " His mother's fiddlestick. Who was his mother? 
 The daughter of old Lord Yorath's agent. She 
 hadn't a thousand pounds in the world, or if she had, 
 it was the very outside." 
 
 " Old Meredydd will give him whatever he has to
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 75 
 
 give," she spoke with unwonted bitterness. " I 
 would rather be under an obligation to almost anyone 
 than to Jack Meredydd." 
 
 She added no explanation, but none was needed. 
 Old Mrs. Kemys knew and shared her fears and am- 
 bitions for Annie. 
 
 " It would give the lad a kind of claim," she 
 said with a groan, " and the child has so little to 
 distract her." 
 
 ' To think one has no voice no voice at all 
 in a matter where one can see so clearly," said 
 Annette. "It is not only that he's no match for 
 Annie" 
 
 " He's not in a position to keep a wife at all," 
 said the old lady, indignantly. 
 
 " But, also that though he's a good boy, he's 
 ordinary. He's no mate for her. She could rise 
 to anything. She's so pretty and gracious, with the 
 right word for everyone, and bright as sunshine 
 always. Oh how badly they manage these things in 
 England. If we lived in France I suppose there 
 would be nothing to prevent my going over to 
 Artramont for instance, now that the Yoraths have 
 come back to live there at last and saying to Lady 
 Yorath 'If you're looking for a suitable wife for 
 your son, as of course you are, I'm looking for a 
 suitable husband for my daughter.' ' 
 
 " No doubt she would welcome the suggestion," 
 said Mrs. Kemys satirically. 
 
 " She would if she were wise. Annie has beauty
 
 7 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 and health and brains, and a heart in a thousand. 
 She's fit to be a princess, and her family is as old as 
 any in the kingdom. Very different from the 
 Yoraths, if it comes to that." 
 
 " Old Yorath was carrying a miner's pick over his 
 shoulder when Cornelius Kemys was the biggest land- 
 owner in the country," said old Mrs. Kemys with 
 satisfaction; for the richer and greater the Yoraths 
 became, the more persistently and joyfully did their 
 neighbours recall their humble origin. " For my 
 part, there are plenty of young men whom I should 
 regard as more suitable than Lord Yorath; in spite 
 of his greatness. I always think badly of a man in 
 his position who has come to thirty without finding 
 a wife." 
 
 " Perhaps he has been too particular," said An- 
 nette smiling. " I've heard he is very shy. I only 
 thought of him because he is the most eligible of all, 
 and because I have never heard anything against him, 
 and because they say his mother is so anxious to cure 
 him of his wanderings after big game in Africa and 
 America, and to get him to settle down." 
 
 " It's time he settled down. He is a stranger in 
 his own county. Artramont has been let for five and 
 twenty years." 
 
 1 That was not his fault. It was let when he was 
 a child because his mother could not bear to live there 
 after his father died ; and they say he was too good- 
 hearted to turn out his tenants the poor old Mil- 
 wids who lived there so long and wanted to be
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 77 
 
 allowed to die there. That is one of the things I 
 heard which made me think of Lord Yorath. I wish 
 he could meet Annie however it came about. She 
 would be just the wife for a man in his position. 
 It's not only because she's my child that I think so. 
 I shouldn't wish it for Sophy." 
 
 ' You forget that in France it is a question of dot. 
 Where is Annie's fortune to come from? " 
 
 " Everything seems to resolve itself into a ques- 
 tion of pounds, shillings and pence," said Annette, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " I wonder if Mr. Turley would lend Roddy the 
 money," said old Mrs. Kemys, suddenly. " He and 
 his father have been the family solicitors for genera- 
 tions ; and he was fond of your own father, Annette, 
 for that matter." 
 
 " How can we ask him? He is very bitter against 
 Richard, and no wonder ; all the business taken from 
 him and given to Machon, a stranger in Llysdinam. 
 I am ashamed to face him, though I have never cut 
 him as Richard bade me. He was, as you say, my 
 father's friend. But I could not ask him a favour." 
 
 "I could for we are cronies, as you know; 
 though I do not say I should care to do it. Still 
 he might lend it out of his very bitterness against 
 Richard," said the old lady, with a chuckle like her 
 son's. 
 
 " Roddy wouldn't take it from him. He would 
 prefer to borrow from Jack Meredydd, who is his 
 own friend. And I don't feel sure of Mr. Turley's
 
 7 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 being willing to do it. After all, a man of business 
 is not usually willing to lend any one a thousand 
 pounds in a hurry who can offer no security," said 
 Annette, shaking her head. 
 
 " It is true that Richard would find it out if he 
 did; and that you would have to bear the brunt," 
 said the old lady. 
 
 " Oh ! me! " said Annette, with a gesture almost 
 scornful. 
 
 The light from the window fell upon her worn 
 delicate, colourless face, and the look she turned upon 
 her mother-in-law was one of pathetic, reproachful 
 wonder; as who should say: Is there anything left 
 for me to suffer? Have I not lived over twenty years 
 with this man who is your son? 
 
 Richard's mother answered her look rather than 
 the words she had spoken. 
 
 " I bore three sons," she said in broken tones. 
 " Two as good and kind and gentle as men could be, 
 and both were snatched from me in their youth. One 
 died for his country and the other in his bed of a 
 common cold that no one could have dreamt would 
 turn into an illness and kill a strong man. And only 
 Richard was left. The youngest. That never was 
 like the others; that I never could do anything with. 
 God knows I brought him up no differently, except 
 so far as his frowardness often made kindness im- 
 possible. But I've always said training has very lit- 
 tle to do with character. Pick up a couple of new-
 
 GRANDMOTHER IN THE COTTAGE 79 
 
 born kittens, and one will struggle and bite and 
 scratch, and another lie contented in your hand. 
 Richard was born with the drop of bad blood in him, 
 though where he got it from is more than mortal man 
 can tell. Thank God, it's not come out in any of his 
 children so far as I can see." 
 
 " A man must have the defects of his qualities, I 
 suppose," said Annette, wearily. 
 
 " What are his qualities? " 
 
 " You are his mother and do not need to ask. 
 .When I married him I saw his strength his cour- 
 age his strong will Look how he went forth 
 from his father's home, a boy almost and fought 
 with fortune and conquered her unaided." 
 
 " Did he conquer her? A fine use he has made of 
 his money, with his children in rags the laughing 
 stock of the place. But you would make excuses for 
 him if he killed you in one of his rages, that grow 
 upon him till I sometimes fear for his reason." 
 
 " Richard is sane enough," said his wife. 
 
 " No man is sane who lets his temper get the bet- 
 ter of him. What are you looking at? Why are 
 your eyes wandering so? " 
 
 " I thought I heard voices in the garden," said 
 Annette uneasily. 
 
 " Why should there not be voices in the garden? " 
 
 " It is Pryse. I hope there is nothing wrong," 
 said Annette, rising. 
 
 " What should be wrong except your nerves? Of
 
 8o THE TYRANT 
 
 course it's a caller. Why couldn't Pryse tell whoever 
 it is to come on here and be done with it? " said Mrs. 
 Kemys, testily. 
 
 But old Pryse, catching sight of his lady's face at 
 the open window, made her, without more ado, im- 
 perative signs to come down. 
 
 " Oh ma'am, come home. You're wanted at 
 once," he said in urgent tones. " There's been an ac- 
 cident."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 
 
 THE dog-cart descended the steep winding lanes from 
 Llanon to the high road in the valley, and then sped 
 rapidly along, beside the river, now brown and 
 swollen with recent rains. 
 
 The stone-tiled roofs of the wayside cottages 
 glistened in the April sunshine, among the leafless 
 trees ; in the orchards the earth was blue with violets, 
 as the peartrees were white with blossom. Yellow 
 daffodils nodded among sheaves of pointed green 
 spears; the springs were overflowing; the birds sang 
 loudly. 
 
 It was the moment of gladness, of hope, of as- 
 surance that the yearly fulfilment of promise was at 
 hand, and that spring had but paused, tantalizing, to 
 take breath before pouring forth gifts in abundance 
 to bless the waiting earth. Annie sat beside her 
 father, pleasantly occupied with thoughts of her com- 
 missions, and cheered by the secret consciousness of 
 riches. She gave only half her attention to the 
 parental monologue which Mr. Kemys mistook for 
 conversation with his daughter. But her comments 
 were always dutifully produced at the right points and 
 he neither expected nor desired more. 
 
 8 1
 
 82 THE TYRANT, 
 
 He was even secretly flattered at the warmth of 
 the greetings bestowed upon his pretty daughter by 
 the few foot passengers they encountered on their 
 way; which were so unlike the sullen salutes and fur- 
 tive nods of unwilling recognition accorded to him- 
 self by his tenants and neighbours. 
 
 But the lads and lasses among whom she had 
 grown up all had a smile or a blush for Annie; and 
 the older folk returned her pretty smile with those 
 kindly glances of affection and admiration which 
 beauty can so readily evoke at will. 
 
 " Nonsense about the girl being discontented," he 
 thought to himself. " She's as bright as a button. 
 Better company than all the rest of them put to- 
 gether." 
 
 He flicked at the chestnut mare triumphantly, and 
 she responded with a start and a flourish of heels 
 which threatened to upset the dog-cart. The satis- 
 faction on her master's face died out. 
 
 " Thomas gives her too much corn. I've told him 
 about it before," he said angrily. 
 
 " But; she's gone splendidly so far," said Annie, 
 anxious to restore his good spirits. " It's only play- 
 fulness, Papa. She hasn't a bit of vice in her, and 
 you manage her better than anyone else. Generally 
 she jigs and dances about so that poor Mamma gets 
 quite nervous." 
 
 " I've never seen a. horse yet that I couldn't 
 handle," he said, setting his handsome lips grimly. 
 " She knows she has to go my pace and not her own.
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 83 
 
 I make her go steady whether she likes it or not. 
 She'll be in Llysdinam in half an hour and without 
 overheating herself either." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth when 
 an upset happened, and so suddenly that none of 
 those concerned in it ever quite agreed upon the 
 exact details of its occurrence. 
 
 The hills sloping down to the river side here and 
 there jutted out, causing the road at their base to 
 curve abruptly; round the sharpest of these blind 
 turns the mare came full upon a motor car, buzzing 
 merrily along, and hooting as it came. There was no 
 collision, for the driver of the car pulled up with a 
 jerk that threw its occupants backwards ; but the mare 
 reared and bolted, dashing the dog-cart against a 
 tree. Richard Kemys and his daughter were flung 
 heavily into the road. 
 
 The driver of the car, who was also its owner, 
 leapt from his place, and leaving his chauffeur and a 
 passing cyclist to grapple with the mare, now kicking 
 wildly in a mad effort to disentangle herself from the 
 wreckage of dog-cart and harness he ran to the 
 assistance of Annie, who lay motionless where she had 
 fallen. 
 
 Mr. Kemys had already staggered to his feet. He 
 put his hand to his head for a moment and looked 
 round dizzily. Then he caught sight of the broken 
 dog-cart, the struggling mare, and the prostrate 
 figure of his daughter; his ungovernable temper 
 burst forth; a torrent of abuse fell from his lips; he
 
 84 THE TYRANT 
 
 consigned the motor car and its possessor to perdi- 
 tion in a fury akin to madness. For he had been 
 badly frightened, and like many quick-tempered per- 
 sons, when he was frightened he was angry. 
 
 The mare, trembling violently, was soothed to 
 comparative calm by the united efforts of the chauf- 
 feur and the cyclist ; and the latter, leaving her to the 
 other's care, joined the little group by the road- 
 side. 
 
 The young man who had come to Annie's assist- 
 ance had lifted her like a child, and carried her to the 
 bank, where he knelt, supporting her head, from 
 which the hat had fallen, displaying her bright hair 
 and colourless face. 
 
 " Let me help you," said the cyclist. " I'm a 
 doctor. At least, I'm a medical student, which is the 
 next best thing." 
 
 He was a stalwart stripling, though half a head 
 shorter than the other man, who was obviously his 
 senior by half a dozen years. His sallow face was 
 good-natured, but his manner was rough and un- 
 polished. 
 
 His handling of the unconscious girl, however skil- 
 ful, was too ungentle to please the owner of the 
 motor, who frowned and flushed and bit his lip as 
 Annie moaned. 
 
 " Her arm is broken. I can't be sure of anything 
 else. Probably concussion. Look here, get me a 
 stick and I'll put her arm roughly into splints. Then
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 85 
 
 we'll lift her into the car and take her to the nearest 
 hospital." 
 
 Richard Kemys forbade either proceeding in a 
 voice of thunder. 
 
 " Leave my daughter alone," he shouted. " I'll 
 not have her touched, and I'll see you both d d 
 before she sets foot in that infernal machine, d 
 you." 
 
 At the sound of those familiar furious tones, poor 
 Annie stirred uneasily, and half opened her eyes. 
 
 The motorist looked Mr. Kemys full in the face. 
 He was a clean-shaven man of about thirty, hawk- 
 nosed, and rather thin-lipped, with fine well-opened 
 eyes of greenish hazel under arched black brows. 
 He put up his hand with an authoritative gesture. 
 
 " Stop that please," he said coldly. " The young 
 lady is coming to herself." 
 
 " What the is that to you? " said Mr. Kemys, 
 at once astounded and angry. 
 
 u It is this to me," said the younger man haughtily. 
 " I won't suffer such language to be used in the pres- 
 ence of any woman, and if she's really your daughter 
 you ought to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 The anger of Richard Kemys threatened to choke 
 him. He was unused to defiance. 
 
 His size and strength, no less than his known un- 
 governable temper, had caused not only his inferiors 
 but those few of his equals with whom he held con- 
 verse to avoid giving him provocation.
 
 86 THE TYRANT 
 
 But the man who faced him now was obviously 
 possessed of a spirit equal to his own. Incidentally 
 he was possessed besides of a fine athletic person, and 
 was a score of years younger than his antagonist. 
 There was also something of the bull-dog expression 
 on the face of the sturdy cyclist, whose small grey 
 eyes twinkled gleefully as at the prospect of battle, 
 and who was obviously ranged on the side of the mo- 
 torist. 
 
 Mr. Kemys looked from one to the other, and their 
 unconcealed contempt of his wrath lashed him to 
 fury. He fell back on threats. 
 
 " If she's injured I'll make you pay for it. These 
 road hogs are the curse of the country. I'll make 
 you rue the day you came round that corner upon me 
 like that. I'm a magistrate. Everyone knows 
 Kemys of Nantgwilt ; I don't know who you are and 
 I don't care, but I'll get your name and address out of 
 you." 
 
 " I'm Lord Yorath," said the motorist; " and it's 
 not the moment now to discuss the cause of the acci- 
 dent. Your daughter's badly hurt, I fear, and I 
 don't think you're in a fit state to decide what ought 
 to be done with her, so I shall act on my own re- 
 sponsibility, and take her to the cottage hospital at 
 Llysdinam, where she can be attended to at once. 
 Then I'll come back and hear anything you want to 
 say." 
 
 " I'll follow you, and bear witness that the acci-
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 87 
 
 dent was no more your fault than it was mine, Lord 
 Yorath," said the cyclist cheerfully. " You weren't 
 going fast, and you certainly sounded your hooter. 
 Let me help you carry the girl to your car." 
 
 " I'm much obliged to you," said the motorist, 
 rather shortly. " Perhaps you'll kindly see the young 
 lady's arm doesn't get hurt as I lift her." 
 
 Richard Kemys made one step forward and 
 stopped as though he had been shot. A sudden dart 
 of agonizing pain bereft him of all power of move- 
 ment. His face became livid, his limbs rigid; his 
 brow wet with anguish. 
 
 He did not exactly lose consciousness, but he was 
 conscious of nothing save the intensity of his suffer- 
 ing. A dreadful sensation of impending suffocation 
 beset him. 
 
 " You're better now," someone said, in not un- 
 kindly tones. 
 
 He was sitting by the roadside, and the young cy- 
 clist was supporting him, and administering brandy 
 to him from a pocket flask. 
 
 The mare, tethered to an adjacent post, was crop- 
 ping the grass as quietly as though nothing had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 The cyclist, holding the wrist of Richard Kemys 
 between his thumb and two fingers, looked into his 
 face attentively. 
 
 " I expect you've felt something like this before, 
 haven't you?" he said. There was no respect for
 
 88 THE TYRANT 
 
 Kemys of Nantgwilt in his tone, but a decided rough 
 compassion, which was recognised by the older man 
 rather uneasily. 
 
 " I've never felt anything the least like it before," 
 he said, almost angrily, though he was still too much 
 under the influence of the terrible sensation he had 
 experienced to reply with his usual vigour. 
 
 " Well, look here then I think it would be only 
 kindness to tell you what's the matter with you," said 
 the cyclist in the same easy and familiar, but not un- 
 sympathetic manner: not the manner of the visiting 
 physician to his patients, but of the kindly house sur- 
 geon to the hospital inmates. " You've got a beast 
 of a temper, haven't you and it's as well you 
 should know that every time you give way to it, 
 you're just knocking another nail into your coffin, 
 to put it bluntly. Look here, you felt something like 
 this, didn't you?" 
 
 He described Mr. Kemys's recent sensations with a 
 terse accuracy that silenced retort. 
 
 " I thought so," said the cyclist, as the elder man, 
 with white lips, nodded assent. 
 
 " What is it? " he asked, hoarsely. 
 
 " Angina pectoris." 
 
 Richard Kemys stared with unseeing eyes at his 
 grazing mare, and at the distant blue hills against 
 which her familiar form was silhoutted. The blunt 
 words of the shrewd ordinary-looking young man be- 
 side him carried a horrible conviction in their very 
 absence of any attempt to soften the truth.
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 89 
 
 The medical student had the calm courage of his 
 convictions which is so characteristic of youth. 
 
 "How long ?" said Mr. Kemys. His own 
 voice sounded strange to him, but it was quite steady. 
 
 " Impossible to say. I should think it depended 
 partly on yourself. I can tell you anyway that as 
 long as you live you must be absolutely quiet in mind 
 and body as far as possible. You must never allow 
 yourself to indulge in any emotion you can possibly 
 help, least of all anger. But of course you'll take the 
 best advice. You mustn't hang upon my words like 
 that. I'm not qualified to give my opinion at all, 
 you know." He looked almost amused in the midst 
 of his sympathy. " I can give you the names of the 
 best heart specialists in London, if you like; though, 
 mind you, it doesn't follow you've got disease of the 
 heart there may be nothing or they may find 
 no signs. It's not always to be diagnosed by exam- 
 ination but when I saw you just now why " 
 his pause was eloquent. 
 
 " I don't believe in doctors," said Richard Kemys 
 sternly. 
 
 The cyclist shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " What are the remedies? " said Mr. Kemys. 
 
 " I'm not going to prescribe for you. I'm only in 
 my second year," said the student, looking amused 
 once more. " There are certain drugs which are al- 
 ways used in these cases. You'll find them in any 
 book of household medicine if you're bent on taking 
 the doctors' daily bread out of their mouths. You
 
 9 o THE TYRANT 
 
 ought to carry one of the remedies always in your 
 pocket." 
 
 "Do you mean I shall have it again?" said 
 Mr. Kemys. 
 
 The cyclist did not answer in words, but he nod- 
 ded; and looked as he felt, rather sorry for his ques- 
 tioner. 
 
 The next words Mr. Kemys uttered surprised him. 
 
 " You've earned your fee, and I'll give it to you 
 on one condition." 
 
 " I told you I wasn't qualified to give medical ad- 
 vice," said the cyclist, flushing. " I recognised 
 your attack and in common humanity warned you 
 what it was because, frankly, you'd just given me 
 proof that you're in the habit of flying into violent 
 passions, which is about the worst thing you can do. 
 I'm not going to take a fee for that, as you may sup- 
 pose. But I do tell you that if you're not a fool, 
 you'll go and get the best advice in your power with- 
 out delay." 
 
 " You've told me what the matter is," said Mr. 
 Kemys, ignoring this, " and all I want you to do now 
 is to promise to tell nobody else." 
 
 "Whom should I tell?" 
 
 ' That conceited jackanapes whose car caused this 
 - this accident," said Mr. Kemys, gulping down a 
 fresh access of wrath. " Didn't he say he was com- 
 ing back? " 
 
 " He did, but I haven't the slightest desire to tell 
 him, and I don't suppose it would interest him if I
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 91 
 
 did," said the student brusquely. " It's no business 
 of mine, nor of his. I'm not likely to see him 
 again." 
 
 "Do you belong to these parts?" asked Mr. 
 Kemys suspiciously. 
 
 " No, I don't. I'm down here, if you must know, 
 cycling around trying to get fit. I had a bad break- 
 down and have been ordered to give up work for 
 six months, and live out of doors. Don't look like 
 it, do I ? But neither do you look like a man who's 
 got anything the matter with him." 
 
 "You'll hold your tongue?" said Richard 
 Kemys, ignoring as usual everything irrelative to his 
 own interests. 
 
 " Of course I'll hold my tongue. Look here, are 
 you going to let Lord Yorath take you to the hospital 
 and see how your girl's getting on? You don't seem 
 to concern yourself much about her. Don't get 
 angry, but make up your mind what you're going to 
 do quietly, and do it." 
 
 " If I'm not to get angry," said Richard, with 
 lowering brow, " that fellow and his damned tin ket- 
 tle had better keep out of my way. I'll not go to 
 the hospital. What good should I do there? I 
 shall get on to the mare and ride home, and send a 
 carriage for my daughter. Her mother will go and 
 bring her back." 
 
 " Well, that will be the best plan, if she's fit to be 
 moved, and if not why her mother ought to 
 be there," said the cyclist, soothingly.
 
 92 THE TYRANT 
 
 He assisted Mr. Kemys to rise and held the mare 
 while he mounted ; then watched him ride away with 
 mixed feelings of amusement, resentment and pity. 
 
 " The brute never even thanked me, nor so 
 much as asked my name. I needn't have worried 
 about- that fee! Well, I suppose he was feeling 
 pretty rotten. Just about the best thing he could 
 do, to avoid another meeting with the motor chap. 
 There'd have been ructions. His lordship looked as 
 if he was a bit used to having his own way too. 
 Kemys of Nantgwilt ! Heartless old beggar ; sneak- 
 ing off to save his own skin without waiting to hear 
 if his daughter's dead or alive." 
 
 His indignation had time to cool before Lord Yo- 
 rath returned in the motor. 
 
 " I am very sorry," he said, " to have been so long 
 away, but it all took time why you are alone ! " 
 
 The cyclist explained. 
 
 " The old man turned queer for a moment. I 
 advised him to keep his temper in future." 
 
 " I hope he wasn't hurt." 
 
 " Not he. I daresay he had a bit of a shake up. 
 A man falls pretty heavy at that age, and with that 
 figure. He's gone home on horseback to send his 
 wife and a carriage for the girl." 
 
 His easy familiarity froze Lord Yorath's friend- 
 liness into civility. 
 
 " I am quite sure the surgeon will not permit the 
 young lady to be moved," he said, stiffly.
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 93 
 
 "So am I. But I did not tell the old boy that. 
 He can send his wife and the carriage to his heart's 
 content. I hope her mother will show a little more 
 affection for her than her father does." 
 
 " They are neighbours of mine," said Lord Yo- 
 rath; " and as I'm more or less responsible for the 
 accident I must do what I can to help. Are you 
 quite sure it wasn't because he was hurt, that he went 
 home?" 
 
 " He walked quite sound. Don't you worry 
 about him. I gave him a drop of brandy out of my 
 flask." 
 
 " You have been exceedingly kind. Can I do any- 
 thing for you? Will you let the car take you any- 
 where? " said Lord Yorath, hesitating. " You have 
 been delayed a long while over this affair." 
 
 " Oh, Lord, I don't care ; I'm only touring, taking 
 a bit of a holiday. Been ill, overworking," said the 
 student, with a laugh. " I'll leave you my address 
 in case you want my evidence at any time, if he's fool 
 enough to bring an action, that is. Or if anything 
 happened to the girl, which isn't likely, I hope. My 
 name's Bewan, Robert Bewan." 
 
 He took a card from his pocket-book and handed 
 it to Lord Yorath, who received it, repeating his 
 thanks as cordially as he could. 
 
 " Perhaps you'd drop me a line, and let me know 
 if she's all right. I don't want to go back to Lysdi- 
 nam, which is a dead-alive hole. I stopped there last
 
 94 THE TYRANT 
 
 night. But I should like to hear I was right, and 
 that there's nothing the matter with the girl but a 
 broken arm." 
 
 Lord Yorath promised to write, and shook hands, 
 and in his turn, watched the medical student depart- 
 ing along the highroad on his bicycle. 
 
 Then he entered the car, and drove back to the 
 hospital. 
 
 Richard Kemys rode slowly home to Nantgwilt, 
 deliberately forcing himself to restrain the mare's 
 paces, and to stifle his own impatience, emotion and 
 anxiety. 
 
 He would not dwell upon the thought of the ac- 
 cident, of his ruined dog-cart, nor upon the amount 
 of hurt that Annie had sustained. Suppose she had 
 broken her arm she was young, strong and healthy 
 and would make a quick recovery. She had a 
 long life before her, while he 
 
 His mind recoiled, fixing itself dully upon the vital 
 necessity for maintaining his own composure. His 
 iron will bent itself to that purpose. 
 
 He must keep calm. Calm and composed. He 
 must not let his feelings get the better of him. He 
 must never let emotion nor excitement of any kind 
 get the better of him again. 
 
 His life was dear to him, and he would cling to 
 it fiercely while any shred of hope remained. It de- 
 pended largely on himself. He resolved to get
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 95 
 
 down one of those dusty medical encyclopaedias that 
 stood on the top shelves of the old library, behind 
 locked doors, and read up all he could find on the sub- 
 ject of angina pectoris. 
 
 But such volumes must be out of date; he would 
 send to London for more modern books on diseases 
 of the heart. Perhaps after all he would go up to 
 London and consult hush, he was growing agi- 
 tated at the thought; he must be calm. And yet it 
 was very hard. A rush of self-pity almost overcame 
 him. His life was very dear to him, and that life 
 was threatened. He was stunned, incredulous, mis- 
 erable. 
 
 He was in the prime of life; almost a young man 
 still in his own estimation, though his sons would 
 have been amazed that he could think so; and he 
 was strong and vigorous of mind and body; at the 
 very zenith of all his powers. 
 
 He knew that it was not an unknown nor even a 
 rare thing for strong and vigorous men in the prime 
 of life to develop heart disease, and he felt that in 
 any one's case but his own he would not have been 
 surprised; but the absurdity of this thought did not 
 strike him. 
 
 It was true that his two brothers had died at a 
 much earlier age, but they had never possessed his 
 fine physique. The recollection of their fate even 
 afforded him a momentary gleam of comfort. For 
 he told himself that it was improbable that a just
 
 9 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 God could permit his mother, a good woman a 
 religious woman to suffer a third such grievous 
 blow to outlive all her sons. 
 
 But the consolation was transient, for through the 
 thick casing of his egotism pierced a sudden stinging 
 doubt whether his loss would, after all, cause such 
 affliction to his mother. 
 
 He recalled her sorrow (which he had thought 
 excessive) when his brothers died, and tried to im- 
 agine her reception of the news of his own sudden de- 
 parture out of this world. But his dulled imagina- 
 tion, hitherto exercised generally in the direction of 
 money making, refused to depict her in any but her 
 most prosaic aspect; and he could only hear her re- 
 marking in her driest tone that no doubt Providence 
 arranged everything for the best. 
 
 He told himself that he cared nothing what any- 
 one said or did after he was gone ; but there remained 
 a sore feeling of resentment and bitterness at the sus- 
 picion that his going might after all be more of a re- 
 lief than a sorrow to his family. 
 
 With a start he recollected that if he had died in 
 that confounded attack young Rodric would have 
 found himself suddenly independent of everything 
 and everybody; able to join in any scheme he fan- 
 cied; master not merely of one, but of how many? 
 thousands of pounds. 
 
 Richard Kemys determined to lose not a moment 
 in giving his lawyer instructions for the making of a 
 new will.
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 97 
 
 Young Rodric must be kept in his place. Every- 
 thing should be tied up. If he must leave his money 
 behind him there was at least a dismal satisfaction 
 in the thought that he could so arrange matters that 
 for a number of years it would be of little use to any- 
 body. It would be in the hands of trustees. A list 
 of names passed through the mind of Richard 
 Kemys. 
 
 He who had trusted no man with his affairs must 
 now perforce trust someone. He could have wept 
 tears of mingled rage and pity when he thought of 
 the energy and trouble he had expended over the 
 making of his money. To what end he had seldom 
 if ever troubled to ask himself, but certainly not to 
 this end. He had vaguely intended to add to his es- 
 tate; to become eventually a power in his native 
 county. In his youth he had thought of this, and of 
 much more. But youth sees only that time and space 
 are boundless, and shapes its dreams and hopes ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 Middle-age perceives more clearly what an infin- 
 itesimal portion of both Fate has pegged out for the 
 individual. Richard suddenly relinquished his am- 
 bitions, and realised that he asked no more than to 
 be allowed to go on as he was, until until when? 
 For another twenty years, at least. But to be taken 
 away from the contemplation of the figures in his 
 bank book before he even needed to use glasses in 
 order to decipher them! It was monstrous and 
 cruel, altogether too bad to be true.
 
 9 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 He became alarmed at his own growing agitation 
 of mind, and in the effort to regain his calm, forced 
 his attention away from subjects too engrossing, and 
 turned it towards his immediate outward surround- 
 ings. 
 
 His mood softened. He looked round with an- 
 guished eyes at the familiar landscape at the blue 
 April sky the dancing sunlight on the brown river 
 the feathery birches swaying on the wild hillside 
 above him. These things were dear to him too after 
 his fashion. It could not be that he was to be shut 
 away in the darkness, and know them all no more. 
 
 He dismounted in the stableyard, and in subdued 
 tones, which terrified the groom and stableman, who 
 ran out to meet him, gave a brief account of the ac- 
 cident. He bade them send to the spot where it took 
 place, and collect the remains of the wrecked dog- 
 cart; and meanwhile to prepare the landau at once, 
 which was to bring his daughter home from Lysdi- 
 nam. 
 
 Then he went into the house and called his wife. 
 He learnt that she was at the cottage with his mother 
 and sent old Pryse in search of her. 
 
 Annette was with him almost immediately. She 
 found him lying on the sofa in the study. 
 
 "Richard, oh, Richard! Are you hurt?" she 
 said and knelt beside him, trembling.
 
 THE BOLT FROM THE BLUE 99 
 
 In the midst of his trouble he felt a certain dull 
 sense of comfort in her presence, and in the anxiety 
 of her looks ; but he was so unaccustomed to the sen- 
 sation that he was hardly aware of it, even though it 
 helped to restore his shaken self-confidence. 
 
 " Don't waste time," he said with his usual gruff- 
 ness. " I'm not hurt, though I was thrown into the 
 road and of course I'm a bit shaken; bruised all 
 over, I daresay. It's Annie." 
 
 " Annie ! " said the poor mother. 
 
 " Go and get ready and drive down to Lysdinam 
 and bring her home," said Mr. Kemys, gruffly. 
 " I've ordered the carriage. That d d officious 
 fool took her to the cottage hospital." 
 
 "The hospital? What officious fool? Oh, 
 Richard, is she seriously hurt? For pity's sake tell 
 me everything." 
 
 " How can I tell you what I don't know? I tell 
 you I was thrown into the road, and before I had 
 time to recover my senses, that meddling idiot, Lord 
 Yorath, whose infernal car upset the mare, had the 
 impudence to carry her off. They said her arm was 
 broken." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys uttered a faint cry. 
 
 " Don't be silly," he said, not unkindly, but in a 
 strange subdued manner so unlike himself that it al- 
 most alarmed her. " I've safd you can go to her, 
 haven't I ? They'll have set it by this time, and the 
 sooner she's brought back the better. It can't hurt
 
 ioo THE TYRANT 
 
 her to come in the landau. You'd better take rugs 
 and cushions and things, and go at once and leave me 
 to rest." 
 
 But Mrs. Kemys lingered, kneeling by his side. 
 
 " Richard, are you sure are you sure you are 
 not more hurt than you know ? " she faltered. " You 
 look you speak there is some change in you. 
 Forgive me," as his fierce blue eyes flashed impa- 
 tience. " You are so big and heavy to be thrown out 
 into the road. Are you sure there is no internal in- 
 jury? Won't you let Dr. Harries come?" 
 
 11 When have I ever sent for a doctor? " he thun- 
 dered, betrayed by her importunity into his usual fiery 
 manner, almost to her relief. 
 
 Then he recollected himself. 
 
 " I've told you I want to rest," he said, and turned 
 away from her, closing his eyes.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR 
 
 MRS. KEMYS drove from Nantgwilt to the hospital 
 outside Llysdinam with her mind in a tumult of anx- 
 iety, misery, and self-reproach. 
 
 She felt as though like the wishes granted by 
 malignant elves to hapless mortals in fairy-tales 
 her wish that her daughter might meet Lord YoratK 
 had recoiled upon her own head in its fulfilment. 
 
 The drive seemed terribly long. The coachman, 
 with officious zeal, pointed out to her the scene of 
 the accident, which they were obliged to pass; she 
 shuddered at the debris of the dog-cart by the way- 
 side, and by the time the shabby landau and the old 
 panting horses at length drew up before the newly 
 built cottage hospital, she was almost faint with sus- 
 pense. 
 
 She was vaguely aware of a large automobile 
 standing by the kerb, and that she was saluted re- 
 spectfully by a smart chauffeur; and she recalled 
 afterwards the dark handsome face of the tall man 
 who came forward to receive her, and whom she 
 knew must be Lord Yorath, though she was too 
 confused to pay attention to his gentle words of 
 greeting. 
 
 lOIi
 
 102 THE TYRANT 
 
 She was grateful to the white-capped, blue-gowned 
 matron, who, divining her condition, detained her 
 scarcely a moment in the parlour of waiting, but hur- 
 ried her along the narrow passage into the little 
 room which was reserved for special cases. She gave 
 her soothing report on the way. 
 .. "All quite right, and nothing whatever to alarm 
 you. A simple fracture just below the elbow. The 
 surgeon was luckily here and able to set it at once. 
 She's been so plucky about it all. But she's suffer- 
 ing a little from shock, and perhaps slight concus- 
 sion her head got a nasty knock so I needn't 
 tell you how quiet she must be kept. You won't let 
 her talk, will you ? " 
 
 The shaded room was exquisitely clean, if almost 
 bare, save for the white bed. Annie lay there, her 
 blue eyes turned expectant towards the screen which 
 sheltered the door, and her bright hair making sun- 
 shine on the pillow. 
 
 The nurse beside her rose in obedience to the ma- 
 tron's signal, and withdrew. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys bent over her daughter pitifully, 
 pressing the slender hand against her own colourless 
 cheek. 
 
 " Oh, my darling. Thank God it was no worse. 
 Don't speak, or only just to tell me if you're in pain, 
 or if I can do anything." 
 
 " I promised Nurse I wouldn't talk," said Annie, 
 smiling faintly. " But it's really not very bad, Mum-
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR 103 
 
 mie, and I want to know two or three things. Is 
 Papa hurt?" 
 
 "No, no. At least, a little shaken. Nothing 
 
 more." 
 
 " I'm so glad it was only me. Then Mamma 
 who was it who brought me here?" said 
 Annie with varying colour. 
 
 " Lord Yorath. I know nothing of what hap- 
 pened except that somehow his motor caused the 
 accident. Don't speak or think of it, my darling." 
 
 " I can't remember anything," Annie said, knit- 
 ting her fair brows, " except that a motor came 
 round the corner. The next thing a man was car- 
 rying me in here. I saw him afterwards In the door- 
 way over there, helping them to put up a screen. I 
 don't remember anything more. It was just a sort 
 of mist with the face in the doorway looking through 
 it. They gave me chloroform or something, I am 
 sure. I found my arm all done up like this. Are 
 you sure it was Lord Yorath? Is he a very big man, 
 very gentle, with a rather hooked nose and fine hazel 
 eyes and clean-shaven? " 
 
 " I did not notice his eyes, but he is tall, and clean- 
 shaven. Of course it was him. You're getting ex- 
 cited, darling, there are big spots of colour burning 
 on your cheeks. Don't speak any more, or only just 
 whisper any question." 
 
 The next question was whispered. 
 
 " Is Papa angry? "
 
 104 THE TYRANT 
 
 " Hardly at all." Mrs. Kemys betrayed her won- 
 der quite unconsciously. " He scarcely said any- 
 thing; he did not even worry about the dogcart being 
 smashed. I think he was too anxious about you, I 
 do indeed. He sent me at once with the carriage to 
 bring you home." 
 
 " Oh, Mamma, you won't do that? " Annie said. 
 She raised herself in bed, and her eyes grew large 
 with dismay. " Oh, don't. It's so peaceful here. 
 Surely you won't take me away? " 
 
 " My darling, don't excite yourself," said poor 
 Mrs. Kemys in despair. " I am sure you ought not 
 to be moved. You shall do as you like." 
 
 " And you go home and bear the brunt, poor 
 Mamma. No, I won't do that," said Annie, but 
 the bright eyes filled with tears. " I don't think I 
 could stand this pain if I'm to be moved out of this 
 quiet place and taken back home. All the noise, and 
 Papa shouting, and the little boys wanting Sharman 
 every minute not that Sharman could nurse me 
 like these " she said, half sobbing and half petu- 
 lant. " These nurses have made me so comfortable 
 now all but the pain." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys had scarce time to reproach herself 
 for mentioning her mission to Annie at all, before the 
 nurse was back at her post, with a face that betrayed 
 her opinion of the strange propensity displayed by 
 visiting relatives for upsetting patients just when 
 they were doing well. 
 
 But her amusement at the notion of Annie's re-
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR 105 
 
 moval from the hospital almost restored the com- 
 posure of both mother and daughter. 
 
 The doctor would never hear of such a thing! 
 He would write a letter of explanation to Mr. Kemys 
 if that were all. Why they weren't out of the wood 
 yet. Had Mrs. Kemys seen the bump on her daugh- 
 ter's head? The doctor wanted to cut her hair off, 
 but the matron said she could manage without that. 
 It would have been a shame. Such beautiful hair. 
 And so on. The soft cheerful babble, and air of 
 complete responsibility and authority restored An- 
 nie's confidence, and brought a faint smile to her lips 
 once more. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys understood that the best thing she 
 could do was to leave her child in these kind and 
 capable hands; and she could not help feeling that 
 Annie shared this opinion, though she clung to her 
 at parting and whispered sympathetic and anxious 
 counsels concerning the probability of her father's 
 displeasure. 
 
 " I don't think he will mind," she said, trying to 
 reassure herself as well as her child. u As nurse 
 says, I can take him a letter from the doctor. That 
 will be the best way; of course you could not be 
 moved against his orders." 
 
 " And you can tell her father she can have any- 
 thing she asks for. We can get her everything in 
 reason," said the nurse, misapprehending the situa- 
 tion entirely, as was natural; " then I daresay he'll be 
 reconciled, especially when he knows how important
 
 106 THE TYRANT 
 
 it is that she should be kept quiet. No, not another 
 word, please. It's all against orders, and you don't 
 want to do her harm, do you ? " 
 
 Annie's anxious smile and last look at her mother 
 remained in the memory of poor Mrs. Kemys and 
 made her heart ache with love and longing as she 
 hurried away, divining though she could not observe, 
 the relief her departure would cause her child, who 
 asked only to be left in peace, to suffer what pain she 
 had to suffer as best she might in an atmosphere so 
 much more restful than that of her home. 
 
 The matron, taking her back to the little parlour 
 which was her sitting-room, gave her all the particu- 
 lars she asked for, and told her that Lord Yorath 
 had behaved in the kindest and most considerate man- 
 ner. The chauffeur had explained how it happened. 
 It was nobody's fault. There was another gentle- 
 man who had been bicycling and was anxious to bear 
 witness to this effect. Of course Mrs. Kemys knew 
 how much interest Lady Yorath took in the hospital 
 since her return to Artramont with her son. What a 
 good thing for the county that they should have re- 
 turned at last, though the old tenants had been so 
 good in their way, etc. Lady Yorath was a charm- 
 ing person, and wrapt up in her son. She came so 
 often to visit them all. The matron pressed Mrs. 
 Kemys to have a cup of tea while she telephoned to 
 see if the doctor were at his house in Llysdinam, and 
 Mrs. Kemys could not refuse, though she would have 
 preferred to drive to the doctor's house.
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR 107 
 
 They entered the parlour and found Lord Yorath 
 waiting there still. The matron hurried away to 
 order the tea. 
 
 Lord Yorath did not say that the accident was 
 nobody's fault. On the contrary, he assured Mrs. 
 Kemys very earnestly that he blamed himself bitterly 
 for turning the corner too quickly. 
 
 " I might have reflected that it would startle any 
 spirited horse especially where there is so little 
 traffic," he said. " There was plenty of room, and 
 of course the hooter was sounding, but I ought to 
 have slowed down even more. I shall never forgive 
 myself, and I am afraid you will never forgive me." 
 
 " Annie says you were so kind. She remembers 
 nothing except that you carried her in here," faltered 
 Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 " I hope you don't think I did wrong to bring her 
 here," he said, colouring all over his dark face. 
 " One had to act quickly, and I did not know how 
 badly she might be hurt. Besides we were so close 
 to this place." 
 
 " I am sure you did right." 
 
 " I am afraid Mr. Kemys wasn't very pleased 
 with me," said the young man straightforwardly. 
 
 " I daresay he was too much upset to know 
 what he said," said 'Mrs. Kemys, wondering faintly 
 how far Richard's temper had carried him ; for that 
 he had been angry she could not doubt. " He sent 
 me to bring her home, but of course I see that is im- 
 possible." She tried to smile, feeling the embarrass-
 
 io8 THE TYRANT 
 
 ment of explanation. " I am going to ask the doctor 
 to write a note for me to take back. Of course it is 
 a little awkward our being seven miles away. I shall 
 be so anxious for news of her, and yet it will not be 
 easy for me to be backwards and forwards as often 
 as I could wish." 
 
 Her manner, gentle almost to timidity, her hesi- 
 tating speech, and the sadness of her faded blue eyes, 
 betrayed more than she was aware, to Lord Yorath. 
 
 His generous heart, already inflamed against 
 Richard Kemys, beat yet higher with indignation. 
 
 " I have heard he was a brute and a bully," he 
 thought, " and I have seen his callousness 1 to his 
 daughter's suffering with my own eyes. This poor 
 lady is absolutely afraid of him." 
 
 The thought made his speech yet gentler, and his 
 manner almost tender in its extreme deference. 
 
 " Of course, I quite see," he said. " But my 
 mother is at home now, and she comes over here very 
 often, and when she knows what disaster my care- 
 lessness has caused, she will make a point of coming 
 much oftener, I am certain, and of telegraphing to 
 you every morning exactly how your daughter is. 
 I expect she will know just what you wish to be told 
 better even than the nurses or the doctor," he smiled. 
 " She is a very understanding person. We are so 
 close not three miles off, as you know which 
 is nothing in a motor and on the highroad, so 
 that if anything were wanted we could bring it far 
 more quickly than you could send from Nantgwilt.
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR 109 
 
 You'll let me have the consolation of thinking we 
 can help a little, though I don't deserve it, won't 
 you? " he said entreatingly. 
 
 As Lord Yorath looked down at her, Mrs. Kemys 
 observed at last the fine hazel eyes of which Annie 
 had spoken, and thought she had never seen eyes of 
 any colour more expressive and sympathetic. 
 
 She marvelled to find herself presently talking 
 almost confidentially to this stranger, who seemed 
 to understand her at a word, and before whom diffi- 
 culties melted like snowflakes in sunshine; so that 
 when she left the hospital at last, she had almost for- 
 gotten her dread that Richard's anger might be 
 aroused at her returning alone. 
 
 Her heart was warmed and her courage reani- 
 mated; she carried the doctor's letter in her hand, 
 which was to prove to her husband the impossibility 
 of moving Annie for the present. 
 
 She no longer reproached herself for her wish that 
 Lord Yorath might meet her child. On the contrary 
 she was conscious of secret hopes that her aspirations 
 might yet be fulfilled, though she blushed to detect 
 herself dwelling upon this happy possibility. 
 
 " It seems hard that it should be wrong to have 
 such thoughts," she reflected, rather wistfully. 
 " How can a mother help wishing for her child's 
 good? It's not all worldliness, for if he were a bad 
 man in any way, I wouldn't give her to him, if I 
 could my pretty Annie. But now that I've seen 
 him the boys are dear fellows, God bless them,"
 
 i io THE TYRANT 
 
 she sighed, "but they're not like that. He is so 
 gentle, as she said with that high-bred air ; but of 
 course he's much older than they are, and a man of 
 the world, while they are but lads. I have not heard 
 any man speak like that to a woman since poor 
 Papa died" 
 
 The thought just glanced through her mind that 
 it would have been to just such another as this young 
 man that poor Colonel Myllon would fain have given 
 his only child, as bright and as pretty and as high- 
 spirited then, as was Annie now. But though she 
 paid the tribute of that passing sigh to the memory 
 of the gallant old soldier's pride in her, it was the 
 present and not the past that absorbed her attention, 
 as she lay back restfully in the old landau, with a 
 smile upon her thin face; soothed by the fresh air, 
 and the unwonted solitude; lost in dreams and flat- 
 tered by vague hopes that after all, some good might 
 come out of this misfortune which had befallen her 
 child. 
 
 She found Richard in the study, pacing restlessly 
 about the room, and she made her report of Annie's 
 condition, and gave him the doctor's letter, which he 
 read contemptuously and crumpled in his hand. But 
 he did not, as she feared, burst into a rage, though 
 his blue eyes glared at her, as though he restrained 
 himself with difficulty. 
 
 " Of course they won't let her leave the hospital 
 once they've got her. You don't suppose they get so
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR in 
 
 many paying patients," he said, breathing heavily. 
 " What are they going to charge for keeping her 
 there? He writes of a private room and every com- 
 fort. How much do you think I'm going to pay for 
 it? What are their charges, pray? " 
 
 Annette collapsed into a low chair, and looked up 
 helplessly at her husband, who came and stood over 
 her, big and masterful, with his handsome frowning 
 brows knitted above his fiery blue eyes. 
 
 "Oh Richard, what will you think of me? If 
 you will believe it, I I was thinking so much of 
 
 of other things that I never even thought to ask 
 " she said, faltering. 
 
 ' You never asked." 
 
 She waited for the outburst of rage and indigna- 
 tion that would follow her confession, and shrank 
 back even as she tried to brace herself to meet it. 
 To her surprise it did not come. 
 
 He turned away in silence. 
 
 His wife was really alarmed by this unwonted be- 
 haviour. 
 
 " I will go over the first thing in the morning," 
 she said nervously, " and put it right. I cannot 
 think what possessed me that I asked no question of 
 the kind. But in the relief and joy of finding her so 
 comfortable comparatively and so brave and 
 cheerful, poor child, in spite of her broken arm, 
 everything else went out of my head. When I think 
 what it might have been both of you thrown out 
 
 it is no wonder that I forgot. No, it was un-
 
 ii2 THE TYRANT 
 
 pardonable of me, I know," she added confusedly. 
 " It is very good of you not to be angry with me, 
 dear Richard. I know I really deserve a scolding." 
 
 She tried to laugh, and rose and stood beside him, 
 where he had sunk into his elbow chair before the 
 writing table, leaning his head on his hands in moody 
 attitude. 
 
 She could not understand his silence, and was 
 vaguely troubled by it. But when he raised his head 
 and looked her full in the face she saw that it was 
 from no lack of anger that he did not speak ; but that 
 he was again, for some unexplained reason, making 
 a mighty effort to restrain himself. 
 
 The veins on his broad forehead were swollen, and 
 his big hands were trembling. Her heart sank. 
 
 They stood thus in silence for a moment, looking 
 at each other, and then he pointed to the door. His 
 wife making no further effort, went away, and left 
 him alone. 
 
 Sophy and the little boys were waiting to besiege 
 her with questions, clamouring for her attention and 
 full of anxiety and curiosity to learn the latest news 
 of Annie. They could not imagine why she had been 
 left behind in Llysdinam after all, and not brought 
 home, though the carriage had been sent for her, and 
 a fire had been lighted in her bedroom by Sharman's 
 orders, who had insisted upon this unheard of luxury. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys did her best to satisfy them before 
 sending Sophy off with messages to her grandmother, 
 and despatching the little boys to the nursery. Then
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR 113 
 
 she went wearily into her own room to take off her 
 bonnet and change her gown. 
 
 The sweet April day was waning, and the glow of 
 hope and cheerfulness which had warmed her heart 
 had been quenched with the last rays of the evening 
 sunshine. Now the primroses in the meadowland 
 beyond the garden fence made only faint patches on 
 the wet fragrant soil about the roots of the old oaks 
 and elms, and the wild cherry trees whitened the 
 dusk of the woods with drifts of blossom which 
 would presently shine like snow in the light of the 
 moon. 
 
 If Mrs. Kemys had dared, she would have lingered 
 by the open window, watching the changes of the 
 familiar landscape from April twilight to April dusk. 
 She would also have sent a message to say she was 
 too much upset by the events of the day, to go down 
 to dinner, and would like a little soup sent to her 
 room, where she would lie down upon the sofa and 
 rest. But such action had no precedent, and on the 
 contrary she was obliged to hurry her preparation 
 lest she should be late. 
 
 She dreaded the tete-a-tete meal that she would 
 have to sit through opposite her husband's gloomy 
 and scowling face, without the relief of a third pres- 
 ence: for Sophy was not yet deemed old enough to 
 be admitted to the mysteries of late dinner. 
 
