ti;iiiii:l'i|i;;'!iiiii!!?''p:";r:|'!i5!'!!^ 
 
 
 fWf.ijpWiiriniiffln^Tn!!?^^^ 
 
 ^^RSiili 
 
 STC 
 
 M. GROKER
 
 A ROLLING STONE
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 DIANA BARRINGTON 
 A BIRD OF PASSAGE 
 BEYOND THE PALE 
 HER OWN PEOPLE 
 THE CAT'S-PAW 
 THE COMPANY'S SERVANT 
 KATHERINE THE ARROGANT 
 BABES IN THE WOOD, ETC.
 
 A 
 ROLLING STONE 
 
 BY 
 
 B. M. CROKER 
 
 "L'amour est un vrai recommenceur," — Bussy-Rabutin 
 
 LONDON 
 
 F. V. WHITE & CO. LTD. 
 
 17 BUCKINGHAM STREET, STRAND, W.C. 
 
 I 9 1 1
 
 C31/ier 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. LADY KESTERS 
 II. BROTHER AND SISTER 
 
 III. THE LAST WORD GOES BEGGING 
 
 IV. LEILA'S IDEA 
 
 V. PLANS AND THREATS 
 VI. FIRST IMPRESSIONS . 
 VII. MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 
 VIII. OTTINGE-IN-THE-MARSH 
 IX. THE NEW CHAUFFEUR 
 X. AS HANDY MAN 
 XI. THE TRIAL TRIP 
 XII. THE DOGS' HOTEL . 
 
 XIII. THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS 
 
 XIV. LIEUTENANT WYNYARD 
 XV. BY WATER . 
 
 XVI. TWO PRISONERS 
 
 XVII. LADY KESTERS HAS MISGIVINGS 
 XVIII. THE REASON WHY . 
 XIX. OWEN THE MATCHMAKER . 
 XX. SUDDEN DEATH 
 XXI. BY