 There was a knock at her door, and Mrs. Sharman 
 entered, prepared to assist her lady to dress, pour out 
 her hot water, and find out any details concerning the
 
 ii 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 accident which might have escaped the children's 
 questioning. 
 
 Mrs. Sharman had been the master's nurse in her 
 youth, but when he grew to manhood, she quitted the 
 Manor House for a brief term of years, during which 
 interval she was married, and widowed, and left pen- 
 niless to fight her way in the world with two little 
 sons to support besides herself. She struggled 
 bravely through the hard time of their infancy, and 
 then placed them with relatives, and returned to serv- 
 ice in time to receive Mr. Richard's first-born in her 
 arms. Her own sons were no dearer. She had 
 always been a privileged person in the household, 
 tolerated by her foster son, and a favourite with his 
 wife. 
 
 But to-night she found Mrs. Kemys uncommunica- 
 tive. 
 
 " The old lady has been in a dreadful state, 
 Ma'am," she observed. " I tried to get Mr. Rich- 
 ard to go over to see her," Mrs. Sharman retained 
 the privilege of calling the lord of the manor by his 
 Christian name, " but he was in one of his moods 
 and there was no getting him to do anything. He 
 would have it Miss Annie was all right, and you'd be 
 sure to bring her back directly her arm was set as if 
 it was no more than a twig as had snapped." 
 
 " Oh, Sharman, if you could see her ! She looks 
 so pretty in spite of the pain, and they have been so 
 good to her, and made her as comfortable as pos- 
 sible. She begged me to leave her there."
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR 115 
 
 " I said she wouldn't be let to move," said Shar- 
 man rustling about in the ample dignity of her black 
 silk dress. 
 
 She lingered, aware that her mistress desired her 
 to g> y et restrained by curiosity and interest from 
 leaving the room. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys stood before the dressing-glass, 
 fastening a little old-fashioned pearl brooch into the 
 lace collar of the black grenadine which had served 
 her for so many years as a dinner gown. Beside her 
 slight figure, with its rather stooping shoulders, Mrs. 
 Sharman's large proportions looked larger yet. She 
 approached so closely to her lady that Mrs. Kemys 
 could hear the creaking of her tightly-buttoned 
 bodice as her ample bosom rose and fell, making the 
 bunch of charms upon her solid watchchain jingle. 
 
 " The men have got talking, since the carriage 
 came back, ma'am," she said confidentially, " as it 
 was Lord Yorath's motor that caused the accident, 
 and him as carried Miss Annie to the hospital and 
 hadn't left her for a moment since. Of course I 
 gave Pryse a hint to make them hold their tongues. 
 But you know what servants is, ma'am, and espe- 
 cially out-door. They will talk. But I couldn't help 
 thinking to myself that if somebody must be upsetting 
 of her, and hurting her poor arm like that, why, it 
 seems like God's providence it should be him, as 
 would be the very gentleman of all others in the 
 country-side one would pick out for our Miss Annie." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys looked at Sharman in a dismay too
 
 n6 THE TYRANT 
 
 great for words. To hear her most secret aspira- 
 tions thus unblushingly spoken aloud by the old nurse 
 seemed to put her to shame unutterable. 
 
 " You shouldn't say such things, Sharman," she 
 said, almost severely. 
 
 " I wouldn't dream of saying them, ma'am, to 
 anyone but you," said Sharman, with a touch of in- 
 dignation. Then she broke down and began to cry; 
 letting forth her pent-up anxiety of the past hours in 
 a flood of tears and volubility. 
 
 " If you knew what a time I've had while you've 
 been gone. Not knowing if my child as is the flower 
 of the flock and the sunshine of the house, was dead 
 or alive, or disfigured maybe for life. And Mr. 
 Richard content to come home and leave her like that, 
 as was always as hard as nails when he was angry, 
 though I can't forget there was a time when he used 
 to put his little arms round my neck and say ' Kiss 
 me, Nana ' more coaxing than both his brothers put 
 together if he was the black sheep. But there, if 
 nobody else hadn't the courage to tell him of his con- 
 duck, leaving my Miss Annie to strangers, 7 had; 
 and I will say he bore it like a lamb; just told me 
 to leave the room or he'd make me without so much 
 as giving me a wicked word. And when I find a 
 bit of comfort thinking one never knows what things 
 may lead to to be told I'm taking a liberty after 
 all." 
 
 Annette's tender heart melted. 
 
 " Oh, Sharman, as if I could ever say that to you,
 
 THE GOD IN THE CAR 117 
 
 after all we've been through together," she said, put- 
 ting her arms round the old woman, " and in this 
 very room, where all my children were born ; and my 
 little Lucy^died in your arms " 
 
 Mrs. Sharman was mollified, and gulped down her 
 emotion. 
 
 " Now don't get thinking of sad thoughts the last 
 thing at night," she said, with her usual mixture of 
 deferential coaxing and authority. " But just let 
 me fasten that lace for you, ma'am, and then you'll 
 be all ready for to go downstairs and face the master. 
 Only before you go, I should like to hear I can't 
 deny it " 
 
 "Oh Sharman! What would you like to hear? 
 You are irrepressible," said Mrs. Kemys, though she 
 knew very well, and shook her head even as she 
 asked the question. 
 
 " What the young gentleman is like, ma'am," 
 whispered Sharman, and she looked over her lady's 
 shoulder at her reflection in the glass with twink- 
 ling eyes.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 RICHARD AT HOME 
 
 THE promised telegram arrived next morning im- 
 mediately after the early breakfast at Nantgwilt, and 
 though it was addressed to the lady of the house, it 
 was opened by Richard Kemys, who took it from the 
 hand of old Pryse and read it, with lowering brow. 
 
 " Matron gives satisfactory report of Miss Kemys. 
 Very fair night. No sign of concussion, but doctor 
 says absolute quiet essential as she is suffering from 
 shock.'' 
 
 The signature was Yorath. 
 
 " It's that officious fool again," said Richard 
 Kemys, in a voice of thunder. " What is he doing 
 at the hospital at nine o'clock in the morning? " 
 
 " He said his mother would go over early. She 
 goes almost every day," said Mrs. Kemys. " They 
 built it and are the principal, almost the only sub- 
 scribers. Perhaps it was she who sent the tele- 
 gram." 
 
 " I shall give the doctor to understand that his 
 enquiries are not to be answered," said Mr. Kemys. 
 " He not only caused the accident, but was exces- 
 sively insolent to me. If I hadn't been too shaken 
 to know what I was doing, I'd have thrown him over 
 
 1x8
 
 RICHARD AT HOME 119 
 
 the hedge then and there. And now he has the im- 
 pudence to go and enquire after her and send me 
 telegrams." 
 
 " Oh Richard. If he was the cause of the acci- 
 dent, what could he do but enquire? He was the 
 very soul of kindness, and courtesy. I can't think 
 of his ever being anything else." 
 
 " Oh ! you saw him then," he said, turning upon 
 her sharply. " You said nothing about it." 
 
 " How could I say anything about it," said Mrs. 
 Kemys evasively; but the colour mounted to her pale 
 face. " I did not like to provoke you. I knew you 
 blamed him, and he did not deny he was partly re- 
 sponsible for the accident." 
 
 " Partly responsible! I hold him entirely respon- 
 sible, and I shall sue him for damages. Whatever 
 Annie's illness costs me and the mending of the dog- 
 cart if it's not past mending he shall pay for, 
 I promise you. I shall write to Machon this morn- 
 ing, and tell him to go over and see Annie at once 
 and get her evidence." 
 
 " Oh Richard, not till she is stronger. You see 
 what the telegram says. And it would be of no use, 
 for she remembers nothing. Oh why, why, can't you 
 leave it all alone," said poor Mrs. Kemys despair- 
 ingly. " And if it's expense you're worried about, 
 as it generally is," she said, ashamed of the sugges- 
 tion, yet willing to turn his weakness to good account, 
 since she knew not by what other means he could 
 be moved, " then surely you had better let this young
 
 120 THE TYRANT 
 
 man and his mother show some attention to Annie. 
 I don't for a moment think they'll let you pay for 
 her being there." 
 
 " Good heavens, you don't suppose I'd let that 
 hound pay for my daughter," said Richard Kemys, 
 more angry than ever. 
 
 " Oh Richard, I don't know what to think. I get 
 so confused. I thought you said you'd make him pay 
 for everything," said the poor lady, bewildered. " I 
 thought if it could be done in a nice friendly way 
 without going to law, how much better it would be." 
 
 " I wouldn't have supposed even a woman could 
 be such a fool as to see no difference between accept- 
 ing charity from your enemy, and forcing him to pay 
 you a sum of money in a court of law," he said with 
 his harsh contemptuous laugh. 
 
 "Why should you call him your enemy? And 
 you might not win your case, for indeed he does not 
 look like a person who would be put upon. If you 
 insist on bringing an action he might fight as well as 
 you. And they say that the accident was nobody's 
 fault." 
 
 "They say! Who say?" 
 
 " Lord Yorath's chauffeur, and the man on the 
 bicycle who saw the accident, and stayed behind to 
 help you," she answered, unexpectedly. 
 
 Richard Kemys grew suddenly silent at the mention 
 of the man on the bicycle, and Annette, after wait- 
 ing a moment, rose to leave the breakfast table,
 
 RICHARD AT HOME 121 
 
 whence the younger members of the family had al- 
 ready departed. 
 
 He called to her as she opened the door. 
 
 " Did you see him too? " 
 
 " The man on the bicycle? " she asked, wondering. 
 " No, he had gone. The chauffeur said he was ready 
 to swear Lord Yorath was not driving fast and that 
 his horn was sounded frequently. He gave Lord 
 Yorath his name and address in case he should be 
 wanted. I heard it all through the matron." 
 
 " A nice set of gossips they seem to be." 
 
 " People will talk," said Mrs. Kemys, remember- 
 ing Sharman's remarks. 
 
 " They'd better not talk about me," said Mr. 
 Kemys, and his eyes glittered dangerously. " Look 
 here, Annette, I I'm going up to London by the 
 mid-day train." 
 
 She drew nearer, surprised and alarmed by the 
 nervousness of his manner. 
 
 " I've had letters from my office this morning," 
 he said, and broke off in fierce irritation. " Why 
 are you looking at me like that? " Then he remem- 
 bered that the postbag had not yet arrived. " I 
 don't mean to-day " he stammered Richard 
 Kemys was not a good liar " but for some time 
 past, that have made me dissatisfied, and I've come 
 to a sudden resolution to go up and see how things 
 are getting on for myself. Perhaps I shall let all this 
 stand over till I come back."
 
 122 THE TYRANT 
 
 " Very well," she said submissively. Her heart 
 suddenly lightened at the thought that for the pres- 
 ent at least Annie would not be molested, but she 
 dared not show her satisfaction. " How long shall 
 you be away, Richard? " 
 
 " I don't know. I can't tell. That's my busi- 
 ness. I suppose I can return when I choose to my 
 own house without giving anyone notice," he 
 growled. 
 
 " I only meant you know the boys will be here 
 for the Easter vacation? " 
 
 " The boys' coming and going won't affect my 
 plans. I'm going to see my London lawyer on busi- 
 ness, and while I'm there, I shall give him instruc- 
 tions about altering my will." 
 
 She waited anxiously. 
 
 " I daresay you think I've forgotten all about our 
 conversation yesterday, but I've not. If Rodric 
 chooses to go off to the Argentine against my orders, 
 I'll put Corney in his place, and tie the whole thing 
 up on his children. I'll show them what sort of an 
 eldest son they've got hold of." He laughed long 
 and loud. 
 
 " Richard, it would be a wicked thing to do. Yes, 
 I will say it," she faced him indignantly, trembling 
 yet brave in the interests of her first-born and best 
 loved son. " I have never defied you, nor stood out 
 against anything you wished. But this I will oppose. 
 Roddy has been a good boy always; a good son to 
 us both, and you have no right to take his birthright
 
 RICHARD AT HOME 123 
 
 from him. You were not a good son to your father, 
 Richard, but he did not treat you so. He could have 
 left the property away from you, but he knew he 
 held it in trust morally, though not legally, for the 
 family." 
 
 " Go on," he said, with a bitter smile. " It's a 
 new thing to see you in a rage, Annette. It almost 
 makes you look pretty again, bringing the colour 
 back to your white face." 
 
 " How can you taunt me like that," she said 
 breathlessly. " Richard, do you want to make me 
 hate you me that loved you so once." Her 
 hands dropped by her side, her voice softened to 
 entreaty. She was not formed for defiance, poor 
 Annette, but for gentleness. Yet she reproached 
 herself that she could not keep up her attitude of 
 righteous wrath, even for the son she loved, and 
 though her soul within her burnt with indignation 
 at the expression on Richard's face as he looked at 
 her, and laughed again, well-pleased at her weak- 
 ness. 
 
 " So you thought you could defy me " he said. 
 
 " I could for the children's sake. If it would 
 do them any good," she said in despair. " If I had 
 the power I would find the courage to defy you 
 for them." 
 
 " Not you," he said, and with a curious change of 
 mood held out his hand to her. Mechanically she 
 moved towards him, but the easy triumph of his 
 half-contemptuous smile arrested her. A change
 
 124 THE TYRANT 
 
 came over the meekness of her spirit, and for the 
 first time in her life she failed in the response he ex- 
 pected. 
 
 The recollection of the gentle and courtly defer- 
 ence rendered to her yesterday by a man of very 
 different breeding brought a deep flush to the worn 
 face that had been so lovely once ; and she understood 
 for the first time the anger of her father when his 
 cherished petted child had yielded herself to the bold, 
 rough wooing of Richard Kemys. 
 
 She withdrew a pace or two, and stood before her 
 husband, with her thin hands, ringless save for the 
 token of her bond folded in front of her, and her 
 head erect. 
 
 " Richard, you do not know me yet. For the 
 children's sake there is nothing I would not do. And 
 for yours, it would be best if you would listen to me. 
 I know you despise my judgment, and think that 
 women know nothing of the world or of men. But 
 if they are sometimes blind where their husbands or 
 their lovers are concerned, yet they know their sons 
 and their brothers. They know them as their 
 fathers never know them. I know my boy through 
 and through. He has his faults, but he is not one 
 who would fail. He has your spirit though his heart 
 is softer and kinder than yours, Richard, and he is 
 brave and honest and persevering as a boy can be. 
 If you were wise, you would listen to me, and give 
 him the money, and let him go. Ask Granny's ad- 
 vice. You often say she is cleverer than I am, and
 
 RICHARD AT HOME 125 
 
 I daresay she is, though she does not understand my 
 boy so well as I do." 
 
 " I am not given to asking advice from women, 
 my dear," he said. " I've no doubt you and my 
 mother would give Rodric a thousand pounds, or ten 
 thousand if you could " 
 
 " I would," she said, with that new ring of defiance 
 in her voice. " I would. Rodric is to be trusted. 
 I would trust him with everything I have in the 
 world, and so would his granny." 
 
 " I don't know what you have in the world to trust 
 him with, and luckily I've put it out of his granny's 
 power to hand over her money to anybody," he said 
 with a chuckle. 
 
 " No, I have nothing in the world," she said, and 
 her head drooped on her breast. " I can do noth- 
 ing but plead for my children, Richard. It is 
 others who will help them." 
 
 "What others?" 
 
 " Jack Meredydd will lend him the money." 
 
 " Let him," said Richard, shrugging his shoulders. 
 " He won't get it back from me if he does. I've 
 given him fair warning of that. And I shall write 
 and give Rodric warning. I shan't let him know I'm 
 in town though, and mind you don't. I can't be 
 bothered and worried by the boys running after me 
 when I've my business to attend to." 
 
 " I should not think of telling him," said Mrs. 
 Kemys, who had no desire that her husband should 
 hold any such interview with her son, away from her
 
 126 THE TYRANT 
 
 own softening influence. " It is far better to write 
 as you say, but you know, Richard, he is not the boy 
 to be moved by threats. If you told him kindly, that 
 you did not wish him to go if you appealed to him 
 there would be more chance of his yielding to 
 you." 
 
 " I prefer my own way." 
 
 " And if you really are going to do so wrong a 
 thing, why is Courtenay to be passed over," said the 
 mother, catching at straws. " He comes next. 
 What has he done to forfeit his rights? " 
 
 " I'll have no sentimental prig of a bookworm in 
 my place," said Mr. Kemys. " Courtenay is 
 capable of giving it all back to his brother in a fit of 
 high-mindedness, and you know it." 
 
 " I am thankful to know it. And Corney would 
 do the same, I hope, when the time came." 
 
 " I'll take care it's not in his power," said Richard 
 Kemys, and he lit his cigar as a sign that the inter- 
 view was ended. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys sought counsel, as usual, from her 
 mother-in-law. 
 
 She had sometimes reproached herself for the 
 habit, declaring that a wife should know better than 
 to allow even his mother to criticise her husband. 
 But circumstances were too strong for her, and 
 though she uttered no word of disloyalty she could 
 not keep up the pretence of calm and well-being with 
 one who shared so poignantly her hopes and fears for
 
 RICHARD AT HOME 127 
 
 the children, and understood the conflicting elements 
 so well. 
 
 Often, in her heart, Annette blamed her husband's 
 mother for the faults of her husband; as many an- 
 other wife has done before her. If only she had 
 brought him up differently. To be more gentle and 
 considerate, as she herself had taught his sons. 
 
 Richard had been the black sheep, as Sharman 
 said, and his mother had let his selfishness and 
 strength of will get the better of her while she exer- 
 cised her lawful authority only over the docile sons, 
 whose training was so much more easily encom- 
 passed. 
 
 If he had been taught to master himself in his boy- 
 hood, his wife's lot had been an easier one, Annette 
 often thought, and sighed as she thought. 
 
 Old Mrs. Kemys in her turn regretted that An- 
 nette's fine spirit had been broken down so utterly 
 under the test which her marriage had applied. 
 With her beauty, gaiety and intelligence it seemed 
 incredible that she had never been able to rule the 
 man who had been, at least for a time, passionately 
 in love with. her. Mrs. Kemys had rejoiced when 
 she learnt that Richard was to marry the pretty spoilt 
 daughter of Colonel Myllon; she had rejoiced that 
 the Colonel, fuming and fretting, had put every ob- 
 stacle in the way of the marriage, so that Richard's 
 passion was ardently inflamed and his stubborn will 
 absolutely bent on the possession of the bride thus 
 denied him. She had believed that thus in Annette's
 
 128 THE TYRANT 
 
 person would the sex despised of her unchivalrous 
 son be avenged. But she had not reckoned on the 
 traitorous softness of the maiden's heart. 
 
 Rough, unpolished, masterful as her suitor was, 
 his tempestuous wooing had taken Annette Myllon 
 by storm. The very contrast to her father's gentle 
 urbanity attracted her, since variety is always piquant 
 to the fancy. 
 
 Physically, Richard possessed, besides, that 
 breadth of shoulder and strength of muscle that ap- 
 peals to a woman. His thick hair was brushed from 
 a bold open brow, and his blue eyes, if they held 
 something of sullen ferocity in their expression, yet 
 looked forth from a singularly handsome face; 
 rather large-featured, but altogether manly and virile. 
 
 She had never heard a rough word from her father 
 in her life; she heard them in plenty from her lover, 
 even during the days of courtship ; yet fascinated, her 
 weakness clung to his strength, and yielded to It, and 
 to the force of his desire. He took her from her 
 father with a laugh of conscious triumph ; and the old 
 man rebelled in vain against the dictates of nature, 
 which bade the child of his old age the petted 
 queen of his heart and home become the willing 
 slave of a young husband, a man as much inferior to 
 her in breeding and character as he was her superior 
 in wealth and position. 
 
 Colonel Myllon had been dead for many years be- 
 fore his daughter's spirit cried to his for forgiveness.
 
 RICHARD AT HOME 129 
 
 Slowly the experience of motherhood taught her, 
 in her turn, the depth of the suffering she had care- 
 lessly, unknowingly, inflicted upon that noble and 
 tender heart of the old soldier, whose one treasure 
 on earth she had been. He had not long outlived 
 her desertion of him, for desertion he felt it to be, 
 though he had seen her almost daily; and he had 
 never overcome his dislike of his son-in-law. An- 
 nette had stood between the two men she loved so 
 differently, anxious to keep the peace between them, 
 too much absorbed in her love for her babies to ob- 
 serve how rapidly her father was failing. Perhaps 
 it had been even a dreadful relief when those daily 
 visits need no longer be paid to the Red House. 
 Even Richard could not grumble at her brief pil- 
 grimages to that other yet narrower and humbler 
 dwelling in the old churchyard, where all that was 
 mortal of a gentle warrior and devoted father now 
 lay sleeping. Nevertheless with the passing of his 
 spirit the lingering gaiety and light-heartedness of 
 Annette seemed to fade altogether ; and there was no 
 further necessity for pretence ; no anxious, loving eyes 
 were watching her fondly. Old Mrs. Kemys kept 
 her jealous watch only upon the children, and sighed 
 because Richard's temper grew worse as they grew 
 older. She reflected that he set a shocking example 
 to his offspring, and pitied while she blamed his wife 
 for her meek submission to his tyranny. 
 
 Thus the two women who loved Richard Kemys
 
 1 30 THE TYRANT 
 
 made excuses for him, each at the other's expense; 
 neither resenting, while each was instinctively aware, 
 of the other's secret blame. 
 
 " If he goes away before the boys come home for. 
 Easter, it is the best thing he can do," said old Mrs. 
 Kemys. 
 
 " Yes," Annette agreed, " if, as he says, he will not 
 see Roddy in London." 
 
 " I should make sure of that. Why not telegraph 
 for Roddy?" 
 
 She shook her head. " I dare not." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys shrugged her shoulders. ; ' Well 
 we must trust to Providence. As for altering his 
 will, a man may do it a hundred times, and not die. 
 Richard is as strong as a horse, and in another year 
 or two he will have begun to quarrel with Corney. 
 If Roddy goes out to the Argentine and gets on there, 
 and has the sense to stop there and to refrain from 
 writing aggravating letters, why, Richard will be 
 learning to think him his favourite son before many 
 more years have passed over our heads." 
 
 " That is very possible," Annette acknowledged. 
 
 " Of course it is possible. He will be for tying 
 up everything he has in the world on Roddy one of 
 these days, or on his unborn sons. Men are curious 
 creatures," said Mrs. Kemys, rather contemptuously. 
 ' They never can bear to hand over their money out 
 and out to their natural heirs to do what they like 
 with, even if they happen to be responsible persons 
 of middle age. No, no. They must be for settling
 
 RICHARD AT HOME 131 
 
 it down and tying it up so that in the next generation 
 some fool of a boy of one and twenty, whom they've 
 never even seen, can play ducks and drakes with it." 
 
 " I suppose a man wishes to make his authority 
 felt as long as possible even after he's dead," said 
 Annette, sighing. 
 
 " It's his only consolation for not being able to 
 take his money away with him," said the old lady, 
 nodding. " Well I hope Richard won't meet 
 Roddy, and that his business will detain him in Lon- 
 don until we've had time to talk to the poor boy and 
 advise him for the best. And as for dear Annie's 
 mishap why it's just Providence if her father is 
 kept out of the way. I suppose you'll be going over 
 to see her as soon as Richard has started." 
 
 " I am driving him to the station and going on 
 to Llysdinam," said Annette. " Sophy wanted to 
 come with me." 
 
 " Just leave Sophy at home. She is only inquisi- 
 tive, and she will be putting ideas into Annie's head. 
 Besides I thought the child was to be kept as quiet 
 as possible. The less you go yourself the better. 
 Why must you go to-day at all ? with this young man 
 and his mother so ready to look after her." 
 
 " I could not bear not to see her." 
 
 " Mothers never will leave well alone," said Mrs. 
 Kemys impatiently. " Give the child my love, and 
 tell her that her father may be away some time. 
 It will ease her mind, poor love. And take her a 
 few choice violets from her granny." Old Mrs,
 
 i 3 2 THE TYRANT 
 
 Kemys took the bunch from the dwarf brown earth- 
 enware pitcher that stood on the table beside her, and 
 dried the stalks with the duster that lay folded 
 within reach of her careful hand. 
 
 " Tell Sophy I want her. I'll think of something 
 to keep her quiet," she said, nodding and smiling. 
 Then her manner changed. 
 
 " This may be a crisis, Annette. Sitting here 
 away from you all, with nothing to do but to think, 
 I can see that it may be a crisis for Annie, and for 
 Roddy, God bless them both, the flowers of the flock 
 as Sharman says. You'll need to steer your way 
 carefully." 
 
 " I feel it, Granny." Annette's pale face drooped 
 over the fragrant dewy violets she held, which 
 formed a refreshing contrast to the faded roses in 
 her old black shady garden hat, and to the grey gown 
 which by its very plainness emphasized the thinness 
 of her figure. " What can I do. I am so helpless." 
 
 "Helpless! That is what a woman need never 
 say when she has her mother-wit to help her, and 
 only a man to deal with," said the old lady sharply. 
 Then she softened, but Annette felt acutely the un- 
 dercurrent of contempt in the very kindness of her 
 tones. " It's not mother-wit, nor tact nor patience 
 that you lack, but just courage," she said. " Cour- 
 age to stand up for your children if you can't for 
 yourself whenever you get the chance." 
 
 "If God would give me the chance, I will find 
 the courage," said Annette.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ANNIE IN THE HOSPITAL 
 
 THE little whitewashed room at the cottage hospital 
 was transformed into a bower of blossom. A white 
 camellia in perfection of bearing stood in the win- 
 dow; the chimney-piece was a mass of hothouse 
 bloom carefully selected for its scentlessness ; but on 
 the table beside the patient's bed stood a basket of 
 large-belled lilies of the valley, a bowl of Parma vio- 
 lets, and a jar of specimen roses, filling the air with 
 delicate perfume. 
 
 " I was afraid they would be almost too much for 
 her, but she does love them so. They all come from 
 Artramont of course. The glass-houses there are so 
 beautifully kept now; very different from the old 
 days. Lady Yorath has a passion for flowers, she 
 says, and she told your daughter she was just like a 
 rose herself in the midst of them all," said the ma- 
 tron, taking a sly pleasure in the glow of colour in- 
 stantly called by her words to the sweet face on the 
 pillow. 
 
 " Oh, Mamma," Annie said, " everyone has been 
 so kind. You're not going to take me away? " 
 
 " No, no, my darling. It's all right. Papa has 
 gone to London," whispered Mrs. Kemys, and the 
 133,
 
 i 34 THE TYRANT 
 
 gladness in the wide blue eyes gave her a slight pang 
 of self-reproach, for in spite of herself she shared 
 Annie's relief. 
 
 " He was obliged to go up on business, and he 
 may be away some time," she continued, recklessly 
 adopting her mother-in-law's advice to give Annie 
 all the peace of mind possible under the circum- 
 stances. " So you can be quite easy and think of 
 nothing but getting well. Now the flush has died 
 away, you are very white and wan, my darling. Has 
 the night seemed very, very long?" 
 
 Annie made light of her sufferings partly in com- 
 passion for her mother's anxious looks and partly be- 
 cause her mind was filled with the wonderful hap- 
 penings of the morning. 
 
 " Mamma, he was over here at eight o'clock this 
 morning to enquire after me," she said, with the col- 
 our coming and going under her transparent skin. 
 " And at ten Lady Yorath came with all these flow- 
 ers. She had arranged them herself. Oh, Mamma, 
 she is an angel! and do you know she looks much 
 younger than you though she must be why he is 
 twenty-nine," said Annie, in awestruck tones. 
 
 " She is some years older than I, but then she 
 has only the one son " said Mrs. Kemys, as though 
 to defend herself. " Yet she must have known 
 trouble, poor thing, for her husband died when Lord 
 Yorath was only a little boy." 
 
 " I suppose it would depend on what he was like 
 whether that was a trouble," said Annie, naively.
 
 ANNIE IN THE HOSPITAL 135 
 
 " But oh, Mamma, she is so sweet. I have never 
 seen anyone the least like her, and directly I am well 
 enough to be moved she wants me to go over to Art- 
 ramont. She made the doctor say it could be to- 
 morrow or next day ; and she says it would be better 
 for me than going home because it is so much closer, 
 and I ought to have a little change after the shock! 
 She put it so nicely. Oh, Mamma, do you think 
 could you could anybody persuade Papa to let 
 me" 
 
 ' You shall go if we can possibly manage it," said 
 Mrs. Kemys, soothingly. Her own heart beat a lit- 
 tle faster. The ecstasy of Annie's expression 
 touched her. She cast about wildly in her own mind 
 for ways and means of securing this outing this 
 rare pleasure and chance for her little daughter; yet 
 dared not encourage her to hope overmuch lest bitter 
 disappointment should follow. 
 
 " Artramont is a very fine house, dearest," she 
 said wistfully, " and fashionable people stay there. 
 Lady Yorath herself, however kind is a very fash- 
 ionable woman and you have so few things " 
 
 " I have thought of all that," said Annie, with 
 sparkling eyes. " And if you will but send Sophy 
 to me, we can manage it all. Nurse says I shall be 
 lying down for some time yet, because the doctor 
 thinks I have been shaken rather badly. I am 
 bruised all down one side, you know. Well, Mum- 
 mie dear, I have the money I meant to spend in Llys- 
 dinam yesterday, you know, and Sophy can take it
 
 136 THE TYRANT 
 
 and get me some pretty pink stuff and make me a 
 wrapper. Then I shall look all right, Mamma, and 
 there is my new white cotton frock for getting up 
 and coming away in. Sophy would put away all her 
 own work and get the things for me, for the honour 
 of the family, I know," said Annie, proudly. 
 
 But Mrs. Kemys, being a little more sophisticated 
 in such matters than her daughter, was, it is needless 
 to say, not inspired to much enthusiasm by the pros- 
 pect of a pink wrapper and a new cotton frock. She 
 sighed and shook her head. 
 
 " Didn't he say how long he would be away ex- 
 actly ," said Annie suddenly, and Mrs. Kemys was 
 obliged to acknowledge that her lord had not enlight- 
 ened her on this point. 
 
 " But he took his portmanteau as well as his bag, 
 and I believe he thought it possible he might be de- 
 tained," she said. 
 
 " You'll let me know as soon as you do, won't you, 
 Mamma? And what can I say to Lady Yorath? 
 She's coming again this afternoon." 
 
 " I should like to thank her, but perhaps I had bet- 
 ter not until I know what Papa means to do," said 
 Mrs. Kemys. " Granny sent you all the violets from 
 her little frame, my darling, but they look nothing 
 beside that great bowl of Parma violets." 
 
 " But they are far sweeter," said Annie, putting 
 them to her lips with her usual ready graciousness. 
 Then she returned to the charge. 
 
 " Oh, Mamma, do you think such a wonderful
 
 ANNIE IN THE HOSPITAL 137 
 
 thing could possibly happen to me. To go and pay a 
 real visit all by myself. Just think that I have never, 
 never been anywhere nor done anything so delight- 
 ful ! Couldn't you I don't want to be selfish, but 
 couldn't you make it happen? If I went now, while 
 Papa is away, need you tell him till he comes back? " 
 Her voice sank to a whisper. " After all, what could 
 he do ? He couldn't kill us. He could only be 
 dreadful, and he is often that over nothing at all. 
 I don't see how he could be much worse if we gave 
 him real cause to be vexed for once. Oh, Mamma, 
 I know it sounds very wicked of me but couldn't 
 you, couldn't you just for once? " 
 
 " I thought of it, Annie," said Mrs. Kemys, in no 
 less furtive accents. " But, Annie dear, if he came 
 back and heard you were at Artramont, and went 
 over there to fetch you away, and made some terrible 
 scene. Wouldn't that be worse than your not going 
 there at all? " 
 
 She had never spoken so openly to her daughter 
 before on the subject of her father's infirmity of tem- 
 per, and Annie felt scarcely less guilty than she did. 
 By mutual consent they avoided meeting each other's 
 eyes. 
 
 " It would be very dreadful," said Annie, beneath 
 her breath. " But no, Mamma, I don't think it 
 would be worse. They would know it wasn't my 
 fault." She gathered courage and spirit as she pro- 
 ceeded. " And I should have broken the ice and 
 perhaps have had two or three days Paradise. I
 
 i 3 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 am sure it would be Paradise to stay with her. It 
 would not be so difficult perhaps to make him see 
 reason another time, if we stood up to him boldly 
 once. Oh, Mamma," said Annie with the repressed 
 impatience of decisive youth for its hesitating elders. 
 "If you only had a little courage, " 
 
 " You all sing the same song," said Mrs. Kemys, 
 and she smiled rather sadly. " Let me wait and see 
 what I hear from Papa to-morrow. Let me have 
 the night to think it over. Oh, my darling." She 
 knelt beside the bed, and pressed the little fair hand 
 that lay on the coverlet against her thin cheek in a 
 sudden passion of feeling. " Do you think you are 
 half as anxious that you should have the natural 
 pleasures of your age as I am for you? If I can 
 manage it by hook or by crook you shall have this 
 outing. There, I promise you. Only don't think of 
 it too much, or you will be excited and feverish. Lie 
 still and get well, like a good child." 
 
 But Annie placed little faith in her mother's prom- 
 ise, and the look with which she buried her face in 
 the violets went to Annette's heart. 
 
 She left her daughter earlier than she had in- 
 tended, in the desire to avoid meeting Lady Yorath ; 
 but after all she met her at the very door of the hos- 
 pital. 
 
 The two ladies were strangers, although they lived 
 only ten miles apart, a trifling distance in so scantily 
 populated a neighbourhood. 
 
 Artramont had been let during the young lord's
 
 ANNIE IN THE HOSPITAL 139 
 
 long minority, and his mother had acquired the 
 habit of dividing her time between the house in Lon- 
 don and the lodge in Scotland, when she was not in 
 Italy, where she possessed a villa of her own upon 
 the Lakes. 
 
 The tenants of Artramont had been an old couple, 
 who had become attached to the place, and when 
 one died, at the age of eighty, the other, also an oc- 
 togenarian, made a pathetic appeal to be allowed to 
 remain in the home he had occupied for so many 
 years. 
 
 Even if the offer had been a less advantageous one 
 from a material point of view, Lord Yorath and his 
 mother were the last persons in the world who would 
 have been inclined to resist it under the circum- 
 stances. They left the old gentleman undisturbed 
 in his tenancy during the few years which remained 
 to him, and, when he died, came down to take pos- 
 session and continued the good works which had been 
 started and maintained by the old couple, who had 
 from first to last proved themselves benefactors to 
 the neighbourhood, and were universally mourned. 
 
 The owners felt themselves strangers, during their 
 few weeks' annual residence in the home from which 
 they had so long been exiled; but they became speedily 
 popular in their turn. Lord Yorath built the cot- 
 tage hospital, and improved the housing of the la- 
 bourers on his estate; Lady Yorath diligently re- 
 turned the calls of her country neighbours, and, if 
 she occasionally sighed with relief when she found
 
 1 40 THE TYRANT 
 
 them absent from home, she showed every inclina- 
 tion to be hospitable in her own house, and gave din- 
 ners, garden parties, village fetes and school-treats 
 without stint, that no one, high or low, should lack 
 entertainment. 
 
 Lady Yorath and Mrs. Kemys had missed each 
 other in calling, and Richard Kemys had declined 
 to permit his wife and daughter to take part in any 
 of the festivities organized by the newly returned 
 owners of Artramont. But the two ladies, now 
 meeting for the first time, recognized each other in- 
 stinctively. 
 
 " I hope you're not very angry with us," said 
 Lady Yorath, stretching out both hands. "If you 
 could only see into our hearts and realise how 
 dreadfully sorry we are, for your pretty daughter's 
 broken arm and all the anxiety we have unwittingly 
 caused. The only comfort is that her dear, sweet, 
 lovely face has not even a scratch upon it. But I 
 should be very angry all the same if I were you." 
 
 Her expression was pathetic, half in fun, and half 
 in earnest, and Mrs. Kemys realized that Annie was 
 right and that Lady Yorath, who was nevertheless 
 some years her senior, looked younger than herself. 
 
 She was very tall, almost statuesque, but her fig- 
 ure was so beautifully proportioned that her height 
 only added to the grace and dignity of her carriage. 
 She wore a walking dress of violet cloth, exquisitely 
 cut but severely plain, and a purple toque rested upon 
 her dark, beautifully-dressed hair.
 
 ANNIE IN THE HOSPITAL 141 
 
 From his mother Lord Yorath had evidently in- 
 herited his marked aquiline features, dark colouring 
 and bright hazel eyes, but in her all these traits were 
 softened into feminine beauty. Were the charms 
 ever so slightly heightened by art? Or was it only 
 that she possessed the indefinable gift bestowed upon 
 the favoured few, of knowing exactly what became 
 both the occasion and herself? 
 
 Mrs. Kemys was too inexperienced to know, but 
 the genuine friendliness, the appealing warmth of 
 the greeting dispelled her usual nervousness. 
 " How could I be angry? It is merciful it was no 
 worse. Annie is overcome by your kindness," she 
 said. 
 
 Lady Yorath in turn was attracted by the unaf- 
 fected gentleness of poor Mrs. Kemys. She ob- 
 served every detail of the shabby toilette, and its 
 anxious, almost threadbare decency; even as she ob- 
 served the refinement and simplicity of the wearer. 
 
 "Why haven't we met?" she said impulsively. 
 " Why has it been reserved for this dreadful acci- 
 dent to bring us together, so that I and my son must 
 appear to you in a most unfavourable light? Oh, 
 I know I hadn't really anything to do with it, but 
 we are so much one that I always take his sins on 
 my own soul, though God forbid he should do the 
 same by me/' She laughed merrily. " He said 
 you promised to let us do everything in our power 
 to make up for it, and to that promise I mean to 
 hold you, more especially now I have seen her!
 
 i 4 2 THE TYRANT 
 
 You'll let your pretty child come over to me, to be 
 nursed and petted, won't you? If you knew how 
 I have longed all my life for a daughter I that 
 am left alone for months and months when Austen 
 goes off after his horrid big game shooting from 
 which I never expect to see him return alive." 
 
 Her quick words poured themselves forth in a 
 voice expressive of as rapid changes of feeling. 
 
 " Do let me have her," said Lady Yorath, coax- 
 ingly, and Mrs. Kemys could only stammer a word 
 or two in reply, of her being very glad but her 
 father's absence Annie had never been away from 
 home etc. etc. 
 
 " Oh why need we tell him until it's a fait accom- 
 pli? " said Lady Yorath, with an understanding that 
 seemed almost uncanny to Annette. " Men always 
 make difficulties. Even the doctor couldn't see how 
 she was to be moved to Artramont for the present, 
 though he was obliged to confess that nothing could 
 be easier after I had shown him the way. She must 
 come, and you, too, if you will." 
 
 " Oh, 1 1 I could not leave home ! I have never 
 left home except for a few days' shopping in London 
 now and again, for twenty years," said Mrs. Kemys, 
 and she laughed at the look of horror which Lady 
 Yorath, like an alarmed child, turned upon her, 
 though it gave place instantly to sympathetic amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 " Oh, how I envy you. We have lived the lives 
 of vagrants" she said vehemently, and really be-
 
 ANNIE IN THE HOSPITAL 143 
 
 lieved for the moment that she regretted her exist- 
 ence of constant change and interest. " I told 
 Austen it was peace and joy to be really settled at 
 last, and Artramont is his home and will be mine 
 until he takes unto himself a wife." Again the 
 merry dark eyes became pathetic. " You know he 
 really ought to marry," she said seriously. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Kemys blushed guiltily, almost trem- 
 bling, as though the quick glance of Lord Yorath's 
 mother had pierced her very soul; but she was ha- 
 bitually self-controlled, and did not betray herself 
 other than by that faint change of colour. 
 
 " Certainly he ought to marry," she said, in the 
 soft slow tones that contrasted so curiously with Lady 
 Yorath's excessive quickness. 
 
 As vivid a contrast was presented by the two ve- 
 hicles drawn up at the door of the hospital. The 
 neat green, well-appointed motor brougham, with its 
 coroneted door, and smart driver and attendant, and 
 the shabby open landau, wth its half obliterated 
 crest, worn lining and mended harness, and the old 
 coachman in faded livery flicking at the ancient 
 horses, who stood with drooping heads and their 
 aged legs tucked under them. 
 
 " All of a bunch," as he said resentfully to him- 
 self, when he perceived her ladyship's bright eyes 
 glancing them over; but no amount of flicking would 
 make those overworked quadrupeds comport them- 
 selves with dignity. 
 
 Yet the coachman, who was a native of Llysdi-
 
 144 THE TYRANT, 
 
 nam, comforted himself, like old Mrs. Kemys, with 
 the reflection that his people had been lords of the 
 manor of Nantgwilt when Lord Yorath's grand- 
 father had been trudging through the forest shoul- 
 dering his pick, alongside of his mates, whose grand- 
 sons trudged there to this day. He cast glances of 
 contempt upon the spick and span turn-out of her 
 ladyship's London servants, who did not know their 
 employer's family history any more than they had 
 ever heard of Kemys of Nantgwilt, and who would 
 not have cared if they had known, being much con- 
 cerned with the present, and utterly indifferent to 
 the past. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys listened almost absently while Lady 
 Yorath poured forth her plans for the removal of 
 Annie from the hospital and her instalment, with a 
 maid, and if necessary a nurse in charge, at Artra- 
 mont ; her own mind was busy with possibilities. 
 
 Now that she saw and recognised the charming 
 personality of Lord Yorath's mother, she perceived 
 that many difficulties might be smoothed away. She 
 would not have liked, poor lady, to mention the sub- 
 ject of Annie's meagre equipment for visiting to any 
 of her neighbours at Nantgwilt; and would rather 
 have died than appear conscious of any deficiencies 
 before old Mrs. Eyewater, for instance, of whose 
 secret criticisms the Squire's wife was often ruefully 
 aware, more from that divining instinct possessed by 
 the ultra-sensitive than from actual hearsay, though 
 that too had played its part in the matter.
 
 ANNIE IN THE HOSPITAL 145 
 
 When Annie called at the Red House she knew 
 very well that a little chorus of comment followed 
 her departure, and that she would be criticised as she 
 had been scrutinized, from top to toe, by her old 
 neighbour. 
 
 " Did you see her hat? The same she wore last 
 summer, but poor Sophy has evidently had to re-trim 
 it." 
 
 " I wonder Mrs. Kemys cares to let Annie be seen 
 in such short skirts. That pink cotton has shrunk 
 in the wash again. I wonder how often it has been 
 washed." 
 
 " I'm sure her mended shoes and darned stock- 
 ings are not so ornamental that she need show so 
 much of them." 
 
 Yet, if they had been questioned on the subject, 
 they would have answered resentfully, and even with 
 sincerity that they loved Annie Kemys, and admired 
 her, and only wished to see her dressed in accord- 
 ance with her station. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys realized that Lady Yorath's admi- 
 ration of Annie, freely expressed, was of a different 
 quality. She also realized how easy it would be to 
 confide in one who was too well bred, and conse- 
 quently too simple, not to receive such a confidence 
 as frankly as it was made; and to ask if they were 
 to be alone, and whether in that case it would not 
 matter that Annie possessed only the wardrobe of a 
 little country girl who had never paid a visit in her 
 life.
 
 i 4 6 THE TYRANT, 
 
 Annie's mother knew intuitively that Lady Yo- 
 rath was absolutely devoid of the middle-class in- 
 stinct of criticism, and vulgar habit of appraising hu- 
 man beings by their possessions rather than by their 
 personal attributes; that she would, figuratively 
 speaking, shrug her shoulders at bores and mediocri- 
 ties in silk attire, and turn with her most gracious 
 smile to welcome wit and beauty and good breeding 
 in rags. 
 
 " Then it is settled, and you'll let her come to us 
 if you possibly can, and she won't mind our being 
 practically alone, for we have no Easter party this 
 year. Only an old fogey or two to keep me com- 
 pany," said Lady Yorath, thus unconsciously settling 
 the question in the other's mind. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys pleaded for time to write and con- 
 sult her husband before giving a decisive answer 
 to the kind invitation thus warmly pressed upon her ; 
 but it was for two days' respite to enable her to make 
 up her own mind, that Annette was really pleading.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 
 
 RICHARD KEMYS looked from the windows of the 
 train upon the flying landscape ; at the hilly orchards, 
 where primroses dotted the rough pasture, broken 
 up by the hoofs of shaggy ponies and bony cart- 
 horses, and flecked with the spring sunshine; at the 
 long shadows falling from the budding trees across 
 the wet meadows ; at thatched roofs glistening in the 
 low ruddy golden light of the afternoon, and at the 
 pink peach and snowy plum flowering gaily in cot- 
 tage gardens. 
 
 The brightness of the day could not dispel his set- 
 tled gloom. He smoked and thought and thought 
 and smoked, and the gist of all his reflections was 
 that it was very hard that he, of all men, who had 
 lived such a careful, temperate life, should thus be 
 threatened with sudden extinction through no fault 
 of his own. 
 
 He told himself that his principal object in going 
 to town was to see his lawyer concerning the making 
 of a new will ; but his intention to consult a specialist 
 lurked at the back of his mind all the while. He 
 tried to divert his thoughts by making rough notes 
 in his pocket book of the instructions he proposed to 
 
 147
 
 i 4 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 give Mr. Joavan; but the more contingencies he en- 
 deavoured to provide against the more complicated 
 became the notes, and growing impatient, he pres- 
 ently obliterated them in a rage, and put the note- 
 book back in his pocket 
 
 He found oblivion at length in snatches of un- 
 easy slumber, which lasted until his arrival at Pad- 
 dington. 
 
 It was his custom to put up at the Great Western 
 Hotel, and since it was too late, when he arrived 
 there, either to seek his lawyer or to go to his of- 
 fice, he went straight into the coffee-room, and asked 
 for a cup of tea and a Post Office directory. 
 
 From the directory he went to the telephone, and 
 thence to the reading-room, where he wrote a letter 
 and marked the envelope urgent. 
 
 The letter written, it seemed to become impera- 
 tively necessary that it should be delivered by hand, 
 and without delay. 
 
 He looked at the clock hesitated looked at 
 the address on the envelope which he had just writ- 
 ten, and took up his hat. 
 
 " I have nothing on earth to do," said Mr. Kemys, 
 as though apologising to himself, " and the walk 
 will be good for me." 
 
 After this he appeared to abandon all pretence to 
 indifference, though he had no idea how fast he was 
 walking. 
 
 A middle-aged man, with a white face, mopping
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 149 
 
 his brow and breathing hard, presently delivered a 
 letter to a servant at the door of a gloomy house in 
 Harley Street ; and said he would wait for an answer. 
 
 He refused to enter the house, and remained on 
 the steps, telling himself that the weather was too 
 warm for walking in stifling, airless, dusty London 
 streets, and that he should return to the hotel in a 
 hansom. 
 
 After what seemed an interminable delay, a note 
 was handed to him. He tore it open without wait- 
 ing for the servant to shut the door. It was an early 
 appointment for the following morning. 
 
 The impatience of Richard Kemys had always 
 been abnormal, and his promptness in seizing an op- 
 portunity had once made him suddenly a rich man. 
 The letter proved that the specialist was at home. 
 
 He thought of the miseries of suspense and rest- 
 lessness he had endured during his journey to Lon- 
 don, and reflected that the suspense and restlessness 
 of the coming night would probably transcend these 
 miseries. 
 
 " The doctor sees no one without a special ap- 
 pointment, sir," said the maid, reading the expres- 
 sion on the caller's face, and being unacquainted with 
 Richard Kemys, she steeled her heart in preparation 
 for seeing him turn dejectedly away. 
 
 Ten minutes later it was the maid who felt de- 
 jected; for she had been bullied by the visitor, and 
 snubbed by her master, who was now nevertheless 
 interviewing his insistent patient in the consulting
 
 1 50 THE TYRANT 
 
 room. Richard Kemys had obtained his own way 
 without even resorting to that bribery which might 
 have consoled his vanquished opponent. 
 
 As he left Harley Street he told himself that his 
 visit had been unsatisfactory, but his expression and 
 carriage betrayed a certain relief from suspense; hope 
 lent a sparkle to his steel blue eyes, and determination 
 a yet straighter and more obstinate line to his hand- 
 some mouth. 
 
 " He won't say it wasn't angina pectoris, in fact 
 he evidently thinks it was; in spite of his jargon 
 about true angina pectoris being rare at my age. 
 What does it matter to me whether it's rare or com- 
 mon if I've got it? And though he's obliged to ad- 
 mit he couldn't find organic disease yet he hedges 
 by saying that even a skilled physician can't diagnose 
 a case like mine with certainty, and prates about it 
 being more a disease of the arteries than the heart. 
 I wish to God he'd tell me something definite. 
 Either that I'm to get well or die, and be done with 
 it, instead of threatening me with an invalid life and 
 talking of my nerves. It's the first time I ever heard 
 I suffered from nerves. The fact is, with all their 
 science they know precious little about it all, and he's 
 told me no more than that young fellow in the road 
 told me for nothing." 
 
 For all this he was resolved to follow the doctor's 
 directions implicitly, and the more especially when 
 they coincided with the advice bestowed upon him 
 gratis by the young medical student.
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 151 
 
 He had begun by informing the specialist that he 
 had never had the slightest cause to suspect that his 
 health was anything but perfect; but gradually he 
 had found himself admitting increasing breathless- 
 ness after exertion, restlessness at night, and a be- 
 setting nervous irritability, which indeed had be- 
 trayed itself so frequently during his cross-examina- 
 tion that the doctor might have omitted this ques- 
 tion. In fact, he was surprised and chagrined to 
 discover that Nature had given him many warnings 
 which he had altogether ignored or misunderstood. 
 
 Skilfully the doctor extracted a good deal of in- 
 formation, before he delivered the -guarded and 
 rather contradictory opinions which had so much 
 discontented his patient. 
 
 He prescribed the remedies to be kept always at 
 hand in case the attack should be renewed, and was 
 emphatic regarding the absolute necessity of main- 
 taining a perfect tranquillity of mind and body, but 
 he offered besides another suggestion which rather 
 recommended itself to Richard Kemys. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the doctor, soothingly, u no 
 doubt you are right. When a man has, as you say, 
 a business in London and an estate in the country 
 to look after, and grown-up sons and daughters to 
 plague him into the bargain, it's practically impos- 
 sible to be free from worry. The question is 
 couldn't you get right away from it all? If you're 
 a good sailor and like the sea for instance why 
 not take a voyage round the world? Your illness
 
 i 5 2 THE TYRANT 
 
 is largely nervous. Go away and stop away until 
 you've forgotten your worries and calmed your 
 nerves. Of course you wouldn't go alone take 
 your wife with you or a sympathetic friend ? " 
 said the doctor, watching him. " You prefer to go 
 alone, eh?" 
 
 " Of course I should prefer it if I went at all," 
 growled Mr. Kemys. 
 
 The notion that he could be troubled with nerves 
 and the mention of a sympathetic friend vaguely an- 
 noyed him ; but on the whole his mind fastened hope- 
 fully upon the scheme. A long voyage would give 
 him the opportunity of regaining his mental and 
 physical balance, which he was aware had been con- 
 siderably shaken by his recent alarming experience. 
 And the prospect of throwing off his domestic cares 
 for a while was not an unpleasant one. His sensa- 
 tions resembled those of the prisoner to whom after 
 many years the idea of trying to escape occurred 
 quite suddenly, and who then merely opened the door 
 of his ill-guarded gaol and walked out into freedom. 
 Richard Kemys had enjoyed many sea-trips as a 
 young man, when his business had necessitated con- 
 stant voyages to Sweden, but it had not occurred to 
 him since he had become rich, to extend his acquaint- 
 ance with travelling nor to indulge in a long holiday. 
 
 The doctor's recommendation of a companion 
 troubled him a little; he thought it sounded slightly 
 ominous ; as though he thought it possible his patient
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 153 
 
 might die on the voyage. But he dismissed this no- 
 tion from his mind as quickly as possible. 
 
 " I'll think it over. It's not a bad idea. Per- 
 haps I'll go," he said ungraciously to his adviser. 
 
 He stopped at a chemist to have the doctor's pre- 
 scription made up; getting carefully and slowly in 
 and out of the hansom, mindful of the orders he had 
 received to avoid sudden exertion or violent move- 
 ments ; and as soon as he returned to the hotel busied 
 himself by looking through the P. & O. and other 
 mail companies' advertisements and time-tables for 
 voyages round the world. 
 
 His plans occupied him throughout his frugal din- 
 ner, and during the long dull evening which fol- 
 lowed; and kept him awake when he went to bed. 
 He had thought for a moment of telephoning to 
 Rodric, and bidding him come round to dine with 
 him after all, but a moment's reflection decided him 
 to dismiss the idea. He had written to his son be- 
 fore leaving home, to express his intentions, and there 
 was no more to be said. An interview with Roddy 
 would be an agitating one, as he would almost cer- 
 tainly be roused to that anger which the doctor had 
 warned him was the emotion of all others to be 
 shunned. 
 
 He even began to doubt the advisability of visit- 
 ing his lawyer on the morrow. Old Joavan would 
 be almost sure to argue with him on the subject of
 
 i 5 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 his decision to alter his will; or irritate him by rais- 
 ing unforeseen difficulties in the way of carrying out 
 his intentions. 
 
 It might be simpler to draw up a short temporary 
 will for himself on half a sheet of notepaper, leaving 
 all his possessions in trust for little Corney, since 
 his marriage settlement provided for his wife, and 
 gave her power of appointment over a considerable 
 sum of money, in favour of her sons and daughters, 
 in such proportions as she chose. 
 
 " Why should he be bound by any absurd conven- 
 tions and prejudices about eldest sons? Why 
 should he not choose the son he preferred to be his 
 heir?" said Richard Kemys to himself. He tossed 
 and turned on his pillow, sleepless, while a little 
 army of thoughts marched buzzing across his brain 
 in the darkness. 
 
 Corney is a fine little fellow, and a third son, the 
 same as I was. Of all my sons he is the only one 
 that takes after me, as old Sharman and my mother 
 have said many a time, who knew me best at that 
 age. He would never irritate me as his brothers 
 do. They take a pleasure in irritating me, it's my 
 belief, Roddy looking at me just as old Colonel 
 Myllon used to look at me, with the same confounded 
 touch-me-not air that I always hated ; and his grand- 
 father's features as well as his expression, by Jove. 
 And Courtenay a prig and a bookworm that will 
 never be fit for anything but a parson. Why should 
 I leave my money to them, or my estate for that mat-
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 155 
 
 ter, so long as it's a Kemys that has it? I've paid 
 for Nantgwilt. My money cleared off the mort- 
 gages and set it free. A man has the right to do 
 what he will with his own; and a long minority 
 would be a capital thing for the estate if-" 
 
 He left his sentence unfinished, but the more he 
 considered his scheme the more he liked it. It 
 amused him grimly to imagine old Joavan's chagrin 
 when the lengthy testament to which he had given 
 so much thought and attention should be produced 
 only to be superseded by half a sheet of hotel note- 
 paper. There was a curious kink in Richard's brain 
 which made him glad to outwit the very man for 
 whose expert advice he was paying, and of whose wis- 
 dom and honesty he had long been assured. 
 
 He was no less assured of the worth of John Bond, 
 the manager of his business, whom he determined to 
 appoint as one of his trustees, while the other, he de- 
 cided, with a chuckle, should be old Turley of Llys- 
 dinam, who had the business of the Nantgwilt es- 
 tates at his fingers' ends. 
 
 " He won't refuse to act, if only for Annette's 
 sake, and because he was devoted to my father and 
 hers," thought Richard, " and I'd trust him with un- 
 told gold, though I wouldn't have him meddling with 
 my affairs when I succeeded. It will be a sell for 
 Machon to find old Turley put back again. I don't 
 trust Machon a yard; he's no class, and considered 
 as a lawyer, he's little better than a fool, but he does 
 what he's told, and that suited me better than getting
 
 i 5 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 advice and sermons from old Turley. But he won't 
 be able to play any tricks with Turley, who'll have 
 every single document out of him the day he finds 
 himself once more lawyer to Kemys of Nantgwilt 
 or know the reason why." 
 
 The thought of Machon's discomfiture also 
 pleased him, with perhaps more reason, for the man's 
 incompetence and stupidity had roused his contempt 
 and fury a thousand times so that only his native 
 obstinacy had deterred him from carrying his country 
 affairs back to the family solicitor. 
 
 He was so much soothed and amused by his in- 
 genious schemes for the final disposition of his affairs 
 that in some odd way he found himself contemplat- 
 ing the prospect of his own demise with more 
 equanimity. 
 
 " After all," he thought with dismal philosophy, 
 " it's got to be faced sooner or later, and if it's to be 
 a few years sooner " and again he left the sentence 
 unfinished. 
 
 He had enjoined secrecy upon the doctor as he had 
 enjoined it upon the medical student, and his letter 
 to his wife the next morning, mentioning the possi- 
 bility of his departure from England, did not contain 
 a single reference to his illness. 
 
 He said to himself that pity was the last thing he 
 desired, and that if he hinted that his health were 
 ever so slightly affected she would insist upon the 
 farewell scene which of all things he desired to avoid.
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 157 
 
 He never for a moment entertained the possibility 
 of taking her with him ; of recent years she had sel- 
 dom left Llysdinam, even for the shopping expedi- 
 tion to London which had once been her greatest 
 pleasure; with increasing expenses Richard Kemys 
 had shown increasing parsimony, and thus, since her 
 sons had grown up, Annette had remained at home. 
 
 The thought that her companionship might make 
 the voyage more agreeable, never even entered her 
 husband's mind; far less the thought that she might 
 enjoy such a break in her monotonous existence. 
 
 Though he despised her capacities, as men of his 
 calibre often despise the capacities of women, yet 
 he relied upon her and upon her alone to carry out 
 during his absence every detail of the regime he had 
 established at Nantgwilt, and it was to her clear head 
 and quiet good sense as well as to her devotion to 
 himself and his interests that he unconsciously 
 trusted, when he chose to leave her, rather than his 
 man of business, in charge at Llanon. 
 
 " Dear Annette," he wrote, in his usual business- 
 like fashion, " I shall not be back as soon as I ex- 
 pected, in fact there is a possibility of my being 
 obliged to be away for some time. I may establish 
 a branch of my business in New Zealand. This 
 would involve a trip to the spot, and I don't see why 
 John Bond should take so long a holiday when I 
 have nothing to do just now, and could as easily go 
 myself. Say nothing of this however for the present,
 
 THE TYRANT 
 
 as the matter is not absolutely decided. If I go I 
 will open a small account for you at the bank in 
 Llysdinam, so that you can pay the monthly bills and 
 wages by cheque. 
 
 " I shall also send a line to Pugh telling him of 
 course to look after everything as usual and to re- 
 port to you instead of to me. You'll write down all 
 his reports and keep his accounts and your own so 
 that I shall know exactly where I am when I return. 
 If you are in any difficulty you can go, as you always 
 do, to my mother. She gets old Turley's advice for 
 nothing and can pass it on to you. Of course every- 
 thing will go on exactly as usual and Corney go to 
 school as arranged, after the Easter holidays. It 
 would be far better if Manuel went too instead of 
 being coddled up at home, but he can wait till he's 
 eight as you make such a point of it. 
 
 " I haven't seen Roddy and don't mean to, as I'm 
 very busy, and he can write me his intentions in 
 answer to the letter I wrote him before leaving home, 
 but I'm quite aware he means to go whether I wish 
 it or not, and I shall act accordingly. 
 
 "I am writing to tell Machon to take up the 
 affair of the damages for the dog-cart " then he 
 paused, and after a moment's thought, deliberately 
 drew his pen through the lines, knitting his heavy 
 brows together in a frown as he did so. 
 
 It would have been a pleasure to bring an action, 
 and obtain damages from that insolent fellow
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 159 
 
 his blue eyes flashed but unless he could attend to 
 the matter himself it had better be left alone. 
 Machon was such a fool that he would mismanage 
 the case from start to finish. And on no account 
 must he be there himself, even if his plans had per- 
 mitted of the delay, for he had some experience of 
 the excitement the fighting of such cases may entail 
 upon the combatants. There was also another ob- 
 stacle: if during his absence that knowing young 
 medical student appeared as a witness, as he had 
 threatened, for Lord Yorath, the fact of his own 
 seizure might come out in court. Richard Kemys 
 determined fiercely that he would keep his secret to 
 himself; he had a morbid horror of the possibility 
 that he could be regarded as an object of pity; nor 
 could he endure the thought of the alarmed toler- 
 ance with which his neighbours and his family would 
 suffer his outbursts if they knew that at any moment 
 he might drop down dead in their midst. 
 
 " On second thoughts," he wrote, " if I do go to 
 New Zealand there wouldn't be the slightest use in 
 bringing any action, for Machon is utterably incapa- 
 ble of managing it without me, even if my presence 
 otherwise could be dispensed with. I shall leave the 
 whole thing in abeyance until my return. Probably 
 I shall be able to let you know to-morrow what I de- 
 cide to do, but I might be hurried at the last moment 
 so it is safest to write these details now. 
 
 " The weather is muggy and warm. I'm off to
 
 160 THE TYRANT 
 
 King William Street; you'd better address there as 
 I may sleep at the office to-night, and shall any way 
 be there all to-morrow. 
 
 " Your affectionate husband, 
 
 " RICHARD KEMYS." 
 
 This document cost him neither pains nor thought, 
 and was scribbled off at a great rate, but the drawing 
 up of his will upon the half sheet of note-paper was a 
 different matter. It was presently accomplished, 
 however, with a clearness and conciseness that roused 
 his own admiration, and having made two copies in 
 his distinct strong writing, he rang and asked for the 
 manager and a clerk to witness his signature. He 
 then enclosed the signed and attested sheet in a 
 sealed envelope, and forwarded it to Mr. Joavan. 
 with instructions that it was to be opened in the 
 event of his death, and that a copy of its contents 
 would be sent to his wife. 
 
 Then he rose and stretched himself, and looked out 
 of the window into the crowded street of hurrying 
 traffic and foot-passengers. He observed a group 
 of flower girls, laughing and talking in a corner; 
 they were laden with baskets of tulips, hyacinths, 
 wallflowers, primroses and violets and the gay 
 colours of the spring blossoms carried his thoughts 
 away from the motley crowd of passing and re-pass- 
 ing human beings to his own sunny quiet old-world 
 garden at Llanon. Perhaps he would never walk 
 those familiar ways again. He was conscious of a
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 161 
 
 pang of strange grief. It was as though his own 
 sorrow touched his unseeing eyes and opened them 
 suddenly to the sorrow of all the world, to all the 
 sadness of the passing of time, and the uncertainty 
 of human life. 
 
 The sensation however vivid, was but momentary, 
 and then he remembered that all emotion was to be 
 avoided, and turned away from the window, hard- 
 ening his heart. 
 
 As he turned, a man nodded to him, and he 
 started. 
 
 " I thought it was you," said the easy familiar 
 tones of the medical student. " Come up to see a 
 doctor eh? " 
 
 Richard felt almost inclined to contradict him, 
 but the unconscious good humour of the young man's 
 expression disarmed resentment, and he grunted an 
 assent. 
 
 "Who'd you go to?" 
 
 Richard gave the name. 
 
 " I could have told you of a better man. What'd 
 he think?" 
 
 " How can I tell what he thought? " said Rich- 
 ard in surly tones. " He talked for twenty minutes 
 and said nothing. Whether because he'd nothing to 
 say, or because he wouldn't tell me anything I don't 
 know." 
 
 The medical student's serious look of interest be- 
 trayed him into giving a gloomy and satirical ac- 
 count of his interview with the specialist.
 
 162 THE TYRANT 
 
 " He thinks someone ought to go with me " 
 he ended sardonically. " I suppose you wouldn't 
 like the job?" 
 
 The words escaped him almost unawares. He 
 had been turning over the doctor's counsels uneasily 
 in his own mind. 
 
 ;i Wouldn't I just? " said the student, with a care- 
 less laugh. " I'm at a loose end. Not to go back 
 to work for three or four months. I'm stopping 
 here to-night and off to Devon and Cornwall to-mor- 
 row with my trusty bike. It's dull work holiday 
 making alone." 
 
 Richard Kemys looked hard at the medical 
 student and the medical student returned his look 
 with the frank independence that characterized him. 
 
 Again the elder man thought of the doctor's words 
 urging him not to set forth upon his travels alone; 
 he reflected that if he were to take anyone with him 
 he might as well take someone who would know what 
 to do in case of emergency; and especially if he could 
 make a bargain 
 
 1 You'd have to look after me if I was ill," he 
 said abruptly, " and I'd do no more than pay your 
 return fare." 
 
 " Are you in earnest? " said Robert Bewan, flush- 
 ing. 
 
 " I'm not given to jesting." 
 
 " A voyage would do more for me than fifty 
 cycling tours."
 
 RICHARD IN LONDON 163 
 
 " Fm not thinking of you. I'm thinking of my- 
 self." 
 
 The young man burst into a laugh. 
 
 " All right, I'll come." 
 
 A moment later they were driving towards Cook's 
 office in Ludgate Circus.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 
 
 MRS. KEMYS was as deeply occupied with the prob- 
 lems of feeding and clothing her household as the 
 humblest of her neighbours, and the arrival of the 
 postbag found her busily weighing out groceries in 
 her store-room, and putting by the eggs which had 
 just been brought in from the poultry yard. 
 
 " My dear, what is it? " she said as Sophy burst 
 in upon her. 
 
 " The letters, Mamma, and it's Courtenay's day 
 for writing to me. Do please open the bag." 
 
 Courtenay was Sophy's favourite brother, and he 
 confided especially in her as Rodric confided in Annie. 
 The expected letter was forthcoming, and Sophy 
 sat down upon a wooden grocery case, and opened it 
 eagerly. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys read her husband's letter, folded it 
 nervously, and put it into her pocket. 
 
 " I hope Mr. Richard's well, ma'am. When he 
 went away I fancied he looked as though the acci- 
 dent had shaken him more than he knew," said the 
 inquisitive Sharman. 
 
 " He's quite well," said Mrs. Kemys absently. 
 " But he will not be coming back just yet." 
 
 164
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 165 
 
 " Then I do think we might do the study," said 
 Sharman thoughtfully. " It's not had a turn-out 
 since last he went to town, and the housemaid says 
 the shelves and all are in a dreadful state." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys roused herself. " Of course it ought 
 to be done. If we can make sure of putting every- 
 thing back exactly as it is." 
 
 " You leave that to me, ma'am, and don't get 
 troubling yourself. Miss Sophy, you ought to take 
 care of your Mamma. She's looked wore out these 
 last days worrying over Miss Annie. Why don't 
 you make her go out this lovely morning? I'll see 
 to Gwenny doing the study, and under my own eye 
 shall it be done this very morning." 
 
 " When does Mamma ever listen to me ? " said 
 Sophy, shrugging her shoulders. " But the boys 
 will be back next week, and she listens to them. 
 You had better talk to them, Sharman." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys smiled, but rather absently. Her 
 hands were still busying themselves among the 
 shelves of the store-room, but her mind was busy in 
 another direction. 
 
 " That is all," she said in a tone of relief, as 
 Sharman departed laden with jars and packages. 
 " Sophy dear, I think I will go out, as Sharman sug- 
 gests, for I have a headache. I'll do the flowers this 
 morning for you." 
 
 " Oh thank you, Mamma, and I can get on with 
 Annie's wrapper," said Sophy, but she lingered. 
 
 "Mamma, about Courtenay "
 
 1 66 THE TYRANT 
 
 " What about Courtenay? " 
 
 "I'm not sure I'm at liberty to tell but oh 
 Mamma, he's in a little scrape. I don't mean any- 
 thing serious, but he has got into debt I don't 
 think it's much," said Sophy, frightened by the pal- 
 lor of her mother's face. 
 
 " Not much," said Mrs. Kemys, rather bitterly. 
 
 " No, it's not much. Only he's been ordering 
 books that he wanted, and and one or two en- 
 gravings for his rooms." 
 
 " Books and engravings," sighed Mrs. Kemys, be- 
 tween relief and dismay, " foolish boy." 
 
 " I don't see that he's so foolish," said Sophy 
 rather rebelliously. " He must have books. And 
 if the engravings weren't exactly necessary, he says 
 they inspire him to write but I forgot, you know 
 nothing of his writings. He tells no one but me. 
 I am only telling it in the strictest confidence," 
 Sophy said, looking alarmed, but her mother paid but 
 scant attention to this revelation. 
 
 " If he has bills he can't pay and how can he 
 pay them? if he has debts, they will certainly come 
 to your father's ears, and he will be taken away from 
 Oxford," she said wearily. " I thought better of 
 Courtenay." 
 
 " If it had been Roddy, no one would have said 
 anything," said Sophy, in rather jealous tones. " Oh 
 Mamma he says it is only a little a very little, that 
 would make things all right to go on with, and he 
 never asks for anything as a rule."
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 167 
 
 " I am just as able to help him a little as a great 
 deal," said her mother. Then as Sophy was going 
 reluctantly away, she bethought herself with a start 
 of her husband's letter, and she said hurriedly, " Tell 
 him I may be able to do something I'm not cer- 
 tain but it is just possible. I will write in a day 
 or two, before he comes home. Don't let the poor 
 boy despair. After all, as you say, he asks so sel- 
 dom." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Mamma." 
 
 A very little hope sufficed to raise Sophy's spirits; 
 she went down the long stone corridor from the 
 store-room singing cheerfully. An inclination to 
 sing had seized many members of the squire's house- 
 hold since his departure. The little boys were 
 shouting joyfully and chasing each other noisily on 
 the nursery floor. A door banged occasionally, and 
 old Pryse could be heard whistling in the pantry 
 whenever the green baize door opened and shut to 
 let anyone through to the back premises. An in- 
 describable relief pervaded the atmosphere of the 
 old house. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys took her shady hat from the peg 
 whereon it hung, and lifted her garden gloves and 
 basket and scissors from the lid of the old chest, 
 where lay in rows the master's riding and driving 
 gloves. Then she slipped on her overshoes and went 
 out into the sunshine across the dewy lawn and wet 
 gravel paths. 
 
 After a night's rain the sun was shining in a clear
 
 1 68 THE TYRANT 
 
 blue sky; the concert of the birds among the budding 
 branches of the forest trees in the shrubberies, was 
 almost deafening; here and there a wet glistening 
 larch stood forth among the brown, gaily arrayed in 
 palest and freshest green; a thousand diamonds 
 glittered on the drooping fairy sprays of the delicate 
 birch. 
 
 The foliage of an evergreen rose scattered a 
 shower of dew over her as she pushed open the 
 rickety door of the kitchen garden. 
 
 The dazzling white bloom of the " Snow on the 
 mountain " clothed the ridge of the old grey stone 
 walls, and in the sunny sheltered enclosure fluttered 
 a peacock butterfly and a yellow rival as gaily as 
 though summer had already arrived. Beside the 
 door a big bush of flowering currant drooped a 
 thousand rose-pink bunches of blossom. The waxen 
 red bloom of the peach alternated with the thick 
 white blossom of greengages, and through the cross- 
 ing of the gnarled branches on the loosely-mortared 
 stone background, little ferns thrust themselves. 
 
 It was because Richard was not returning imme- 
 diately that Mrs. Kemys could permit herself the 
 pleasure of cutting a few white hyacinths from the 
 rows of stately spikes in the border below the green- 
 house. 
 
 She gathered jonquils and narcissus and tall rushes 
 for the vases in the morning-room, and stole a few of 
 the tulips whose brilliant ragged petals were just 
 bursting from their green sheath.
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 169 
 
 She had a headache from two almost sleepless 
 nights, during which she had revolved incessantly in 
 her mind the question of Annie's visit to Artramont; 
 and until the arrival of her husband's letter this 
 morning she had felt herself unable to come to any 
 decision. 
 
 Annie's pleading words had rung in her ears. 
 
 "Couldn't you make it happen? If you only 
 had the courage ! " 
 
 With the possibility of Richard's immediate re- 
 turn Annette could not find the courage of which she 
 had boasted to her mother-in-law. 
 
 But now 
 
 Annette was startled by the news in her husband's 
 letter of his contemplated voyage to New Zealand. 
 She knew him so well that she understood instantly 
 that he would not have mentioned the possibility to 
 her at all unless he had made up his mind to go. 
 It never occurred to her that his health could have 
 anything to do with such a decision. 
 
 He was not given to explaining the affairs of his 
 business to her, and she knew of no reason why they 
 should not take him to New Zealand as easily as 
 keep him in London. 
 
 Her mind was so full of Annie, and the opportuni- 
 ties that seemed opening before her child, that she 
 dwelt scarcely at all upon the difference that her 
 husband's prolonged absence might make to her own 
 life. 
 
 During the whole period of their married life, he
 
 1 7 o THE TYRANT 
 
 had seldom spent more than two or three weeks con- 
 secutively away from his home, at irregular intervals 
 which had latterly become less and less frequent, and 
 only when compelled to do so by the exigencies of 
 business. 
 
 The exception had been shortly after their mar- 
 riage, when she had understood vaguely that his af- 
 fairs were passing through a crisis, which necessi- 
 tated a journey to Sweden, where his partner Re- 
 sided, and a prolonged stay in that country. 
 
 But this was over twenty years ago, and now the 
 prospect to her of being left in sole charge of her 
 home and family, without her masterful mate to 
 direct all her affairs was novel indeed. 
 
 Yet she scarcely glanced at it in her absorbing 
 anxiety over the one question; dared she take the 
 risk of his possible, nay, his probable, return to take 
 leave of his family, and permit Annie to accept Lady 
 Yorath's invitation? The very thought turned her 
 cold with apprehension. 
 
 Oh, if he were gone and the account of which 
 he spoke actually opened at the bank of Llysdinam 
 so that she could get poor Annie some decent 
 things she thought, with beating heart and throb- 
 bing brow. 
 
 The thatched roof of her mother-in-law's cottage, 
 with its thin line of white smoke rising against the 
 blue background of hills was visible above the 
 far wall of the kitchen garden.
 
 [THE DEED IN THE BOX 171 
 
 Mrs. Kemys looked at the scented burden she car- 
 ried, and decided that her mother-in-law ought to 
 share the spoils of her raid on Richard's sacred bor- 
 ders, though she smiled ruefully at her own weak- 
 ness in making the excuse even to herself. 
 
 But self-reproach was dispelled by the eager de- 
 light and relief on the old lady's face, as the lowly 
 door of her little domain was opened to admit An- 
 nette, who now appeared smiling, under the budding 
 lilacs, and bade her good morning. 
 
 Old Mrs. Kemys was seated in her wheel-chair, in 
 the full blaze of the spring sunshine, which illumi- 
 nated the thousand wrinkles of her clear-skinned fine- 
 featured old face, though the mushroom hat of the 
 old-fashioned country lady shaded her keen blue 
 eyes. 
 
 Her knitting, her Daily Mail, her basket of letters 
 and gay-coloured wools and odds and ends, lay be- 
 side her as usual, upon a small table, with her writ- 
 ing-case and spectacles; and her white cat was 
 stretching itself lazily beside her footstool. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, come in ! " she said in glad tones. 
 " I have scarcely been able to sleep for wondering 
 what you had decided to do, and whether you have 
 heard from Richard." 
 
 A certain wifely jealousy prevented Annette from 
 actually showing her husband's letter to his mother; 
 she read aloud the whole of the contents, but kept 
 the beginning and the ending to herself, ashamed of
 
 172 THE TYRANT 
 
 his coldness and secretly resentful; yet trying to 
 maintain a pitiful illusion of sacred marital endear- 
 ments which must not be spoken aloud. 
 
 Richard knew nothing of the curious truth that 
 a woman does not resent selfish or even brutal treat- 
 ment from the man she loves as she resents cold 
 or slighting words; which is also perhaps the reason 
 why she is so often indifferent to the plain-spoken 
 man of worth, and so easily charmed by the smooth- 
 tongued villain. Annette would have remained al- 
 most unconscious of her husband's faults if he had 
 not grudged her the occasional caress of look or 
 speech which her soul craved. 
 
 " He means to go," said old Mrs. Kemys, breath- 
 less and emphatic. Her face lit up, and her eyes 
 danced so that it appeared as though her rheumatism 
 would hardly prevent her from jumping out of her 
 chair. 
 
 " I am sure he means to go," said Annette. 
 
 ;< Well," said the old lady, excitedly, " your course 
 is very clear." 
 
 "Do you think we can risk it?" said Annette 
 doubtfully, and her light blue eyes wandered un- 
 certainly from her mother-in-law's eager face to the 
 cottage windows, where the birds were quarrelling 
 loudly under the eaves. 
 
 " It would be very absurd to risk anything when 
 there is the faintest chance of his returning and spoil- 
 ing it all," said the old lady. " You must drive to
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 173 
 
 Llysdinam, and explain to Annie that there's no pos- 
 sibility of letting her go to Artramont until she has 
 some proper clothes to go in, and that you are order- 
 ing them at once," 
 
 "Dear Granny!" 
 
 " At once," said Mrs. Kemys obstinately. " The 
 dressmakers in Llysdinam are not up to much, but 
 they are better than nothing, and no one knows bet- 
 ter than you what a girl needs for visiting a fashion- 
 able country house. And and you can have 
 everything put down to me, my dear." 
 
 " Dear Granny, you can't afford it." 
 
 " On such an occasion as this I should not hesitate 
 to run into debt if need be," said the old lady, purs- 
 ing up her lips and tossing her head. " Pray has 
 Richard not got my bit of capital? If I died he'd 
 have to pay." Her chuckle was an exact replica of 
 her son's. " If I don't die I shall pay it off in time; 
 or you will have to screw something out of the house- 
 hold accounts while he's gone, my love." 
 
 " I'll do that," said Annette, between smiles and 
 tears. " She won't need so much, poor child, but 
 the little will make all the difference. If only my 
 Annie were getting her little chance of of happi- 
 ness, I could better bear the trouble about poor 
 Roddy, but if Richard does return he will ex- 
 pect to find her at home and be so indignant that she 
 has not left the hospital " 
 
 " Richard will just be disappointed for once then," 
 said the old lady, sharply. " You will say she's not
 
 i 7 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 well enough to be moved, and she will say the same. 
 He can't insist. Not that it signifies, for I am per- 
 suaded in my own mind that he won't come home to 
 say goodbye at all. If he's made up his mind to go, 
 he'll go without a moment's delay. I know him." 
 
 The event proved that his mother did know Rich- 
 ard Kemys. 
 
 Annette drove into Llysdinam that afternoon, and 
 saw her daughter, and whispered her hopes that the 
 visit to Artramont might yet be arranged if she 
 would be good and patient, and agree to remain a 
 little longer in the hospital. 
 
 Annie declared herself only too anxious to remain ; 
 with such a hope to sustain her, and the visits of 
 Lady Yorath and the enquiries of Lady Yorath's 
 son to cheer her, she was enjoying herself in spite of 
 her broken arm and bruised side ; the nurses sang the 
 praises of their patient to her mother, and everyone 
 was agreed that Annie should remain where she was 
 for the present. 
 
 With a mind relieved, Mrs. Kemys drove into 
 Llysdinam town, and busied herself in fulfilling the 
 commissions of her mother-in-law. There was not 
 much, as the old lady had said, in the way of fashion 
 to be bought in Llysdinam, but she ordered a few 
 things, with a due regard for economy, and again 
 told herself with a sigh that they were better than 
 nothing.
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 175 
 
 Sophy and the little boys were awaiting her return 
 eagerly. 
 
 ' There's a telegram for you, Mamma. I very 
 nearly opened it, but Pryse was so cross, and said you 
 might be home any minute." 
 
 " He said Sophy was always meddling," cried 
 Manuel. 
 
 " Shut up," said Corney, 
 
 A telegram. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys was out of the carriage instantly, 
 kissing the little boys hurriedly, and following Sophy 
 into the dark, oak-walled hall. 
 
 She read her telegram twice before she spoke 
 again. The relief was so great that the tears came 
 to her eyes and her own voice trembled. 
 
 " Sailing Saturday S. S. Tongariro am writing 
 Kemys." 
 
 " Oh children ! Papa is going away for a long, 
 long time," she said, and sat down in the chair by the 
 hall-table. 
 
 The unthinking Manuel was bursting into a shrill 
 hurrah when his brother stopped him with a ready 
 shove. Corney would have cheered more loudly 
 than Manuel had it not been for the tears in his 
 mother's eyes. As it was he stood by her puzzled 
 yet sympathetic, with a sturdy grubby hand upon her 
 knee, waiting for an explanation. 
 
 Sophy was quite as much puzzled as Corney. 
 She could not believe her mother was crying merely
 
 i 7 6 THE TYRANT] 
 
 because her father was going away. Sophy's agile 
 imagination flew from one cause to another. Child- 
 like, she figured to herself every possible catastrophe 
 with perfect calm. 
 
 Why should her father be going away for a long, 
 long time ? Had he perhaps committed some crime 
 killed somebody in a fit of temper, as old Pryse 
 had often said would be the end of it all, and was he 
 flying from justice? 
 
 Was he about to desert his wife and family as 
 Merthyr Williams in the village had deserted his, 
 leaving them on the parish? The explanation that 
 Papa was going to establish a branch of his business 
 in New Zealand was so prosaic that Sophy felt dis- 
 appointment mingled with her relief. But she also 
 felt that the cause of her mother's tears was still un- 
 explained. 
 
 " You can take the telegram to Granny, Sophy, 
 and say I will go and sit with her this evening," said 
 Mrs. Kemys, " and now I will have some tea, and 
 rest myself, for I am very tired, and Corney and 
 Manuel shall keep me company." 
 
 The little boys followed her gladly into the draw- 
 ing-room; and Manuel climbed on to the sofa next 
 her, and laid his flaxen head fondly against her 
 shoulder, embracing her with both his thin little jer- 
 sey-clad arms. 
 
 Corney stood beside the tea-table, watching her, 
 with those honest puzzled blue eyes, set in the strong
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 177 
 
 handsome little face that was like his father's with 
 the evil, as it were, left out. 
 
 But he did not ask her why she cried, though his 
 mind was as speculative on the subject as Sophy's had 
 been, until the appearance of a plate of hot cakes 
 brought in with the urn put his mother's tears and 
 everything else out of his head. 
 
 When Sophy returned breathless from her hasty 
 expedition to the cottage (though she had managed 
 to spread the news through the house and garden on 
 her way ) , she could not help thinking that already the 
 evidences of her father's absence abounded. 
 
 Had the squire been at home, nay had he been 
 even uncertainly expected, the cook would not have 
 baked those cakes; Pryse would not have brought 
 them in smiling with pleasure because he knew how 
 surprised and delighted the little boys would be: 
 Corney would not have been sitting cross-legged on 
 the floor enjoying his tea, and occasionally sharing it 
 with the puppy, and Manuel would not have been 
 lying on the sofa, within the protecting circle of his 
 mother's arm. 
 
 By this time Mrs. Kemys was smiling, even laugh- 
 ing, at the conversation of the little boys, and Sophy 
 began almost to suspect that her grief must have been 
 assumed for their benefit, so that she could not help 
 saying with some emphasis : 
 
 " Well, Granny is delighted. She does not pre- 
 tend to be upset at Papa's going, she only says it will
 
 i 7 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 do him a let of good, and that she has always longed 
 to see a branch of the business established in New 
 Zealand above everything else in the world. I never 
 saw her so pleased about anything. She really 
 chuckled." 
 
 The letter that came from Richard Kemys next 
 morning was, as he had foretold, a hurried one ; but 
 it gave particulars of his projected trip, though it 
 made no mention of the travelling companion he had 
 selected. He would go via Plymouth, Teneriffe, 
 Cape Town and Hobart, he explained, and probably 
 return by Rio. This part of his letter rather puz- 
 zled Mrs. Kemys and would have puzzled her more 
 had not other matters driven the subject from her 
 mind. Why should Richard trouble to explain the 
 why and the wherefore of the route he had chosen 
 to his wife, who was ignorant of all routes? He 
 never troubled to explain anything to her, and loved 
 to keep her as much in the dark as he could con- 
 cerning his hopes and his plans. She did not per- 
 ceive that it was his fear lest she should insist upon 
 coming to bid him farewell that made Richard 
 descant upon the advantages of the route he had 
 chosen, which obliged him to start without any de- 
 lay, so that during the short time remaining to him 
 he must be overwhelmed with business. 
 
 The thought of Annie, and the relief and thank- 
 fulness which possessed her overwhelmed all other 
 feelings until she read on, and learnt that the will had
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 179 
 
 already been executed which would disinherit Rodric 
 and put little Corney in his place. 
 
 ' Without giving my boy a chance, without giving 
 me a chance to talk him over and coax him if needs 
 be to abandon the idea," she cried, reading Richard's 
 curt announcement over and over, while her face 
 burnt and her hands trembled with helpless indigna- 
 tion. " It is all very well for Granny to say there 
 is plenty of time for him to make a hundred wills and 
 alter all his plans over and over again, but after all, 
 even Richard is not immortal," said Annette, with a 
 sob, " though God forbid that he should die with 
 such an injustice on his soul. And my boy that loves 
 every stick and stone about the place which is his 
 lawful inheritance. But what can I do. Oh Roddy, 
 Roddy, that I should see it all taken from you, my 
 darling, and be powerless to help. But what I can 
 do I will. I will write to Richard and perhaps, God 
 knows his heart may be softer when he is going s 
 far away from us all, and without even a word of 
 goodbye. Though that is better than if he left 
 with the memory of hard words to haunt him on 
 his journey." 
 
 Her courage was high and her indignation hot 
 when she sat down to write, but as she wrote gentle- 
 ness overcame wrath, and her letter ended in words 
 of love and pleading, and was blotted with many 
 tears. 
 
 ". ,,. , For the sake of the love you once bore 
 me, and I know that you love me still in your heart,
 
 1 8o THE TYRANT 
 
 though like the weeds in the parable, the love of 
 money and your impatience with my many weak- 
 nesses have come between us." 
 
 Poor Annette knew vaguely that her involved 
 sentences and feeble diction incensed her husband, 
 who wrote a clerkly hand and prided himself upon his 
 conciseness. But she wrote in passionate earnestness 
 and trembled as she wrote, praying that she might 
 be given words wherewith to touch his heart. " Do 
 not go so far away from us all with this on your con- 
 science, and wrong your own son, whom you loved 
 once when he was little. Even if he has not grown 
 up to be all you would wish him to be, look round the 
 county and see who has a son of whom parents could 
 have a right to be prouder than we of Roddy." 
 (She thought of Lord Yorath and her conscience 
 pricked her, but she hurried on.) " He is big and 
 handsome and healthy and steady, and has never been 
 an undutiful son even if he is a little self-willed at 
 times. How can you and I expect him to be with- 
 out faults when we are so far from faultless 
 ourselves? He may not be so clever as you are in 
 business, but you know, dear Richard that you are one 
 in a thousand for that, and if you did so well through 
 leaving home early and becoming independent, why 
 should not you give him the chance to do the same. 
 You do not like his interfering or showing too much 
 interest in Nantgwilt, though he loves the place with 
 all his heart; and he does not like being in London; 
 would it not be better therefore that he should go
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 181 
 
 away altogether? If you would think It over you 
 must know it would be better. I ask you solemnly 
 
 your poor wife asks you on her knees to listen to 
 her this once. Oh Richard, you haven't forgotten 
 
 though I have never, never spoken of it till now, 
 that I broke my father's heart for your sake, clinging 
 to you though he begged me not, and said hard things 
 of you, and only let me go because I told him I would 
 come to you whether or not. I loved you so that all 
 his years of devotion and care seemed as nothing be- 
 side my love for you, but God knows whether I have 
 wondered at my heart being once so hard for him 
 that saw you would be some day as hard for me, only 
 I would not believe it then. Oh Richard, don't let 
 it be true. Do you remember the first time I saw 
 you really angry, and how frightened I was at you, 
 and how bitterly I cried? And you asked me tQ 
 forgive you the night Roddy was born; when my suf- 
 fering melted your heart so that I think you suffered 
 more than I did; for your gentleness made me so 
 happy and oh how happy I was to forgive you 
 everything. Don't you remember how proud I was 
 because I thought he was going to be big and strong 
 like you instead of weak and delicate like me. Dear 
 Richard, I will tell you now what I have never told 
 you or anyone, that Roddy is the dearest to me of 
 all my children, and that it is because of that night 
 he is so dear. Oh for the sake of those days listen 
 to me now, and if this letter angers you which I have 
 written from my heart as I can no longer speak to
 
 1 82 THE TYRANT 
 
 you without angering you then put It aside now 
 and read It only when you are far away, out at sea, 
 with none of my foolishness to vex you and only the 
 memory of all we have been through together and 
 those happy, happy days of our youth, to make you 
 feel more kindly towards me than you have done 
 lately. Oh, Richard, be good to me, and listen, and 
 do justice to your son, as your father did to you, that 
 your children may honour your memory as his mem- 
 ory Is honoured, and I will thank you and bless you 
 for ever and ever. Your wife, who never has loved 
 and never will love any man but you. 
 
 " ANNETTE KEMYS." 
 
 The pretty red-cheeked Welsh housemaid came 
 into the drawing-room as Mrs. Kemys closed and 
 sealed her letter. Her dark eyes were round and 
 frightened. 
 
 " I have had an accident in the master's study, 
 ma'am." 
 
 " Oh, Gwenny, what have you broken? " 
 
 " It wasn't me." Gwenny's lips trembled, but 
 neither the mistress nor the maid were as aghast as 
 they would have been had the squire been at home. 
 " I don't know whateffer Mrs. Sharman will say," 
 murmured Gwenny. " She wasn't gone a minute 
 when it happened. I was on the ladder, bringing 
 down the things on the top of the book-case, and I 
 lifted a square leather-covered box by the handle and 
 it came out of the setting and the box fell on the
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 183 
 
 floor and bursted herself, and all the papers fell out." 
 
 Big tears welled into the dark eyes, and trickled 
 down the shining red cheeks. Mrs. Kemys thought 
 of the scolding volubility of Sharman, and was 
 moved to compassion. 
 
 " It was very right of you to come and tell me at 
 once, Gwenny," she said kindly, " and as you've told 
 me perhaps we needn't tell Mrs. Sharman. I'll come 
 and see what box it is, and get it mended before the 
 squire comes home." 
 
 Gwenny gathered together the fallen documents, 
 heaped them into the well of the shabby despatch- 
 box, picked up the lid to which one useless hinge ad- 
 hered by a single screw loosely holding to rotten 
 wood, and gave the whole into her lady's keeping, 
 with a grateful heart and beaming smile of relief and 
 thanks. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys hurried back to the drawing-room 
 with her burden, to be out of Sharman's way. 
 
 " No wonder the lock burst," she thought, as she 
 fitted and refitted the bundles of old deeds and filed 
 accounts into the old desk, and endeavoured to re- 
 place the lid. " Only by main force could it have 
 been shut upon such closely-packed contents, and the 
 wood is quite rotten." She saw by the initials that 
 the despatch-box had belonged to the miser Corne- 
 lius. " It must be over a hundred years old." 
 
 The documents appeared to be of much more re- 
 cent date, and as she was laying the last upon the top 
 of the others, she was attracted by her own name.
 
 1 84 THE TYRANT 
 
 The blue envelope was addressed in Richard's 
 clean writing to herself, and twice over. 
 
 For my wife only, 
 
 To Mrs. Richard C. Kemys. 
 
 On the impulse of the moment Annette opened the 
 envelope, and a half sheet of paper fluttered on to the 
 carpet, as she drew forth a thin folded parchment 
 deed. 
 
 The parchment opened stiffly, as though it had 
 lain untouched for many years. 
 
 She lifted the paper from the carpet and read a 
 pencilled note in Richard's hand. 
 
 Private. 
 
 To Nan. In case of my death destroy this docu- 
 ment at once. Rex. 
 
 She remembered now. 
 
 The two little names, long disused between them, 
 lay before her as relics of past happiness. 
 
 Just before their marriage they had read over that 
 deed together, and with his rough face pressed 
 against her soft cheek, he had explained it eagerly, 
 as though seeming afraid there might be something 
 in it which she would might want to mention to 
 her father who knew nothing of business ; who 
 was not to see it ; and she had wondered greatly and 
 said, still wondering 
 
 " But, Rex, I trust you with all my heart and 
 soul," and he had kissed her exultingly and said he 
 knew it, and that he believed she would always do
 
 THE DEED IN THE BOX 185 
 
 what he bade her against all the world, and she had 
 laughed, always wondering that he could have 
 doubted it, and said " Of course." 
 
 It all came back to her very vividly as she sat 
 there, holding the paper and looking at the parch- 
 ment. Only she thought the deed had been destroyed 
 long ago. He had surely given her to understand 
 it would be destroyed, and that only he and she and 
 the lawyer who drew it up would ever know of its 
 existence. 
 
 A thought suddenly entered her mind which made 
 her heart beat faster, and brought the blood to her 
 pale cheeks, so that they burnt with a deep red flush. 
 
 Since the deed had not been destroyed, since she 
 had it here, safely in her own possession, surely if 
 she chose to act upon it, to defy Richard her heart 
 whispered, to betray him surely, she held him 
 now, in the hollow of her hand.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 
 
 WHEN old Mr. Turley heard that Mrs. Kemys the 
 younger wished to see him, he supposed that she must 
 have brought him some urgent message from her 
 mother-in-law, whose trustee and adviser he was. In 
 some curiosity, though also with a little stiffness, he 
 gave the desired permission for her entry, and rose 
 to greet her as she was ushered into his office. 
 
 Mrs. Richard Kemys had been little Annette to 
 him once, and as a child had sat upon his knee, and 
 played with his bunch of seals, while he talked to 
 her father over her golden head. But when she 
 grew up and married and he quarrelled with Richard 
 Kemys, as everyone quarrelled sooner or later with 
 the Squire of Nantgwilt, he had met her rarely, save 
 in the cottage of her mother-in-law, who insisted upon 
 seeing her late husband's adviser as often as she 
 chose, and with whose wishes on this point Richard 
 Kemys had apparently not cared to interfere. 
 
 Mr. Turley knew very well that Annette avoided 
 him because she dared not be friendly, though she 
 would not deny him a sorrowful smile, or half-fright- 
 ened word of greeting, even in Richard's presence. 
 For his part he was only too willing to serve her, 
 
 186
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 187 
 
 but he knew that he served her best by keeping out 
 of her way. 
 
 Yet as she entered the little office which had once 
 been a familiar place to her, he was moved to some 
 emotion; and he perceived that she was both embar- 
 rassed and troubled, and perhaps a little ashamed. 
 
 " Mr. Turley," she said, faltering, " I have no 
 right to come, I know, after the way in which Rich- 
 ard has behaved to you. But you must have known 
 that that it was not altogether my fault, only my 
 misfortune " she smiled faintly " that I have 
 been able to see you so seldom. And you are the 
 only one left of my father's old friends, to whom 
 I could come for advice on a difficult matter." 
 
 He stepped forward and took the hands she held 
 out almost imploringly towards him. 
 
 " My dear, you are welcome as flowers in May, as 
 welcome as you always were in this dingy old place," 
 he said. " Come, come, you must not be upset, 
 you've inherited a right to come here when you 
 choose, you know ! You're at home. Why, there's 
 the corner cupboard where the madeira and the seed 
 cake live that you once called the widow's cruse, be- 
 cause the decanter and the dish were never empty. 
 You used to make faces when your father let you sip 
 his madeira, but you won't despise it now, eh? You'll 
 please me by taking a little for you're pale and 
 tired after your long drive." 
 
 The old man filled a glass, and set it before her, 
 and cut the perennial seed-cake with such delight that
 
 1 88 THE TYRANT 
 
 she could not refuse to gratify him by accepting the 
 refreshment he offered. 
 
 He declined, he said, to hear a word about business 
 until she had done justice to the little feast he set be- 
 fore her, and he sat and chatted to her, recalling triv- 
 ial incidents of her visits during her childhood, with 
 an old man's pleasure in such reminiscences. 
 
 But he could not help wondering, even during the 
 light discourse with which he endeavoured to restore 
 her composure, whether she had come to tell him 
 that she could no longer endure life with Richard 
 Kemys, and to ask him to aid her to obtain a separa- 
 tion from him. 
 
 His feelings of resentment against his ex-client 
 gathered strength as he looked at Annette; involun- 
 tarily contrasting her as she was with his vivid mem- 
 ory of what she had been when she last entered his 
 office at the time of her marriage. To the old law- 
 yer the vision of the bright, delicate, spiritual face of 
 the maiden Annette was more real than the actual 
 living presence before him, which he regarded almost 
 as the ghost of his old friend's beloved child. To 
 him she was a pathetic figure, as she sat beside his 
 office table in her shabby gown and bonnet, nervously 
 crumbling the cake she did not want; looking at him 
 with sad blue eyes from which the colour seemed 
 half washed away by the shedding of many tears; 
 and trying to smile at him though he knew well that 
 she was on the verge of weeping.
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 189 
 
 Mrs. Kemys perceived very few changes in the lit- 
 tle dingy room she remembered so well. 
 
 There were the tin boxes with their white letter- 
 ings which had once filled her with such awe. One, 
 conspicuously worded, " Executors of the Right Hon. 
 Baron Yorath, deceased," caught her eyes. 
 
 A case of stuffed humming birds decorated the 
 mantelpiece ; they had been a present from her father 
 to old Turley in the days when such things were 
 deemed ornamental. 
 
 The solitary innovation appeared to be the tele- 
 phone, for she was sure the woven wire blind which 
 hid the lower portion of the window was the identical 
 one she remembered, and that the curtains were of 
 the original pattern. 
 
 Mr. Turley himself had changed as little as his 
 surroundings during the past two and twenty years. 
 He was perhaps rather balder at seventy-two than he 
 had been at fifty; a little more shrunken about the 
 shanks and rounder about the shoulders. 
 
 But he wore the same shrewd smiling expression, 
 the same gold-rimmed pince-nez (though doubtless 
 the glasses they contained were stronger ones) and 
 the same neat grey whiskers brushed forward to give 
 more width to his narrow jaw. 
 
 " Now," he said, settling himself into the elbow- 
 chair before his writing-table, and preparing to give 
 his full attention to business. 
 
 She laid a folded parchment before him.
 
 j 90 THE TYRANT 
 
 " Before you read this I want to explain." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She clasped her thin hands, and tried to collect her 
 thoughts, and to speak concisely and clearly; but the 
 quick beating of her heart made her speech hurried 
 and breathless in spite of herself. 
 
 " Richard my husband is obliged to go to 
 New Zealand on business, unexpectedly " Mr. 
 Turley's surprise was audible. " Yes it is very 
 sudden he only made up his mind a day or two 
 ago and he is sailing to-day." 
 
 She paused, trying to still her hurrying breath ; and 
 the old man fixed his eyes on the blotting paper, mak- 
 ing invisible marks with the wrong end of a pencil, 
 and waiting until she should have composed herself. 
 
 u In the meantime," said Annette, " he fancies he 
 has cause to be displeased with our eldest boy 
 with Roddy " 
 
 As though the mention of her son's name gave her 
 courage, she gathered strength and energy in her re- 
 cital and told Mr. Turley of Roddy's wishes and de- 
 mands, of her husband's determination to disinherit 
 him and put little Corney in his place, and of her 
 own despairing efforts to change that determination, 
 with a simplicity and calm that emphasized the facts. 
 
 When she came to the letter she had written to her 
 husband on the previous day, her manner changed: 
 spots of colour burned in the thin cheeks that had 
 been so pale. 
 
 " I appealed to him by everything we I held
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 191 
 
 most sacred to listen to me," she said, " and 
 though he had already executed the Will though 
 he is in no way changeable I believed that he 
 would do so, for I had never made such an appeal 
 to him before and he was going away for a 
 long time. You will forgive me for speaking of my 
 feelings nothing else would explain to you 
 what I am about to to what I want you to 
 help me to do. All last night I lay awake, thinking 
 and thinking, and making up my mind to give him 
 this chance " his wondering look made her hold up 
 an entreating hand " Wait, you will understand 
 presently. I thought that he would that he must 
 listen to me. I counted the days that must pass be- 
 fore he could answer my letter, for I knew he would 
 be just starting when he received it. It would be my 
 farewell, he had not thought of saying any good- 
 bye to me " There was a faint, very faint flavour 
 of bitterness in her tone. " But I had not to wait 
 for the answer at all; for he telegraphed to me this 
 morning." 
 
 She handed a telegram to Mr. Turley, and he read 
 it. 
 
 Received letter: determination unchanged; desire 
 subject dropped; decision final; just of to Docks. 
 
 Kemys. 
 
 " Nothing I have said has moved him," Annette 
 went on patiently. " I see now that entreaty and ar-
 
 i 9 2 THE TYRANT 
 
 guments are quite useless. I suppose I must have 
 known it in my heart all the time. But I wanted 
 to give him the chance. I would not have come to 
 you with this if he had answered otherwise if 
 he had given me even a little hope." 
 
 She unfolded the deed and put it into Mr. Turley's 
 hand. 
 
 " Yesterday," said Annette, " one of the maids, 
 turning out Richard's study, let fall an old despatch- 
 box that stood on the top of the bookcase hidden by 
 piles of blue books and justice's manuals. It was 
 packed so tightly with deeds and parchments that the 
 lock burst in the fall, and the whole thing practically 
 came to pieces, the wood being dry and old and 
 worm-eaten. In trying to re-pack it I came upon 
 this parchment enclosed in an envelope addressed to 
 myself." 
 
 "You have read it?" 
 
 " I have read it several times." 
 
 Mr. Turley studied it carefully for some moments. 
 
 " It is dated just before your marriage." 
 
 " Yes," murmured Annette. 
 
 " Drawn up in Machon's office, evidently. He 
 had only just arrived in Llysdinam then. Here is 
 his name as witness, Habor Machon. It is rather 
 unusually worded." 
 
 " It is so curt that I fancy Richard must have 
 written the original draft himself," she said, smiling 
 faintly. " He says that solicitors' wordings are too 
 intricate, and that he prefers something simpler."
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 193 
 
 " No one will deny the quality of simplicity to 
 amateur lawyers," said Mr. Turley, drily. " But we 
 have no occasion to complain, for such efforts are 
 apt to double our opportunities for work. Well, 
 well, I should like to see a client of mine dictating 
 terms of deeds for me. Mind, I'm not finding fault 
 with this one," he added cautiously. " At first sight 
 it appears to afford no loophole for dispute, though 
 I am of course not prepared to give my opinion upon 
 it without consideration." He read it through a 
 second time ; and Annette waited. 
 
 " You understand its purport? " he asked, looking 
 at her over his glasses. 
 
 " It was explained to me at the time," she an- 
 swered, flushing, " but it appears to me to be suffi- 
 ciently clear in itself to enable anyone to understand 
 it. It is a deed of gift from Richard to me, appoint- 
 ing himself my trustee and giving me Nantgwilt, the 
 house, its contents, the estate, everything together 
 with a large sum of money, for my own." 
 
 " Securities hereinafter mentioned, h'm, h'm, 
 h'm to the estimated value of 30,000, now de- 
 posited in my name at the Bank of England " mut- 
 tered Mr. Turley, reading to himself. 
 
 " That was it. I know he has aways kept a sepa- 
 rate account at the Bank of England, apart from 
 Prescott's, where his business account is, or the bank 
 in Llysdinam, on which he draws for all local ex- 
 penses." 
 
 " Who knows of the existence of this deed? "
 
 i 9 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 " I suppose only Mr. Machon and his clerk, be- 
 sides myself. He may have told Mr. Joavan, his 
 solicitor in London ; or John Bond, his manager. I 
 don't know." 
 
 " Your father would have told me if " 
 
 " My father was not to know," interposed An- 
 nette. 
 
 " Can you form any idea why it was made? " said 
 Mr. Turley, looking away from her carefully. 
 
 " Yes, I can," said Annette, in a low tone. " It 
 is only an idea, for I know nothing of business." 
 
 " May I have it for what it is worth? " 
 
 " You know " she hesitated " about Rich- 
 ard's business." 
 
 " I know very little about it. Something to do 
 with Swedish iron, is it not? " 
 
 " Everything to do with it. He got some infor- 
 mation on the subject by chance as a lad, which inter- 
 ested him something about Swedish iron being 
 burnt with charcoal and not with coal, which made 
 it of superior quality. I'm afraid I forget the de- 
 tails. Anyway when his godmother left him a thou- 
 sand pounds he went to Sweden, persuaded his father 
 to advance him the money, and entered into partner- 
 ship with a man there for selling imported Swedish 
 iron. The man was only a commission agent, I 
 fancy, but Richard was bold and energetic, and ex- 
 tended their business a great deal. Much later, after 
 he inherited Nantgwilt and during our engagement, 
 he told me that if he had the courage to speculate
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 195 
 
 in iron instead of merely buying on commission, he 
 believed he could make a fortune. My idea is that 
 he determined to do this, and saw in our marriage 
 an opportunity to make Nantgwilt safe in case he 
 failed. If a man goes bankrupt, his creditors can- 
 not touch his wife's property, can they?" 
 
 " It depends. One moment why did he not put 
 Nantgwilt and the rest into settlement in the ordinary 
 way?" 
 
 " Because," said Annette, steadily, " I am certain 
 he meant to destroy this deed if his speculations were 
 successful. Richard was not the man to hand over 
 the powers of disposing of his own property to any- 
 one if he could help it. All his plans were arranged 
 beforehand. He bought out his partner directly 
 after we married, and then waited his opportunity. 
 It came two years later, and I know he went through 
 a very exciting time. He had some great transac- 
 tion, buying up Swedish iron and selling it to one of 
 the large railway companies. He told me very lit- 
 tle, but I remember he could hardly eat or sleep till 
 it was all settled. I do not think he has ever specu- 
 lated in the same way since. He has his office in 
 King William Street, with John Bond as manager, 
 who had worked for him in quite a humble capacity, 
 but whose ability and trustworthiness he had the good 
 luck to discover. I believe he has prospered, but 
 to what extent I do not know. I have thought some- 
 times that he must be very well off," she faltered, 
 " though he is so careful."
 
 19* THE TYRANT 
 
 Mr. Turley, who had heard Richard Kemys de- 
 scribed as the second miser of Nantgwilt, nodded 
 compassionately. 
 
 " That is all I know," she said, " or rather, all I 
 have gathered, for most of it is only surmise." 
 
 " He never told you in so many words that 
 he meant to destroy that deed ? " 
 
 She looked at him as though in surprise. 
 
 " Richard was much too clever to tell me anything 
 of the kind in words. He told me he was giving me 
 everything he had, in return for my my giving 
 myself to him in spite of my father's opposition, and 
 to show me he loved me. But that he did not wish 
 my father to know because he was on bad terms with 
 him, and had quarrelled over the marriage settle- 
 ments." 
 
 " You understood it then how ? " 
 
 " Not all at once only vaguely gradually 
 and I had the impression that, after the speculation 
 was safe he had destroyed the deed. I am sure 
 he told Machon so. I never dreamt of its being oth- 
 erwise." 
 
 " But that is just it. Why did he not destroy it ? " 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders wearily. 
 
 "Why should he trouble to do so? He knew 
 he had only to throw it into the fire, or to bid me 
 throw it into the fire at any moment. He thought 
 it was certain to be destroyed by me if he died 
 first " her lip quivered, "and meantime there it
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 197 
 
 was safe a loophole of escape if anything went 
 wrong with the business." 
 
 " And now, you will not throw it into the fire 
 even at his bidding," said Mr. Turley slowly. 
 
 " I want to to put it out of my own power to 
 do so," she said, with white lips, and scarcely above 
 a whisper. " I am going to to find courage to 
 defy Richard to to betray his absolute confi- 
 dence in me for for his own sake, for my boy's 
 sake, for the sake of all our children. That is why 
 I have come to you. First to ask you to tell me 
 if the deed will will hold good whether it is 
 well and truly executed, don't they say? Oh, I don't 
 expect you to answer me off-hand. I know that is 
 not the way with lawyers. You will have to study 
 it and go into the matter, and perhaps go to London 
 and take counsel's opinion ? I do not suppose it will 
 be easy to to settle such a question at once, and 
 even if it were, there will be difficulties. No one, to 
 my knowledge, has ever got the better of Richard." 
 
 "If you will give me leave I think I will get 
 the better of him this time," said Mr. Turley, grimly. 
 
 He looked at the parchment, and a smile stole over 
 his face. " I don't think they will find it easy to get 
 out of this. My friend Machon is a better lawyer 
 than I suspected," he said with twinkling eyes. 
 
 "Then you think ?" she said breathlessly. 
 
 But Mr. Turley would not say what he thought, in 
 a word. He uttered a short discourse upon the sub-
 
 198 THE TYRANT 
 
 ject of bona fide transactions, which he made particu- 
 larly elaborate because he knew that it is always 
 safest in business matters to assume that every woman 
 is a fool; and Mrs. Kemys listened attentively, be- 
 cause she knew that if she wanted to learn some- 
 thing from him presently that she did not know she 
 must listen patiently to many things that she did. 
 
 " Then even if if there were some difficulty in 
 establishing the deed, there would be matter in it 
 for a fight in the law-courts? " 
 
 " Most certainly if he were fool enough to let 
 such a deed, made for such a purpose, be brought to 
 light in such a manner, which I am very sure he 
 would not be," said Mr. Turley. 
 
 " But with that deed in your hand if if I 
 gave you a power of attorney or whatever is neces- 
 sary you could fight Richard on my behalf? " 
 
 "Without it " he cried. 
 
 " No, no. I must put it all into your hands so 
 that it is beyond my power to recall it," she said 
 nervously. " It sounds easy to say fight Richard 
 now, but when he comes home I shall never have 
 courage unless I put it out of my own power to draw 
 back." 
 
 " I understand," he said soothingly. 
 
 " I want it established," she said breathlessly, " if 
 it is possible to establish it, so that Richard's will, the 
 unjust will he has made " 
 
 ' Will be waste paper," said Mr. Turley, nod- 
 ding, " so far as Nantgwilt is concerned. He can-
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 199 
 
 not will away what does not belong to him, of 
 course." 
 
 " So that if he died on the voyage which God 
 forbid," she said, and looked at him in a kind of hor- 
 ror at the very sound of the words, " my boy's in- 
 heritance would be safe." 
 
 " If we establish this, Nantgwilt belongs to you; 
 you could do what you chose with it." 
 
 " Mr. Turley, will you draw up a will for me to 
 sign at once; leaving it to Roddy, or the eldest sur- 
 viving son as it would go by entail in fact. Then, 
 if Richard kills me when he comes home, it will not 
 so much matter." She said, with her faint smile. 
 
 " Come, come, come," said Mr. Turley, sooth- 
 ingly. " It will not be so bad as that. Though I 
 have no doubt he will be very angry." 
 
 " He will have a right to be angry. Do you think 
 I don't feel, in every fibre of my being that I am 
 playing him false, I whom he trusted who have 
 stood by him always against every one, against my 
 own father," she said passionately. " Don't you un- 
 derstand I know what everyone thinks of Richard 
 how many enemies he has who would rejoice to see 
 him outwitted. It is just that that I have always 
 felt he had no one but me that he stands alone 
 that has made me able " The words she left 
 unsaid were the most eloquent, as she turned her sad 
 eyes upon her father's old friend. 
 
 " If he stands alone," muttered Mr. Turley, " it 
 is his own fault."
 
 200 THE TYRANT 
 
 " That makes it the sadder," she said, patiently. 
 " Always he has suspected everyone and trusted only 
 himself and me. Even his manager and old Jo- 
 avan, whose integrity is tried he boasts that he has 
 so arranged matters that they check each other and 
 are both checked by him. Always he has seen, as 
 it were, the whole world against him ; but that I am 
 on his side he has never been able to doubt. And 
 now I have deserted him. And I don't know how 
 I have made up my mind to do this thing," she said, 
 and hid her face in her hands for a moment. " I 
 boasted," she said faintly, " that if God would give 
 me the opportunity, I would find the courage. But 
 it is harder than I thought, though it is for the chil- 
 dren's sake, Roddy's and and Annie's " 
 
 " Annie's ! " he cried. 
 
 " Annie's too. Oh, never mind why, I can't ex- 
 plain," she said hurriedly. " Mr. Turley, could I 
 not raise some money on the strength of that deed? " 
 
 " Certainly you could," he said promptly. And 
 then chuckled. 
 
 " I think Mr. Richard would pay a very large sum 
 of money to get it back," said Mr. Turley. 
 
 " But it is now now that I want it," she said, 
 almost wildly. " There is my boy to be started, and 
 his outfit, and and other things. If you could 
 advance me some money now a great deal, two 
 or three hundred pounds; and a thousand when my 
 boy sails for the Argentine, on the security of the 
 deed. After that there could be no drawing back,"
 
 MR. TURLEY IN HIS OFFICE 201 
 
 she said, laughing nervously. " You will think me 
 grasping, but if you knew how badly I want money 
 now at this moment." 
 
 " My dear," he said, with tears in his small, 
 shrewd eyes, " you need not have waited to find the 
 deed to come and ask your father's old friend for 
 that."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 
 
 ON Sunday afternoon it was the family custom for 
 old Mrs. Kemys to be wheeled across to the Manor 
 House, where she met Mrs. Eyewater and her two 
 daughters and Mr. Meredydd; tea was carried out 
 onto the lawn, if the weather permitted, and if not, 
 spread upon the round table in the dark oak-walled 
 drawing-room. 
 
 Nobody was very fond of old Mrs. Eyewater ; but 
 as though in compensation she was very fond of her- 
 self; and never tired of discussing this most interest- 
 ing subject. 
 
 She presented rather a pathetic figure; a travesty 
 of good looks long past; with her small tight-laced 
 person, elaborate golden coiffure that scarcely dis- 
 guised her own grey hair; a smart girlish frock that 
 would not have ill-become Sophy's trim and youthful 
 form, and pointed shoes which caused her to hobble 
 rather than walk. Her old wrinkled face peered 
 forth beneath the narrow brim of a flowery hat, like 
 the sad wizened countenance of a monkey; and her 
 incessant chattering and grimacing served but to 
 heighten the resemblance. 
 
 But the pathos was lost upon her neighbours at 
 
 202
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 203 
 
 Nantgwilt, who had borne her airs and graces so long 
 that they found them frankly insufferable, and were 
 bored instead of touched by her idiosyncrasies. 
 
 The devotion of her two elderly daughters, how- 
 ever, roused a never-ending wonder and admiration. 
 No one knew Mrs. Eyewater's age, but it was be- 
 lieved that she had married comparatively late in 
 life, and nothing could be more obvious than that 
 Miss Cynthia and Miss Perina had passed their half- 
 century. Mrs. Eyewater, however, had scarcely ob- 
 served that her daughters were grown up, far less 
 that they had grown old. 
 
 They had spent their childhood, she informed ev- 
 eryone, at Cheltenham. Being left a widow, she 
 had brought them to the Red House at Llanon, 
 twenty years ago, when the death of Colonel Myllon 
 had left the place vacant. She talked as though her 
 children had grown up in the village, and the vil- 
 lagers were tired of reminding each other that the 
 young ladies must have been well over thirty when 
 they first appeared upon the scene. It was too old 
 a pleasantry to amuse anyone. There was a genu- 
 ine respect for the spinster sisters, though they al- 
 ways seemed to be a little unhappy and out of their 
 element in Llanon, and were understood to regret 
 Cheltenham. However, they occupied themselves 
 to the best of their ability, were kind to their poorer 
 neighbours in an unobtrusive way, worked in their 
 garden, decorated the church at the proper seasons, 
 and sang in the choir to the distraction of the con-
 
 204 THE TYRANT 
 
 gregation, who being partly Welsh were wholly mu- 
 sical. 
 
 The weather was not particularly warm upon this 
 occasion, but the party assembled nevertheless upon 
 the lawn beneath the lofty spreading branches of the 
 mighty cedar that was its chief ornament, for all 
 were accustomed to an outdoor life; and the garden 
 was a sheltered one. 
 
 Old Mrs. Kemys wore her lilac bonnet in defer- 
 ence to the day, and because it always replaced her 
 best winter poke at this season of the year, though 
 it was as much less comfortable as it was more ele- 
 gant. But her fine waxen skin and clear eyes were 
 very well able to bear exposure to the searching 
 light of the spring day. In her soft white cashmere 
 shawl wrapped about her plain old-fashioned gown 
 of plum-coloured silk, she presented a dignified con- 
 trast to the tiny over-dressed bejewelled old lady 
 perched on the opposite garden seat. 
 
 " We used to say nothing ever happened in Lla- 
 non," Miss Cynthia remarked to Sophy. " But it 
 has been a very exciting week for you all. What 
 with the accident, and Annie's broken arm, and her 
 being laid up in the hospital." 
 
 " And now Mr. Kemys going off to New Zealand 
 at a moment's notice," said Mrs. Eyewater, giggling 
 and fingering a long string of doubtful pearls. " I 
 should think you must be quite bewildered, dear An- 
 nette; for the suddenness of his departure was a
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 205 
 
 shock even to poor little me, whom he scarcely 
 vouchsafed to notice." 
 
 ' Yes, it was a surprise," said Annette, rather ab- 
 sently, as she busied herself over the tea-table. 
 
 " It was unlucky he had to start before Easter," 
 said old Mrs. Kemys cheerfully. " For now he will 
 miss the boys; and Roddy will of course be settled 
 in the Argentine before his father returns." 
 
 Old Mrs. Kemys often told her daughter-in-law 
 that frankness best disarmed the curiosity of their 
 neighbours. 
 
 " And how does he like the notion of Roddy's 
 going off like this? " said Mrs. Eyewater, peering in- 
 quisitively forward. 
 
 " I don't suppose he liked it particularly. Neither 
 of us could like his going so far away," said An- 
 nette, grateful for the alacrity with which Mr. 
 Meredydd came to her assistance. 
 
 "Like it! I'm lamenting from morning till 
 night. But we must all give way to the young, you 
 know," said the rector. " We are tied to the earth, 
 and" they soar far above us in their ambitions and 
 their aspirations. Well, well they generally 
 knock their heads against the stars and come tum- 
 bling down to our level again in the end. I hope the 
 rheumatism is better, Mrs. Kemys?" he ended ab- 
 ruptly. ' 
 
 "It is troubling me less now that the spring 
 warmth has got into the air," said the old lady.
 
 206 THE TYRANT. 
 
 " I should have said I had had a better night than 
 usual for I slept till I was called ; only that, unluckily, 
 I dreamt I was awake, and so got no benefit at 
 all." 
 
 " Oh Granny, Howell says you sleep much more 
 than you think. Perhaps you often dream you are 
 awake when you are really asleep," cried Sophy 
 mischievously. 
 
 " Howell talks nonsense, my love, and so do you." 
 
 " It must be dreadful to have rheumatism," said 
 the poor little valiant combatant of relentless Time, 
 whose fingers were crippled and twisted with an- 
 other form of the complaint, as everyone present 
 knew very well. " Cynthia, love, do hold up. 
 Sophy sets you an example." 
 
 Miss Cynthia obediently straightened her long 
 drooping figure, clad in a lace and muslin blouse, and 
 bright blue skirt; and ornamented by a tarnished 
 gilt belt and a boa from which the moulting feathers 
 escaped at intervals, floating on to the lawn, or dis- 
 composing the rector by settling conspicuously upon 
 his black coat. 
 
 " I told you Jack and I were to spend Easter with 
 my sister in Cornwall, did I not? " he asked. " She 
 insists upon it, for it will be her last chance of seeing 
 the boy. She made such a point of it that I was 
 obliged to give in, though, I do not like being away 
 at Easter." 
 
 He had told them this more than once, but it ap-
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 207 
 
 peared that he had now an additional announcement 
 to make. 
 
 " I had arranged with my old friend, Canon Bret- 
 tie, to take the duty, but I am sorry to say he can't 
 come. He is laid up with a severe attack of 
 sciatica. He has found a substitute but that will 
 not be at all the same thing." 
 
 " Not at all," said the ladies, in a polite chorus, 
 but their expression became alert. Canon Brettle 
 was an old friend, but the thought of a new face in 
 Llanon was pleasant. 
 
 " Do you know who he is or anything about 
 him? " said Mrs. Kemys, voicing the curiosity of the 
 rest. 
 
 " Oh dear yes, he is the brother of the lady who 
 married the Bishop the other day. Cantrill is his 
 name. Oh yes, I have met him ; quiet, gentlemanly, 
 middle-aged man; a member of our archaelogical 
 society. No, he is unmarried. I'm afraid it won't 
 be quite like having dear old Brettle," said the rector, 
 innocently. " However, that he should be a friend 
 of Brettle's says everything in his favour." 
 
 " Cantrill is a very odd name," said Miss Perina. 
 
 " Perina, dearest, don't talk so loud. I am always 
 telling you," said her mother, in lenient but reprov- 
 ing tones. " Young people get into the habit of 
 shouting as though all their elders were deaf," she 
 chattered, turning with that odd, deprecating, mon- 
 key-like smile upon old Mrs. Kemys.
 
 208 THE TYRANT 
 
 " I cannot say that is my experience," was the 
 dry response. " On the contrary, I am always ac- 
 cusing them of mumbling." 
 
 The visitors went away, Sophy and the little boys 
 accompanying them through the house to see them off, 
 while Annette slowly wheeled her mother-in- 
 law's chair through the kitchen garden to the cot- 
 tage. 
 
 The brown earth in the borders, beautifully raked, 
 showed pleasant signs of life, with little green tokens 
 pushing their way through the mould. The baby 
 gooseberries were swelling on bushes hardly yet in 
 leaf, the pear trees were bursting into blossom. 
 
 On the surrounding hills, newly whitewashed 
 brown-tiled cottages, each in its little bower of 
 orchard, set against leafless woods, shone in the set- 
 ting sun. The evening chorus of the birds was al- 
 most deafening; untiring little builders darted to and 
 fro among the tall firs, and below the eaves of the 
 woodshed set in the corner of the cottage enclosure, 
 where stacks of fresh-cut fagots lay, and branches 
 ready to support the peas and beans, which were now 
 scarcely three inches high. 
 
 " The season is very backward," said old Mrs. 
 Kemys. " I have not heard the cuckoo yet. Thank 
 you, my dear. Will you give me an arm upstairs or 
 shall I call Howell? " 
 
 But Howell was on the watch. A straitlaced 
 elderly servant who combined the offices of maid, 
 nurse and cook to her mistress, and who, being con-
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 209 
 
 scious of her own invaluable services, was not always 
 as entirely respectful as she might have been. 
 
 " You're out too late for your rheumatics. I can't 
 think how you expect to get better at this rate. Now 
 we shall be hearing of more bad nights," she said, 
 shaking her head. 
 
 " Don't be tiresome, Howell, and shut the door. 
 Mrs. Richard is coming upstairs," said the old lady, 
 sharply. 
 
 Howell perceived that the time for remonstrance 
 was not come, so wisely, if crossly, retired to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 The old lady settled herself in the usual corner of 
 the little drawing-room, and looked expectantly at 
 her daughter-in-law. 
 
 " Dear Granny, you must have thought it strange 
 that I did not come near you yesterday evening 
 nor this morning. But I could not make up my 
 mind you know how difficult I always find it to 
 be decided how much I ought to tell you of all I 
 have been doing." 
 
 "Why should you not tell me? You wouldn't 
 surely have the heart to leave me in the dark won- 
 dering day and night what you are keeping back? " 
 said the old lady, querulously. 
 
 " I do not want Richard to be able to blame you 
 when he comes home. If you know nothing he can- 
 not blame you." 
 
 ' You have done something which will anger him 
 when he comes home?"
 
 210 THE TYRANT 
 
 " After seeing Annie yesterday morning I called 
 on Mr. Turley." 
 
 " You called on Mr. Turley? " 
 
 " To ask his advice about about a discovery 
 I have made." 
 
 " A discovery ! " said Richard's mother, looking 
 alarmed. " Nothing nothing disgraceful to 
 Richard?" 
 
 " No, no. It is only a paper on the strength 
 of which Mr. Turley will advance me as much money 
 as I want at once, in the certainty that Richard will 
 eventually be obliged to repay him." 
 
 "Is that all a paper? I don't want to hear 
 anything about it if that's all, and if it would make 
 it in any way easier for you, as perhaps it might, if 
 I knew nothing. The more discoveries you make of 
 that kind, and the more money Mr. Turley gives you 
 on the strength of those discoveries the better I shall 
 be pleased," said Mrs. Kemys in great relief. " I've 
 always told you I'm certain Richard is rolling in 
 wealth, and hoarding his money like his great-grand- 
 father the miser. It is that which makes his con- 
 duct pass my patience. Bless mel Do you mean 
 that old Turley will give you the thousand pounds for 
 Rodric?" 
 
 ''That, and whatever I want besides; so that I 
 can get all that is wanted for Annie at once, and help 
 Courtenay out of his little difficulties 
 
 " Courtenay too ! " 
 
 " Only some trifling foolish debts, but they would
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 211 
 
 have been made the excuse to take him away from 
 Oxford, where he is doing well, even if he has con- 
 tracted extravagant tastes according to our ideas. 
 And you know how conscientious the poor boy is " 
 
 " Pig-headed " said Mrs. Kemys, impartially. 
 
 " Well he would certainly have made a point 
 of confessing his obligations, even at the expense of 
 his career " 
 
 " He would glory in such a sacrifice to his con- 
 science," said Mrs. Kemys, shrugging her shoulders. 
 " Young people are sad fools, my dear. It's very 
 aggravating to be obliged to sit still and watch them 
 slowly and obstinately finding out for themselves 
 what we could have told them in a word if they 
 would but listen to us." 
 
 " We were the same in our time. We never 
 listened," said Annette. " Dear Granny, I can face 
 the crisis in the fates of two of them now. That is 
 something. And I am going to London to-morrow 
 to buy clothes for Annie, and to get a proper outfit 
 for my boy." 
 
 The old lady's eyes shone. 
 
 " You are really plucking up spirit at last," she 
 said, almost admiringly. " I wish I could come with 
 you and keep up your courage. As it is I shall be 
 trembling till you return, always fancying your resolu- 
 tion has failed and that you are busy cabling confes- 
 sions to Richard. You do not enjoy outwitting him 
 as I should." 
 
 " No, I do not enjoy it," said Annette. " Never-
 
 212 THE TYRANT 
 
 theless I am doing it. But he cannot be home for 
 three or four months, I suppose. Three at least. 
 There is time for a great deal to happen in three 
 months. I must live in the present, and leave the 
 future to take care of itself," she said with a smile. 
 
 Annette found herself in London on the Monday 
 evening, but instead of remaining at Paddington as 
 usual, she drove across to Knightsbridge and en- 
 gaged rooms in a fashionable hotel there close to the 
 shops she intended to visit. 
 
 Even this proceeding seemed reckless to the poor 
 lady, whose thin cheeks burned with nervousness and 
 excitement as she contemplated her own daring; 
 seated before a small table in the quiet and com- 
 fortable grill-room to which she had descended for 
 dinner. 
 
 What would Richard say, her innocent unsuspect- 
 ing husband, who had wired his final farewell from 
 Plymouth that morning, and was now on his way to 
 Teneriffe if he could see her now, enjoying asper- 
 ges en branches and a glass of Sauterne, which she 
 had selected as the cheapest white wine she could 
 find on the list? 
 
 It need hardly be said that Mrs. Kemys did not 
 look so defiant nor so enterprising as she felt. A 
 gentle retiring middle-aged lady, obviously from the 
 country, dressed in the plainest of black silks, with a 
 point de Venise collar fastened by an old-fashioned 
 pearl brooch she sat sipping white claret diluted
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 213 
 
 with yellow London water, and waited patiently be- 
 tween the courses until the waiters saw fit to give her 
 the attention she was far too timid to claim. 
 
 The secret sense of guilt which now oppressed her 
 was almost doubled by the consciousness that she 
 was enjoying her independence in spite of herself; and 
 she was really shocked by the pleasure with which she 
 dwelt upon the prospect of the morrow's shopping. 
 
 She observed her fellow diners with interest. 
 The party of American sightseers; the handsome 
 couple en route for the theatre; the buxom wealthy 
 widow who was evidently an habitue, and like her- 
 self staying in the hotel; and who though she was 
 dining alone, was drinking champagne and having 
 the best of everything; the shy young man, who ate 
 as fast as he could and read the evening paper as 
 he ate; the magnificent head waiter and his youthful 
 pale-faced staff. Everyone and everything inter- 
 ested her. She thought regretfully that old Mrs. 
 Kemys too would have enjoyed this outing had her 
 crippled condition rendered it possible for her to un- 
 dertake it. 
 
 When she had dined she went upstairs into the 
 lounge where she was told the orchestra would play 
 later, and found herself a quiet corner beneath a 
 sheltering palm, where she could listen and look un- 
 observed. 
 
 A large party of young people came and sat around 
 the little coffee-tables close by. 
 
 The solitary watcher noted almost enviously the
 
 2i 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 flowing satin gowns, the delicate chiffons veiling fair 
 necks and bosoms, the shining pearls and pretty 
 flushed powdered faces and wonderful waves of rip- 
 pling hair, under the rose-shaded electric light. 
 
 Her visions of the morning shopping paled in 
 glory. It was not the mere expenditure of money, 
 she reflected, but time and knowledge and taste, that 
 went to the production of the exquisite finish of these 
 dainty maidens' apparel. 
 
 Her eyes were not sufficiently trained to recognise 
 at a glance, as a Londoner would recognise, the dif- 
 ference between real and artificially aided beauty; 
 and thinking of the homeliness of Annie's attire, she 
 began to wonder if after all she had allowed her 
 maternal pride to prejudice her unduly in favour of 
 her child's good looks. 
 
 The music now beginning softly dispelled her 
 doubts, and lulled her into a blissful content with 
 the world. Like most highly strung and imagina- 
 tive persons Annette was ultra-sensitive to the in- 
 fluence of music. Every variation of melody 
 affected her emotional nature. The grand march 
 from Tannhauser revived her melting courage and 
 inspired her with determination enough to defy a 
 dozen Richards; a morsel from Greig gave her back 
 her tender dreams of Annie's loveliness ; Mascagni's 
 Intermezzo resolved itself into a wordless prayer for 
 her child's happiness; a selection from Carmen re- 
 stored her joyous anticipations of the morrow ; and a 
 Mexican Lullaby soothed her so effectually that in-
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 215 
 
 stead of lying awake all night after her journey, she 
 slept soundly for the first time since Richard's de- 
 parture. 
 
 In the grey London morning she opened her eyes 
 with a quite unwonted sensation of vigour and hope- 
 fulness. 
 
 Something of her old spirit and energy appeared 
 to reanimate her. As she made her simple toilet 
 she found herself humming a tune, and was so sur- 
 prised that she smiled at her own reflection in the 
 glass. 
 
 She had written a little note to Roddy on the 
 previous night, telling him she had come up to town 
 to do some shopping and asking him to dine with her 
 early to go to a theatre. She felt that the busi- 
 ness of the day would keep her so fully occupied that 
 it would be better not to attempt to make an earlier 
 appointment, much as she longed to see her son. 
 
 She breakfasted early, and was out and about al- 
 most before the shops were open; carrying her 
 shabby purse, now heavily weighted; and the list of 
 commissions which she had compiled during her 
 journey with anxious care. 
 
 A customer who arrived at such an hour, who was 
 so quietly dressed, and so timid in manner as Mrs. 
 Kemys, received but indifferent attention, until the 
 extent of her purchases aroused respect in the inter- 
 ested minds of the sellers. 
 
 She returned to her grill-room for luncheon much 
 excited by her purchases, and after luncheon she
 
 216 THE TYRANT 
 
 plunged once more into her work, almost recklessly 
 extending her list of necessaries for Annie's pro- 
 jected visit, that it might embrace luxuries hitherto 
 undreamed-of. 
 
 By the end of the long afternoon she began to 
 feel the fatigue of such unwonted exertions in the 
 close atmosphere of London drapery establishments, 
 and much of her pleasure and excitement conse- 
 quently died away. At six o'clock she went into the 
 park, for the weather was unusually warm for the 
 time of year, and sat under the trees, to rest herself 
 in the open air. 
 
 The evening freshness cooled her feverish cheeks, 
 and the novelty of the scene amused and interested 
 her. She was begining to wonder if it were time to 
 return to her hotel and prepare for Roddy's arrival, 
 when she perceived in the distance a tall broad young 
 man, wearing a light overcoat, over evening dress, 
 and walking with a swing that seemed familiar. A 
 young man with bold blue eyes and dimpled chin 
 and with rather a chubby cherubic face which con- 
 trasted funnily with his sturdy breadth of shoulder. 
 
 " Roddy! " cried his mother. 
 
 Her tone was too rapturous for so public a greet- 
 ing, and Roddy's manner was repressive though kind, 
 as he led his parent back to her chair under the 
 trees. 
 
 " I thought I'd come early, in case you'd like to 
 take a little turn before dinner," he explained. " I 
 say, mater, this is a rum go. My father going off
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 217 
 
 like this. He wrote me a beastly letter before he 
 
 went." 
 
 "Oh, Roddy, my boy " 
 
 " Hush they'll hear," he said, glancing appre- 
 hensively at the people on the nearest chairs; who, 
 as it happened, were perfectly absorbed in their own 
 affairs; but the young are hyper-sensitive to the possi- 
 bilities of critical or quizzical observation. He 
 lowered his own tones. 
 
 " I suppose he means what he says, mother? I'm 
 to be cut out of of everything if I go to the Argen- 
 tine; and of course I shall go," said Roddy, gravely. 
 : ' The more I've thought it over the less I've re- 
 gretted my determination. Even if I stuck to old 
 Jacobs & Goldstein he'd find an excuse for quarrel- 
 ling with me sooner or later. The governor's never 
 liked me ; or anyway never since I began to grow up 
 and hold my own a bit ; and the sooner I'm independ- 
 ent of him the better. But I do think he might have 
 hardened his heart to part with that one thousand 
 out of all his hoards, and let me have it to start 
 with." 
 
 " But Roddy, my darling, that is why I wanted to 
 see you it will be all right," she said breathless 
 with eagerness. " You are to have your money " 
 
 Roddy turned upon her, pursing up his boyish lips 
 that were so full and rosy still, as if he were about to 
 whistle. He opened his light blue eyes with the 
 guileless look in them that she remembered so well 
 in her father's kind and gentle face.
 
 2 i8 THE TYRANT 
 
 " You don't mean to say he gave way " 
 
 "No, no, but " 
 
 " Was it poor Granny after all? " cried Rodric. 
 
 " No. It was not Granny. It was I who found 
 that I I could manage to let you have the money, 
 Roddy. It is all right. Just what you wanted. A 
 thousand pounds," she said, trying to smile gaily, 
 and vexed with herself because that novel sensation 
 of guilt made her falter, and caused her heart to beat, 
 and her colour to vary uncomfortably. 
 
 What would Roddy say if he knew how she had 
 obtained the money? She felt uneasily that she 
 could not be sure. She had often dwelt with pride 
 upon her certainty that her boys had inherited their 
 grandfather's delicate and scrupulous sense of honour. 
 But Roddy was not to know. She had taken this 
 burden upon her shoulders for her children's sake, 
 and must certainly not suffer them to share it with 
 her. 
 
 " You ! " said Roddy incredulously. " What do 
 you mean, mother? " 
 
 She tried to smile and to take his hand; for once 
 unobservant of his dismay at so public a demonstra- 
 tion. 
 
 " Dear Roddy, can't you be content to know that 
 I am giving it to you? " 
 
 "No, I can't," he said bluntly. "I'd rather 
 know where you got it, and if my father knows any- 
 thing about it. You see," he explained, giving her 
 hand an affectionate squeeze and taking the oppor-
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 219 
 
 tunity to restore it to her covertly. " I like every- 
 thing to be open and above-board, and to know 
 exactly to whom I am indebted; since it can't really 
 be to you, mother dear. You know perfectly well 
 you haven't any money to give me, much less a 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 " But it is to me you are indebted," she said, 
 recovering her presence of mind with the recollec- 
 tion that she could quiet Roddy's uneasiness by a 
 word. " Of course your father, does not know, but 
 he will know when he comes home. Mr. Turley ad- 
 vised me that I was entitled to claim some money 
 under a deed executed at the time of my marriage " 
 
 "What deed?" 
 
 " Dear Roddy, I cannot go into details with you 
 now. Your father will be told when he returns and 
 perhaps you will hear all about it then. Surely it 
 is sufficient for you when I tell you that Mr. Turley 
 is advising me; and that he made no difficulty at all 
 in advancing me all the money I wanted upon the 
 security thus offered him. He is not letting me have 
 it as a favour. I could not have accepted that," 
 said poor Mrs. Kemys, holding her head high. 
 
 "If old Turley is satisfied, of course it's all right," 
 said Roddy. " He's not like that little brute of a 
 Machon. Of course I'd rather have heard all 
 about it but still so long as somebody 
 knows " 
 
 "You wouldn't trust me?" she said, trying to 
 speak playfully.
 
 220 THE TYRANT 
 
 " One doesn't expect ladies to understand business 
 and so on," said Roddy, apologetically. " But old 
 Turley that's a very different thing." His brow 
 cleared. "I say, mother, you are a trump. But 
 I say, by Jove won't he be furious when he comes 
 back and finds out? What will you do then? " 
 
 She had asked herself the question with a sinking 
 heart many times already; but she answered lightly. 
 
 " By that time your going to the Argentine will 
 be ancient history. And I shall leave old Turley 
 to settle it with him. It is he who will actually ad- 
 vance this money " 
 
 " Do you mean I shall have to pay him back? " 
 
 " No, no, no, my dearest boy. It is mine, and it 
 shall be yours whatever happens," she said, 
 tightening the clasp of her thin hands on each other. 
 " Yours with your mother's love and all her bless- 
 ing," she said, looking at him with tears in her tired 
 eyes. 
 
 " Well you'll see it will be all right then," said 
 Roddy sturdily. " Jack and I and the others mean 
 business. There's not a slacker among us, you know. 
 That's settled." He leant back with an air of re- 
 lief, and turned his jolly fresh-coloured face towards 
 her, with the cherubic smile that had outlived his 
 childhood. " I say, I didn't know what you'd like 
 to see, mother, so I got tickets for a musical comedy 
 show. And then I was afraid afterwards you'd 
 have preferred Shakespeare or something poetic of 
 that kind." He looked at her anxiously.
 
 ANNETTE IN LONDON 221 
 
 " My dear boy, so long as I am with you, and you 
 are amused, what can it matter to me?" she said, 
 wondering. 
 
 ; ' Well, that's all right. It's a ripping piece. 
 I've seen it three times already." 
 
 " Three times. You go to the theatre so oft- 
 en?" 
 
 " I don't often pay," said Roddy in exculpatory 
 tones. " One pays for this kind of show, of course 
 with the funniest man in London playing and Sally 
 Sims." 
 
 " You don't often pay ! " 
 
 " I often get paper. Don't bother about that, 
 mother. Of course you don't understand. Any- 
 way it's very little expense," he said, impatiently. 
 " And talking of expense, how came you to put up 
 at one of the dearest pubs in London? Didn't you 
 know, or what? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I knew. I am not perhaps quite as 
 ignorant as you think me," she said, with a faint 
 amused smile. " I thought, dear Roddy, that it 
 might be many a long day before you and I had a 
 little treat together again, and that it would be pleas- 
 ant and brighter for you to come here. And I 
 shan't be so busy to-morrow, if you can get a day 
 off, and take me to see anything you fancy; it is so 
 long since I went anywhere or saw anything. I 
 should like to go to the Academy, if it doesn't bore 
 you. I could stay until you come down to Nantg- 
 wilt you and Courtenay will escort me home, won't
 
 224 THE TYRANT 
 
 you? But we shall have to be busy too for there 
 is your outfit to think of now." 
 
 " I say old Turley must have been going it," 
 said Rodric, growing red with pleasure. " I didn't 
 like to say anything about it, mother, but I want all 
 sorts of things. I was going to do with as little as 
 I could, but " 
 
 " We will draw up a list of all the things you 
 ought to have," said his mother, glowing in sym- 
 pathy with his evident and unconcealed delight. 
 " And Roddy dear, you needn't think too much about 
 economy. Just for this once you must have, not 
 only what is absolutely necessary, but the best the 
 very best that I can give you," said Mrs. Kemys, as 
 vehemently as though she were defying some unseen 
 power.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 
 
 WHEN Mrs. Kemys returned from London she was 
 escorted by both her sons, who observed the extent 
 and the newness of her baggage with an amaze 
 which, man-like, they concealed by silence. 
 
 She had not thought it advisable to ask Courtenay 
 to join her in London, for the brothers were not 
 much less inclined to quarrel now than they had been 
 in their early boyhood, and she had longed for a few 
 days' quiet converse with her first-born, who was 
 presently to go so far away from her. 
 
 Sophy appeared on the door-step of the Manor 
 House to receive her mother, with a little brother 
 dancing on either hand. Since old Mrs. Sharman's 
 departure to Artramont, whither she had gone to 
 attend upon Annie during her visit to the Yoraths, 
 Sophy had been in her element. 
 
 She had always, as she often complained to her- 
 self, been kept in the background; but in the .absence 
 of her mother and elder sister her opportunity had 
 come, and she had not been slow to take advantage 
 of it. 
 
 Her display of energy had almost paralysed her 
 grandmother. 
 
 223
 
 224 THE TYRANT 
 
 " I shall make it my business to see that Granny 
 lacks no attention that she is accustomed to, in con- 
 sequence of Mamma's absence," said Sophy, though 
 she was well aware that she was not one of her grand- 
 mother's favourites. " But because; she is unfair 
 there is no reason that / should be undutiful," she 
 remarked to Sharman one morning when old Mrs. 
 Kemys had received her well-meant advances more 
 ungraciously than usual. " If it had been Annie she 
 would have been delighted, but because it is / who 
 carried her over a pot from the conservatory, she only 
 says I am officious, and that if she wants flowers she 
 can ask the gardener for them." 
 
 " Well, Miss Sophy, you shouldn't take so much 
 on yourself," was Sharman's snubbing response to 
 this confidence. It was no wonder that Sophy re- 
 joiced when Sharman received orders to go over to 
 Artramont and leave the little boys to their sister's 
 care. 
 
 Sophy took great care of her little brothers, but 
 her reign was a despotic one, and the thought that 
 it was over doubled their joy in their mother's re- 
 turn. 
 
 Roddy and Courtenay had nothing more striking 
 to observe than " Hallo, Sophy! " and " Well Sophia, 
 how are you? " by way of greeting to their sister ; but 
 while her mother was absorbed by the boisterous wel- 
 come of the little boys, and Roddy in lending a hand 
 with the luggage which threatened to overbalance 
 the rickety station cab, Sophy slipped her arm
 
 SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 225 
 
 through Courtenay's and hurried him away to the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 " I have got the tea ready for you all, but oh 
 Courtenay, I must say a word to you alone. I want 
 to ask you but first what do you think of my 
 frock? " she cried breathlessly. 
 
 " What do I think of your frock? I don't see 
 anything the matter with it. What on earth are you 
 so excited about?" said Courtenay unsympathetic- 
 ally. 
 
 " Don't you see it's new? Mamma sent it down 
 from London. Courtenay, what does it all mean? " 
 
 ' What does what all mean? I wish you wouldn't 
 be so cryptic," said Courtenay, with unruffled dignity 
 and entire want of interest. 
 
 " Hasn't Mamma said anything to you? Hasn't 
 she offered any explanation?" 
 
 " I've not .had two words with her. I only met 
 them at the station. What are you driving at? 
 Do you mean yes, she did whisper something 
 about its being all right, and I mustn't worry over 
 my debts. Have you been telling her, you little idiot, 
 about those trumpery book bills of mine? I thought 
 you'd have had more sense than to go worrying her 
 about that," said Courtenay ungratefully. " I shall 
 never trust you again. And she needn't have known 
 about them at all, for now Papa's gone, I don't care 
 how much I'm dunned since it won't come to his 
 ears." Sophy looked so mortified that he relented. 
 " Besides, I've some literary work offered me now,
 
 226 THE TYRANT 
 
 which may enable me to pay off all I owe for myself," 
 he said importantly. 
 
 " Literary work ! " said Sophy as awestruck as the 
 most exacting of brothers could wish an adoring, 
 sister to be; though the subject uppermost in her own 
 mind prevented her from pursuing further enquiries 
 for the moment upon the topic most interesting to 
 Courtenay. " But I wasn't thinking of your bills, 
 Courtenay, I was thinking of Mamma's goings-on." 
 
 "What goings-on?" said Courtenay, startled, as 
 well he might be. 
 
 "Why her rushing up to London directly Papa 
 had started, and giving orders for Sharman to go 
 and act as maid to Annie at Artramont ; and sending 
 a trunk full of new clothes, for she wrote and told 
 Sharman she needn't take a single one of Annie's old 
 ones. And the things that have come down from 
 the Stores house-linen, and provisions, and new 
 suits for the little boys " Sophy grew breathless 
 over her rapid enumeration of her mother's enormi- 
 ties " and she staying at an expensive hotel and 
 taking Roddy to theatres and getting him his outfit, 
 for she mentioned it all in her letter to me yesterday. 
 What would Papa say? When he wouldn't even 
 hear of Roddy going at all and threatened to cut him 
 off with a shilling and stop his allowance! And now 
 Granny says he is to go after all, and get his thousand 
 pounds and everything," said Sophy. 
 
 " I suppose the governor caved in before he 
 started," said Courtenay.
 
 SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 227 
 
 " How could he ? Mamma "hasn't seen him since 
 he made up his mind to go, and when his last tele- 
 gram came she turned as white as a sheet and 
 crumpled it up and dropped it on the floor and went 
 out of the room. And I picked it up and read it, 
 and it said Determination unchanged. Desire sub- 
 ject dropped! " 
 
 ' You little skunk. You don't mean you read 
 it? " cried Courtenay. 
 
 u It wasn't a letter," said Sophy defiantly, but she 
 grew very red. " Just a telegram 1 I thought any- 
 one could read a telegram. And how did I know? 
 It might have been bad news something I ought 
 to know." 
 
 " Something you ought to know 1 " derisively. 
 
 " I gave it to Mamma when she came back to look 
 for it, and she never scolded me. You are very un- 
 kind, Courtenay, and me that was so glad you were 
 coming back and saving up everything to tell you," 
 said Sophy, showing an inclination to weep. 
 
 " Girls have no sense of honour," said Courtenay, 
 sternly. 
 
 " Anyway they are not as selfish and horrid and 
 disagreeable as boys," said Sophy, with trembling 
 lips. 
 
 " It sounds rather absurd, do you know, for a chit 
 of seventeen to talk to a fellow of my age as a boy," 
 said Courtenay. 
 
 " It would sound more absurd if I called him a 
 man," retorted Sophy.
 
 228 THE TYRANT 
 
 Courtenay shrugged his shoulders, walked to the 
 window and whistled. Then he turned round and 
 perceiving Sophy's flaxen head prone upon the 
 cushions in the corner of the sofa by the tea table, 
 his conscience pricked him. 
 
 In his heart he knew he had a very devoted and 
 loyal little sister, and Sophy's faultiness had in many 
 ways served him better than Annie's high-minded- 
 ness. 
 
 " Look here, I say, don't be a donkey, Sophy. 
 Here are the others coming," he said awkwardly. 
 
 " Let them come," said Sophy, inaudibly. 
 
 " Oh, all right. If you don't want to make it up," 
 he said in injured tones. 
 
 Sophy lifted her head and wiped her eyes. 
 
 " You've changed and grown stuck-up, if a fellow 
 can't say a word without making you blub in this 
 rotten manner," he said, descending to the slang he 
 despised in his anxiety to mollify Sophy. " You 
 used to be jolly and affectionate and all that sort of 
 thing when I came home but I suppose it's noth- 
 ing to you now ! " 
 
 Her arms were round his neck, and she was stand- 
 ing on tiptoe pressing her hot cheeks and tearful eyes 
 against his smooth young face. 
 
 " Oh, Courtenay, Courtenay, how can you say so, 
 when you know how glad I was to see you " 
 
 ; ' Well, all right, take care, you'll rumple my col- 
 lar," he said, kissing her hastily, and releasing him- 
 self from the hug which she was bestowing upon him
 
 SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 229 
 
 in an agony of self-reproach. " And I say, you 
 might run and get my yellow book-bag out of the 
 hall. I don't want it taken up stairs. Since Papa 
 is away, I might just as well do my work in his study, 
 and I mean to ask Mother to let me." 
 
 Sophy had sped upon his errand almost before her 
 brain could grasp the audacity of this proposal; she 
 reached the hall in time to hear Manuel's artless 
 communication to his mother. 
 
 " It's been horrid without you, Mammy. When 
 Sophy's cross she's a beast! " 
 
 The word came oddly from the cherubic lips. 
 ' You ungrateful imp," cried the justly indignant 
 sister. 
 
 " Don't be a tell-tale," said Corney, admonishing 
 his little brother severely. " Mother, do you know 
 the new parson's been here twice. He walked round 
 and round the garden ever so many times with Sophy, 
 and he gave me a shilling." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys looked enquiringly at her daughter, 
 now busily engaged in extricating the yellow bag 
 from the heap of luggage in the hall. The heaviness 
 of Courtenay's books might have accounted for the 
 redness of Sophy's face. 
 
 " It was only Mr. Cantrill, Mamma. Surely you 
 can't have forgotten about his coming," said Sophy. 
 " He arrived the day before Mr. Meredydd and 
 Jack went away. Everybody is charmed with him. 
 I met him at the Eyewaters and he walked back with 
 me, and and the two front doors being so close,
 
 23 o THE TYRANT 
 
 I thought you would wish me to ask him in and see 
 the garden, the wallflowers being just at their best. 
 He said he was fond of gardening. Of course I 
 sent for the children as chaperons," said Sophy, with 
 dignity. " I assure you he is a great acquisition. 
 We have met over the Easter decorations and he 
 showed me lots of interesting things in the church 
 that I'd never noticed though I've been there all my 
 life. But of course I couldn't ask him to stay to tea, 
 being alone, even at the risk of seeming inhospit- 
 able." 
 
 " I am glad you are so prudent, Sophy," said her 
 mother, as gravely as she could. 
 
 The explanation of her sudden wealth which Mrs. 
 Kemys had given to Roddy, and which Sophy's curi- 
 osity obliged her to repeat, easily satisfied her second 
 son, who seldom bestowed much attention on any- 
 thing outside of his own concerns. She would not, 
 however, consent to Courtenay's proposal that he 
 should occupy the study during his father's absence, 
 and suggested that he should content himself with the 
 smoking room. 
 
 " But Roddy is always in and out," said Courte- 
 nay, who was unpacking his precious books. 
 
 " Surely, dear boy, in the few days you have here 
 together, you could put your college work aside and 
 enjoy your holiday. You will not see Roddy again, 
 perhaps, for years."
 
 SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 231 
 
 " You do not understand, dear mother." Cour- 
 tenay was very tall and thin and narrow-chested, with 
 the pale short-sighted eyes of the student; he smiled 
 down upon his mother from a great height, and the 
 smile expressed but a little of the superiority he felt. 
 " I have my literary work to do." 
 
 " Literary work? " she said, bewildered. 
 
 " I told you he was writing, Mamma," said Sophy 
 delighted, " but you never pay any attention to what 
 / say." 
 
 Courtenay frowned at his sister. 
 
 " This is not the work to which Sophy refers, that 
 I could put aside. But this is a commission." 
 
 " A commission! " 
 
 " Reviewing," he explained in an off-hand way, 
 pointing to a heap of books. 
 
 " Do you mean that you are to criticise the work 
 of real authors? " cried Sophy, gasping. 
 
 " What else could reviewing mean? " said Courte- 
 nay, trying to look more amused than annoyed. 
 u Why should I not be a critic as well as another 
 man? I can write English, I hope." 
 
 " Is that all that is wanted? " said Sophy, with 
 unconscious satire. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys took one of the volumes in her hand 
 and looked doubtfully at her son, and Rodric looked 
 over her shoulder. It appeared to be an abstruse 
 work of a theological character, and the writer mod- 
 estly confessed in the preface that the results of a
 
 232 THE TYRANT 
 
 life-time's study were compressed between its pages. 
 
 Courtenay interpreted her expression in his own 
 way. 
 
 " It is all right, dear mother. Are you afraid I 
 shall be very severe with the poor old gentleman? " 
 he said smiling benignly. " His discoveries are 
 slightly antiquated and his language archaical, and I 
 may allow myself to be a little satirical over his as- 
 sumption that there is anything left to say on the sub; 
 ject he has chosen; but I assure you I shall let him 
 down very gently." 
 
 " What an ass you are, Courtenay," said Roddy, 
 bursting into a laugh. " Can't you see my mother's 
 wondering how you have the cheek to think anyone 
 would care to have your opinion ? " 
 
 " Why shouldn't they care ! " cried the indignant 
 Sophy. " He's an Oxford man." 
 
 " He's an Oxford undergraduate, my dear, though 
 I bet he's been writing such pompous letters that his 
 editor believes him to be a don at least " 
 
 " Let me tell you, editors are not so ill-informed 
 on the subject of the identity of " 
 
 " Lord, if the bald-headed old buffer who wrote 
 this book with his heart's blood could see the beard- 
 less stripling " 
 
 " Boys, boys," said Mrs. Kemys, endeavouring to 
 interpose. 
 
 " It is not age, but ability, that counts in these mat- 
 ters," thundered Courtenay. " One would imagine 
 I was undertaking a herculean task, whereas it is far
 
 SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 233 
 
 easier to review a dull book of this stamp than to 
 write it." 
 
 ;< That I can well believe," said Roddy, with a 
 shout of laughter. 
 
 " One is never a prophet in one's own country," 
 said Courtenay, with heightened colour. " I shall 
 give the whole of my conscientious attention to this 
 work as I should to any other upon which I had to 
 pass judgment, even if it were mere fiction. It may 
 be that some authors would prefer young and con- 
 scientious critics to old and hardened ones, who 
 might give only half attention to their books." 
 
 " Old and hardened critics have probably learnt to 
 see at a glance which books are worth their conscien- 
 tious attention, and which aren't," retorted Roddy. 
 
 " It is fortunate that my editor has a greater belief 
 in my literary powers than my family appear to 
 have," said Courtenay bitterly. 
 
 Roddy suddenly perceived that his brother was 
 struggling with a mortification that threatened to 
 choke him, so being good-natured in the main he took 
 himself off, whistling loudly, and Mrs. Kemys made 
 a sign which ordered Sophy to follow her eldest 
 brother, while she addressed herself to the task of 
 soothing the injured student. 
 
 " Dear boy, you know how proud we all are, even 
 Roddy in his heart, of your talents and your industry. 
 It is quite right to try and distinguish yourself by " 
 
 " I do not wish to deceive you, mother," said 
 Courtenay, interrupting, " the work which was ob-
 
 234 THE TYRANT 
 
 tained for me by a literary friend was undertaken 
 less from the hope of earning any distinction 
 (though I feel myself peculiarly fitted by nature for 
 the task of criticism) than for the sake of the 
 of the honorarium," he stammered. 
 
 " Dear Courtenay, it is good and honest of you to 
 try and earn money. I know it is the payment of 
 your debts you think about," she said simply. 
 
 " I am glad someone gives me credit for good in- 
 tentions," he said, still ruffled. " You know how ill I 
 can afford to spare any time from my reading " 
 
 " If you must read I will not try to prevent 
 you," said his mother, coaxingly, " but this work you 
 can set aside when you like, my dearest boy, for I 
 want you to enjoy every moment of your vacation, 
 and to let me pay whatever you owe, and to keep 
 any money you earn for your own pleasures." 
 
 " It was only the the prospect of getting this 
 literary work to do, that made me launch out into 
 getting the necessary works of reference, which a re- 
 viewer should have to his hand," stammered Courte- 
 nay, relapsing in his confusion into a more natural 
 and boyish manner, " and I am almost ashamed to 
 say" 
 
 " How much is it that you owe altogether, dear 
 Courtenay? " said his mother, softly. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys hurried over to the cottage as soon 
 as she could. 
 
 " I am very thankful to see you again, Annette,"
 
 SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 235 
 
 said her mother-in-law. " One does not know how 
 much one will miss people until they are gone." 
 
 " Sophy said she had tried to take my place." 
 
 " That is what Sophy will never succeed in doing," 
 said the old lady contemptuously. " If it had been 
 Annie now. My dear, I have heard nothing from 
 Annie, which is surely a good sign, so considerate and 
 affectionate as she has always been." 
 
 " I suppose it is awkward doing anything with one 
 arm in a sling. She has sent me the merest scrawls; 
 but Lady Yorath writes she is delighted with her, and 
 wants to keep her." 
 
 The old lady would not express her satisfaction in 
 words, but she nodded and beamed. 
 
 "And the boys?" 
 
 " Roddy has everything he had set his heart on 
 most. Field-glasses revolvers, guns. Poor fel- 
 low, I let him go with a friend of his own to get ev- 
 erything he thought necessary, while I saw to the 
 more prosaic part of his outfit. His ideas were very 
 moderate after all, if we except the guns. Still, I 
 have spent a great deal of money." She smiled 
 rather deprecatingly. 
 
 " Quite right," said old Mrs. Kemys, stoutly. 
 " There is a time for spending and a time for sav- 
 ing." 
 
 " This is evidently the time for spending," said 
 the younger Mrs. Kemys, and she mentioned the sum 
 total of her extravagance. 
 
 " What does it matter? " said the old lady, but she
 
 2 3 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 could not help a slight gasp. " Does Mr. Turley 
 object?" 
 
 " On the contrary, he begs me to draw on him for 
 as much more as I want, and says the thousand 
 pounds will be ready before Rodric is. Dear Gran- 
 ny, I suppose I am growing a little reckless. My 
 feeling is that I may as well be hung for a sheep as 
 a lamb," said Annette, smiling faintly. 
 
 " That is exactly my own opinion," said old Mrs. 
 Kemys, grimly, " however, it is not time for the hang- 
 ing yet, so we need not discuss it just now. Tell me, 
 what do you think of that little impudent Sophy set- 
 ting up an admirer of her own? " 
 
 "Mr. Cantrill?" 
 
 " Why, have you heard? " 
 
 " She mentioned that she had met him, and there 
 is nobody else. Surely it cannot be serious," said 
 Mrs. Kemys, half amused and half dismayed. " I 
 have been away so short a time." 
 
 " I am not supposing it to be serious, my dear, but 
 Mrs. Eyewater felt it her duty to come and see me, 
 and by the very shake of her head I knew she was 
 longing to give me a dig about something you 
 know how fond of each other we have always been. 
 She said as she heard poor little Sophy had been left 
 quite alone both her parents gone, and even old 
 Mrs. Sharman it seemed only kind to tell me peo- 
 ple were talking and things looked rather odd. 
 It appears he has been walking her back after the 
 church decorating "
 
 SOPHY IN HER ELEMENT 237 
 
 " He could hardly help that, since the Rectory is 
 next door." 
 
 " Just what I said. But it seems Sophy dropped 
 in to tea at the Eyewaters when Mr. Cantrill was 
 there; and as he is nearer forty than thirty, just 
 what Mrs. Eyewater might consider a suitable age 
 for Perina or Cynthia, it was very provoking that he 
 should devote himself to sweet seventeen. She hinted 
 that she was afraid Sophy had seen him go into the 
 Red House, and I should have been angry, but on 
 thinking it over r Sophy is such a little minx " 
 
 " No, no," said Sophy's mother. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 " It was time I came home to look after Sophy," 
 said Annette, rising with a smile that was checked by 
 a sigh. 
 
 " My dear, I have not vexed or worried you, I 
 hope. I need hardly say I am only joking, and if I 
 were not, he is a most estimable man. Miss Sophy 
 would be a lucky young woman." 
 
 " I am not vexed, dear Granny," said Annette. 
 " If I sighed, it was only because I was thinking 
 I have been thinking ever since I came home back 
 to this atmosphere of harmless gossip, and little quar- 
 rels about nothing, and small household arrange- 
 ments " 
 
 "Thinking?" 
 
 " It is hard to put one's thoughts, or rather one's 
 weariness of spirit, into words," she said. " I was 
 thinking, I suppose, that human life, which can sound
 
 238 THE TYRANT 
 
 so noble in the abstract, is in reality composed of such 
 endless trivialities. A true picture of life as it really 
 is to us, for instance would be just a record of 
 commonplace detail. And yet that is life to you 
 and to me, and to thousands of women like us." 
 
 " My dear, that is not what life looks like to me, 
 that am come to the end of my task, and can survey 
 it as a whole, or very nearly," said the older woman. 
 " As for you, you are in the thick of yours, you are 
 toiling as hard as you can; but you cannot see the 
 work for the stitches." 
 
 " Is that it? Such little tiresome stitches, so close 
 together, and my eyes so tired, and longing to look 
 up-' 
 
 " You will look up when you have finished."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 
 
 ANNIE KEMYS had never before paid a visit to a 
 great country house, and when she arrived at Artra- 
 mont, and was ushered into a room full of people, 
 she was a little pale, a little frightened and rather 
 wondering at her own temerity in having wished so 
 much to come. 
 
 But the warm welcome and the soft embrace of her 
 hostess reassured her, and Lady Yorath, excusing her- 
 self to her other guests, led her away through the 
 great hall and up the wide staircase to the room pre- 
 pared for her. On the way she informed her that 
 her maid and her luggage had arrived from Nantg- 
 wilt, and that she must not attempt to come down to 
 dinner that evening, but have a little tray carried 
 to her room. 
 
 " My maid! " Annie said, in amaze; and as the 
 door was opened and she saw the substantial figure 
 of her old nurse bending over a trunk, she cried 
 with delight, " Why, it is Sharman ! How can they 
 have spared you from home, and when Mamma is 
 in London! Is Sophy looking after the little 
 boys?" 
 
 Mrs, Sharman, in the midst of her gladne$8 to
 
 240 THE TYRANT 
 
 see her beloved nursling, was shocked by this frank- 
 ness ; but Lady Yorath laughed, for Annie's simplic- 
 ity attracted her no less than her beauty. 
 
 " I have no doubt Sharman will be able to explain 
 all you want to know, and I will leave you together," 
 she said graciously. " Now be sure and rest after 
 the exertion of the drive, and mind that poor arm 
 does not get hurt. I believe the nurse* ought to 
 have come with you to help your maid look after 
 it." 
 
 " Oh, no, it would have been a great expense ! 
 The doctor can do all that is wanted now," said 
 Annie reproachfully, " and I know how to manage 
 it myself, for that matter. Indeed I am quite able 
 to come down." 
 
 But Lady Yorath was firm in her insistence upon 
 the little tray. 
 
 " If you feel able after dinner, you must slip on 
 a tea-gown, and let us find you comfortably tucked 
 up on the drawing-room sofa," she said, with moth- 
 erly solicitude. " My dear, I promised the doctor. 
 There is the strain to be considered as well as your 
 arm, you know." 
 
 " Oh, I scarcely feel it at all now," Annie said, 
 " and I haven't got a tea-gown " she was adding, 
 when Sharman interrupted her with dignity. 
 
 1 You don't know what you've got, nor yet what 
 you haven't got, Miss Annie, and I'm sure what her 
 ladyship says is the best. For with your arm in a 
 sling I don't know how you could put on an evening
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 241 
 
 dress nor nothing but a tea-gown," and she frowned 
 with warning displeasure at Annie. 
 
 Lady Yorath glanced from the reproving maid to 
 the disconcerted innocent mistress with secret amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 " I will leave you to settle it all between your- 
 selves," she said, nodding and smiling, at the old 
 nurse. " I see you know how to take care of her," 
 and then she left Annie alone with Sharman. 
 
 ' What did you mean about a teagown, Sharman ? 
 I can't wear Sophy's pink wrapper here. They 
 made me wear it at the hospital; and you've no idea 
 how the people downstairs are dressed," she said, 
 half inclined to cry. 
 
 u I advise you just to trust yourself to me, as her 
 ladyship said, Miss Annie; and not to suppose that 
 your Mamma, as was a young lady once herself, and 
 presented at Court with the best of them, would have 
 let you come to a house like this without seeing as 
 you had everything a young lady should have," said 
 Sharman. She tried to speak calmly, but her hands 
 shook as she lifted the tray from a bran-new trunk 
 which stood beside the great fourposter. 
 
 Annie uttered a stifled scream and fell upon her 
 knees among the luxurious cushions of the blue and 
 white sofa ; gasping with amaze and delight as Shar- 
 man took from the trunk one trailing diaphanous 
 garment after another, and threw them with elab- 
 orate careful carelessness upon the blue silk quilt of 
 the bed.
 
 242 THE TYRANT 
 
 " But Sharman they can't be for me I Is 
 Mamma mad? They must have cost a fortune." 
 
 " They came down by passenger train this morn- 
 ing. I had a letter from your Mamma to say I was 
 to meet them and come on here with them. She had 
 the things sent from the shops to her hotel and 
 packed them herself in a new trunk, as there wasn't 
 time to get your initials painted on," said Sharman, 
 breathlessly. " I've brought my workbasket all 
 ready to make any alterations as has to be done ; but 
 your Mamma knows your measures so well, and 
 you're stock size, she says, being so tall " 
 
 The sight of Annie's ecstasy would have repaid 
 her mother many times over for the trouble and 
 thought she had expended over the choosing of the 
 slender outfit; but indeed it had been a labour of love. 
 
 Instead of resting she would have tried on every 
 article in turn had Sharman permitted her to do so, 
 but the old woman obliged her to lie down on the 
 sofa, giving her a filmy lace-trimmed beribboned 
 peignoir to keep her quiet, as she would have given 
 a toy to the little boys. 
 
 But after the first delighted examination, Annie 
 dropped it in her lap. 
 
 " Oh, Sharman, the bills ! when Papa comes 
 home!" 
 
 ' Now, Miss Annie, you're not to think about 
 
 that," said Sharman, determinedly; though the 
 
 thought dominated all the pleasure in her own mind. 
 
 * Your Granny and she has just found a way to get
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 243 
 
 the money from Mr. Turley between them, as ladies 
 in their position always can if they give their minds 
 to it; and of course it's easier now your Pa's away 
 as won't hear of money being raised. Gentlemen 
 don't understand how necessary it is for a young lady 
 to be well-dressed," said Sharman importantly, " and 
 you may make up your mind he'll never hear nothing 
 about bills nor any other unpleasantnesses. Mr. 
 Turley will have to manage all that. It's his busi- 
 ness. I don't say it mightn't have been difficult to 
 arrange it all if the master had been at home, but 
 it's just Providence that he wasn't. So be grateful 
 to your Mamma, miss, and don't get worrying her 
 over the whys nor yet the wherefores." 
 
 " I'm sure I don't want to worry about anything," 
 said Annie, with tears in her blue eyes. " Oh, Shar- 
 man, doesn't it seem almost too good to be true 1 " 
 
 When Lady Yorath and the three ladies who were 
 staying in the house came after dinner into the smaller 
 drawing-room, which was known as the French sa- 
 loon they found Annie reclining upon the Louis 
 Seize sofa, as she had been bidden; flushed. and beau- 
 tiful, in delicate lace and chiffon, with her golden 
 head outlined against the green brocade panels of the 
 highly decorated walls. 
 
 " Did I not tell you she was a Greuze?" mur- 
 mured Lady Yorath sotto-voce to the others, as she 
 introduced them to this charming picture, softly 
 lighted by wax candles in dim and tarnished gilt 
 sconces.
 
 244 THE TYRANT 
 
 Two of the ladies were contemporaries of their 
 hostess, but the third was a girl of perhaps six and 
 twenty, whom they all called Tony, and Annie sub- 
 sequently discovered that her name was Antoinette 
 Dumayne, and that she was Lady Yorath's niece. 
 
 The young lady appeared to possess some of her 
 aunt's charm and more than all her frankness. She 
 devoted herself to the entertainment of the invalid 
 until the arrival of the gentlemen. 
 
 The happiest evenings, like the happiest nations, 
 have no history, and in this restful atmosphere of 
 calm and luxury, and harmony of gentle voices, 
 Annie found very little matter to relate in the letter- 
 diary she had promised herself to write for Sophy's 
 benefit. But after all, in the end, the little journal 
 was found too sacred for any eyes but her own, and 
 laid aside with other precious relics of dream-like 
 days of youth and love in spring-time. 
 
 " At last He came, and then the time seemed only 
 too short. I did not talk to him much, though Tony 
 gave up her place and moved away from the sofa 
 directly they came up, which made me blush, but she 
 did it quite calmly and as a matter of course, and He 
 came straight to my side and asked after my arm so 
 kindly. His manner was as gentle as ever. Then 
 Lady Alswere asked him to play. Somehow it had 
 never even entered my head that he was musical. 
 
 " Lady Yorath went to the piano and one of the 
 gentlemen lighted the candles. First he played a
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 245 
 
 violin solo called a Fete a Trianon. Music always 
 calls up visions, and I could really see the pow- 
 dered, tight-laced, high-bred Court ladies curt- 
 seying to Marie Antoinette, and courtly nobles lead- 
 ing them to the dance by the tips of their delicate 
 fingers. 
 
 ' Then he played what is called an obligate, while 
 his mother sang the Serenata of Braga, which made 
 me want to cry. It is all like a dream. 
 
 " I wish the boys could just see him with his 
 mother. 
 
 " It would be such a lesson to them. They laugh 
 at Sophy and me for being distressed about their man- 
 ners ; though, poor fellows, what can you expect, with 
 Papa like a bear? But, oh, it is such a comfort to see 
 that some gentlemen can be courteous even to their 
 own relations. 
 
 "To be sure Roddy is very fond of Mamma, but 
 he would let her wait on him hand and foot, whereas 
 He treats his mother like a queen. I am sure she 
 looks like one. I never saw her in evening dress be- 
 fore, and she is wonderful, in ivory satin all veiled 
 with soft lace and a great string of pearls round her 
 throat. 
 
 " Her beautiful dark hair is just a little frosted 
 here and there, and oddly enough so is his on the 
 temples. Their faces are alike and their arched 
 black eyebrows and light hazel eyes, but she is viva- 
 cious and quick and he rather silent and stately. 
 They may say the Yoraths were common miners, but
 
 246 THE TYRANT 
 
 for my part I am glad he comes of a race of great, 
 strong working men. Tony's father, Lord Du- 
 mayne, who is His uncle, of course (being Lady Yo- 
 rath's brother and the head of her family, which is 
 as old as the hills), is such a rickety-looking, feeble 
 little man, though he is very polite, as indeed all the 
 gentlemen here are. . . . Tony sang a French 
 song and then a German and then an English, but 
 as she does not pronounce a single syllable distinctly, 
 I only knew what language she was singing because 
 she wisely told us beforehand. Then He sang a 
 song called To Anthea, and I wished it had been To 
 Annie. . . . [scratched out but still legible.] 
 
 " Waking in the morning here is delicious. It 
 feels almost wicked to be enjoying such luxury when 
 I think of the others and of poor Mamma. I am 
 afraid it almost makes me really wish to be rich. 
 
 " Sharman is ten times more respectful here than 
 she is at home, and told me that it was by the mercy 
 of Providence she had brought her best black silk, 
 or she doesn't know what she would have done in 
 the evenings when the maids have a regular late din- 
 ner with one of the under footmen to wait on them. 
 She tells me lots of gossip, but I am generally too 
 sleepy to listen in the morning. It is so heavenly 
 to open one's eyes on these pretty blue curtains, and 
 the wallpaper all bunches of roses tied with blue rib- 
 bons exactly like the chintz covers, and the dressing- 
 table all muslin and bows. I wish we could have 
 things pretty and fresh like this at home. But Sophy
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 247 
 
 and I will know better what could be done now ; but, 
 oh it could never be the same, though our house 
 is really a prettier and older house than this, if only 
 But it is too ungrateful to be so discontented. 
 Why can't I enjoy the delightful things here, and 
 not make comparisons? Sharman opens my cur- 
 tains and lets in the morning sunshine, and brings 
 the most delicious wee Dresden tea-set to my bed- 
 side, on the tiniest of porcelain trays. 
 
 " I have never felt so really grown-up as I do when 
 I lean back against the great lavender-scented lace- 
 edged pillows, in the dressing jacket dear, dear Mam- 
 ma thoughtfully bought for me, and sip my tea! 
 It's so nice to know one can't be late, and to lie there, 
 looking out at the blue sky and the foliage against 
 it round the window, listening to the birds, and 
 dreaming of never mind who. 
 
 " And it is nice to have Sharman waiting on me, 
 with nobody shouting for her to come elsewhere ; and 
 to have such exquisite things to put on. But noth- 
 ing is so nice as the going downstairs and knowing 
 that I am to have another long, blissful, enchanting 
 day with . . . 
 
 " He had to go to London yesterday, and though 
 Lady Yorath was sweeter than ever to me, the day 
 seemed dreadfully long. Oh, how ashamed I am 
 to be so ungrateful ! Tony took me for a walk into 
 the woods ; the very same I took yesterday with him. 
 Oh, how different it seemed now. But she talked 
 of quite interesting things. She said her aunt was
 
 24 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 in despair because He would not marry; and that it 
 was so unselfish of her to wish it, as then she would 
 of course have to turn out of Artramont. I felt in- 
 dignant, and said I hoped he would not marry any- 
 one who would be capable of letting her make such 
 a sacrifice. Tony laughed and said she would not 
 like to live with a mother-in-law, though her aunt 
 was the nicest woman in the world, and was always 
 inviting pretty girls to stay, but instead of falling in 
 love with them he was always rushing away to Cen- 
 tral Africa or somewhere, to shoot big game, for 
 months and months. She believed one reason was 
 that he was so shy he hated the thought of a wed- 
 ding and fuss and ceremony, and that she sometimes 
 feared it would end in his never getting married at 
 all. Well, even that would be better than his mar- 
 rying the wrong person. . . . 
 
 " He came back and we had another heavenly 
 evening, and he sang Could I but make you the love 
 of my life so beautifully that I found myself cry- 
 ing. . . . 
 
 " It is so warm just like summer. Darling 
 Roddy is coming over to see me and say goodbye. 
 I am perfectly miserable to think how selfish and 
 heartless I must have become with all this petting 
 and spoiling over my broken arm ; for I had forgot- 
 ten it was yesterday he and Courtenay were to come 
 home with Mamma. 
 
 " Lady Yorath said Roddy must spend a long day 
 here and it is settled he will ride over to luncheon.
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 249 
 
 . . . I sent a note, as Lady Yorath said I might, 
 by a servant who waited for the answer, and told 
 Mamma I thought I ought to come home for dear 
 Roddy's last days if he were really going to the Ar- 
 gentine. But she sent back urging me to remain 
 here, and I couldn't help being relieved, though it 
 sounds as if I thought more of him than of my 
 darling Roddy. But of course it's quite differ- 
 ent . . . 
 
 " Roddy came over. He is so much improved 
 and so nice and manly, I was very proud of him. Of 
 course his manners were much better here than they 
 are at home, where he is sometimes a little rough, 
 poor darling, which I put down entirely to Papa's 
 example. Lady Yorath said he was a darling, and 
 asked him to come over for the week-end. I think 
 he fell a little in love with her, as everyone does. It 
 is very extraordinary when one thinks of poor Mam- 
 ma, for Lady Yorath is actually even older; yet 
 no one thinks of putting her on one side, or not pay- 
 ing her little attentions, etc. Yesterday I saw Mr. 
 Jerningham kiss her hand. I can't imagine any gen- 
 tleman kissing poor Mamma's hand. I thought it 
 so good for Roddy to see how women ought to be 
 treated, but he was more interested in Him even than 
 in her, and was quite cross with me for not knowing 
 he was a famous sportsman and supposed to be one 
 of the best shots in England. . . . 
 
 " After lunch Roddy kept him for hours showing 
 him different sorts of rifles and pistols and things
 
 25 o THE TYRANT 
 
 of that kind, and talking about the Argentine, where 
 it appears he has been, though I did not know it. 
 
 " Roddy was a little annoyed with me for not 
 knowing it, and says it would have been something 
 for me to talk about. As if one could choose the 
 topics of one's conversation with gentlemen. Dear 
 Roddy ! Of course he did not notice anything. Boys 
 never do. But I am so glad he liked him. Everyone 
 did. He had the most astonishing things to tell me 
 about Mamma. How she stayed at the most expen- 
 sive hotel, and took him to theatres. (Of course he 
 put it that she asked him to take her; so like a boy! 
 But I liked it, as it sounded more manly.) And they 
 had tip-top dinners, and drank champagne in hon- 
 our of his coming of age. What would Papa have 
 said? And his outfit is simpy splendid, though he 
 wishes now he had bought some different kind of re- 
 volver which He said was the best, and Roddy is 
 half inclined to change his. He explained that old 
 Turley found out that some money was due to 
 Mamma, so that accounts for her sending me such 
 wonderful things, poor darling. But besides this 
 he says he does not know what has come over her; 
 she seemed so excited and in such good spirits all the 
 time she was in London, though she is more like her- 
 self now she is at Nantgwilt again. He said he sup- 
 posed it must be the relief of the governor's depart- 
 ure, and I begged him not to say * the governor,' and 
 he told me not to be a little prig, which offended me, 
 but I forgave him because, after all, it is Roddy,
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 251 
 
 and he looked so nice and chubby. It is only that I 
 want my brother to be as perfect as he is. ... 
 
 . . Roddy says it is all settled about the 
 Argentine, and that his thousand pounds will be 
 twenty thousand before I can look round. He says 
 he's always felt sure Papa would cut him off the 
 first excuse he had, and it was no use waiting, and in 
 my heart I'm sure he's right, but it's a shame. Oh, 
 how I pray he'll make his fortune. Even if he is 
 a little rough, he's my own, own brother, and I love 
 him. He says Courtenay is a greater ass than ever. 
 I wish the boys got on, but Courtenay is tiresome 
 and would try the patience of a saint. But Roddy 
 says he's the cleverest fellow going for all that and 
 he believes he will end by getting a double first, what- 
 ever that may mean, and that the old Oxford dons 
 think no end of him. He heard this from a friend 
 of his own who went up with Courtenay and who 
 can't bear him, so he says it can't be a prejudiced 
 opinion. 
 
 " To-day Lady Yorath took me into His work- 
 shop. He is so clever with his hands that he can 
 make almost anything, and the old estate carpenter 
 told me it was a pity he wasn't a real workman, for 
 he was the only gentleman he'd ever seen who could 
 have earned his own living. He laughed and said 
 he had inherited his taste for manual labour. 
 
 " He showed me his grandfather's pick hanging 
 up in the hall, and said he wouldn't part with it for 
 worlds. The old man really was a miner, and rose
 
 252 THE TYRANT 
 
 to be a colliery owner, and a rich man, entirely 
 through his own brain and pluck and industry, and 
 he lived to see his son in Parliament, though unluck- 
 ily he died before he became a member of the gov- 
 ernment. ... He showed me the portrait of 
 his grandfather ; a regular shrewd Welsh face, with 
 high cheek-bones and bright colour and dark eyes. 
 His father's face was quite as shrewd, but much more 
 kindly and humorous. He was a very big man, al- 
 most a giant, but He is much handsomer than they 
 could ever have been. . . . This is such a differ- 
 ent world; it is strange to remember we are only 
 ten miles from Nantgwilt after all. . . . After 
 Easter they are going to London, and I shall have 
 to go home. Of course it will be very nice to be 
 back, in some ways. . . . Oh, Annie, Annie, 
 don't be a hypocrite. . . . 
 
 " I don't know how to write this, but I am so 
 afraid of forgetting a single detail (not that I ever 
 could), that I must, must put it down now at once, 
 while it is all so fresh and wonderful. ... I 
 am in my own room and Sharman just came in to un- 
 fasten my frock, and then I put on my new white 
 peignoir that dear Mamma sent me, and told Shar- 
 man it was so late that I could not let her sit up and 
 brush my hair because she looked so sleepy. But 
 it was because I wanted to be alone and think over 
 what had happened. However, it was no use, for 
 she would take down my hair and brush it and brush 
 it, just as usual. So at last she went, and left me
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 253 
 
 alone; and at first I could only kneel by the open 
 window and ask God to look into my heart and see 
 how grateful I was, for words would not come, but 
 now I am going to try and write it down, though 
 my hand shakes so. ... 
 
 " Instead of sitting in the French saloon as usual 
 we went to-night into the big drawing-room which 
 opens also into the library, and he sang To Anthea 
 again because I asked him to. Then Lord Dumayne 
 and Lady Alswere and Mr. Jerningham went into 
 the library with Lady Yorath to play bridge, and 
 Tony, who is the kindest and most self-sacrificing 
 person in the whole world, offered to play poker- 
 patience with Mrs. Guthlake, who was delighted. 
 
 " They sat quite close to the log fire, which was 
 large enough to roast an ox, but poor Mrs. Guthlake 
 never seems to be warm enough, and as there are 
 great big screens on either side of the fireplace they 
 were quite shut off. It is the largest room I ever 
 saw ; all lighted with electric light in soft yellow silk 
 shades, which throws a golden glow over the big 
 palms and the brocade panels and the old pictures. 
 
 " He played the piano for a little while, and then 
 came over to the sofa where I was pretending to like 
 watching the poker-patience, and asked me if I did 
 not find the chimney-corner too hot; and of course 
 my face was burning. And he asked if I were fond 
 of miniatures because if so his mother had a beautiful 
 collection of historical French miniatures which he 
 would like me to see. The cabinet where they are
 
 2 5 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 kept was in a recess close by the furthest window, 
 which was luckily open, though sheltered by heavy 
 curtains stretching across the window seat. He 
 made me sit there where I could get a little air, quite 
 out of sight of the fireplace. Then he brought the 
 drawer of the cabinet, and put it on the seat between 
 us, and lifted out the miniatures one by one, and 
 told me their names and all about them, but some- 
 how I could not take in a single word . . . and 
 I don't think he always knew what he was saying, 
 for I do remember that when he gave me one of a 
 very decollete lady with a long, long waist, and 
 flowers in her curls, he told me it was the portrait of 
 the poor little dauphin; but I was too agitated to 
 point out the mistake, and presently he almost threw 
 these valuable, valuable miniatures back into the 
 drawer, and came and knelt on one knee beside me 
 and took my hands in his and whispered Annie 
 . . . After all, I cannot write down those sacred 
 words they are written in my heart and will be till 
 I die ... 
 
 " Oh please, please God let me be worthy of him 
 but that is just what I know I can never be. Oh 
 if I could be all he thinks me ... and he fell 
 in love with me the very first day, when he lifted me 
 onto the roadside, and my hat fell off on his knee, 
 and he wanted to know when it began with me, but I 
 wouldn't tell him. Perhaps I will some day, but it 
 is much, much too soon, and when I think that a 
 month ago I didn't even know him
 
 ANNIE IN PARADISE 255 
 
 " I felt I couldn't face them all, and he laughed at 
 me, but oh, so tenderly, and showed me another way 
 out of the big drawing-room through the saloon, 
 which was very dimly lighted, and he stopped there 
 and asked me if he might kiss me and I said no, and 
 he did ; and he put his arms round me, and I hid my 
 face on his shoulder, and he told me that I belonged 
 to him for ever and ever, and that he would tell his 
 mother about it to-night. At last I begged him to 
 let me go, for I was frightened someone would come, 
 and so he came into the hall, and lit my candle, and I 
 came upstairs. Even now I can hardly believe it's 
 true, and that I'm really to be his wife per- 
 haps it's unlucky to write it. I wish I hadn't. Oh 
 God, let it be true . . . 
 
 " Just as I wrote that there was a little knock at 
 the door, and his mother came in. She had taken 
 off her dinner dress too, and wore a soft rose- 
 coloured cashmere with a Watteau pleat, and she 
 looked more like a queen than ever, with her dark 
 hair, lightly frosted, drawn off her dear beautiful 
 tender face, with the little lines and shadows giving 
 the touch of sadness and meaning which horrid round 
 smooth faces like mine haven't got. 
 
 " She shut the door, and I pushed away my writ- 
 ing, and just stood before her, ashamed to look her 
 in the face after that one first glance, for oh! if she 
 should reproach me for wanting to take her son from 
 her. 
 
 " But she went and sat down in the big armchair
 
 2 5 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 by the fire, and held out her hand to me and said 
 ' Come ' with her enchanting smile that is always 
 half droll and half pathetic ; and I went and fell on 
 my knees like the selfish guilty, guilty wretch I felt 
 myself to be, and hid my face in her lap. 
 
 " We had a long, long talk, and she actually said 
 she wanted me to be her daughter the first moment 
 she saw me, and that she knew even before then that 
 Austen had fallen in love with me. I said ' Did he 
 tell her? ' and she laughed and said * No, that wasn't 
 necessary, she knew him far too well. And her only 
 fear was, would I love him as he loved me ? ' I 
 couldn't help firing up when she said that, and I told 
 her what I never, never could have told hi m, of course, 
 that I adored him with all my heart and soul and 
 would die to save even his little finger from being 
 hurt; and then she laughed and I laughed, and we 
 both cried a little and she took me in her arms and 
 kissed me, and said I was a darling, and I knew she 
 understood. And to-morrow we are all going over 
 to see dear, dear Mamma and if she consents I am 
 to go to London with them, and oh what will she 
 say, and Sophy and the boys and all of them, and 
 how can I ever, ever be thankful enough that Papa 
 is away ..."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MRS. BYEWATER ON THE WATCH 
 
 OLD Mrs. Eyewater, who had declared her sus- 
 picion that Sophy Kemys watched the goings in and 
 the comings out of the callers at the Red House, now 
 in her turn observed from the window of her little 
 dining-parlour, which looked down the village street 
 the arrival of Lady Yorath's motor-brougham at 
 the door of the Manor House. 
 
 " Bless my soul," she cried to her daughters, 
 " Annie must have come home. I recognise the liv- 
 eries, though why the grandson of a miner should 
 be allowed to have liveries is more than I can tell." 
 
 Cynthia and Perina were not less excited than their 
 mamma. 
 
 "What can it mean? The last time I heard, 
 Annie had been invited to stay on," said Cynthia. 
 
 " And had accepted. Mrs. Kemys could not be 
 certain for how long, but it was understood for some 
 time," 
 
 " Girls," said Mrs. Eyewater, " it is very odd, 
 I see no luggage." 
 
 " They would not have luggage in that beautiful 
 car, mamma. It would follow in a cart." 
 
 " I tell you what," said Mrs. Eyewater, and the 
 
 257;
 
 2 5 8 (THE TYRANT 
 
 flowers in her hat began to dance on their wires, for 
 by great good luck, as she afterwards said, she was 
 dressed for walking, " something has happened, 
 and Annie has been sent home. I always said some- 
 thing would happen. It was practically throwing 
 her at that young man's head to send her there at all. 
 Neither old Mrs. Kemys nor Annette chose to under- 
 stand me when I said so; and yet I said it out dis- 
 tinctly enough." 
 
 She raised her voice at the mere recollection. 
 Being slightly deaf, though she would not admit it, 
 Mrs. Eyewater was apt to talk more loudly than she 
 was at all aware. 
 
 " Well, one comfort is that no one will ever be 
 able to accuse me of having thrown my daughters at 
 any man's head. If there are not enough men to go 
 round, more's the pity." 
 
 Poor Miss Cynthia exchanged a very faint glance 
 of understanding with her sister, who skilfully re- 
 directed her mother's attention to the subject in 
 hand. 
 
 "What do you suppose has happened, Mamma? 
 Can Lord Yorath have fallen in love with An- 
 nie?" 
 
 " Fallen in love! Pooh, nonsense," said Mrs. Bye- 
 water, sharply. " Annie is hardly out of her short 
 frocks. There has been some silly flirtation, no 
 doubt, and his mother has naturally found it out, and 
 sent Miss Annie home." 
 
 " Poor Annie," said Cynthia.
 
 MRS. EYEWATER ON THE WATCH 259 
 
 " Nonsense," said Perina, sotto-voce, " we're only 
 guessing." 
 
 ' The motor's waiting. What can that be for? " 
 said Cynthia. 
 
 " I believe we're all wrong," said Perina, suddenly. 
 " It's Lady Yorath bringing Annie to say good-bye to 
 Roddy." ' 
 
 Mrs. Eyewater was annoyed by this conjecture, 
 but as the motor-brougham remained stationary, she 
 began to think there might be something in it. 
 
 " It is five minutes to four. We will give them 
 five minutes more," she said, becoming excited, " and 
 if it does not move then, we may conclude that who- 
 ever it is has gone in, and so Annette will be at 
 home." 
 
 The five minutes went by, all three ladies being 
 too much agitated to converse until the church clock 
 struck four ; then they rose simultaneously from their 
 seats. 
 
 There was no need for explanation; in a moment 
 they were all hurrying past the churchyard to the 
 door of the Manor House. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Pryse, I know Mrs. Kemys is at home, 
 but has Miss Annie come home or is it only a call? 
 That is what we want to know," said Mrs. Eyewater, 
 who gave Pryse half a crown every New Year's day, 
 and considered that in return he ought to hold him- 
 self bound to give her any information concerning 
 the family of his employers, that she desired to 
 have.
 
 2 6o THE TYRANT 
 
 " Miss Annie has come over to see us," said old 
 Pryse, with dignity. " And Lady Yorath is with her, 
 and also Lord Yorath has accompanied them. And 
 I've just 'ad a message " 
 
 " Perhaps we had better postpone our call," said 
 Mrs. Eyewater, hesitating. 
 
 But her daughters demurred as they were ex- 
 pected to demur. 
 
 " And I've just 'ad a message from Mrs. Kemys, 
 to say we're not at home to callers " said old Pryse, 
 raising his voice slightly. 
 
 Such a message had never before been given to 
 Pryse, and he was scarcely less surprised than Mrs. 
 Eyewater, who walked home almost dumbfounded, 
 with her two daughters. 
 
 " Not at home to callers, and Annie and Lady 
 Yorath and Lord Yorath all arrived at once ! There 
 must be something wrong," she repeated over and 
 over again. " I am afraid, girls, that something 
 very unpleasant indeed must have happened, just as 
 I always predicted it would." 
 
 In the oak panelled drawing-room that was the 
 very heart and centre of the Manor House, Annette 
 trembled and changed colour, and would have wept, 
 but that she was ashamed. 
 
 Annie's arms about her neck, and Annie's voice in 
 her ears had made her understand that her dream 
 of dreams, her hope of hopes, had come true. 
 
 Lord Yorath told her, quietly and simply, of his
 
 MRS. BYE WATER ON THE WATCH 261 
 
 love for her child, and Lady Yorath, half laughing, 
 and half pathetic, had held out her arms and taken 
 Annie's mother into her soft embrace. But Annette 
 could not shake off the embarrassment, the sadness 
 almost the shame, that possessed her; even when 
 the lovers had gone their way into the old garden, 
 to find Annie's brothers and sister; leaving the two 
 mothers alone to talk matters over. 
 
 If only she had not planned this thing! If she 
 had not dreamt of it, and thought of it, and worked 
 for it. Yet, behold, here was Lady Yorath, laugh- 
 ing, and confessing to the very sin for which An- 
 nette's cheeks were burning and her heart throb- 
 bing. 
 
 " I think I have arranged it all most successfully I 
 I have always longed to find just such a wife for my 
 boy. Innocent and fair and strong and beautiful. 
 They loved each other at first sight. It's a poem 
 ' a romance " 
 
 " All all the worldly advantages are on his 
 side," said poor Mrs. Kemys, in a strangled voice. 
 
 " She is a Kemys of Nantgwilt. Do you think 
 that, though I am an alien, I don't know my county 
 history?" said Lady Yorath, gently mocking. 
 " They are exactly matched in looks and health and 
 intelligence, just the right age for each other an 
 ideal couple ! Ought not the children to be " 
 
 " Oh, Lady Yorath ! Was there anyone ever so 
 unworldly? And I, who nearly threw myself on 
 your mercy the day we met at the hospital, to ask
 
 262 THE TYRANT 
 
 you how could Annie come to stay with you a lit- 
 tle country girl, badly dressed whose mother could 
 give her nothing " 
 
 " Her clothes are beautiful." 
 
 "Ah a miracle happened " said Annette, 
 smiling with pale lips. " But it would need an- 
 other " she looked with wistful light blue eyes half 
 drowned in tears, into those understanding sympa- 
 thetic brilliant hazel eyes of Lady Yorath, " it would 
 need another miracle before that child who has 
 never been outside this isolated country village in her 
 life before could take her place worthily as your 
 son's wife. Tell me what to do, that she may not be 
 shamed, that she may not disappoint him " 
 
 Annette was thus frank, confessing her weakness, 
 and Annie's, because instinctively she realised that 
 Lady Yorath was of those who would respond nobly 
 to such an appeal, and justify such confidence. For 
 if a helping hand be wanted, the wise go not to those 
 who have achieved greatness, nor to those who have 
 had greatness thrust upon them, but rather to those 
 who were born great; for these have no petty jeal- 
 ousies, no affectations, no fears lest in helping others, 
 they should weaken their own position. 
 
 ; 'Why!" Lady Yorath opened her eyes, "that 
 is very simple. I came to beg you to let her come 
 to London with me now. She is such a baby, I will 
 guard her innocence and her freshness jealously, but 
 she will learn just as much of the world as will be
 
 MRS. EYEWATER ON THE WATCH 263 
 
 necessary to make her ready for what is to come." 
 
 " Oh, Lady Yorath " Annette wept outright. 
 
 " You are glad? Then why do you cry? Or is 
 it that you don't like him?" cried his mother, with 
 that petulant laughter. 
 
 " Is there a woman on earth who wouldn't like 
 him?" 
 
 " I love you for saying that. I knew all the time, 
 of course, that you must," said Lord Yorath's mother. 
 
 The ecstatic shrieks and wild rush of the two little 
 brothers when Annie stepped from the porch into the 
 garden, calling them, startled Sophy, who was 
 sitting placidly over her needlework on the bench be- 
 neath the cedar. 
 
 Manuel threw himself upon his sister, and as she 
 stooped to kiss him, laced his short arms around her 
 neck and clung to her with all his strength. 
 
 " Oh, Annie, Annie, Annie, you've come back," 
 he cried. " Me and Corney thought you was never 
 coming and is your arm quite mended now? " 
 
 Corney's advance was almost as precipitate, but he 
 stopped short, looking doubtfully from Annie to the 
 tall figure behind her. 
 
 " Manuel," he said, giving his usual pull of ad- 
 monition to his little brother's sleeve. " There's a 
 gentleman. And " 
 
 " And aren't you going to kiss me, Corney? " said 
 Annie, merrily. " Why do you look at me so? "
 
 264 THE TYRANT 
 
 Corney stood still and gazed at her; the colour 
 burnt in his honest handsome little face. There 
 were tears in his eyes. 
 
 "You're all changed," he burst forth. "You 
 don't look a bit like our Annie. You've got fine 
 clothes on, and look like a young lady, except your 
 arm in a sling." 
 
 The laugh that followed dispersed embarrassment. 
 Sophy beaming with delight and curiosity advanced 
 to scold Corney and greet her sister, and Roddy and 
 Courtenay came forward, tennis rackets in hand, to 
 join the little group before the porch. 
 
 It was Lord Yorath who gave Annie the oppor- 
 tunity for the tete-a-tete with Sophy that both sisters 
 desired, by asking Roddy if the new guns were on 
 view; and the little boys, perceiving that Sophy meant 
 to tell them to run away, wisely anticipated her 
 orders, and followed the three young men, at a re- 
 spectful distance, to the gun room. 
 
 " Come up to my room, Sophy," Annie said breath- 
 lessly. " I have so much to say, and I can't say it 
 here. But we must be quick, or Mamma will be 
 calling me. Better still, let us go to the summer 
 house." 
 
 " Oh Annie you don't mean " 
 'Yes, I do. Oh Sophy!" 
 
 They sped through the dark tunnel of ilex, and 
 hugged each other in the shelter of the arbour, 
 where Annie very slowly drew the glove off the hand
 
 MRS. EYEWATER ON THE WATCH 265 
 
 in the sling, and showed a circle of diamonds on the 
 third finger. 
 
 " I'm engaged to him" she said. " You mustn't 
 touch it. It's too sacred to be touched, but you may 
 look" 
 
 " Oh Annie, it can't be true ! Already? " 
 
 " Had you guessed anything? " 
 
 " Only that you were in love with him. What is 
 that ? One falls in love with anybody, just for fun ! 
 But I never dreamt of this. Goodness! Does it 
 happen so quickly as that when they make up their 
 minds," said Sophy, awestruck. 
 
 " It happens in a moment, and the whole world is 
 changed," said Annie. " Oh Sophy, I hope you will 
 be as happy as I am some day. Not that there 
 could ever be another like him." 
 
 " I should not want mine to be so tall," said Sophy, 
 " but then I'm shorter than you. Oh Annie, what 
 did he say? " 
 
 "As if I could tell you, or anybody ! What do 
 you think Papa will say? That is the question." 
 
 " What does it matter what Papa says? Of course 
 he will be disagreeable. He always is. But you can 
 marry whom you like when you're twenty-one." 
 
 " Three years ! You don't suppose he would wait 
 three years," cried Annie, scarlet. " Why he wants 
 it to be now at once. But I said No. And Lady 
 Yorath said not till the end of the London season. 
 Oh Sophy, I am going to go to London with them,
 
 266 THE TYRANT 
 
 and spend the season with them in Eaton Place." 
 
 " What's the good of that when you're engaged? " 
 said practical Sophy. 
 
 " Girls don't go to London to look for husbands," 
 said Annie, reproachfully. 
 
 " What do they go for then? " 
 
 " Oh, to to see pictures and theatres and go to 
 balls, and meet people. And learn how to dress and 
 do their hair properly," said Annie vaguely. 
 
 " I think you've learnt the last two things, al- 
 ready." 
 
 " Lady Yorath has taught me a great deal," said 
 Annie, blushing. " I sometimes think I must be 
 dreaming, Sophy, it's all so delightful. Next season 
 you'll have to come and stay with me." 
 
 " Perhaps / shall be engaged myself by that time," 
 said Sophy, tossing her flaxen head. Then she re- 
 pented and kissed her sister and cried and said she 
 would love to come, but it did seem a little unfair 
 that everything should come to Annie, even if she was 
 the eldest; and that she should be Lady Yorath, and 
 have everyone flattering her while Sophy, only a year 
 younger, would be nobody at all. 
 
 Annie was too much used to Sophy's little ebulli- 
 tions of jealousy to be moved by them; she kissed 
 away the tears, and laughed at her, and long before 
 Roddy came in search of them, they were once more 
 deep in excited discussion. 
 
 " Let me have a word with her, Sophy. There's 
 tea laid under the cedar, and nobody to keep the
 
 MRS. EYEWATER ON THE WATCH 267 
 
 brats or the puppy from eating all the cakes, or to 
 help my mother," he cried. 
 
 "Oh, Roddy, has he told you? Or was it 
 Mamma? " said Annie. 
 
 " He told me, and he did quite right. In Papa's 
 absence I was the right person to be told next to 
 Mamma, of course." His assumption of dignity 
 touched Annie the more because he looked so very 
 boyish; and she hugged him fondly. 
 
 "If you must marry, I'd rather it was him than 
 any other fellow. It's something to be brother-in- 
 law to one of the best shots in England but I am 
 sorry for " he broke off and grew red. 
 
 " Give Jack my love," said Annie softly, " and tell 
 him I couldn't help it. I know now it never, never 
 could have been anyone but " 
 
 " It's a good thing poor old Jack's going off with 
 me to the Argentine. By the bye, Yorath says he 
 shall bring you out there to see me." 
 
 ' You stupid boy, that was my idea." 
 
 " But I bet when the time comes he'll go to Africa 
 or the Rocky Mountains instead, which reminds me, 
 he is quite against my changing the revolvers, he 
 says they're ripping, so that's all right. And he 
 knows Rawlings, the fellow who came with me to 
 choose them, and thinks no end of him. You should 
 have seen Courtenay's face. He hates Rawlings." 
 
 " Where is Courtenay? " 
 
 " Under the cedar, doing the civil," said Rodric, 
 looking disgusted. " Of course he rushed up to
 
 268 THE TYRANT 
 
 titivate as soon as he heard Lady Yorath was Here. 
 I wonder he didn't come down in his cap and gown. 
 He's quite capable of it. I left him spouting Latin 
 at her, and she drawing him out like anything. He 
 never sees when people are laughing at him, though 
 the Lord knows I've done my best to show him. I 
 say, we ought to go and look after them all." 
 
 " Yes, yes, we ought. But oh, my own old Roddy 
 boy, give me one good hug before we go and tell me 
 you are glad I am so very, very happy. I don't 
 think you half realize what a lucky, lucky girl your 
 
 sister is." 
 
 " I know what a lucky chap he is, anyway," said 
 Roddy, kissing her, " and you needn't think I don't 
 see what an awfully fine match it is for you, Annie. 
 I know you wouldn't think of it in that light, but as 
 a man of the world / can't be blind to it," said 
 Roddy, looking more like an Eton boy home for the 
 holidays than ever. 
 
 "Oh Roddy, you cherub," said Annie. "Of 
 course I should love him just the same if he were a 
 miner like his grandfather, but I can't help being a 
 little glad that he isn't. I wonder if Papa will see 
 it in that light or if he will be horrid about it" 
 
 " He can't help being horrid. It's born in him, 
 poor chap," said Roddy, calmly. " That's why I 
 agree with Granny that the wisest thing I can do is 
 to bunk before he comes back. She believes he'll like 
 me a lot better if I'm not here to aggravate him."
 
 MRS. EYEWATER ON THE WATCH 269 
 
 ' Why should you aggravate him? " said Annie, 
 indignantly. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. Everything aggravates him. 
 Sometimes I wonder if the poor old buffer's a little 
 inclined to go balmy," said Roddy. An odd emo- 
 tion made his voice a trifle unsteady. " And yet, do 
 you know, Annie, you'll scarcely believe me, but I've 
 got a kind of sneaking affection for the old governor 
 down in the bottom of my heart. That is when he's 
 not making my blood boil over the way he goes for 
 my mother. Then I can't help letting him know 
 what I feel " 
 
 ' You've stood up for her ever since you were a 
 little boy. Perhaps that's why he's more down on 
 you than he is on any of us," said Annie, squeezing 
 his plump arm affectionately. " How I've hated 
 htm for it sometimes. And yet, I know what you 
 mean about Papa," she said softly and regretfully. 
 " He's so big and so strong and so handsome, and 
 one would be so proud of him if if only he were 
 different." 
 
 " It's just that. It's not his temper, though he 
 has got a devil of a temper. One wouldn't grudge 
 him a bit of a turn-up all round now and then to 
 work that off. He'd be welcome to take it out of me 
 if that were all. But it's the other things " 
 
 ' The the meanness," whispered Annie, 
 " the motives he attributes to everybody the want- 
 ing to get the better of everybody "
 
 27 o THE TYRANT 
 
 " What's the good of going into it all," said 
 Roddy, gloomily. "He was built like it, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 "And she loves him," said Annie; her blue eyes 
 grew thoughtful. 
 
 " I suppose he wasn't always what he is now," 
 said Roddy. 
 
 When the Yoraths had gone away, taking Annie 
 with them, Mrs. Kemys went to her own room, and 
 to her favourite seat by the window, looking out over 
 the quiet landscape. 
 
 The tumult roused in her heart was not yet 
 stilled. 
 
 The romance of Lord Yorath's tender worship of 
 her child, and of Annie's happiness, had brought 
 back to her, as was natural, memories of other days. 
 Days when she too had basked in the beams of that 
 glorious sun which rises but once in a life-time, light- 
 ing so vividly the golden mirage created by desire, 
 that young lovers believe it to be the vision of their 
 future which they behold, lying unveiled before their 
 eager eyes. For Annette the illusion had faded with 
 the passing of those bright far off days ; but there re- 
 mained love sorrowful, mortified, but unchang- 
 ing. 
 
 Richard's child had come up to that sacred room 
 where her blue eyes had first opened upon the world, 
 and had clasped her mother to her soft breast, and 
 bent her fair head protectingly over that weeping
 
 MRS. EYEWATER ON THE WATCH 271 
 
 face. Though Annie was her mother's living image, 
 her personality held something of her father's 
 strength ; her features were a thought nobler than her 
 mother's ; her eyes a deeper blue. 
 
 Annette looked upon her and beheld in her the liv- 
 ing embodiment of Richard's love and her own; and 
 for Richard's sake no less than for her own, her 
 heart yearned over her daughter. 
 
 She laid her thin hands on either side of the pure 
 lovely face, and gazed into the gay blue eyes. 
 
 " The same, yet never the same. You will be his, 
 not mine any more. It is nature. Oh my Annie, 
 thank God he is what he is. Gentle, noble, courteous, 
 kind " 
 
 " I have thanked God for that many times," said 
 Annie, very simply. " But now, Mamma, I want to 
 see you smiling. You are not to be crying and senti- 
 mentalizing over me. As Papa isn't here to frown at 
 us all, we need not be afraid of showing how happy 
 we are for once. And remember, darling, I shan't be 
 far off even when when I do go to him for al- 
 ways oh, Mamma it sounds too good to be 
 true ! But whatever happens I shall always be your 
 own Annie, your own little girl, just as I have always 
 been." 
 
 Now she was gone; that bright embodiment of 
 youth and love and loveliness; and the twilight crept 
 into the corners of the familiar room, changing it 
 mysteriously.
 
 272 THE TYRANT 
 
 Annette took from her wardrobe a little oval in- 
 laid work box and fitted into the lock a tiny gilt key 
 which hung upon her watch chain. 
 
 She rested upon the window seat, with the casket 
 open in her lap ; a middle-aged woman, with thin hair 
 parted above a careworn brow; straining her eyes in 
 the failing light to read again the love letters of her 
 youth. There were not so very many after all. 
 
 Richard's wooing had been impatient and his 
 courtship brief. 
 
 " My own dear sweet little Annette, 
 
 " I have just got your letter and I don't know 
 how to thank you for it. I am not worthy of your de- 
 votion and never could be, but in a world where I, at 
 least, have never found a true friend, I know how to 
 value it. You are an angel, as true as you are lovely. 
 I know that neither your father nor anyone else could 
 make you disloyal to me. I believe in you absolutely, 
 and love you with all my heart. Come to me soon, 
 darling, and I swear I will make you happy now and 
 always. 
 
 " Your own Rex." 
 
 That was how he had written to her in her spring- 
 time; and now, in the autumn of life he wrote, " Dear 
 Annette," and denied her the only boon, the just and 
 reasonable boon she had craved from him, before he 
 left her perhaps for ever. The sound of the last 
 three words rather frightened her.
 
 MRS. EYEWATER ON THE WATCH 273 
 
 The room was full of memories of Richard ; as he 
 had been, and as he was. She glanced about it un- 
 easily, and remembered that she was deceiving him. 
 
 What if he never came back? 
 
 But if she had not deceived him, Annie would not 
 have found this great and wonderful good fortune 
 which had come to her. 
 
 All fair means she had tried. She had pleaded 
 with him, to be allowed to bring a little brightness, 
 a little gaiety, a little freedom into her child's life, 
 that the chances of happiness in her youth might not 
 be denied her; and Richard had not been moved. 
 He would not have cared though Annie had missed 
 those chances of happiness altogether. 
 
 He had been deaf to her petulant demands, and to 
 her mother's meek entreaties; and now, for Annie's 
 sake his wife had fought him in his absence, stealthily 
 and in the dark ; and won the battle she had waged 
 against his selfishness, his indifference, and his short- 
 sightedness to his child's best interests and his own. 
 
 And here was Annie come into her kingdom of 
 beauty and womanhood and love; reigning victori- 
 ously over the heart of a true man and a noble gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 How could she regret what she had done ? 
 
 Yet she cried to him in spirit for forgiveness, as 
 she looked fearfully round the darkening room. 
 
 Suppose he never came back? How could she bear 
 to go through the rest of her life feeling that she had 
 betrayed the blind confidence he had always reposed
 
 274 THE TYRANT 
 
 in her absolute devotion; a confidence which had 
 seemed to her sometimes pathetic, for how little he 
 had done to deserve the continued unswerving sub- 
 mission upon which he counted so confidently. 
 
 He had strained her endurance almost to breaking 
 point many times, but she had never failed him ; and 
 she knew that in his heart he believed in her as he be- 
 lieved in nothing else on earth. How would his 
 faith in all things crumble when he discovered that 
 he had counted in vain upon his wife's loyalty. It 
 was unthinkable. She saw him aroused incredu- 
 lous then his wrath rising from incredulity to 
 fury to madness She shivered not from fear 
 for herself, but for him. 
 
 She had chafed beneath his tyranny often; it had 
 robbed her of her spirits, her gaiety, her natural joy 
 in life. It had brought her pain, weariness, disap- 
 pointment, grief. But the disquiet had come from 
 without, not from within. 
 
 Her soul had remained calm, her conscience clear; 
 of her peace of mind Richard's tyranny had never 
 been able to rob her. 
 
 Now her soul was troubled within her ; the sin of 
 her deception lay heavily upon her conscience and 
 through her own action her peace of mind was gone. 
 
 11 1 have tasted of the fruit of the tree of knowl- 
 edge, and it has made me in love with innocence," 
 she sighed, and kissed the little worn love letter she 
 held, for the sake of the days when it had told the 
 truth.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 
 
 MR. TURLEY sat opposite his old friend and client 
 in the garden of the cottage, where Howell had laid 
 out a little tea-table in the shade of the lilacs. 
 
 Old Mrs. Kemys in her mushroom hat, and wrapt 
 in her spotless shawl, enjoyed nothing more than 
 a quiet talk over her tea with her contemporary; 
 and his visits had increased in frequency since Rich- 
 ard's absence, as her pleasure in them had also in- 
 creased. 
 
 Mr. Turley was in the habit of receiving quite as 
 much advice from old Mrs. Kemys as he gave; but 
 even this fact did not act as a deterrent. He had 
 fallen into the habit of driving over to Llanon when 
 he had shut up his office, on a fine afternoon, to enjoy, 
 as he said, the pure air of the hills. 
 
 At this season of the year the damp mists were less 
 prevalent, or at least only rose with the fall of night. 
 
 He walked his old horse up the steep ascent, and 
 put up his trap at the Kemys Arms, that ancient hos- 
 telry that stood opposite the ramparts which enclosed 
 the cottage and its little plot of garden from view. 
 
 The villagers smiled when they saw him come out 
 275
 
 27 6 THE TYRANT 
 
 of the stable-yard, and walk across the road to the 
 green door in that great ivy-covered wall. 
 
 They said to each other that if the pair had been 
 a score of years younger there would have been a 
 match; and that Lawyer Turley ought to have got 
 married years ago, since all the world knew he had 
 made a good bit of money; and who was he saving 
 it for, after all? 
 
 He was very much respected in Llysdinam, and 
 indeed all over the neighbourhood; and the inhab- 
 itants of Llanon liked to welcome him among them ; 
 a brisk little figure with low-crowned hat and trim 
 white whiskers, carrying always a neat umbrella, and 
 wearing always an overcoat and a silk kerchief 
 wrapped about his throat, for he was subject to bron- 
 chitis, and took great care of himself. Old Mrs. 
 Kemys, who sat out of doors in all weathers, never 
 had tea brought out on to the lawn without first as- 
 certaining whether he thought the day sufficiently 
 warm. 
 
 On this particular evening it was so warm that he 
 discarded the silk handkerchief, folding it carefully 
 and bestowing it in the pocket of his coat, which he 
 wore unbuttoned. 
 
 " Ah, my dear lady," he said, observing a smile 
 on the face of his hostess, " you think that on such 
 a May-day as this, even an old fellow need not 
 trouble to wear a neck-cloth driving. But I know 
 my own constitution, and I have one motto, which
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 277 
 
 has preserved my health and happiness, and that is, 
 wrop up the toobs." 
 
 The younger members of the Kemys family had 
 often laughed at this motto, or at the lawyer's pro- 
 nunciation of it, but old Mrs. Kemys protested. 
 
 " If I laughed, it was not at your silk comforter, 
 but because I am in such good spirits. I could not 
 help dropping you a line at once." 
 
 ' Well, well, well ! But I suppose it is all a dead 
 secret, eh? " said Mr. Turley, drawing his seat closer 
 to the wheel-chair, and chuckling. 
 
 " Not a soul is to know anything about it, of 
 course, until my son has signified his consent. Ex- 
 cept Mrs. Eyewater, who had to be told in confidence, 
 or she would have been spreading her surmises all 
 over the neighbourhood." 
 
 Neither of the speakers made any pretence to 
 lower their voices, though Howell was hovering over 
 the tea-table pouring out the tea, and handing the 
 hot cakes she had made specially for Mr. Turley. 
 
 The idea of attempting to keep a secret from How- 
 ell, if it ever existed, had been dismissed from the 
 mind of old Mrs. Kemys thirty or forty years ago. 
 The discreet handmaiden hardly troubled to listen 
 to the conversation of her mistress with her guests; 
 so certain was she of hearing it again in every detail 
 before she had finished putting the old lady to bed. 
 
 " Well, I should suppose the consent can only be 
 a matter of form. Miss Annie has carried off the
 
 27 8 THE TYRANT 
 
 greatest parti in the country," said the old gentle- 
 man, pleasantly. 
 
 " One would suppose Richard might be satisfied," 
 said Mrs. Kemys, drily, " but who can prophesy what 
 would satisfy Richard? That will do, Howell, we 
 have all we want, and Mr. Turley can do the rest of 
 the waiting on himself; you have fidgetted about 
 quite enough." 
 
 " Now that we are alone," said Mr. Turley, when 
 the spare, black-clad form of the sour-faced but dig- 
 nified maiden had disappeared round the corner of 
 the cottage, " I should like to hear what you think of 
 her of Annette herself." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys shook her head. 
 
 " She grows whiter and thinner, and sadder every 
 day," she said, emphatically. " What has become 
 of her old spirit it is difficult to say." 
 
 " Broken," said the lawyer, shortly. 
 
 " Not that, or she would never have had the cour- 
 age to act as she has done. Lord, in her place I 
 should be chuckling from morning till night. Look 
 at the change that has come over Nantgwilt ! Here 
 is young Roddy- safely started off in the best of spirits 
 with Jack Meredydd " 
 
 ' With excellent prospects," said the lawyer em- 
 phatically. " I remember John Meredydd, a differ- 
 ent kind of man from his brother, the parson, but if 
 I had a son I know no one to whom I'd rather con- 
 fide him." 
 
 ' Yes, yes. Annette is convinced of that, and that
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 279 
 
 Roddy will be far happier out there than in the City. 
 She has no fears for Roddy. And as for Annie, the 
 child's good fortune passes belief. As I say, instead 
 of the old gloom and restlessness and discontent in 
 the Manor House there has been a regular wave of 
 brightness come over the children's lives since in 
 plain English, since poor Richard took himself off. 
 Look at Sophy ; she is a different creature, goes about 
 singing at the top of her voice. Out of tune, but 
 what does that signify? Corney doing as well as 
 possible at school, poor little fellow, and Manuel 
 taken at last to London to be examined by a special- 
 ist, the course I have urged upon Richard for the last 
 two years." 
 
 "What is the result?" 
 
 " Just what I expected. He has taken the first 
 steps along the way poor little Lucy went. Why 
 is a mystery. There never was any consumption in 
 our families, nor, so far as Annette is aware, in hers. 
 But Dr. Harries says Manuel has too feeble a con- 
 stitution to stand the mists of this basin among the 
 hills in autumn and winter." 
 
 "What is to be done?" 
 
 " The London doctor says a couple of months at 
 Davos will not only arrest, but he believes actually 
 cure the disease; it has hardly developed. He is to 
 be sent off at once to Switzerland, with a trained 
 nurse. Old Sharman has come back from town, 
 where Lady Yorath has found another maid for 
 Annie, and she is to take them out there, and settle
 
 280 THE TYRANT 
 
 them. I don't suppose she will be able to stop, but 
 Manuel is too nervous to be sent off alone with a 
 stranger." 
 
 " Why does not his mother take him? It would 
 do her all the good in the world." 
 
 " She is afraid. She is not telling Richard, or she 
 would have a cable forbidding it. You know he 
 never would consent to poor little Lucy's going. He 
 thinks changes of climate all nonsense. No. An- 
 nette remains on duty at Nantgwilt, and writes from 
 here and tells him nothing. He will have " she 
 laughed sardonically, " quite a series of pleasant sur- 
 prises on his return." 
 
 " Perhaps little Manuel's break-down would ac- 
 count for her depression," said Mr. Turley, shaking 
 his head. 
 
 " I don't think so. She has never taken a de- 
 spondent view. She came back from London much 
 more cheerful than she went; the specialist was so 
 hopeful. As she said to be able to do something 
 is always a comfort. To have to sit still and do 
 nothing is heartrending. But everything possible 
 will be done. The doctor said the boy might go to 
 school later at Brighton or some bracing seaside 
 place. No, no, it is not the anxiety about little Man- 
 uel that is weighing her down. It is the prospect of 
 facing Richard on his return. Think of the 
 money she has spent perhaps she has been almost 
 too reckless, or you in supplying her." 
 
 " My dear lady," said Mr. Turley, with a grim
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 281 
 
 smile, " I hold ample security for every penny I have 
 advanced." 
 
 " So I supposed. Still, Richard has all his wits 
 about him " 
 
 " Perhaps he has outwitted himself for once," said 
 the lawyer, drily. 
 
 " If he can get out of repaying you he will," she 
 said, with some uneasiness. 
 
 ' You may leave me to take care of myself." 
 
 ' Well of course I am quite in the dark. An- 
 nette thought it best I should be able to say I knew 
 nothing about it." 
 
 " Much the best." 
 
 ' You see, he could punish me by keeping my 
 grandchildren away." Suddenly her voice broke. 
 " Sometimes I think I have been mad to urge her to 
 defy him ; for God knows he will punish her when he 
 returns." 
 
 " She is, happily, in a position to dictate terms," 
 said Mr. Turley, and the light of battle shone from 
 his small keen eyes, " and I am at her back. I will 
 save her from her own weakness." 
 
 " Have you thought forgive me, what her posi- 
 tion would be if if anything " 
 
 "If anything happened to me? Oh, dear, yes," 
 said Mr. Turley cheerfully. " It was the very first 
 thing I thought of. Richard Kemys will have to 
 reckon with some very much more important legal 
 luminaries than I if it pleases God to remove me 
 before his return."
 
 282 THE TYRANT 
 
 " That is a comfort," said Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 " Your remark is not complimentary," he said, 
 laughing, " but I am glad to relieve your mind even 
 at the cost of a blow to my own vanity." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys apologised. 
 
 " I did not mean it in that sense. Well then 
 the only remaining trouble is that I should like to 
 see Annie safely marriedibefore his return." 
 
 " So many of your wishes have been accomplished 
 that you need not despair," he said, " and I think I 
 may tell you, in confidence, that Lady Yorath is very 
 much of your mind on that point." 
 
 " No one could have behaved more charmingly 
 than she has over the whole matter," said Mrs. 
 Kemys, warmly. " She came here on her way home, 
 and said very pretty things to me of Annie. I took 
 it very kind of her and uncommonly civil, for most 
 mothers rather stand in the way of their sons' marry- 
 ing than help them to it." 
 
 " She has known some lonely years," said the law- 
 yer, shaking his head. " I fancy, apart from her 
 liking for Miss Annie, that she longs to see him set- 
 tled in his home before the wandering life gets hold 
 of him for good and all. He is in his thirtieth year, 
 you know, and if anything happens to him why, 
 there is no one to come after him. Small wonder if 
 she pines for some little Yoraths. And depend 
 upon it, if she is allowing a short time to elapse now 
 before the fulfilment of her wishes, it is for a very
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 283; 
 
 good reason. Miss Annie will know her way about 
 all the better, for having had a preliminary peep 
 into the great world with so clever a woman as Lady 
 Yorath to guide her. Well, well. I wish the young 
 lady every happiness; but when all is said and done 
 she will never be so pretty as I remember her 
 mother." 
 
 ; ' That is a point on which we never agree," said 
 the old lady, pursing up her lips. 
 
 Sophy had perhaps reasons of her own for being 
 in such good spirits that she was inspired to raise 
 her tuneless voice and sing, as she moved through 
 the dark rooms of the old Manor House; with her 
 flaxen hair taking golden lights from the sunshine 
 that streamed through the open windows, and her 
 plump pink and white face beaming with pleasure 
 and energy. 
 
 In Annie's absence she could take the initiative to 
 her heart's content; and since her mother's watchful- 
 ness had relaxed strangely of late, Sophy had picked 
 up the dropped reins of household government, and 
 now held them securely in her own capable white 
 hands. Mrs. Sharman protested, but what could she 
 do? She was on the eve of departing to Switzer- 
 land with her beloved youngest nurseling; and had 
 been away so many weeks that her authority had lost 
 much of its weight. 
 
 She attempted remonstrance with her lady, but
 
 2 8 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 Mrs. Kemys only smiled vaguely, and was not to 
 be roused to take action, nor to check the forward- 
 ness of her child. 
 
 " Miss Sophy takes too much upon herself, ma'am, 
 and the whole house is talking about it. Even the 
 outdoor folk puts in their word. There is nothing 
 done, indoor or out, but what she knows it." 
 
 " What can I do, Sharman? The child is a child 
 no longer. She is nearly eighteen. She will take 
 her sister's place as eldest daughter at home." 
 
 " Miss Annie was very different. When did 
 she think to interfere in the store-room and 
 kitchen, far less the stables? What would her 
 Papa say? " 
 
 " I am afraid he will have something to say about 
 a good many things when he comes back," said Mrs. 
 Kemys, with a melancholy smile. 
 
 " I'm not afraid of facing him, for one," said 
 Sharman, but her ruddy face paled, and she forgot 
 Sophy's misdemeanours for the moment. " Oh, 
 ma'am, I hope you're well-advised," she said under 
 her breath, " you don't need me to tell you what Mr. 
 Richard can be, when he's angered." 
 
 "No, Sharman." 
 
 " Miss Annie and all, it must have cost you a deal 
 of money. To be sure, nothing's too good for her, 
 and when I think what its led to and her making 
 this splendid marriage, I wouldn't have the heart 
 to blame any lady that went against her husband for 
 that\ since we all know gentlemen never troubles
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 285 
 
 themselves to think how a young lady is to get a hus- 
 band but " 
 
 " For what, then, would you have the heart to 
 blame me, dear Sharman, if not for that? For giv- 
 ing my boy his start in life, who should be the heir 
 to this great property, and would have been forced 
 to borrow money from the parson's son for his very 
 outfit" 
 
 " God forbid Master Roddy should lack any- 
 thing, and him going to the end of the world," said 
 Sharman, beginning to cry. 
 
 ;< What is it you grudge, then, Sharman? Is it 
 little Corney's cricket-bat and flannels, that sent him 
 off to school happy, instead of crying; or Courte- 
 nay's books that are to help his work at College; 
 or the new chintz for Sophy's- bedroom? These 
 are not necessaries, I know, like the other things I 
 have bought, for God knows my children had scarce 
 clothes to their backs; but they help to make their 
 young lives happy and their home pleasant to them. 
 Or is it that you blame me for trying to save my 
 baby's life? Lucy's little brother, whom she is call- 
 ing to follow her into the world of shadows," said 
 Mrs. Kemys softly. " For sending little Manuel 
 away with his old nurse to look for health among 
 the Swiss mountains. You're not blaming me for 
 that?" 
 
 "Oh, ma'am, how could you think it? What 
 else could you do? But I'll bring him back to you 
 well and strong," said Sharman sobbing.
 
 286 THE TYRANT 
 
 " I haven't spent anything on myself, Sharman. 
 That is the only shred of excuse the forlorn bit 
 of comfort I offer to my own conscience. Look at 
 me. I am as shabby as I ever was. I looked in 
 the shops in London, and thought what I could buy 
 to make myself more like Lady Yorath, who looks 
 ten years younger than I. I saw how much might 
 be done, even though her face is not faded, nor her 
 hair grown thin like mine " 
 
 " She never had seven children to rob her of her 
 looks," said Sharman, with homely directness. " If 
 she wants to see what you was, let her look at Miss 
 Annie. You've given her your beautiful gold hair, 
 ma'am, and you don't grudge it neither. Howell 
 and me had words on that very subject lately. She's 
 that proud of her thread-paper waist, and casts it up 
 to me, as I'm a bit stouter than I could wish to be. 
 ' But, Howell,' I says to her, ' if there's one thing in 
 this world more pitiful than another it's to hear a 
 woman as has never borne children boasting to one 
 as has, that she's kept her figure ' " 
 
 " Dear Sharman, I wish you would not quarrel 
 with Howell." 
 
 " Life would be very dull, ma'am, if one never had 
 a word with anyone," said Sharman, excusing her- 
 self. " It's she as casts the pepper at me before I 
 throws the mustard back. And if it comes to that, 
 ma'am," dexterously changing the conversation, " I 
 wish you had got yourself a few new things. With 
 Miss Sophy rigged out like a princess, and new cov-
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 287 
 
 ers for the drawing-room chairs, it's hard you can't 
 have a new gown to your back, if you'll excuse me, 
 ma'am. Though I'll not deny we must save some- 
 where, with the way the money's been poured out 
 lately," she said, with a sigh in which awe and curi- 
 osity were mingled. " Only when it comes to put- 
 ting the cottages in order as could very well wait till 
 the master comes home " 
 
 " And how much longer would they have to wait? 
 Do you know the water came through the roof on to 
 the bed where old Gwyn Godden slept would you 
 have me buy myself gowns before I attended to 
 that?" 
 
 " I know, ma'am," said Sharman, in subdued 
 tones. " But as Pugh says, once you begin where 
 are you going to end? There's lots of the cottages 
 in a dreadful state, but it don't pay to put them right, 
 and he's shaking in his shoes at the thought of what 
 the master will say when he comes home. If it 
 wasn't as Mr. Richard told him himself he was to 
 go to you for orders and not to Mr. Machon, he'd 
 have gone to ask Mr. Machon about it. Not to go 
 against you, but because he's so feared for all the 
 expense you're going to, and thinks as being a lady 
 you're not responsible like. But as it is, he's doing 
 his best to keep the goings-on at the cottages away 
 from Mr. Machon's knowledge, on account of his 
 letter from the Squire that he wouldn't have no in- 
 terference from that quarter. Luckily, Pugh has 
 kept the letter to remind the master what his orders
 
 2 88 THE TYRANT 
 
 was. But for all that he's that upset he says he can't 
 hardly sleep at night, and only for knowing Mr. Tur- 
 ley is advising you, he would take and write to the 
 Squire himself." 
 
 " I will take care that neither Pugh nor Mr. 
 Machon nor anyone else knows where to write," said 
 Annette. 
 
 Sharman departed with little Manuel, in com- 
 pany with the trained nurse, who exhibited all the 
 tact that could be desired by making fast friends with 
 the old woman before she attempted to gain the 
 much more easily won affections of the little boy. 
 
 Manuel was so elated at the prospect of a journey 
 to Switzerland that he forgot his lamentations for 
 his brother's absence, and showed no more feeling 
 in leaving his mother than a child of his age usually 
 does under such circumstances. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys and Sophy went to the station to see 
 him off, and as the train departed he waved his 
 sailor hat ecstatically; his great blue eyes shining, 
 and his little transparent face all flushed and smiling 
 with excitement. It was old Sharman who shed tears 
 at parting, not little Manuel. 
 
 " It's always the same," said the sympathetic 
 nurse to the old woman, " we eat our hearts out for 
 them, and they don't know, and don't care." 
 
 ''Who would wish them to know? Not I, God 
 bless them," said Sharman, and she kissed the re- 
 luctant Manuel passionately.
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 289 
 
 Thus, since Courtenay had returned to Oxford, 
 only Sophy and her mother, of all the family, now 
 remained at the Manor House. 
 
 " My dear, it will be very dull for you," said An- 
 nette, wondering at the brightness of Sophy's face. 
 Sophy, who was given to complainings, and had been, 
 of all her children, the discontented one. 
 
 " No, Mamma, I am never dull. There is al- 
 ways something to do. And I do not at all mind 
 being alone. Everybody has always, been consid- 
 ered before me; so that now I am the only one left 
 to be considered, you may suppose I enjoy getting 
 my turn at last. You will see, the new covers for the 
 drawing-room will all be finished before Annie comes 
 home. She will hardly know the place. And our 
 bedroom will be another surprise for her. She will 
 find it quite as nice as the one she had at Artramont ; 
 for since you let me get the muslin and ribbon I 
 wanted I have found it quite easy to do the dressing- 
 table as she described, and the new curtains are love- 
 ly. Of course an oak-panelled room can never look 
 as bright as a nice new wall-paper," said Sophy, 
 calmly, " but it is wonderful what a little muslin and 
 ribbon will do." 
 
 Sophy was herself a living example of this won- 
 der. She now presented a dainty picture, very unlike 
 the discontented maiden in the washed-out blue cot- 
 ton frock, who had grumbled, and gone primrosing, 
 and carried the baskets. 
 
 Since Annie had appeared with her hair dressed in
 
 2 9 o THE TYRANT 
 
 a new and wonderful manner suggested by Lady 
 Yorath's clever French maid, Sophy had not been 
 slow to imitate her. Now her own flaxen tresses 
 were waved and widened above her piquant little fair 
 face. 
 
 Her gown was white and fresh, and trimly buckled 
 with blue ribbon about her dainty waist. She wore 
 the smartest little neat shoes. 
 
 Even if she had had no other cause for happiness, 
 the contemplation of herself in the glass would have 
 brought smiles to Sophy's face. 
 
 She was industrious and house-proud, and loved 
 to decorate the rooms in which she lived; but still 
 better did she love to decorate her own little person. 
 
 It was no wonder that Mr. Cantrill, returning to 
 spend a few days with the rector, in order to com- 
 plete the sketches he was making of the tombs in the 
 old church thought Sophy the prettiest and most 
 bewitching creature he had ever beheld. 
 
 He was a gentle and gentlemanly clergyman, pos- 
 sessed of a pair of fine brown eyes that expressed 
 only kindness and simplicity, a brown moustache and 
 beard which hid the weakness of his mouth and chin, 
 and a disposition so sensitive that if anyone contra- 
 dicted him in the daytime he was apt to lie awake 
 and think of it all night. 
 
 That he had remained a bachelor so long was due 
 probably to the fact that he possessed also a very 
 energetic and devoted sister, who lived with him, and 
 directed him both in house and parish, guarding him
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 291 
 
 carefully from designing young females. She would 
 certainly have called Sophy a designing young fe- 
 male, and guarded her brother from her attractions, 
 save for the fact that her own attention was now ex- 
 clusively occupied elsewhere. 
 
 In other words a great and astounding piece of 
 good fortune had befallen Mr. Cantrill's sister, in 
 her own estimation, and that of all her acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 Her brother's bishop, making a tour of his dio- 
 cese spent a couple of nights with the well-to-do vicar 
 of Gwenfrood, and was struck by Miss Cantrill's 
 marvellous powers of administration, no less than 
 by the beauty of her brown eyes, and the cheerful- 
 ness of her smile. 
 
 The bishop was elderly, and the bishop was failing 
 in strength. Miss Cantrill was middle-aged, and her 
 strength was super-abundant. 
 
 He invited the brother and sister to pay a return 
 visit to his episcopal residence. Here he had a fur- 
 ther opportunity of discovering good qualities in the 
 lady whose capabilities and energy had attracted him 
 so greatly at first sight. 
 
 At a local football match a little boy, climbing an 
 iron stack of forbidden hurdles, managed to displace 
 them, and fell with them to the ground. When he 
 was extricated, it was discovered that he had broken 
 his leg. It was Miss Cantrill who cut off his stock- 
 ing and boot, rendered first aid to the injured limb, 
 and soothed the little sufferer. The deftness, and
 
 292 THE TYRANT 
 
 above all, the tenderness that she displayed, dispelled 
 the bishop's last doubt. He proposed to Miss Can- 
 trill that evening. 
 
 He was nearly seventy, but he was a bishop, and 
 a worthy one. She revered him, and she had never 
 had an offer of marriage in her life. Miss Cantrill 
 accepted him gratefully, and wondered what would 
 become of her brother. 
 
 He left the curate in charge of his parish, which 
 was a large one ; and went abroad for a change, feel- 
 ing the parsonage too melancholy without his sister's 
 presence. On his return he found it more melan- 
 choly still. To cheer himself, he made frequent ex- 
 peditions into the surrounding country to indulge his 
 solitary hobby of sketching tombs and rubbing 
 brasses. He had welcomed the opportunity of vis- 
 iting Llanon. 
 
 His sister had been married just six weeks when he 
 fell in love with Sophy Kemys. Perhaps he in- 
 stinctively recognised in her some of the sustaining 
 qualities which characterized the bishop's wife. 
 
 Sophy in the absence of her elder sister en- 
 joyed taking the lead. She was quick and decided, 
 and withal she was young and pretty. Also her 
 manner had that touch of deference which was to be 
 expected towards one so many years her senior. 
 
 She was excessively tired of playing second fiddle, 
 and it elated her to perceive that her word was law 
 to Mr. Cantrill. 
 
 Sophy became very much interested in rubbing the
 
 MR. CANTRILL AT ST. NEVYNS 293 
 
 old brasses in the church of St. Nevyn. He showed 
 her that one represented a miner of the I5th cen- 
 tury with his equipment, and another a forester of 
 the same period, and she was charmed. She learnt 
 for the first time that there was much to admire in 
 the mural frescoes she had faced with perfect indif- 
 ference every Sunday for the past fourteen years of 
 her life. And she acquired, if possible, an even 
 greater value in the eyes of Mr. Cantrill, because she 
 was the direct descendant of the old Emmanuel 
 Kemys whose dust lay beneath one of the finest four- 
 teenth century altar-tombs he had ever had the good 
 fortune to behold. 
 
 Cynthia Eyewater and her sister Perina watched 
 his broad figure, surmounted by his wide clerical hat 
 bending towards his little companion as he crossed 
 the churchyard by her side, carrying his sketching 
 materials. 
 
 They looked at each other and said no word, and 
 each read the thought in the other's heart. Even 
 that little chit has a lover now. For they had reached 
 the age when it appeared to them, too, that 
 
 " Babes make love and children wed" 
 
 They were not jealous of Annie. Whatever their 
 mother might say or think, Cynthia and Perina re- 
 joiced over the romance of her sudden engagement 
 to Lord Yorath. Her beauty had this effect upon
 
 294 THE TYRANT 
 
 them, that they were glad all the world should have 
 the chance of recognising it. They did not grudge 
 her happiness to Annie. But it is to be feared that 
 they grudged Mr. Cantrill to Sophy very much in- 
 deed. 
 
 They said to each other almost reproachfully that 
 it was a wonder some more suitable person had not 
 taken the trouble to cut out this little minx who was 
 still in her teens, and who would certainly make the 
 least desirable wife in the world for a nervous mid- 
 dle-aged, well-to-do clergyman.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 
 
 THE rumour that old Mrs. Eyewater had had a 
 stroke had scarcely spread through the village of 
 Llanon, before it was followed by the news of her 
 death. 
 
 Everyone was shocked and sympathetic, as the 
 members of a small community generally are when 
 death appears suddenly in their midst. 
 
 It was scarcely remembered for the time being, 
 that the old lady had been rather disliked than other- 
 wise in Llanon; the villagers forgot to smile when 
 they mentioned the " young ladies." 
 
 The most sincere commiseration for them both was 
 expressed and felt. 
 
 It was the flowery season, between late spring and 
 early summer; and the old crooked, stone-tiled roof 
 of the Red House was literally embowered in blos- 
 som. The garden slope, with its view of the val- 
 ley and the distant blue hills, which lay at the back 
 of the little dwelling, was buried in bloom. 
 
 The maiden sisters had worked there long and 
 silently during autumn and winter. Now was the re- 
 ward of their labours. 
 
 And in an upper chamber with the window open 
 295,
 
 296 THE TYRANT 
 
 towards the village street, which the dead woman 
 had loved to look upon so much more than she had 
 loved the misty beautiful view of the hills at the 
 back lay the old mother. 
 
 The village children, whom the " young ladies " 
 taught in Sunday School, came silently to the door, 
 which stood open, and thrust bunches of cowslips and 
 uneven wreaths of wild violets and ferns into the 
 hands of the little sobbing maid-servant, who had 
 hated her mistress living, and now cried the more 
 bitterly because she was dead, and because, being 
 young, she was easily affected by the grief of others. 
 
 The day after their mother's death, Cynthia and 
 Perina sent a message to Mrs. Kemys, and she came 
 instantly to the darkened house which had been her 
 early home, and to which she had been summoned 
 once before, on just such a perfect summer day 
 to her father's death-bed. 
 
 She expected to find the sisters helpless, overcome, 
 perhaps hysterical, for old Mrs. Eyewater had 
 treated them almost as children to the very end. 
 But she found them calm, self-possessed and even 
 digmfied in their grief; it was as though they had 
 suddenly and with great relief, permitted themselves 
 to grow up, since the unnatural compulsion to re- 
 main young had been removed. Annette wondered 
 if after all, the comedy the village had enjoyed so 
 long had not been a very patiently and silently borne 
 martyrdom to two of the actors concerned in it. 
 
 They spoke in whispers, and moved noiselessly,
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 297 
 
 as people do when there is death in the house ; but it 
 was as though they had not been unprepared. 
 
 " Dear Mamma was much, much older than any- 
 body guessed," whispered Cynthia. " She was so 
 active so interested in everything. She kept her 
 youth to the last." 
 
 " Will you come upstairs?" said Perina, in the 
 same hushed tones. " She was fond of you. I 
 think she would have wished you to come." 
 
 Cynthia appeared a little uneasy, but the younger 
 and more decided sister prevailed. 
 
 " Are you sure dear Mamma would have 
 wished of course there is a great change " 
 faltered Cynthia. 
 
 ' Yes, she would have wished it. If she could 
 have known how exquisite she would look," said 
 Perina, firmly. 
 
 Annette, in the midst of her sympathy, wondered 
 that even the simplicity of the middle-aged daughters 
 could have found old Mrs. Eyewater exquisite. But 
 when she reached that silent bower under the steep 
 roof of her old home, she wondered no longer. 
 
 There lay among the white coverings the digni- 
 fied sleeping face of an old, old woman; with snow- 
 white hair parted above a brow from which death 
 had smoothed the wrinkles and left only the peace; 
 the meekness of one who had resigned pretence 
 for ever. 
 
 " She was past eighty poor Mamma but she 
 wished nobody to know it," whispered Perina, re-
 
 298 THE TYRANT 
 
 placing tenderly the lawn handkerchief which cov- 
 ered the face that was almost the face of a stranger 
 to Annette. She could not bear to recall, in that 
 majestic presence, the simpering, chattering, painted, 
 auburn-wigged creature which Mrs. Eyewater had 
 chosen to show to the world as her true self. 
 
 " Do you think we need put the date of her birth 
 in the announcement or on her on her 
 tomb ? " Cynthia whispered. 
 
 They turned anxious eyes on Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 " We do not mind your knowing, dear Mrs. 
 Kemys, but we do not wish everybody to know." 
 
 " No, no; I do not think you need. The date of 
 her death would be quite, quite sufficient," said An- 
 nette, with tears in her eyes. 
 
 As she took the short cut across the churchyard 
 to the Manor House on her way home, the sound of 
 the wheelwright's hammering went echoing up the 
 valley, and she knew that he was making old Mrs. 
 Eyewater's coffin; and again she realised poignantly 
 the mingling of homely commonplace and everlast- 
 ing tragedy which is the sum of human life. 
 
 Mr. Turley and Dr. Harries were the executors 
 appointed by the deceased, and the former showed 
 a great deal of kindness to the forlorn ladies in the 
 Red House, who were perfectly ignorant of business, 
 but most anxious to learn anything he chose to teach 
 them. 
 
 He found they had never even learned how to
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 299 
 
 draw a cheque, and that they knew nothing of their 
 mother's affairs. 
 
 " Poor Mamma liked to keep everything entirely 
 to herself," they explained. " We did not even 
 know what her income was. We knew she was 
 badly off, but we always thought she was too proud, 
 poor Mamma to let anyone know how poor she 
 really was. We are prepared to hear we may have 
 to live in a different style to keep a smaller estab- 
 lishment," they said humbly. 
 
 Mr. Turley thought it would have been difficult 
 to keep a much smaller establishment. There was 
 the usual old servant, who had acted as Mrs. Bye- 
 water's maid; and the little local girl-of-all-work. 
 
 " We know dear Mamma as an officer's widow, 
 had a pension which dies with her," they said, sadly. 
 
 " My dear young ladies," said Mr. Turley (from 
 force of habit), " I am happy to tell you I am 
 very happy to tell you, that your mother insured her 
 life for your benefit many years ago. No doubt the 
 yearly payment of the premium crippled her expendi- 
 ture, and she did not care to let you know of the 
 sacrifice she was making for you. You will be con- 
 siderably better off than during her life-time. She 
 was insured for no less a sum than ten thousand 
 pounds. You will have therefore five thousand 
 apiece in addition to your pensions, and the income 
 which she has devoted to the payment of the 
 premium." 
 
 Mr. Turley did not know why the two sisters
 
 300 THE TYRANT 
 
 looked at each other as though conscience-stricken; 
 but he respected the emotion that overcame them, 
 and busied himself with his papers until they had re- 
 covered themselves sufficiently to attend to him. 
 
 When he had gone, the gentle Cynthia laid her 
 head upon the table and wept. 
 
 " Oh, Perry, Perry, I have thought poor Mamma 
 was neglectful of our interests, that it was cruel of 
 her to leave Cheltenham when my father died, and 
 to bury us here in the country." 
 
 " I never could understand it, never," said Perina, 
 in choking tones. " She who loved society and 
 and gossip and intercourse with her neighbours, and 
 never cared for country life; but I see now, she could 
 not afford to live in Cheltenham as we had been 
 living " 
 
 " She must have given up all hopes of our marry- 
 ing, and determined to provide for us in this way in- 
 stead," sobbed Cynthia. 
 
 Perina knelt beside her sister and put a protecting 
 arm about the bowed and rounded shoulders. 
 
 " Cynthia, listen. We have never really liked this 
 place. If it had not been for the garden, and the 
 choir I don't know how we could have stood it. 
 I see now why Mamma only rented this house by the 
 year, and would not have a lease. She never ex- 
 pected nor wished us to stay after she died. She has 
 given us the means to go where we like back to 
 Cheltenham anywhere."
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 301 
 
 " Never back to Cheltenham. We were still able 
 to enjoy the dances and the gaieties when we left. 
 What could we do there now after twenty years? 
 It would be full of ghosts. And poor Papa forgot- 
 ten who was so much respected " 
 
 " You are right. It would be too sad," said 
 Perina, after a moment's pause, during which her 
 fancy had wandered backwards to the scene of past 
 triumphs, and blighted hopes. " But we will not 
 stay here, Cynthia. We are no longer young but we 
 are not old. We are active and able to enjoy what- 
 ever life may have in store for us still. Poor 
 Mamma has given us the means; we will go abroad 
 
 we will travel." 
 
 " Oh Perry ! would it be possible ? It has been the 
 dream of my life," Cynthia said, raising her face 
 with the tears yet wet upon her pale eyelashes. 
 
 " It would be possible. It is even the proper 
 thing to do, after such a bereavement as ours. We 
 will give up the Red House; store such things as we 
 could not bear to part with, and sell the rest. And 
 we will go first to London and get proper mourning, 
 and then we will go abroad. It will be the best and 
 happiest thing for us." 
 
 " Oh Perry, I might look forward to it, even now 
 
 if only I had not to reproach myself for never 
 understanding what poor Mamma's devotion to us 
 must have been ~" 
 
 " How could we guess? She told us nothing. It
 
 302 THE TYRANT 
 
 Is something that we understand now, and are grate- 
 ful. And perhaps she knows," said Perina, in sub- 
 dued tones. 
 
 The sun was high and the heat great. An- 
 nette left the bench beneath the cedar where Sophy 
 chattered over her work and sauntered away, carry- 
 ing a book in her hand. 
 
 She had never acquired the habit of reading, or 
 had never had time to indulge this taste if she pos- 
 sessed it ; but she often took a book now as an excuse 
 for seeking solitude. 
 
 It seemed to those who observed her that she grew 
 languid and listless. With the necessity for exertion 
 the power of exerting herself seemed to be vanishing; 
 also she became frailer and more delicate in appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Her days and nights were haunted by the insistent 
 ghost of self-reproach; a spirit not always to be laid 
 even by the vision of the freedom and happiness her 
 children had gained in return for the sacrifice of her 
 peace of mind. 
 
 She had truly said to Sharman that her little shred 
 of consolation was the thought that in no way had her 
 recent doings brought her any personal benefit. 
 Rigidly she clung to her shabby gowns, her meagre 
 fare; and woman-like, endeavoured passionately to 
 salve her conscience by starving and denying herself, 
 whilst liberally pouring forth the benefits she re- 
 garded as stolen benefits, upon those she loved.
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 303 
 
 She had abandoned, in the despair of bewilder- 
 ment, all hope of convincing herself by argument of 
 the right or wrong of the course she was pursuing. 
 But she believed that from the moment she had ac- 
 cepted the first advance of money from Mr. Turley, 
 she had burnt her boats; and this very conviction 
 brought the relief which such a conviction generally 
 brings to a weak or undecided nature. 
 
 But having thus committed herself to a course she 
 deplored, yet could not altogether regret, she 
 made what amends she could within the bounds of 
 its pursuit; and believing that she robbed Richard, 
 applied the proceeds of the theft towards the re- 
 moval of many reproaches from his name. 
 
 She urged forward the repairs of the neglected 
 cottages with an energy almost feverish ; and righted 
 a dozen petty wrongs which had rankled in the bos- 
 oms of her humbler neighbours for years. A dis- 
 puted right of way a water grievance a bitter 
 complaint of encroachment on ancient common rights 
 she was astounded by the ease with which these 
 and similar troubles were smoothed from the path of 
 the owners of Nantgwilt present and to come, by a 
 liberal pouring forth of ready money. 
 
 Old Pugh, in spite of his misgivings, admired his 
 mistress for the first time. 
 
 " She's got the old Colonel's spirit after all," he 
 said to Pryse. " If Squire never came back at all, 
 and left her to manage the place, she'd be served 
 twice as well as ever he was. A man as is hated like
 
 3 o 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 the Squire's hated, is never well served, let him bully 
 and screw as he will." 
 
 " There's a day of reckoning to come," said Pryse, 
 shaking his head. " We'll have to pay before win- 
 ter sets in for the peace and quiet of this here summer. 
 The household books is higher at this minute, with 
 all Miss Sophy is pleased to order, than when the lot 
 of them was at home. And all in case Mr. Cantrill 
 might drop in. She can't blind me. Not that I'm 
 blaming her. Eating and drinking is the last thing 
 I'd care to economize over. We must eat to live as 
 everyone knows." 
 
 " It's something to be able to face the folk in the 
 Glyn," said Pugh. " I don't say they're all con- 
 tented. Some people that has enjoyed a grievance 
 for twenty years can't hardly bear to part with it. 
 But there's one or two I used to be ashamed to 
 tell them as I couldn't get the Squire to do nothing. 
 And after all, my conscience is clear, if they do bless 
 her name," he argued, " for the Squire wrote me to 
 take my orders from her. So 'tis she that must bear 
 the brunt when he comes home. But the work will 
 be done by then at this rate, and it can't well be un- 
 done, since it's been paid for storm as he will." 
 
 " There'll be no one but her to storm at, with all 
 this scattering of the family," said Pryse. " I some- 
 times ask myself whether I'm awake or asleep, when 
 I sees her moving like a ghost through the empty 
 rooms. Even Sharman gone, as one did think was a 
 fixture; and no one to keep the missus company but
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 305 
 
 Miss Sophy, as is dancing after her gentleman all 
 day, and would like to be off with him altogether as 
 anyone can see. No wonder madam frets, left all 
 to herself." 
 
 But it was not because she was left to herself that 
 Mrs. Kemys fretted. 
 
 On the contrary, she found something of her lost 
 serenity restored when she could steal away thus to 
 commune with herself in silence. For solitude, like 
 nature, rewards her worshippers with an ever fuller 
 and deeper understanding of her charms and of her 
 mysteries. 
 
 Annette took her way slowly through the garden, 
 and let herself out by the little iron gate in the fence, 
 leading into the meadows. 
 
 Her gown swished through the tall bending 
 grasses that almost hid the narrow path; grasses al- 
 ready flowering, among branching ox-eyed daisies, 
 and buttercups of the golden hearts. 
 
 Little red and blue butterflies fluttered across her 
 way, and high above her head sounded the lark's 
 song though the singer was invisible. 
 
 The larch woods looked inviting, but they sloped 
 away down to the valley, and she thought of the re- 
 turn climb; choosing to skirt the palings of the gar- 
 den and shrubberies, until she reached an outlying 
 orchard hidden by a curve of the hill. 
 
 The orchard was a rough one, dipping into unex- 
 pected hollows and little dells, where in spring the 
 finest primroses and sweetest white violets lurked,
 
 306 THE TYRANT 
 
 and where now the bluebells were scattered among 
 the springing fronds of bracken. 
 
 She chose a resting-place sheltered by a grove of 
 stunted oak on one side, and on the other by a grass 
 hillock, sparsely crowned with gnarled apple-trees, 
 which stood out boldly, bearing their alien branches 
 of green mistletoe against the dazzling blue of the 
 summer sky. 
 
 Below her blazed a clump of golden gorse, and at 
 her back rose a mountain ash. She leant against its 
 smooth trunk, and gazed at the distant landscape 
 shrouded in haze; the sunlight cast emerald lights 
 upon her white face, through the great leaves of a 
 tall budding foxglove, and through a giant bush of 
 wild fern fanned by the warm breeze. 
 
 From the shady depths of the oak grove sounded 
 cheerful twittering. A little brown bird stretched 
 his throat in ecstatic trill from a perch on a tall pear- 
 tree, while his brothers soared into the boundless 
 blue of space. 
 
 What a quiet world of remoteness, and calm and 
 beauty. If only the mind could be attuned to its 
 sleepy harmony. 
 
 Presently she hardly knew whether her dreams 
 were waking ones, or whether she had lost herself in 
 slumber. 
 
 She had been thinking of the Red House, now 
 empty, and therefore seeming much more like her 
 old home than when the Eyewaters had transmogri- 
 fied its sacred interior by their belongings.
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 307 
 
 The house, like most of the dwellings in Llanon, 
 belonged to the lord of the manor of Nantgwilt. 
 
 Annette had gone through it that morning with 
 old Pugh, and said that she would take no steps 
 towards finding a new tenant until the Squire's re- 
 turn. The empty rooms haunted her imagination 
 scr that it was no wonder that she should dream of 
 them still, waking or sleeping. 
 
 She thought of herself standing in the window 
 recess of the little sitting-room, looking into the gar- 
 den at the brilliant scarlet of the rhododendron now 
 in flower there. The scarlet took form, and she 
 realised her father in full uniform, as she had once 
 seen him dressed for a levee. He held out his arms 
 to her, and said, with that well-remembered tender 
 intonation so familiar to her, " It's time to come 
 home, Annette "; and the presentment was so vivid 
 that she started and stumbled to her feet with a cry. 
 
 Her heart was beating rapidly, and though she 
 tried to laugh as at a nightmare, she felt in reality as 
 though she had had a warning vision, as incomplete 
 and puzzling as such visions usually are. 
 
 She looked at her watch, and found she had been 
 resting for an hour. Then she must have slept. A 
 shrill voice was calling her, and she forgot her dream 
 in her haste to get away from her secret refuge. 
 
 She was nearing the gate in the iron fence, when 
 she saw Sophy running in the garden. 
 
 " Mr. Cantrill is in the drawing-room, Mamma. 
 He asked for you, and Pugh said you were at home,
 
 3 o8 THE TYRANT 
 
 thinking you were in the garden. He told Pryse he 
 wished to see you very particularly," cried Sophy, 
 " so I came to look for you instead of going to en- 
 tertain him myself. But I hunted everywhere and 
 could not find you," 
 
 Sophy's tones were reproachful, and Mrs. Kemys 
 felt almost guilty when she remembered the elabo- 
 rate pains she had taken to hide herself. 
 
 " I am coming at once, my dear," she said. Then 
 she became aware that Sophy was unusually flushed 
 and excited; and looking at her in surprise observed 
 the conscious, almost the triumphant expression of 
 her face. 
 
 " Sophy ! " she cried. 
 
 But Sophy turned and fled. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys hurried into the drawing-room, where 
 she found Mr. Cantrill bending over the carving of 
 the pillars which supported the mantel-board, with 
 curious interest. He appeared to recollect himself 
 and his errand with a start, as he came forward to 
 greet his hostess. 
 
 After a few moments of intense embarrassment, 
 during which they both talked almost passionately 
 of the weather, he suddenly calmed; and in his most 
 old-fashioned manner asked Annette's permission to 
 marry her daughter. 
 
 He anticipated her objection to his age before she 
 had time to make any answer to his opening speech, 
 for the simple reason that he had rehearsed this con- 
 versation to himself in bed for many nights, and felt
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 309 
 
 acutely that he must not give her the chance to make 
 any remark for which he had not prepared a crush- 
 ing or convincing reply. 
 
 He pointed out that although he was most un- 
 doubtedly twenty years older than Sophy, there was 
 a much greater discrepancy of age between his sister 
 and her bishop. 
 
 ' Yet I defy you to show me a happier couple," 
 said Mr. Cantrill, simply. "They are never con- 
 tented out of each other's sight. Of course I am not 
 a bishop. But my position is a good one. That is 
 to say I have a good living, and a private fortune of 
 my own, and I am prepared to settle everything I 
 have in the world upon her." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Cantrill," said Mrs. Kemys, at 
 last succeeding in making herself heard, " you are 
 going too fast. We have not yet arrived " she 
 smiled in spite of herself " at Sophy's marriage- 
 settlements. You must recollect that this is the first 
 I have heard of your affection for my daughter, and 
 that I look upon Sophy as a child." 
 
 " I know you do, I know it. She has told me so. 
 I think it a mistake, if you will permit me to say so. 
 She tells me she will be eighteen this month." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys could not deny the fact. 
 
 " I believe you were not much older when you be- 
 came the mother of your son " he said, timidly, 
 and altogether unaware that it was Sophy who had 
 artlessly supplied him with this argument. 
 
 Again Mrs. Kemys had no contradiction to offer.
 
 3 io THE TYRANT 
 
 " Parents are often inclined to to forget their 
 children grow up," he said with his gentle smile. 
 " I assure you if you could hear your daughter talk 
 to me knowing as she does that I regard her as a 
 woman you would be very much surprised." 
 
 " I think it not unlikely," said Annette, and a faint 
 smile played about the corners of her mouth. 
 " Have you spoken to her? But of course " 
 
 " I have not put the actual question, at least, not 
 in so many words," he stammered. " It seemed 
 right taking her youth into consideration, to 
 await your permission for that. But I think I may 
 say, without presumption, that we understand each 
 other." 
 
 Then he fortunately forgot the remainder of his 
 preconcerted remarks, and spoke with natural emo- 
 tion. 
 
 " If you will give me your child, Mrs. Kemys, I 
 will do my utmost, my very utmost, to make her 
 happy. I am a very lonely man, now that my sister 
 is married. I know my age is a drawback, but on 
 the other hand it would make me perhaps more con- 
 siderate and indulgent than a younger man; who 
 might be more suitable, but could not be more de- 
 voted." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys liked him a great deal better when 
 his unnatural pomposity melted into his natural sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 She could not, she said, consent to a definite en- 
 gagement until Sophy's father returned, or while
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 311 
 
 Sophy was quite so young; but of course, if they 
 both remained of the same mind if Sophy were 
 as determined as he appeared to be why then, 
 In short Annette had really no valid objections to 
 urge beyond those he had himself raised and com- 
 bated so valiantly. So that Mr. Cantrill found him- 
 self presently quite at his ease, grateful for her 
 sympathy, and given to understand that he would 
 be a welcome visitor even if he could not yet be an 
 acknowledged suitor. 
 
 He departed in a very soothed and happy frame 
 of mind. 
 
 But Sophy happened to meet him at the Rectory 
 Gate, and having skilfully extracted the gist of her 
 mother's conversation with him, she came home filled 
 with indignant wrath. 
 
 "Annie may be engaged, and why not I? She 
 was only nineteen last week, and I shall be eighteen 
 this week. Why must we wait until Papa comes 
 back?" 
 
 " My dear Sophy, Annie is waiting until Papa 
 comes back." 
 
 " It is all very well to say that, Mamma, but you 
 know it is no such thing. Isn't she staying with his 
 mother? Hasn't he given her a ring? Doesn't 
 everybody know it's settled ? Would Annie give him 
 up for anything Papa or anyone said? But if Mr. 
 Cantrill isn't even to be allowed to ask me properly 
 until you give him leave, what can I say when Papa 
 comes home and upsets everything, as you know he
 
 3 i2 THE TYRANT 
 
 will sooner or later, and tells Mr. Cantrill to his 
 face that if there is one thing he hates more than a 
 doctor it is a parson? How can I stand up to Papa, 
 or be true to him, or anything else if I am not even 
 to be given the chance of accepting him?" cried 
 Sophy, with scarlet cheeks and flaming eyes. 
 
 " Sophy, dear child, I don't like you to behave like 
 this. I have never seen you in a passion before," 
 said Mrs. Kemys, really surprised. " I don't think 
 it is very nice or womanly for a little girl of your 
 age." 
 
 " I am not a little girl," said Sophy, stamping. 
 " Did you call Annie a little girl at my age? Just 
 because I am a year younger than Annie and not so 
 pretty, you and Granny have always treated me as 
 a little girl who didn't count. It's not that I'm 
 jealous of Annie. I'm not, you know I'm not. But 
 I don't see why I shouldn't be given my chance too," 
 said Sophy, crying. " Do you want me to be an old 
 maid like Cynthia and Perina ? " she sobbed. 
 
 Presently, however, she allowed herself to be 
 taken into her mother's arms, and soothed and kissed 
 and forgiven. Sophy had none of Annie's caress- 
 ing ways, but she was ashamed of her outbreak, and 
 found comfort in whispering amidst her final sobs 
 that she really did love Mr. Cantrill in spite of his 
 being so much older. 
 
 " Or perhaps because " she said ingenuously, 
 " for I never could take much interest in young men 
 like Jack Meredydd, who have nothing to say to one,
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 313; 
 
 and don't care a bit what one's thinking about or 
 how one looks. I have always thought it would be 
 pleasant to marry an older man; though at first I 
 thought I couldn't love a man with a beard, and 
 especially when I found out that his name was Am- 
 brose. But if you knew how much I think of him 
 now ! And he's quite well off, if that's what you're 
 thinking about, Mamma, though his sister the 
 Bishop's wife would be sure to see he got on anyhow, 
 I suppose," said Sophy with perfect calm, " even if 
 he's too unworldly to think of it himself. And I 
 don't ask much, Mamma; only that you should let 
 us be engaged conditionally as Annie is. I'm sure 
 when you think how Papa goes on about expense you 
 might be thankful we have both found husbands so 
 quickly," she ended, wiping her eyes. 
 
 Sophy's common sense was not to be gainsaid, and 
 Mrs. Kemys found that Sophy's grandmother was 
 disposed to take much the same view as her grand- 
 child. 
 
 " It would not be the match we should have de- 
 sired for Annie, but for Sophy it will do very well," 
 said the old lady, thus unconsciously justifying 
 Sophy's accusations, as Annette, conscience-struck, 
 perceived and acknowledged to herself. 
 
 " He Is a charming man; most gentle and pleasant 
 in manner. What signifies a few years' difference in 
 age? He is all poetry and she all prose. He will 
 wake from his dream of love to find he has a most 
 excellent housewife at his elbow and she to discover
 
 3 i 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 he is a helpless creature whom she can rule with a 
 rod of iron. That will just suit Miss Sophy. They 
 will do famously, and the Bishop's wife will look 
 after them both " 
 
 " Oh dear Granny. It is strange that you should 
 say so much that Sophy says herself. In some ways 
 she reminds me of you." 
 
 " In a great many ways she reminds me of myself, 
 and that is why I cannot get on with her. One does 
 not like to see one's self caricatured. People judg- 
 ing by appearances might say the caricature was the 
 other way about, but it is not. I see in her the crude 
 germ of myself. I daresay I was just such another 
 at Sophy's age, and it is very unpleasant to be re- 
 minded of it. Well, well I wish both she and 
 Annie could be married and settled before Richard 
 returns to raise a thousand difficulties." 
 
 " I should think we might get his answer to my 
 letter about Annie any day now. I asked him to 
 cable as definitely as possible, not to consider ex- 
 pense over such a vital question." 
 
 4 The more one thinks it over the more one feels 
 that even Richard will find it hard to object to such a 
 marriage as that." 
 
 " I don't suppose he could if it were not for his 
 annoyance about that unlucky accident." 
 
 " Unlucky ! " said Mrs. Kemys, raising her eye- 
 brows. 
 
 'Well, that most fortunate accident," said An- 
 nette smiling. " However Annie declares Lord
 
 CYNTHIA AND PERINA GROWN UP 315 
 
 Yorath wrote him a letter that could not fail to evoke 
 a favourable reply. And her own little note to her 
 father would have melted a heart of stone." 
 
 " It will not melt Richard's heart," said the old 
 lady, grimly. " Mine will have more effect. I 
 dwelt on the envy the marriage would arouse in the 
 bosoms of all the parents in the county who have 
 spent their time and money in vain, trying to secure 
 such a match for their daughters ! " 
 
 " Dear Granny, I cannot believe you wrote that! " 
 
 " I may not have put it quite so crudely, but I 
 wrote to that effect," said old Mrs. Kemys, but she 
 had the grace to colour slightly. " We are told to 
 speak unto a fool according to his folly." 
 
 " Whatever Richard's faults may be, he is no 
 fool," said his wife, in some displeasure. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my love. In these matters 
 he is a fool, though he may be clever enough in 
 others." Her tone changed. " If I abuse my 
 son to you, Annette, it is partly for the sad consola- 
 tion of seeing that, do what he may you can stand 
 up for him still." 
 
 A week later came the expected cablegram. It 
 puzzled everybody and pleased nobody, for it con- 
 sisted of only two words 
 
 Await return.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 
 
 " As soon as Ascot is over," Annie wrote, " Lady 
 Yorath and Austen will return to Artramont, and I 
 am coming home, mother dear, for I have left you 
 alone too long." 
 
 She came home on Midsummer eve, and the 
 gloom and silence of the Manor House seemed im- 
 mediately dispelled. She was a little pale, a little 
 tired, from the fatigues of the London season, but 
 lovelier than ever, and so exquisitely dressed that 
 Sophy was dumb with amaze and envy. 
 
 " Oh Annie, it is not only the clothes but you 
 have such a such an air, of not even knowing you 
 have them on," she cried almost jealously. 
 
 " I have only been away a few weeks but I have 
 learnt a great many things," said Annie gaily. " Oh 
 Sophy, how you will enjoy coming to stay with me ! 
 There was the Opera only you do not care for 
 music as I do; still you would care for the people in 
 their fine dresses and diamonds, and I went to so 
 many dances I lost count." 
 
 "What did you enjoy most of all?" Sophy in- 
 terrupted. 
 
 " My early morning ride with him" said Annie, 
 316
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 317 
 
 blushing. " Oh Sophy, I hardly ever missed it, no 
 matter how late I had been up the night before, and 
 he liked it best too. I am very glad though, to have 
 had the experience of all the other things. It will 
 make me so much more fit to be to be Lady Yor- 
 ath," she said, laughing and blushing more deeply. 
 
 " And you will be able to have as many London 
 balls and dinner parties as you choose all your life," 
 said Sophy, discontentedly, " while I " 
 
 Annie put both arms round her little sister, and 
 laid her lovely face against that plump fair cheek. 
 
 11 What does anything matter if you love him?" 
 she whispered inconsequently ; " and besides, he hates 
 going out, and so we have privately agreed to live in 
 the country, and to go off and shoot big game when- 
 ever he feels inclined. But do you think I shouldn't 
 be just as happy if we were going to the smallest cot- 
 tage together? " 
 
 " It's not a cottage I'm going to, but a nice-sized 
 house," said Sophy the practical. " The living is 
 worth six hundred a year; which is not much to be 
 sure, but then he has as much again of his own. We 
 shall be quite comfortable. But I do think, Annie, 
 you might persuade Mamma to let it be a recognised 
 thing." 
 
 " Why, she says Mr. Cantrill is here morning, 
 noon and night," said Annie, laughing. 
 
 " I daresay he is; but he dare not so much as give 
 me a ring. That is the worst of a man being so 
 much older. It makes him so conscientious. If he
 
 3 i8 THE TYRANT 
 
 were younger he would have given it to me whether 
 they let him or not, and I could have worn it on a 
 ribbon inside my dress till I was allowed to wear it 
 openly." 
 
 " Sophy, are you sure you love him? " cried Annie, 
 aghast at this criticism. 
 
 " Of course I love him," said Sophy indignantly. 
 " I don't pretend to be so romantic as you are, Annie, 
 but I wouldn't marry anyone I didn't love, far less a 
 clergyman I though to be sure he is still more in love 
 with me. He thinks me perfect, and of course when 
 a person thinks that of one, one is bound to live up 
 to it." 
 
 ' Yes," Annie said, and her blue eyes grew dreamy 
 and a smile played about her mouth. 
 
 ' You hardly listen to what I say," cried Sophy 
 jealously. ' You're like a person in a dream. And 
 yet I was counting the moments for you to come back, 
 thinking we would take counsel together over every- 
 thing. For what is the use of our falling in love, 
 and getting proposals, and being engaged, or any- 
 thing else, if it's all to be put a stop to when Papa 
 comes home? Mamma may say what she likes, but 
 / am certain that his cable meant he hadn't the slight- 
 est intention of giving his consent to your marrying 
 Lord Yorath. And Granny thinks the same though 
 she tries to hide it from me. And if he won't let 
 you make one of the best matches in the world just 
 because he had one of his everlasting rows with Lord
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 319 
 
 Yorath," cried Sophy vehemently, " ask yourself 
 what chance there will be for Ambrose and me. 
 You know how fond Papa is of a parson at the best 
 of times." 
 
 " Sophy, it was Papa's cable that made us decide, 
 after all, to leave London after Ascot, and not stay 
 on to the end of the season as Lady Yorath had 
 planned. Mamma poor Mamma, tried to make 
 the best of it, as she always tries to do but when I 
 thought of the letter Austen wrote, which I made him 
 .show me," said Annie softly, " though I would not 
 show him mine; and of how we both begged him so 
 respectfully, so so affectionately to make 
 the cable as clear as he could that he would consent, 
 and then we got that answer, why, I couldn't help 
 taking it as you do. Not that it would be all right 
 when he came home, but more in his usual way, as 
 well, as a threat." 
 
 u I am sure it is a threat. I said so from the 
 first," cried Sophy. 
 
 " It was that which brought me home," said 
 Annie. She drew closer ; almost laughing, but rather 
 tremulously, and there were tears in her blue eyes. 
 
 " Sophy," she whispered, " can you keep a 
 secret?" 
 
 Annette said to herself that she had never realised 
 all the charm of Annie's sympathy until now. 
 Everyone was in a better humour for her presence,
 
 3 20 THE TYRANT 
 
 and even Mr. Cantrill roused himself from his ab- 
 sorption in Sophy to tell old Mr. Meredydd that her 
 sister was a bright being. 
 
 Mr. Meredydd had been deeply wounded by the 
 news of Annie's engagement, which had been broken 
 to him by his son before his departure for the Argen- 
 tine. 
 
 " Nothing's to be given out yet, but it's all settled. 
 I've had a little note from her, and she's engaged to 
 Lord Yorath," Jack said to his father. " You must 
 forget what I told you, dad. The fact is, I oughtn't 
 to have said a word. I was counting my chickens be- 
 fore they were hatched." 
 
 " I cannot but think she must have given you en- 
 couragement, Jack," said Mr. Meredydd, with a 
 trembling lip. 
 
 " Never a whit," said Jack stoutly. 
 
 If he suffered, he hid it manfully ; wrote a note of 
 hearty congratulation to Annie, and went off with a 
 bright face. 
 
 His father believed he was broken-hearted; and 
 though his letters breathed hope and energy in every 
 line, doubted while he rejoiced over them. 
 
 He still feared Annie must have given his son en- 
 couragement. But when he saw her again, she was 
 so very lovely that he almost forgave her, and pres- 
 ently became friendly with her betrothed. 
 
 Lord Yorath rode or motored over to Nantgwilt 
 daily. Sometimes Annie rode or drove with him 
 alone, but more often picnics and excursions were
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 321 
 
 arranged. Mr. Cantrill wished to see the ruined 
 castles and abbeys with which the neighbourhood 
 abounded, and Sophy was fond of picnics, and de- 
 lighted to order provisions and pack baskets. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys found herself drawn into these expe- 
 ditions as chaperon, and old Mr. Meredydd came 
 with his clerical guest, whose infatuation for little 
 Sophy Kemys filled him with amazement. 
 
 Mr. Meredydd had not even been aware that 
 Sophy was grown up until his visitor confided to him 
 the interesting fact of his attachment. The double 
 romance made the picnics delightful to the young, 
 and not less so perhaps to their elders. 
 
 Sometimes Lady Yorath joined them, and then 
 more elaborate preparations were made. A second 
 motor with servants and hampers was sent to the 
 destined rendezvous, and she generally brought her 
 niece or some other guest with her. 
 
 She was always bright, always interested; and she 
 looked younger, Mrs. Kemys thought, every day. 
 
 " But you are fretting yourself into a shadow," 
 she said. " Annie did not tell me. These young 
 folk are so wrapt up in their own affairs." 
 
 " I am always thin. I feel the heat, and I have a 
 good deal to do one way and another, since Richard 
 went away," said Annette, smiling. 
 
 Lady Yorath looked at her with grave hazel eyes. 
 
 " You take no care of yourself. Now I will not 
 give you good advice, for that is an odious thing. 
 It relieves the mind of the giver at the expense of
 
 322 THE TYRANT 
 
 the recipient. But some day when Annie and 
 Austen are married, I shall take you away with me to 
 to where shall I take you? The Ionian Isles? 
 Sicily? Venice? It must be according to the time of 
 year. But whenever you are able you must come 
 and let me take care of you, and teach you some of 
 my own philosophy," she said. ' Will you come? " 
 
 " If ever I have the opportunity I will come." 
 
 " That is a promise," said Lady Yorath, seriously. 
 
 " It is a promise. But are you a philosopher? " 
 
 "Am I not always gay? Or if not gay con- 
 tented?" 
 
 " You have a great deal to make you contented." 
 
 " Tell me what," she said, smiling. 
 
 Annette thought of the contrast they must present 
 to the onlookers. She could not see herself, but she 
 could see Lady Yorath. 
 
 A statuesque yet graceful figure, in a summer 
 gown of silvery grey, with floating veil of gossamer 
 lending a tender shade to her face; no longer young, 
 nor in any way aping the trappings of youth ; nothing 
 could be more quakerish than the grey veiled hat and 
 soft clouds of grey tulle swathing the throat and tied 
 beneath the oval chin; but at the same time nothing 
 could have been more becoming. 
 
 If the dark hair that lay on the broad forehead 
 were frosted; if little lines could be traced upon the 
 delicate face; if a few crow's feet showed at the cor- 
 ners of the fine hazel eyes, yet she remained a beau-
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 323 
 
 tiful woman, spiritual, humorous, experienced, in a 
 word charming. 
 
 Annette said nothing, but her smile was express- 
 ive, and Lady Yorath did not affect to misunder- 
 stand it. 
 
 " But I am nearly fifty," she said, " and I lost my 
 husband, who was everything in the world to me 
 twenty years ago. When he died, I thought my life 
 must end. Yet I have been obliged to go on, as you 
 see. That is, what is left of me. It flits about 
 looking for distraction." 
 
 " Shedding happiness right and left," murmured 
 Annette J " doing kindnesses " 
 
 Lady Yorath shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " That by the way, perhaps. But the world has 
 been empty, for all that." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys looked troubled. She glanced away 
 from the speaker towards the hawk profile and tall 
 figure of Lord Yorath, who was leaning against a 
 tree, smiling lazily down upon the exertions of the 
 others, who were blowing at a little fire of sticks. 
 
 " You are not going to tell me," said Lady Yo- 
 rath, with a very gentle mockery in her tones, " that 
 a mother lives again in the lives of her children? 
 Though it is such a popular axiom." 
 
 " I should think many a mother must have smiled 
 at it," said Annette, and she smiled herself. " Every 
 day every day one lives and watches them grow 
 up, God bless them one becomes conscious that
 
 3 2 4 THE TYRANT 
 
 these are separate existences of which we know al- 
 most nothing." 
 
 " We know a good deal," said Lady Yorath, shak- 
 ing her head; "but only because we watch so anx- 
 iously ; and because we knew them so well when they 
 were little. They tell us nothing, or only what they 
 are pleased to think lies within our comprehension." 
 
 " They cannot tell us, for they do not understand 
 themselves. Life is so new to them." 
 
 " And we are so old ; so antiquated and out of 
 date. They criticise us secretly even if they are too 
 kind to criticise us openly. But we remember we 
 were the same once, I suppose, and so we laugh and 
 forgive them," said Lady Yorath. " I adore my 
 boy. I bless God for him every day. But I do not 
 pretend to think / that is me, myself," she inter- 
 polated whimsically, " my identity has ever been 
 merged, in his in any way whatsoever. Of course 
 our existences are as separate as our personalities. 
 I am outside his life. It is his wife who will come 
 nearest to sharing that." 
 
 " If she ever is his wife," said Mrs. Kemys, sigh- 
 ing. 
 
 " Ah, you are thinking of the mysterious cable. 
 We all agreed at the time that it was unsatisfactory, 
 but we are not going to let it depress us. Of course 
 we understand that everyone could not be so forgiv- 
 ing as you were over that accident, which, as it 
 turned out, was such a lucky accident for Austen," 
 said Lady Yorath, prettily. " But all will be as we
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 325 
 
 wish in the end. Annie has a fine spirit of her own, 
 and Austen is a match for a dozen reluctant fathers, 
 though he is so quiet you would not think it, per- 
 haps." 
 
 " He is very silent." 
 
 " He is silent whenever he has nothing to say, 
 which is a very rare quality! But when he speaks 
 I assure you it is very much to the point. He is' 
 quite as clever as Annie, though in a different way. 
 He has more judgment and she more perception. 
 Hers is just the sort of cleverness wanted to com- 
 plete his own. So between them they will do very 
 well." 
 
 " And he is so accomplished." 
 
 "Oh, accomplished! That is a matter of op- 
 portunity, not of brains," said Lady Yorath, her 
 eager interest in the discussion lending a thousand 
 varieties of expression to her charming face. " But 
 he is clever with his hands. There is nothing he 
 cannot make. That means a reflective brain in- 
 genuity. He was always quite sufficiently clever to 
 make me fear he would marry a fool. Have you 
 not noticed how clever men always seem to pick out 
 the silliest and most commonplace women they can 
 find to marry? And form their opinion of the 
 whole sex accordingly. But, thank God, Annie has 
 noble qualities as well as beauty. Her intelligence, 
 her sincerity, her generosity, are stamped on her 
 frank, innocent face. Oh, I am looking forward to 
 some remarkable grandchildren, and you must do the
 
 326 THE TYRANT 
 
 same! Thus we shall be consoled for losing a son 
 and a daughter." 
 
 " Dear Lady Yorath, I never dare to look for- 
 ward to anything," said poor Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 " But then how much pleasure you lose." 
 Lady Yorath's musical voice took a sudden inflec- 
 tion of compassion. "Are you really afraid? But 
 why? Here are all of us, you and I, and the two 
 most concerned, and even Mr. Turley, determined 
 that this marriage must take place soon. What 
 can one man, however obstinate, do in the face of 
 such a combination of wills? Even if he meant to 
 be so unreasonable as to oppose it, which the cable 
 does not necessarily imply. Never have two words 
 lent themselves to so much argument," she ended 
 laughing. 
 
 To herself she said, shrugging her shoulders, " I 
 should like to encounter this redoubtable Richard, 
 whose wife turns pale at the very thought of his 
 opposition." 
 
 The summer days passed, bringing no change, 
 save that little Corney came home for his holidays, 
 very well, and brown and merry; while Courtenay 
 returned for the long vacation, paler and taller than 
 ever, having evidently overworked himself. 
 
 Courtenay's sojourn at the Manor House, how- 
 ever, was not to be a long one. He had a conver- 
 sation with his mother a few days after his arrival, 
 which led to this result.
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 327 
 
 He was, in his way, a conscientious youth, but 
 nevertheless he was not above the affectation of pre- 
 tending to be absorbed in his Greek testament as she 
 came across the garden, work-basket in hand, to the 
 bench beside the low wicker chair where he lay, re- 
 posing his long limbs in the early morning sunshine. 
 
 The sound of the grass-cutter came pleasantly 
 through the still air, and the occasional call of the 
 man guiding his horses up and down the slope of the 
 meadow-land on the outer edge of the feathery sea 
 of ripe grass which stood in the midst of the fallen 
 crop. 
 
 Courtenay was doubly self-conscious just now, be- 
 cause he desired to bestow a gentle lecture upon his 
 parent and had not quite made up his mind how to 
 begin. As she innocently supposed him to be ab- 
 sorbed in study she afforded him no opening, and 
 consequently he was presently obliged to plunge sud- 
 denly into the topic uppermost in his mind. 
 
 " In my father's absence I cannot think it right, 
 mother, that Cantrill should be permitted to make 
 himself quite so much at home as he does. Annie 
 and Yorath are all very well. That is a different 
 matter. Nobody could desire a better marriage for 
 her, and Yorath is a particularly charming man. Be- 
 sides everyone knows all about him. But after all, 
 who is Cantrill? And what do we know of him? " 
 
 " I am glad you approve of Lord Yorath," said 
 Mrs. Kemys, half smiling and half vexed. " But 
 I happen to think Mr. Cantrill a very charming
 
 328 THE TYRANT 
 
 man, too, in his way. And as for what we know 
 about him, we know he is a great friend of Canon 
 Brettle's and the guest of Mr. Meredydd." 
 
 " But I cannot find out that you have made any 
 enquiries about him," said Courtenay, " beyond 
 those two facts which mean nothing. Sophy seems 
 to think that he must be everything desirable simply 
 because his sister married a septuagenarian bishop. 
 In the absence of my father, and and Rodric, I 
 think you might have consulted me." 
 
 " My dear boy, your father will make any en- 
 quiries he chooses when he returns." 
 
 " I do not for a moment believe that my father 
 will sanction the engagement." 
 
 " That may be, Courtenay, but until he comes 
 I have to act as I think proper. And there is So- 
 phy's happiness to be considered. I think you 
 should consider it particularly, for she has always 
 been a very devoted little sister to you." 
 
 " I am considering it, but my desire for her wel- 
 fare does not blind me to the fact that she is a mere 
 child, who cannot know her own mind," said Court- 
 enay loftily. 
 
 " She is eighteen now. I was Roddy's mother 
 before I was nineteen," said Mrs. Kemys, remem- 
 bering Mr. Cantrill's arguments. 
 
 Courtenay was disconcerted, but not silenced. 
 
 " He is much too old for her, and I am surprised 
 she should fancy him at all, for personally I con- 
 sider him a prig. He corrected a quotation I made
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 329 
 
 yesterday at luncheon in the most uncalled for way, 
 considering I was his host." 
 
 Courtenay had occupied his father's place with 
 great content and dignity since his return. 
 
 " Dear boy, let us go on happily together while 
 we can," said Mrs. Kemys pleadingly. " Troubles 
 and partings come soon enough. Your sisters have 
 had little pleasure in their young lives. Do not 
 grudge them their enjoyment of these bright summer 
 days. You will like Mr. Cantrill better when you 
 know him better, and I think you will enjoy the pic- 
 nics too." 
 
 " Picnics are not In my line," said Courtenay, dis- 
 contentedly, " and Sophy is so taken up " 
 
 " Is that it? " she smiled at him kindly. " My 
 poor boy. But I want you to enjoy your holidays. 
 What would you like to do, if you do not care for 
 picnics? I want you to be happy too." 
 
 " That is beside the point. I do not look for hap- 
 piness. Besides, I question very much if human life 
 was ever intended to be happy," said' Courtenay, 
 gloomily. " I was not thinking of my personal 
 wishes." 
 
 " But I want you to think of your personal 
 wishes." 
 
 "How can I?" he muttered. "When you've 
 had so many expenses, what with Manuel, and Rod- 
 dy and one thing and another " 
 
 " Then there is something you have set your heart 
 on. Dear Courtenay, tell me what it is. Never
 
 330 THE TYRANT 
 
 mind expense. I might be able to manage it." 
 
 " I am not asking it, mother," he said, almost an- 
 grily, " do you suppose I can't see that you'll have 
 trouble enough when my father 1 comes home? 
 When I think of all you've been doing. Even if it 
 is as you say that Mr. Turley found you had a 
 claim to to money, I've no right to ask you to 
 throw it away upon me." 
 
 She would have risen and kissed him if she dared, 
 but she was a well-trained mother of sons, so she 
 refrained from any such demonstration, and con- 
 tented herself with leaning forward to bestow a soft 
 caress on the sleeve of his blue serge jacket. 
 
 His consideration touched her. Perhaps, as his 
 brothers and sisters declared, Courtenay was a prig, 
 but he was a good boy in the main, and if not usu- 
 ally given to much thought for others, at least he 
 thought of his mother. 
 
 " My darling boy. It would not be throwing it 
 away. I would do as much for you as for Roddy. 
 And you deserve a holiday if anyone does. You 
 have cost us hardly anything. When I think of your 
 scholarships and your hard work " 
 
 " That's all right," said Courtenay, in great 
 alarm. He could accept Sophy's gross flattery of 
 his mediocre lyrical efforts, with equanimity, and 
 even eagerness; but when a chance word of praise 
 was bestowed upon his real achievements he grew 
 restive and uncomfortable.
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 331 
 
 ' You can't compare my case with Roddy's. He 
 was being started in life. My case is quite differ- 
 ent." 
 
 " I don't know what your case is, dear." 
 
 She drew from him at length the admission of 
 his yearning to join a select company of his own espe- 
 cial cronies, who had planned a reading party in 
 Switzerland; intending to combine work with sight- 
 seeing. 
 
 " But, Courtenay, there is no reason on earth why 
 you shouldn't go." 
 
 He mentioned the probable cost of his own share 
 of the expedition. 
 
 " My dearest boy ! It would not amount to much 
 more than the price of a couple of new dresses for 
 Annie." 
 
 " Then it's a great shame that girls' clothes 
 should be allowed to cost so much," said Courtenay, 
 thunderstruck. 
 
 " So much that you see your going or staying will 
 make practically no difference," she said, smiling ner- 
 vously. 
 
 " It will make all the difference to me," exclaimed 
 Courtenay. " All the difference to my chances of dis- 
 tinguishing myself apart from the enjoyment, 
 and apart from the good to my health, for, after all, 
 one has to consider keeping fit if one wants to be 
 good for anything." 
 
 His light blue eyes lit up with excitement. He
 
 332 THE TYRANT 
 
 could not sit still, but picked up his book from the 
 lawn, and began to walk up and down in great agi- 
 tation. 
 
 " If you are quite, quite sure, mother, that it 
 won't add to your difficulties, of course it would 
 be heaven on earth to me. When you think I have 
 never been outside England! But I thought it 
 might be just the last straw " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " The only difference it will make to me is that 
 I shall be sorry not to have you with me, dear boy." 
 
 " I shall be here another day or two," he said 
 consolingly. " And I say I can go and look up 
 Manuel and tell you how the little chap is get- 
 ting on." 
 
 ; ' That will be another great advantage," she said 
 gratefully, " though I have splendid reports." 
 
 " I must make my arrangements at once," said 
 Courtenay. 
 
 His listless manner had vanished. He put the 
 Greek testament into his pocket, and his expression 
 was alert and joyful. 
 
 " Do, my darling. I hope you will have a happy 
 summer." 
 
 " I think I can promise you it will be a profitable 
 one," he said, looking almost radiant. 
 
 He fidgeted around her bench for a moment, and 
 then said suddenly and shyly: 
 
 ' You know, mother, I shall return it all to 
 you one day a thousand- fold," and actually
 
 COURTENAY'S LONG VACATION 333 
 
 stooped and gave her a hurried kiss, in full view of 
 the Manor House windows. 
 
 Three days later Courtenay departed, vainly try- 
 ing to conceal the elation that possessed him. 
 
 Just before mounting the dog-cart that was to con- 
 vey him and his modest baggage to the station, he 
 stepped aside from the group assembled on the steps 
 of the Manor House to witness his departure, and 
 said a few words in his mother's ear. 
 
 " By the bye, mother, you need not worry any 
 more over what I said to you about Cantrill." 
 
 " What you said about Mr. Cantrill? " 
 
 " He is all right, after all," whispered Courte- 
 nay, excitedly. " There is no need for you to make 
 the enquiries I advised. I have just found out, 
 though, if you will believe it, Sophy herself did not 
 know it that he is a Fellow of Trinity, and got 
 the Ireland."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 CORNEY WITH A LETTER 
 
 THE party was now yet further diminished in num- 
 bers by the departure of Sophy whose loud com- 
 plaints that Annie had been permitted to stay for 
 weeks and weeks with the Yoraths in spite of the 
 fact that her father had not yet given his consent 
 to the engagement, whereas she only asked to be al- 
 lowed to stay from Monday to Saturday with the 
 bishop's wife at last took effect. 
 
 Her mother consented. Sharman, who had re- 
 turned from Switzerland, was to go with her as 
 maid, and old Mr. Meredydd, who was also bid- 
 den to the palace, promised to escort her. 
 
 It was decreed, in accordance with his sister's 
 views of propriety, that Mr. Cantrill should meet 
 his loved one under the episcopal roof and not ac- 
 company her upon the journey. 
 
 Their departure was something of a relief, for 
 Sophy's grievances had of late been especially pres- 
 sing; and Mrs. Kemys enjoyed a quiet summer even- 
 ing, wandering round the garden with Annie, who 
 carried the wooden basket while her mother clipped 
 off the dead roses. 
 
 " I have never known the roses bloom so continu-, 
 334
 
 CORNEY WITH A LETTER 335 
 
 ously. But then I have never known such a sum- 
 mer," she said. 
 
 " Papa is a wonderful gardener," said Annie. 
 ' There are no such roses at Artramont. It is not 
 so pretty as this place, mother, though it is so much 
 bigger and finer." 
 
 "It is not an old house but you will love it 
 better than this in time, my darling. You are go- 
 ing over to spend the day there to-morrow? " 
 
 " Austen is coming over to fetch me in the mo- 
 tor," said Annie. " I hope it will be fine." 
 
 " The sky looks rather threatening," said Mrs. 
 Kemys. " We could do with a thunderstorm. It 
 would refresh everything after the heat. But I hope 
 if it comes that it will not break up the summer." 
 
 " Mother, do you know that this has been the 
 happiest summer of my whole life? " 
 
 " I am glad, my darling," said Mrs. Kemys, but 
 she felt a little pang, nevertheless. 
 
 " Oh, Mamma, you are thinking it is because of 
 Austen, and of course it must be; how could I help 
 it? His love has glorified everything. But it has 
 been home too. For I have been even happier here 
 than I was in London. It's all been ideal; you so 
 sweet and dear, and the beautiful summer days with 
 no ugly words or rows to disfigure them, as there 
 used to be. The long happy days with Austen, and 
 the long peaceful evenings with you. I have an in- 
 stinct that tells me such a time can never come to
 
 336 THE TYRANT 
 
 me again in all my life, however happy I may be. 
 It's been too like Paradise." 
 
 They were walking down the ilex avenue now, and 
 she stopped suddenly, and put her arms about her 
 mother, and cried a little. 
 
 "Annie, dearest, what is it? You are over 
 tired?" 
 
 " No, no. Oh, Mamma ! You always think of 
 one's bodily health," cried Annie, half laughing and 
 half impatient. " Don't you know that one may 
 be so happy that one can't bear it? That it makes 
 one suddenly see too clearly the unhappy side of life? 
 The partings the endings of old things that must 
 come with the beginnings of new ones. Wasn't 
 there ever a time in your life when you felt like that? 
 thinking that your joy must bring sorrow to some- 
 one " 
 
 " I don't think I was ever so tender-hearted as 
 you are, my darling," said Mrs. Kemys, simply. 
 " I was wrapt up in my own bliss. I look back and 
 wonder at my selfishness " 
 
 "Were you ever selfish? And had you ever a 
 summer in your life like this? Do you mean when 
 you and Papa " Annie's wonder made her tone 
 incredulous. 
 
 " Oh, Annie, yes, yes," cried her mother, but she 
 could not put her memories into words, though her 
 tremulous smile, and the tears in her eyes as she 
 looked at her child were eloquent. 
 
 She thought of that long past summer, and the
 
 CORNEY WITH A LETTER 337 
 
 far-off days when she, too, trod upon air, and dwelt, 
 in dreams; and of a girl as fair as Annie, with a 
 young lover more imperious, more eager, but not less 
 devoted than Annie's lover, who was so tender and 
 so considerate of her child. 
 
 '' Is there anything more depressing than a wet 
 day in summer?" asked old Mrs. Kemys, dismally. 
 There had been a violent thunderstorm during the 
 night, and the rain had descended steadily through- 
 out the day. She looked out upon muddy walks, 
 soaked grass, dripping trees, and sodden roses droop- 
 ing their melancholy heads, with half their petals 
 dashed to earth. " Look at my geraniums all 
 splashed and spoilt. I can see them absolutely shiv- 
 ering in this unaccustomed chill and storm and wind. 
 And let me tell you, my dear, that the expression of 
 your face reflects the dreariness of the weather." 
 
 " I suppose the suspense is beginning to tell on 
 me," said Annette. " I cannot understand getting 
 no news from Richard. There has been time to 
 hear by letter since his cable came. I don't even 
 know where he is, nor when he expects to return. 
 One would think he would have something to say 
 about Annie's engagement, even if he does not ap- 
 prove." 
 
 " It would be more like him to say nothing, but 
 catch the first steamer home, and walk suddenly in 
 upon us, and take all by surprise," said Mrs. Kemys. 
 
 " He would not take me by surprise," said An-
 
 338 THE TYRANT 
 
 nette, " for that is exactly what I am expecting him 
 to do, every hour of the day and night." 
 
 ;t Then he will not do it, my dear, since it is always 
 the unexpected which happens." 
 
 " I think he will do it, dear Granny." 
 
 There was a pause, and then old Mrs. Kemys said, 
 with an attempt at lightness 
 
 " After all, he cannot kill you." 
 
 " Do you think if he did that I should care 
 very much? " said Annette, gazing out upon the rain 
 with her Jhin in her hand. " Anything would be 
 better than the suspense I have endured lately." 
 
 " My dear, you have done wonders. Whatever 
 Richard may say to you he cannot undo the good you 
 have done for the children. There is little Manuel, 
 growing stronger every day, through the mercy of 
 God and the energy of his mother; poor Courtenay 
 enjoying a respite, it is to be hoped, from the burn- 
 ing of the midnight oil, and I trust stretching his 
 long legs and straightening his cramped back, climb- 
 ing the Swiss mountains; Roddy, dear boy, happy 
 and content in his new life; Sophy provided for 
 though to be sure that is more by good luck than 
 good management and Annie Well," said 
 Mrs. Kemys chuckling, " Richard will hardly be 
 able to blame you for Annie's good fortune, since it 
 was his own bad driving that made her acquainted 
 with Lord Yorath." 
 
 " Granny, I am frightened by my very success. 
 After the long grey time, with nothing going right,
 
 CORNEY WITH A LETTER 339 
 
 the poor children discontented; their father grum- 
 bling, in constant displeasure; I, never seeming able 
 to mend matters though I worked night and day; 
 and now suddenly suddenly every tangle seems 
 to have smoothed itself out as though by magic. I 
 did evil whatever anyone may say I felt it to be 
 evil that good might come. And good has come 
 with a completeness that makes me actually 
 afraid" 
 
 ; ' Why not put it differently? It would be just 
 as fair to say that Providence helps those who help 
 themselves," said Mrs. Kemys impatiently. " Of 
 what are you afraid? " 
 
 " I am afraid that when Richard comes back the 
 cup of happiness will be dashed from Annie's lips at 
 least if not from mine. Things cannot go on in 
 this happy-go-lucky yet prosperous manner. It is 
 not possible. Misfortune must come." 
 
 " It will not be your fault if it does. You have 
 done the best you can." 
 
 "Have 1 I?" said Annette. "Dear Granny, I 
 wonder. I wonder if, when Richard comes home, 
 and you know exactly what I have done whether 
 you will blame me? " 
 
 " I am quite sure I shall not," said Mrs. Kemys, 
 stubbornly. " Richard has treated you and his 
 children with great injustice for a number of years. 
 If you have therefore, by any chance, been able to 
 get the better of him during his absence, why in his 
 own best interests and those of his children you
 
 340 THE TYRANT 
 
 would have been a great fool not to do so. That 
 is my common-sense view of the matter. He may 
 blame you for taking advantage of him and no 
 doubt he will. But after all he wouldn't -have been 
 the least grateful to you if you hadn't. He would 
 have taken it as a matter of course, just as he has 
 always taken your devotion to him." 
 
 " It would have been a matter of course if " 
 
 " Exactly. //." 
 
 Then they were both silent, looking out upon the 
 rain; perhaps equally troubled in mind, though the 
 older lady had striven so decidedly to cheer the 
 younger. 
 
 At six o'clock the rain ceased, Annette took leave 
 of her mother-in-law, and returned home, picking 
 her way across the wet grass to the door in the wall 
 which opened upon the kitchen-garden of the Manor 
 House. 
 
 A gleam of sunshine broke out, lighting the rain 
 drops hanging upon the gooseberry and currant 
 bushes, making the wet paths glisten, and gilding the 
 lower branches of the cedar, which rose darkly, 
 against a purple bank of heavy clouds. It lighted 
 also the uncovered flaxen head of little Corney, who 
 stood in the garden porch, shading his eyes with his 
 hand, and looking out. 
 
 " Were you watching for me, my son? " 
 
 The little boy nodded.
 
 CORNEY WITH A LETTER 34 i 
 
 " Are you coming upstairs to your own room? " he 
 asked, anxiously. 
 
 " I will come, if you wish it. Have you some- 
 thing to say to me? " 
 
 He nodded again. 
 
 His expression was important and his ruddy face 
 grave and intent. He walked upstairs before her, 
 tramping solemnly in his heavy boots, leading the 
 way to her room. 
 
 " Have you been getting into mischief, my son? " 
 she said. 
 
 Corney shut the door and stood before it, like a 
 sentinel. 
 
 " No," he said. " It's a commission. I was to 
 give you something from Annie." 
 
 He took a letter from his pocket. 
 
 " I was to give it to you at six o'clock, or as soon 
 after as I could. But you were to be alone when I 
 gave it to you. It is past six now." 
 
 Mrs. Kemys took the letter and read it, standing 
 in the middle of the room. 
 
 " Darling mother, darling, darling. When you 
 get this, Austen and I will be married. It's for your 
 sake, or do, do believe we would never have done it. 
 It has been so hard not to tell you. I longed to tell 
 you, yesterday evening, when we were walking in 
 the garden, you cutting off the dead roses and I car- 
 rying the basket just I used when I was little. I 
 longed to cry out to you that this was the last even-
 
 342 THE TYRANT 
 
 ing, and that I should never be Annie Kemys any 
 more. 
 
 4 When Papa comes home now he can't blame 
 you, poor Mamma. You knew nothing, you dreamt 
 nothing. It was just Annie's wickedness, our 
 wickedness, Austen's and mine. 
 
 ' When the cablegram came, Austen was angry. 
 He is very stern and quiet when he is angry, not like 
 Papa. He said that was not the answer we had 
 asked for, nor the answer that ought to have been 
 sent. In fact it was no answer at all. And I agreed 
 with him, and knowing. Papa, I felt quite, quite 
 sure that it only meant he was coming home to have 
 a dreadful row, and insult Austen, and bully you, 
 and make you so unhappy that perhaps from pity 
 I might be forced to give him up or wait at least 
 until I was twenty-one. 
 
 " So Austen said we had better be married at 
 once, and his mother said so too, but I said I couldn't 
 be married except from my own home, and that I 
 must go back to you first. And she thought and 
 said I was quite right and that it ought not to be 
 while I was staying with them. And Austen said 
 wherever it was the responsibility was his only, and 
 his mother must have nothing to do with it. She 
 was a little displeased, I am afraid, but she promised 
 not to interfere, and it was agreed that instead of 
 staying until the end of the season I was to come 
 home. The rest is all between Austen and me. He 
 brought me down from London as you know, and
 
 CORNET WITH A LETTER 343 
 
 on the way we settled it all, and oh mother, if I was 
 a little disappointed to think I should never have the 
 beautiful wedding I had dreamt of, yet when I saw 
 your dear face so thin and white, and found out what 
 you tried to hide, how you dreaded Papa's return, 
 and everything falling through, and the old unhappy 
 days coming back, and your Annie losing the won- 
 derful, wonderful happiness she had found then 
 I could not regret anything. 
 
 " I let Austen plan it all his own way. It would 
 have been much sooner only his lawyers were so 
 dreadfully slow because he said there must be proper 
 settlements and things, all the more because he had 
 the sole responsibility. The poor Angel had to have 
 a habitation or whatever they call it at Chidlow to 
 enable us to be married there. He chose it because 
 it was so far off and no one would know him, and 
 we are to be married at two o'clock this afternoon. 
 
 " Oh mother darling, I never thought I should 
 cry on my wedding day, but I am crying now be- 
 cause it seems such a sad strange little way to get 
 married. I'm writing this in my room, and Austen 
 will be here presently to take me as you think 
 to Artramont, but really to Chidlow, and then to 
 London where we pick up the luggage that is wait- 
 ing for me in Eaton Place. Oh, it is raining so 
 hard, I shall not be the bride the sun shines on. 
 
 u I am going to trust this letter to little Corney, 
 who is the wisest and safest messenger in the world 
 and who will do exactly what he promises to do.
 
 344 THE TYRANT 
 
 " I will telegraph our address to-morrow, and 
 then, mother darling, you'll write to me and forgive 
 me, and say you understand. Oh, if I could dare 
 to think you would be glad, but I daren't quite hope 
 for that, I am afraid you will feel obliged to be a 
 little vexed. But think how much trouble and 
 quarrelling and argument and crying have been 
 avoided, and remember I am going to marry him 
 whom I love so dearly that I should die if I were 
 parted from him, and forgive your own, 
 
 " Annie." 
 
 " Mother, mother," said little Corney, " Annie 
 said I was to stand by and watch while you read her 
 letter, and that if reading it made you unhappy, I 
 was to comfort you. Has it made you unhappy, 
 mother ? " said the little boy, anxiously. 
 
 Mrs. Kemys hid her face in her hands.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 
 
 THE first newspaper placard which caught the eye 
 of Richard Kemys upon his arrival in London from 
 New Zealand acquainted him with the news of 
 his daughter's marriage. 
 
 His attention was attracted by the sight of his 
 own name in large letters. Then he read : 
 
 Romantic wedding of sporting Peer with Welsh 
 Heiress. Lord Yorath, the well known Big Game 
 Hunter, elopes with Miss Kemys of Nantgwilt. 
 
 He stood still for a moment before the announce- 
 ment, and then lifted his hand to beckon the boy 
 with the paper . . . The dreaded pang shot 
 through his left breast and almost paralysed arm and 
 hand. He stood motionless, suffocating unable 
 to move . 
 
 " I say," said young Bewan, gently, " that was a 
 bad turn." 
 
 With a kind of rough solicitude he assisted him 
 presently into a cab, and they drove off together. 
 
 Their destination was the Great Western Hotel. 
 
 The clip-clop of the horse fell heavily and slowly 
 on their ears, as they sat, side by side, in silence. 
 The heat of the London streets on this summer day 
 345.
 
 346 THE TYRANT 
 
 was almost tropical. The dust of wood paving, the 
 breath of asphalt and the glare of stone equally 
 trying. 
 
 Richard Kemys turned his blue eyes upon his 
 companion with something of the past agony still 
 lurking in their depths. 
 
 " I was only startled, not angry," he said, almost 
 pleadingly. " It's hard luck on a man to be met 
 with a a sudden shock to make him worse again 
 the very day he sets foot in his native country. 
 Where's the newspaper? Did you get it? " 
 
 " I got it. You can't read it now. For the 
 Lord's sake, wait till you're settled comfortably in 
 your own room before you begin thinking of any- 
 thing that agitates or vexes you." 
 
 " I don't know that it vexes me," said Richard 
 Kemys, rather sullenly. 
 
 He said nothing more on the subject, however, 
 until their arrival at Paddington. 
 
 Robert Bewan saw him safely installed in an 
 armchair beside the open window of his bedroom, 
 and then handed him over the paper, with a warning 
 look and word. 
 
 The paragraph it contained told Richard no more 
 than the announcement upon the placard; beyond 
 the additional statement that the marriage had taken 
 place at Chidlow. 
 
 He lay back with closed eyes considering the mat- 
 ter, almost surprised by the philosophic calm with 
 which he was inclined to regard it.
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 347 
 
 The time of his anger had been when the news 
 of his daughter's attachment first reached him, upon 
 his arrival at Auckland. 
 
 The voyage had been uneventful. His health 
 had certainly benefitted, though he observed with an- 
 noyance that the combination of good living and in- 
 activity was causing him to grow perceptibly and 
 rapidly stouter. 
 
 There had been no return of the pain he dreaded, 
 and, in the absence of its return his fears had been 
 almost lulled to rest. 
 
 He did not forget that he had followed the doc- 
 tor's advice and undertaken the sea voyage, but he 
 regretted the impulse which had led him to engage 
 the young medico to accompany him. 
 
 Robert Bewan had proved a most good-natured 
 and unobtrusive, if rough-mannered companion, and 
 he was as popular in the main with his fellow-pas- 
 sengers as Richard Kemys was the reverse. 
 
 But he had been of no use to his employer be- 
 cause his employer had been to all appearances per- 
 fectly well; and though Richard could not be sorry 
 for this, he was very sorry that he had wasted a 
 first class return fare upon an attendant whose serv- 
 ices had proved unnecessary. 
 
 He did not make himself agreeable to young 
 Bewan, but his rudeness was met by an imperturb- 
 able good temper. It was evident that the medical 
 student regarded him merely as a cross patient, and 
 humoured him accordingly. There was little satis-
 
 348 THE TYRANT 
 
 faction to be got out of snubbing him, but Richard 
 Kemys got what satisfaction he could. 
 
 The immunity from further manifestation of the 
 dreaded symptoms, which he had enjoyed during the 
 voyage, had restored his confidence, and he landed 
 in good spirits, and almost forgot the necessity for 
 mounting guard over his emotions which had been 
 urged upon him, so that when he read his wife's 
 letters informing him of Lord Yorath's proposal to 
 Annie, and betraying the fact that the acquaintance 
 so inauspiciously begun had been continued during 
 his absence he gave way to his anger without at- 
 tempting to exercise the slightest control over him- 
 self. The manliness of Lord Yorath's letter did not 
 soothe his outraged dignity, nor did the pleading of 
 his daughter assuage his wrath, any more than his 
 wife's anxious representations of the obvious ad- 
 vantages of the match. He sent off the cablegram 
 they demanded in a fury indescribable, meaning it 
 indeed, as Annie had divined, to be a threat. 
 
 His rage was cut short by an attack so severe that 
 it threatened to suffocate him. It was followed in 
 a few hours by another, and a day or two later by 
 a third. His alarms returned tenfold. 
 
 Young Bewan now repaid his patron's incivility 
 by unremitting kindness and attention ; and Richard, 
 subdued, and even terrified, by the agony he had en- 
 dured, accepted his ministrations, allowed him to 
 call in the best medical advice, and for a time sub- 
 mitted to every remedy suggested.
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 349 
 
 The New Zealand doctor was franker than the 
 London specialist had been, or took a more serious 
 view of the case. He advised Richard to postpone 
 his journey home, and send for his wife. But his 
 patient declared he was better at sea, and insisted 
 upon undertaking the return voyage immediately. 
 If he had to rest, he would rest at home. He re- 
 solved, however, to cultivate henceforth the philos- 
 ophy urged upon him by Robert Bewan, to whom he 
 had in his first outburst of indignation, confided the 
 fact of his daughter's engagement. 
 
 Robert Bewan was naturally only amused and in- 
 terested by this sequel to the motor accident he had 
 witnessed, and his wonder, not unmingled with con- 
 tempt, at the notion that any man could allow a 
 mere wound to his own amour propre to stand in the 
 way of his child's happiness, and a marriage so ad- 
 vantageous in every respect, was expressed with 
 the bluntness that characterized him. His out- 
 spokenness was not without its effect. 
 
 Richard began to wonder at himself, and even, 
 perhaps, to grow a little ashamed in secret of his 
 outburst. He thought too of the fate that was 
 threatening him, and beside it the importance of 
 all other happenings appeared to dwindle. Fool 
 that he was to allow himself to be irritated at the 
 risk of his health nay of his life. 
 
 After all, though he had disliked Lord Yorath at 
 first sight, and his brow grew dark at the recol- 
 lection of the handsome face that had confronted his
 
 350 THE TYRANT 
 
 own so calmly and disdainfully yet it could not be 
 denied that such a marriage would be a fine thing 
 for Annie. 
 
 He had not answered his wife's letters only be- 
 cause he knew that his silence would be more terrible 
 to her than any expression of wrath ; but as the days 
 went on he became glad that he had not committed 
 himself in writing, nor by his ambiguous cable. 
 
 He was very ill on the voyage home, how ill he 
 perhaps hardly realised. But when he rallied, and 
 spent long hours reclining in his deck chair, he 
 amused himself by picturing his return to Nantgwilt. 
 He fancied himself obliging his haughty would-be 
 son-in-law to eat humble-pie, before he finally re- 
 lented and permitted his daughter to marry the most 
 eligible bachelor in the county. 
 
 He did not think with any special tenderness of 
 Annie, though of all his. children she and little 
 Corney had come nearest to the finding of the soft 
 spot in his heart, if any such soft spot could be said 
 to exist. But he began to dwell with pleasure upon 
 the thought of her reigning at Artramont; and he 
 tried to remember all he had ever heard of the for- 
 tune Lord Yorath's grandfather had made. 
 
 Since therefore, the idea of the marriage had 
 grown familiar to him, it was not anger, as he said, 
 so much as amaze which possessed him on beholding 
 the announcement of the newspaper placard. 
 
 He was struck dumb with astonishment that he 
 should thus be set at naught, and that the marriage
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 351 
 
 he had but just made up his mind to sanction, should 
 have become an accomplished fact without either his 
 authority or knowledge. 
 
 " I suppose it was the the surprise which upset 
 me," he said to young Bewan. 
 
 " Whatever it was, it's a good thing the marriage 
 is over for your sake," said the young man, sensibly. 
 " You'd better look at it like that. A wedding al- 
 ways means a lot of fuss, and bother, and emotion. 
 And very likely quarrelling in your case," he added 
 to himself, but this reflection he kept from the ears 
 of Mr. Kemys. 
 
 " It's all very well but I know I'm talking like 
 a fool when I say it's this or that which upset me. 
 On board ship there was no reason, and yet I felt 
 myself getting worse every day," said the older man, 
 gloomily. " I don't believe I'm in a fit state to go 
 home at all." 
 
 " I don't think you're in a fit state to be away 
 from home just now," said young Bewan, soothingly. 
 " That's the right way to put it. Look here, come 
 with me to-morrow and see the man you saw before 
 leaving England." 
 
 " You told me he wasn't the right man." 
 
 " I'd rather you saw Sir Jeremy, of course. But 
 you jibed at that last time I suggested it." 
 
 " Why should I see any more people? " said Rich- 
 ard Kemys angrily. " Hasn't the ship's surgeon 
 been looking after me all this time? You did noth- 
 ing but sing his praises. For my part the New
 
 352 THE TYRANT 
 
 Zealand fellow was the only doctor I believed in. 
 He told me straight out there was nothing to be 
 done but keep my courage up and hope for the best. 
 How much plainer would you have a man speak? 
 What's the use of dragging me round to any more 
 doctors ? You know very well they can't do me any 
 good." 
 
 The medical student was silent. 
 " We'll stop here of course to-night," said Richard, 
 " and I'll rest through the heat of the day to-mor- 
 row, if it's another day like this ; and go home then 
 in the cool of the evening." 
 
 " Do they expect you? Have you written? " 
 "How could I write?" growled Richard. 
 " Would you like to send a telegram? " 
 " No, I shouldn't. Look here, you shall come 
 down with me, and see my wife, and prepare her for 
 for this. Tell her I know all about this in- 
 fernal wedding and that I don't care a straw about 
 that or or anything else now. Tell her she's 
 got to keep every mortal bother and worry away 
 from me. I want to sit in the garden and not see 
 a soul till till I'm either better or worse. Or if 
 I've got to see a doctor, I'll have Harries. I've 
 known him all my life, and he's just as good as 
 anyone else." 
 
 " Suppose Mrs. Kemys should be away from 
 home?" 
 
 " She's never away from home." 
 
 " You ought to be met at the station."
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 353 
 
 " I'll walk. For God's sake don't keep making 
 idiotic suggestions. Will you come or will you 
 not?" 
 
 " Oh, I'll come," said the young man, shrugging 
 his shoulders. To himself he said, " I'll come for 
 the wife's sake." 
 
 Thus it was arranged between them that they 
 should travel down to Nantgwilt together on the 
 morrow. 
 
 Annette had spent the evening out of doors with 
 little Corney ; listening to his stories of his school ex- 
 periences, and his boasting of what " our fellows " 
 had done in recent school matches. 
 
 He was very happy to have his mother all to 
 himself, and chattered away until a late hour, when 
 she bethought herself, and sent him to bed. 
 
 She remained in the pleasant summer darkness 
 alone, listening absently to the twitter of the birds 
 in the ilex grove; with her mind full of Annie, and 
 of the letter of loving reproach and forgiveness and 
 blessing that she had that day sent her. 
 
 The square embattled tower of the church, out- 
 lined against a pale luminous sky, rose above the 
 steep roof of the old house. Only one or two of 
 the windows in all that dark mass of building 
 showed a twinkling light. 
 
 A Dresden lamp, with a yellow shade, stood in 
 the oak drawing-room, and its cheerful glow was cast 
 in a brilliant square upon the lawn.
 
 354 THE TYRANT 
 
 The porch was dark, but her eyes, accustomed to 
 the darkness, perceived an indistinct movement in 
 the doorway. She fancied someone had come out of 
 the house and was standing there. She rose, sup- 
 posing that old Pryse, who liked early hours, was 
 fidgetting about, waiting for her to come in, that he 
 might shut up the house. 
 
 But as she moved slowly across the lawn she saw 
 two figures cross the space between the lamp and the 
 uncurtained window of the drawing-room ; and one of 
 the figures massive, square-shouldered, unmis- 
 takable she recognised instantly. 
 
 The shock was so great that her heart almost 
 ceased beating. 
 
 The moment had come. Everything must now be 
 known. Her own treachery was it treachery ? 
 She told herself that it was, as she stood out there 
 among the deep shadows, shivering in the breath- 
 less heat of the summer night, and watching that un- 
 conscious mighty figure of her husband in the light. 
 
 Everything must come out. The absence of 
 Roddy was already known, but that of Courtenay, 
 and little Manuel had to be accounted for. Sophy's 
 visit to the bishop's wife, which had seemed so 
 reasonable when Sophy and Mr. Cantrill had ar- 
 gued in its favour, now suddenly became a mon- 
 strous thing because she saw it with Richard's 
 eyes. Annie's marriage ah, if he had come 
 two days earlier ! Thank God he had not come two 
 days earlier.
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 355 
 
 The absence of the children the innovations 
 the repairs the cottages how reckless she had 
 been; but to what excellent purpose 1 She clasped 
 her thin hands across her bosom as though to still 
 the tempestuous beating of her heart. 
 
 She said to herself in the calm of despair that she 
 had sown the wind and must reap the whirlwind. 
 
 Then suddenly came a violent reaction. 
 
 She realised that the time of waiting of sicken- 
 ing suspense was over at last; and she was conscious 
 of a great throb of relief even in the midst of ter- 
 ror. No reproaches, no punishment could be 
 harder to bear than that burden of secret remorse. 
 
 Richard was, after all, not only the harsh, irri- 
 table, ill-tempered paterfamilias whom her children 
 knew ; he was also the man who had been her lover 
 in happier days ; her mate who had come back to her 
 after the longest separation they had known since 
 they were wed. She would go to him boldly, and 
 throw herself into his arms, and cry to him, " Rich- 
 ard, I love you, and I have wronged you." She 
 would pour forth her confession upon his breast. 
 
 Perhaps taken by surprise, in the first emotion or 
 gladness of his home-coming, remembering the many, 
 many times that she had accorded forgiveness to him 
 unasked he would listen to her, and be generous. 
 
 But if this were too great a happiness, even then 
 oh, paradise on earth only to be rid of the bur- 
 den of secrecy, of disloyalty, of deception and to 
 regain her lost peace of mind.
 
 356 THE TYRANT 
 
 Richard's figure passed and repassed the lamp. 
 Had he left the drawing-room? If so, she would 
 meet him in the hall perhaps he had gone upstairs 
 to seek her in their room . . . She hesitated, 
 took her courage in both hands, and went indoors. 
 
 The drawing-room door was open, and by the 
 table which held the yellow lamp stood a young man 
 whom she had never seen before. An ordinary 
 looking young man, with a bull-dog face and shrewd 
 eyes. 
 
 He came forward, as she paused, startled, upon 
 the threshold. His manners were respectful, but 
 perfectly unembarrassed. 
 
 " Please don't be frightened," he said, " your 
 husband has returned home unexpectedly, and 
 brought me with him. My name's Bewan. I ac- 
 companied him on his voyage to New Zealand, as 
 no doubt you know." 
 
 " I did not know," Annette hardly knew what to 
 say. " Where is my husband? " she said, faltering. 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 She stood irresolute, inclined to turn at once and 
 go in search of Richard ; but the young man held up 
 his hand, half entreatingly, half authoritatively. 
 
 " Please wait I know you must think it strange. 
 But please listen for a moment. He's he's not 
 been well." 
 
 She was no longer inclined to move. She stood
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 357 
 
 looking at him, with her pale face and startled eyes. 
 
 " I saw him pass the window? " 
 
 " Oh yes he's all right so far as appearance 
 goes. But he wants me to to explain things be- 
 fore he sees you. That's why he went upstairs as 
 soon as he heard you were in the garden, and left 
 me here to introduce myself. I'd have arranged it 
 better if I'd known how. But he's not an easy per- 
 son to manage, as I daresay you know. To begin 
 with, he wasn't fit to travel at all to-day, far less 
 walk up from the station. I'd no idea there was 
 such a hill. But he gets into such a violent state if 
 he's contradicted that I was just obliged to let him 
 do as he liked." 
 
 " Please explain as quickly as you can, and let me 
 go to him," said Annette. Her gentle dignity con- 
 cealed both her alarm and her offence at this manner 
 of Richard's home-coming; remorse was momen- 
 tarily dispelled by indignation. 
 
 " It's not so easy to explain since he's chosen, 
 so far as I can gather, to make such a mystery over 
 the whole bag of tricks," said Bewan, in rather 
 vexed tones. " I met him first the day he was upset 
 out of a dog-cart, I happened to be passing " 
 
 "You were the man on the bicycle?" she inter- 
 rupted quickly. 
 
 " I was the man on the bicycle if you like to 
 put it that way. I am a medical student, and I did 
 what I could for your daughter "
 
 358 THE TYRANT 
 
 " Yes, yes. They told me " she tried to hurry 
 out a word of thanks in the midst of her perceptible 
 agony of impatience. 
 
 " That's nothing. Lord Yorath carried her off 
 to the hospital, and I remained with your husband, 
 and attended to him." 
 
 An exclamation escaped the lips of Annette. 
 
 " Was he hurt then, after all? " 
 
 " Not to say hurt. He was shaken. It wasn't 
 that. And yet that may have had a good deal to do 
 with it too. It may have set something going 
 that was ripe for mischief. Anyway he had an at- 
 tack of the heart." 
 
 "Richard!" 
 
 " I told him what I thought it was, and advised 
 him to see a specialist, and there the matter ended 
 so far as I was concerned. But a day or two later 
 I ran up against him at the Great Western Hotel." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He'd consulted a doctor, who'd confirmed my 
 opinion more or less but the fact is, there are heart 
 cases which can't be diagnosed with any certainty 
 until after in fact, which can't be diagnosed " 
 said the young man confusedly. " For instance, 
 angina pectoris, you know, is often unassociated with 
 evident physical signs." 
 
 Annette did not know. She could not speak, but 
 made a gesture which implored him to proceed 
 quickly. 
 
 " I expect the doctor found his nerves in rather a
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 359 
 
 rotten state, and that's why he suggested a sea-voy- 
 age, and advised him not to go alone. So he asked 
 me to go with him, and I went. Going out there he 
 seemed to get much better " The medical student 
 hesitated. Why should he pain her by going into 
 details ? But after all, he told her, for she asked the 
 question. 
 
 " Did my letters upset him? " 
 
 " The news he got from home put him into one of 
 his rages," he said frankly. " But you know how 
 easily he's annoyed by the merest trifle. If it wasn't 
 one thing it was bound to be another. He'd been 
 warned to control his temper, but his temper's been 
 his master too long, I expect. He made himself ill, 
 and then got frightened and let me persuade him to 
 see a doctor. The doctor wanted him to stay out 
 there, and send for you, but he wouldn't. He in- 
 sisted on coming home. On the way back, it's 
 no use mincing matters he got much worse. 
 He's had several attacks lately, and he had one yes- 
 terday. By bad luck he saw the announcement of 
 your daughter's elopement, almost directly after he 
 landed. The surprise bowled him over a bit. Of 
 course I don't know if it's true? " 
 
 " It's true," she said faintly. 
 
 " I was to tell you he didn't mind," said the young 
 man, hastily. 
 
 " He didn't mind ! " she gasped. 
 
 Robert Bewan drew closer, and spoke in a lower 
 tone.
 
 360 THE TYRANT 
 
 " You see he's not in much of .a state just now to 
 mind anything," he said, confidentially. " He's in 
 a mortal funk of this beastly paia coming on again, 
 and the only thing he can take any interest in, for 
 the time being, is the hope of staving it off. You 
 and I would be just the same, you know, if we were 
 in his shoes. When it's a question of acute pain 
 agony it's no use pretending people can think of 
 anything else on the face of the earth, because they 
 can't. When one's seen the real thing, one knows. 
 All we can do for him is to try and keep him ab- 
 solutely quiet. He oughtn't to hear or see anything 
 which can irritate or upset him. He asked me to 
 explain this to you. He doesn't want anyone but 
 you to come near him. He wants you to keep every- 
 body else away. And you've got to be cheerful." 
 
 Annette was crying. 
 
 " I know it's awful rough luck on you," said the 
 young man, in his roughly compassionate tones, " his 
 coming home like this." 
 
 "It's not that," she murmured. ; ' Wait for- 
 give me. I don't know what I'm saying. I " 
 
 " I expect you want a minute or two to pull your- 
 self together, and no wonder," he said, awkwardly, 
 but with unmistakable sympathy. 
 
 He walked to the window and stood looking out 
 with his hands in his pockets, and his face consider- 
 ately averted. 
 
 The little wind had died away. 
 
 " By Jove, what a perfect night," said the medical
 
 THE DAY OF RECKONING 361 
 
 student, looking out at the starlit sky above the mo- 
 tionless tree-tops. 
 
 She crossed the room and stood beside him. 
 
 u I am calm now. It was the shock," she said. 
 " I should like to ask you a few questions, and then 
 I will go to him without any more delay. About 
 yourself of course you are staying here? " 
 
 " Thank you. Don't bother about me. Mr. 
 Kemys told the man to get a room ready. I'll look 
 after myself. There's nothing to keep you from 
 him." 
 
 " Have you any instructions for me? " 
 
 " Not now. You'll see the doctor to-morrow, you 
 know. He's sure to suggest something. I mustn't 
 interfere. And your husband has got the remedies 
 but of course you'd call me up if he were ill again 
 to-night. I hope that's not likely," he said hastily. 
 " There's nothing to do but keep him quiet as I've 
 already said, and I can't say it too emphatically. 
 Keep him quiet and avoid contradicting him. If 
 anything's happened during his absence that would 
 be likely to annoy him " 
 
 A faint sound escaped her lips almost like the 
 ghost of an hysterical laugh, but she mastered it in- 
 stantly. 
 
 " I am not to tell him?" 
 
 " No just keep it to yourself. Invent any ex- 
 cuses you choose. Don't let him hear anything that 
 could vex him until he's better." 
 
 She looked at him. The question trembled on her
 
 362 THE TYRANT 
 
 pale lips. Will he ever be better ? She did not utter 
 it, but he answered the look. 
 
 " It's impossible to tell." 
 
 His eyes were compassionate. 
 
 "Has he changed?" 
 
 " I don't think so not particularly. He may be 
 stouter." 
 
 In the doorway she turned. 
 
 " My husband has been of late years more es- 
 pecially easily irritated. Was it had the state 
 of his health anything to do with it? " She looked 
 at him once more; this time with parted lips that 
 trembled slightly, and an expression that uncon- 
 sciously besought an affirmative answer. 
 
 * Yes, yes, yes" he said almost violently. " Of 
 course it had. Everything in the world to do with 
 it." 
 
 The glance with which she thanked him, with its 
 pathetic lightening of relief and wonder and gladness, 
 was again more eloquent than words. 
 
 She hurried out of the room, and he turned away 
 with a lump in his throat and tears in his twinkling 
 grey eyes. 
 
 " Whether that's true or not but it's my belief 
 he was just born with a devil of a temper she may 
 as well have the comfort of thinking so," said the 
 medical student.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 
 
 THE change in the appearance of Richard Kemys 
 might escape the eyes of a stranger, but it did not 
 escape the eyes of his wife. The candles on the 
 dressing-table were lighted, and the night moths, at- 
 tracted through the open window, were hovering 
 about the flames. The dim illumination enabled her 
 to perceive that he was a little thinner in face, a 
 little stouter in figure, and that the thick hair on his 
 temples had turned white. 
 
 He was lying back in the armchair by the window 
 when she opened the door, and he did not move as 
 she crossed the room and came and knelt beside him, 
 and put her slight arm about his broad shoulders, 
 and laid her soft face against his rough chin. 
 
 " Dear Richard you have come home to me, 
 thank God." 
 
 " You've seen Bewan," he said gruffly. 
 
 " Yes, he told me all you wished. It shall all be 
 done. I will take care of you, and you'll get well 
 here, in the quiet." 
 
 He did not answer, but as she pressed his arm 
 very gently, she felt an answering pressure. So lit- 
 tle had she expected response that her heart leapt. 
 363
 
 364 THE TYRANT 
 
 Richard remained motionless within those encir- 
 cling arms, leaning his head against her as though he 
 were deriving some consolation, after all, from the 
 consciousness of her presence of her enveloping 
 tenderness and devotion, that would be enlisted in 
 his service against every ill that could befall him in 
 this world. 
 
 Annette fought with the emotion that threatened 
 to subdue her, and conquered it. 
 
 As she knelt beside her husband, with her thin face 
 set, and her light blue eyes fixed, no one could have 
 guessed the passion of awakened love and longing 
 and sorrow that throbbed in her heart. 
 
 It seemed to her that this revelation of Richard's 
 illness had restored him to her as the man she had 
 once believed him to be. 
 
 Recollections of his past ebullitions of temper, his 
 unreason, his causeless anger, his petty meanness and 
 despotism, long endured and regretted with shame 
 and tears all all fell away from the image 
 they had disfigured like so many ugly wrappings, to 
 be for ever discarded. 
 
 They were not Richard's attributes, but the symp- 
 toms of the dread hidden disease from which he had 
 suffered in secret. 
 
 The man who now leant against her bosom hiding 
 his feelings with sullen indomitable courage this 
 was the Richard she had adored. She longed to cry 
 out to him all her pity and tenderness and admiration 
 as she longed to confess to him her own unworthiness.
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 365 
 
 She had thought so many times of the way in which 
 he would come back. Of his asking for the children 
 who were absent, of the explanations she would have 
 to give, of the brunt of his anger which she would 
 have to bear. Waking and sleeping she had dreamt 
 of his return. She had seen him always as Richard 
 the avenger, towering over her, with loud voice and 
 angry eyes, demanding an account of her steward- 
 ship. But of this broken man lying back exhausted in 
 his chair, with the sad helpless look of pain in his 
 blue eyes, the deep furrow between his brows, and 
 his thick hair whitened at the temples she had 
 never thought. 
 
 How had Richard changed thus? Was it indeed 
 the master-tyrant Pain that had subdued and be- 
 wildered him, and brought him to this quiet that was 
 so unlike the Richard she had known ? Or was it, 
 oh was it that he was, already, a dying man? Rich- 
 ard ! Impossible. She had looked upon him as om- 
 nipotent so long that her brain refused to grasp the 
 fact that he was mortal. 
 
 She recalled the medical student's compassionate 
 look, and a cold doubt crept about her heart. She 
 thought of the long years of her married life, so mo- 
 notonous in the living of them that she had sometimes 
 asked herself wearily whether there would never be 
 any change; and lo, now that she had been warned 
 that a change might be at hand she could not believe 
 it. How could it come to an end that familiar 
 life of everyday in the familiar house the life of
 
 3 66 THE TYRANT 
 
 husband and wife of father and mother sur- 
 rounded by their children. Yet what could be more 
 certain than that the end must come, and that the 
 common lot must also be her portion and Richard's? 
 She adored her children. She had sacrificed her 
 peace of mind to her desire for their welfare; but 
 just now she realised them only as the merciless 
 younger generation, which rises triumphant as the 
 phoenix, from the ashes of its parents' loves and lives. 
 Her strong, mighty Richard would lie down meekly 
 to sleep with his father, and Roddy the young, the 
 bold, the joyous with splendid self-confidence 
 would reign in his stead. Suddenly she saw, as she 
 had seen in her dream, the grave smile of the old 
 Colonel, beckoning her to the Red House, and 
 realised with a strange pang that she might presently 
 be going back to end her days alone beneath that 
 lowly roof which had sheltered her happy childhood. 
 Had not her father ended his days there alone, who 
 had lived and loved and suffered as she in her turn 
 now lived and loved and suffered? She thought of 
 his gallant youth, which had been a youth of 
 strenuous days, even as his manhood had been one 
 of hard work and small profit. She thought of his 
 patience and cheerfulness in old age, his pleasure in 
 little things, his poverty; the honourable poverty, 
 honourably borne, of the soldier who has no oppor- 
 tunity and should have no occasion to seek wealth. 
 Of his silent daily visits to her mother's grave. The 
 old calm words floated through her mind, The
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 367 
 
 thing that hath been it is that which shall be, and 
 that which is done is that which shall be done, and 
 there is no new thing under the sun. 
 
 But her heart cried out in dumb agony, Not Rich- 
 ard oh not Richard 
 
 Yet, if he were really in danger of death, then 
 oh then all the more before he passed through that 
 door of night into the mystery whence there is no re- 
 call, where no pitiful cry of hers could reach him 
 let her confess her disloyalty, and obtain his for- 
 giveness. In this gentle mood that was upon him 
 now she thought he would forgive her. How could 
 she how could she risk his going away into the 
 eternal silence unknowing that the wife he trusted 
 had betrayed him, leaving her to bear that heavy 
 burden of remorse which a few words spoken now 
 might ease for evermore? 
 
 Yet she did not speak; but set her lips tightly. 
 
 His eyes were closed. His face was peaceful. 
 
 Oh Richard, oh my husband, if the world is sink- 
 ing away beneath your feet, if indeed you are 
 passing from me better that I should suffer all my 
 life than add one pang to that passing 
 
 These and other wild thoughts coursed through 
 her brain as she knelt beside her husband motion- 
 less, giving no sign, until presently she rose silently 
 to bring him the things he asked for ; and to help him 
 prepare for the rest he desired. 
 
 Richard for his part asked no questions, and
 
 3.68 THE TYRANT 
 
 wished to be asked none. He was vaguely glad that 
 his wife understood his feelings without explanation 
 as he was vaguely glad to be with her again. 
 
 The gentleness of Annette's ministrations had 
 never been more welcome. 
 
 He had been so long accustomed to her anxious 
 consideration of all his little ways and fancies, that 
 he had been forced, during his absence, to realise 
 that he found life almost blank without her. He had 
 found himself wishing for her many times during 
 his illness on the return voyage. 
 
 Though young Bewan meant kindly, he was but a 
 rough nurse, and had no idea of humouring a surly 
 and unreasonable patient as a woman might have 
 humoured him under the circumstances. 
 
 The indifference with which his fellow passengers 
 had regarded Richard Kemys had also come upon 
 him almost as a shock. He had been accustomed 
 for so many years to be king of his little company; 
 to be treated with deference; to have his wishes im- 
 mediately attended to, and his opinions received with 
 respect. 
 
 Richard lay awake in his comfortable bed, among 
 the fresh-scented, country-washed, sun-dried sheets, 
 and realised with relief that he was at home again, 
 and that his wife was at hand to nurse him. He 
 was amazed at the depth of the sense of well-being 
 that he experienced. He thought of Annette more 
 kindly than he had thought of her for years. The 
 contemplation of her devotion soothed him. He did
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 369 
 
 not think of his children. He had asked Annette 
 if they were all well, and she had answered, Yes, 
 they were all well. He had not mentioned Annie's 
 marriage, lest something should transpire to vex him, 
 or disturb the philosophic calm with which he had 
 grown to regard it. Nor had he spoken of Roddy, 
 whom he knew to be in the Argentine. He regarded 
 this fact also with philosophic calm. It was as well 
 he should be away, the young rascal. Roddy irri- 
 tated his father, often innocently and, unaware, 
 though sometimes his rebellion was purposeful. 
 But it was not Roddy's fault that he had inherited 
 the old Colonel's face, and his trick of firing up in 
 defence of other people. Richard could not help 
 remembering in the first glow of his content with his 
 return to his wife's care that it was in defence of 
 his mother that Roddy had always fired up. 
 
 The young fool, to suppose a woman needed any 
 defence from her husband. As though a man's wife 
 were not more to him than all her children put to- 
 gether. Which of them all could be trusted to obey 
 him, to carry out his wishes, to attend to his lightest 
 fancies, as she would? It was upon her that he de- 
 pended, as she depended upon him, and not on 
 Roddy. But he remembered that he had disre- 
 garded Annette's passionate appeal on behalf of her 
 son, and the recollection was an uncomfortable one 
 now. He had destroyed her letter instead of keep- 
 ing it to read when he was far away as she had en- 
 treated; but nevertheless he had thought of it many
 
 370 THE TYRANT 
 
 times when he was far away, and her words had 
 haunted his memory. 
 
 " You asked me to forgive you the night Roddy 
 was born . . . how happy I was to forgive 
 you everything . . . for the sake of those days 
 listen to me now ... I can no longer speak to 
 you without angering you . . . Do justice to 
 your son as your father did to you, that your children 
 may honour your memory as his memory is honoured, 
 and I will thank you and bless you for ever and ever." 
 
 He could see the sentences now as plainly as 
 though they were written in light on the darkness. 
 She was more to him than all her children put to- 
 gether, of course. But he had not listened to her 
 appeal. His mind worked uneasily, but he swore to 
 himself that he would not reinstate Roddy, who 
 had gone to the Argentine in defiance of his 
 wishes . . . 
 
 He determined to dismiss the subject from his 
 mind. It was wonderful, he reflected with some 
 complacency, what an adept he had become in dis- 
 missing from his mind all the subjects that might 
 distress or annoy him. 
 
 Until he was stronger he would continue to exer- 
 cise that newly acquired power. His wife could look 
 after everything; do everything exactly as she knew 
 he would wish, relieve him of all responsibility. 
 
 A new idea darted into his mind, and became a 
 definite purpose. What a fool he had been not to 
 think of it before 1
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 371 
 
 He would get rid of this vague scruple which had 
 been troubling his conscience ever since he made that 
 infernal will disinheriting his eldest son. He would 
 make a new will in the morning and leave everything 
 to his wife. He would shift the responsibility for 
 which he no longer felt fitted onto her shoulders. 
 After all, if he had any wishes left in the matter he 
 had only to express them and he knew she would 
 carry them out to the letter. What did it matter 
 to him who would have Nantgwilt in the end? 
 Nothing mattered to him but getting well ; he would 
 devote himself to the care of his health. There 
 would be far more chance for him now she was there 
 to look after him. He would leave everything to 
 her. He would not be bothered with scruples any 
 more, nor with business, nor with cares of any kind. 
 
 He would sit in his garden and rest. 
 
 He had thought of his garden very often when 
 there was nothing to be seen from the ship but blue 
 sky and blue sea, for ever receding as the ship for 
 ever advanced. How tired he had grown of it all. 
 He was too old for travelling, though he was but 
 in the prime of life he had lived in the country 
 too many years. 
 
 The glare from the white boards hurt his eyes as 
 he lay back in his deck-chair. He had thought of 
 his garden so often then. Of the refreshing green 
 of the dewy velvet lawn, and the moss under the old 
 spreading cedar with its twisted trunk, and the little 
 brown bench that always seemed to be waiting
 
 372 THE TYRANT 
 
 humbly beneath it with outstretched arms; and the 
 bright ribbon borders ... he felt the swaying 
 motion of the steamer again as he dreamt of his gar- 
 den now . . . 
 
 He slept but a little while, and woke complaining 
 of oppression and of the heat of the room, though 
 the windows were wide open and uncurtained. 
 
 His wife rose, and set the door open, and presently 
 fanned him until he slept again. But the morning 
 seemed long in coming and the dawn of a breathless 
 summer day found him tired and unrefreshed. 
 
 He looked so ill that his wife was terrified, but of 
 her terror she showed no sign. 
 
 She was thankful that, though he insisted upon 
 rising, he did not offer to come downstairs, remaining 
 instead by the open window of their bedroom, look- 
 ing out from his armchair upon the wonderful sun- 
 shine which had now pierced the early mists of morn- 
 ing and lay like a benediction upon the garden of 
 which he had dreamed. 
 
 A little figure in white emerged from the deep 
 shadows of the ilex grove. Corney followed by 
 his dog, walking gravely and quietly across the lawn, 
 not running and jumping as was his wont. 
 
 He had been to his grandmother's cottage to carry 
 a message from his mother. In the sunshine his un- 
 covered flaxen head shone like gold, and his white 
 cricketing flannels were dazzling as snow against the 
 green. Richard Kemys found a lump rising in his
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 373 
 
 throat and tears in his eyes. This was the first he 
 had seen of his children since his return. Corney 
 was a fine, handsome little fellow just such another 
 as Roddy had been at his age. He was almost angry 
 with himself for the emotion which he felt, and 
 which he recollected that he must not indulge, just 
 as he was leaning forward to give a call to the little 
 boy, and bid him come up. 
 
 Corney was a fine little chap, and the most like him 
 of all his children, but he was like Roddy too. Why 
 should he suppose the boy would grow up different 
 from the others ; who all went their own way as they 
 left childhood, and paid no attention to his wishes? 
 
 He remembered the idea he had evolved in the 
 night and resolved to put it into execution. 
 
 He rose languidly and fetched his leather writing- 
 case from the dressing-room, and settled himself in 
 his armchair to write. It was odd that so slight an 
 exertion should make him so breathless. Perhaps, 
 after all, he ought to have listened to Bewan and not 
 climbed the hill from the station last night 
 
 Robert Bewan came in presently to bid him good- 
 bye, and found him writing. 
 
 " Why should you go? I asked you to stop," said 
 Richard, none too graciously. 
 
 " I only meant to stop until I'd seen you safely 
 down here," said the young man, in his usual blunt 
 way. " As a matter of fact, I want to get back." 
 
 " Of course you'll do as you like," growled Rich- 
 ard. Then it occurred to him that he had, after all,
 
 374 THE TYRANT 
 
 no further use for young Bewan, since he was safely 
 established at home. He reflected besides that as 
 he had never found his company particularly con- 
 genial, there was no reason why he should press him 
 to stay on. He therefore did not renew his invita- 
 tion, but, bethinking himself, gave utterance to a 
 few difficult words of thanks ; not very graciously ex- 
 pressed, but nevertheless genuine in their way, as 
 Robert Bewan felt them to be, though he cut them 
 short. 
 
 ' We needn't make speeches," he remarked 
 frankly. " I've every reason to be obliged to you. 
 If the voyage hasn't done you all the good we hoped, 
 it's pulled me together and made me feel as fit as I 
 ever felt in my life. I shall tackle my work again 
 with fresh vigour, thanks to you. And if I don't 
 pretend to be particularly cut up at parting, it's not 
 because I'm ungrateful for the substantial benefit 
 you've conferred on me, but because we haven't hit 
 it off as well as I could have wished. I'm a free and 
 easy fellow who often gives offence without meaning 
 to. But on the other hand, hard words break no 
 bones and I'm not a fellow to resent anything a man 
 says when he's ill, you know; and I hope I've done 
 the best I could for you, whether we've liked each 
 other or not." 
 
 Richard Kemys uttered a short laugh. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you did the best you could," he said, 
 grimly. " I've no doubt I should have gone out on 
 the voyage home if it hadn't been for you. Whether
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 375 
 
 I shall live to bless you for it remains to be seen. 
 All the same I don't feel up to much this morning. 
 D'ye thing I'm worse ? " 
 
 " I don't suppose you're any the better for your 
 foolhardiness in walking up from the station last 
 night," said the student, bluntly. " What possessed 
 you, I can't think." 
 
 Richard did not answer. 
 
 " I suppose I'd better see old Harries," he said 
 presently. 
 
 " Of course you had," said young Bewan, but if his 
 words were rough, his tone was kind. " Is there 
 anything I can do for you before I take my de- 
 parture? " 
 
 ' You can call old Pryse upstairs, and witness my 
 signature here with him," said Richard, and he 
 smoothed out a clearly written paper upon the blot- 
 ter before him, with hands that trembled a little. 
 
 Later in the day Dr. Harries arrived. He re- 
 mained but a short time, for it was evident that his 
 presence rather irritated than soothed his patient, 
 and beyond suggesting a preferable drug to one of 
 those ordered by the ship's surgeon, and commending 
 all the rest, he had very little to say. But he told 
 Mrs. Kemys as he went downstairs that he felt it his 
 duty to warn her that her husband was in an alarm- 
 ing condition of health. She did not need the warn- 
 ing, but she listened to all he had to say, declined his 
 offer to send a nurse, and asked him to convey his
 
 report to old Mrs. Kemys, who was anxiously await- 
 ing news at the cottage. He took his leave, promis- 
 ing an early visit on the morrow. 
 
 The news of the Squire's return had by this time 
 spread through the village, and speculation ran high 
 as to how he had received the intelligence of his 
 daughter's elopement, which was now the favourite 
 topic of conversation in the neighbourhood. The 
 report that he had fallen down in a fit obtained 
 credit when the doctor's trap was seen at the door of 
 the Manor House, and in the course of the afternoon 
 several of his tenants, and one or two neighbours 
 from motives of sympathy or out of curiosity 
 called to enquire ; but no one was permitted to enter ; 
 and old Pryse had nothing to say except that he had 
 seen his master, who looked much as usual. 
 
 As the day wore on Richard observed that the 
 house was strangely quiet, and found pleasure in the 
 reflection that his instructions had been so implicitly 
 obeyed, and that here at least no one was considered 
 but himself. The children made no sound lest he 
 should be disturbed. 
 
 His wife dreaded lest he should ask for those who 
 were absent, and for whose absence she would be 
 obliged to account; but there was no need for her to 
 invent the excuses young Bewan had recommended. 
 Richard asked no questions, and showed no interest 
 in anything outside the room in which he lay. He
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 377 
 
 thought only of the comfort of being quiet, and of 
 his fears lest the pain should return. 
 
 He dozed during the greater part of the after- 
 noon refusing the tea his wife brought, and desiring, 
 he said, to make up for his restless night by sleeping 
 as much as possible. 
 
 When the heat of the sun declined, and the long 
 shadows fell across the lawn, he woke refreshed, and 
 rose, and asked for some soup, which he took beside 
 the open window ; watching the swifts that darted to 
 and fro in the still warm air, crying shrilly as they 
 pursued their invisible prey. 
 
 He looked ever more and more longingly into the 
 garden, until at last he decided to descend. 
 
 " I've a good mind to spend the night out there," 
 he said to his wife. " I've got accustomed to sleep 
 in the open air on board ship. I slept on deck when- 
 ever this infernal breathlessness troubled me, and it 
 troubles me directly I lie down." 
 
 She looked at him and saw that opposition would 
 be useless. 
 
 "Why not, dear Richard? After all the heat is 
 really almost tropical. I have been sitting out later 
 and later every night." 
 
 " I don't want a fuss, and people bringing out rugs 
 and pillows and things as if I were an invalid," he 
 growled. " You can tell Pryse to carry my deck- 
 chair onto the lawn, and to leave it there, and to 
 keep everyone away; and we'll wait till the house is
 
 378 THE TYRANT 
 
 shut up and they've all gone to bed, and then slip 
 out quietly." 
 
 She was relieved that he seemed to take it for 
 granted that she would remain out with him. 
 
 The stillness and peace of the coming night al- 
 ready enfolded the garden. The summer darkness 
 stole over the blue hills deepening to purple. The 
 feast of colour spread in the flower borders 
 slowly faded. Stiff perfumed bouquets of red roses 
 on standards now became indistinguishable from 
 their foliage; while the heavy white heads of the 
 drooping niphetos were transformed into delicate 
 phantom globes. 
 
 Over an archway a bower of blush roses gleamed 
 faintly through the dusk. The snowy phlox, the 
 ghosts of lilies and white foxgloves, were still dis- 
 cernible. 
 
 The dusk deepened, and the colours vanished 
 altogether. Even the white flowers folded the black 
 veil of night about them and became invisible. 
 
 The cool and restful space was peopled only with 
 the forms of the trees and bushes. Dark masses of 
 foliage waved and whispered in the night breeze, but 
 the impenetrable sheltering layers of the cedar 
 scarcely stirred . . . If he had been sleeping 
 Richard woke. 
 
 " Annette I Are you there ? " 
 
 " Yes, Richard." She sought his hand and found 
 it in the darkness.
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 379 
 
 " I was dreaming. I forgot where I was. I 
 thought I was on board ship. It was a happy 
 thought to come out here. I'm much more comfort- 
 able than I was last night. Look here, Annette. I 
 made a new will this morning. If anything hap- 
 pened to me I suppose that fellow made it clear to 
 you that there's always more or less uncertainty in 
 these cases ? " 
 
 She laid her lips upon his hand in silence. 
 
 " If anything happened take it to old Turley, 
 and get him to act for you. Have nothing to do 
 with Machon. Go back to Turley. Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 " I understand," she said, and her voice trembled. 
 
 " Turley can communicate with Joavan and Bond. 
 They're all sound men," he said gruffly. " I've left 
 everything to you. I want Corney to have the busi- 
 ness. You'll remember that. He's a third son, 
 same as I was. It's my wish he should be richer 
 than the others, and he will be, if he chooses to work 
 
 old Bond will teach him. About all the rest I 
 don't care. I've left the responsibility to you. You 
 can do what you're pleased to call justice to Roddy 
 
 to all of them." 
 "Oh Richard!" 
 
 He felt her tears upon his hand, and knew her 
 gratitude, and did not mistake the cause. Perhaps 
 he even divined something of her thought. 
 
 That justice should be done to her boy was much ; 
 but that he should do it was everything.
 
 3 8o THE TYRANT 
 
 Roddy was very dear to her; but what was he, 
 what was anyone, compared with this her mate; the 
 lover of her girlhood, the husband of her youth, the 
 father of her children? 
 
 Her heart throbbed, her tears fell fast, her past 
 fears mocked her, and her remorse rushed upon her 
 with a force almost unbearable. 
 
 The lost illusion of Richard's perfection stole back 
 upon her, forming itself as a vision upon the darkness 
 of many years' sorrow and suffering and disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 After all, the man to whose image she had always 
 clung in her heart of hearts was the real Richard, 
 though all the world had condemned the man he had 
 seemed to be. 
 
 " That's all right," said Richard's voice, drowsily. 
 " I was dreaming I had something to tell you, and 
 that I was off on another voyage and couldn't get at 
 you. Now I've nothing on my mind I shall have a 
 longer sleep." 
 
 He slept, and she waked and watched. 
 
 In all her life she had never passed a night out of 
 doors, and she felt no inclination to slumber. She 
 drew her wraps about her, and waited for the dawn, 
 listening with a tenderness inexpressible to his gentle 
 breathing. 
 
 At four o'clock the sky was already a clear pale 
 blue, and little cirrus clouds stretched lazily in the 
 depths of space. On the waking earth birds twit-
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE GARDEN 381 
 
 tercd, cocks crowed, and horses neighed; but man- 
 kind was silent. 
 
 Richard's chair was turned away from the house 
 towards the distant hills beyond his own fields and 
 woods, which sloped down to the valley and river, 
 and were now shrouded in a thick white mist ; against 
 which one or two of the nearest forest trees showed 
 motionless. 
 
 He lay so still that a vague uneasiness disturbed 
 her. She rose, and came softly to his side, and bent 
 over his sleeping face. The colour fled from her 
 own, leaving it not less white. She sank upon her 
 knees and lifted the cold hand. 
 
 There was no doubt. She knew instantly; and 
 from the perfect calm of his expression under- 
 stood that he must have passed unknowing from 
 sleep to death. 
 
 The glory of the coming sunrise slowly brightened 
 the east, and the solid white mist caught a rosy hue, 
 and became transparent and golden. 
 
 The muffled forms of distant tress emerged as 
 from a shroud, and took shape and colour. 
 
 The crowning roses of the garden archways were 
 lit as though by fire. The trunks of the firs shone 
 red, and the slender stems of the weeping birch 
 glittered silver in the glorious beams as the sun rose 
 majestically over the hills. 
 
 THE END
 
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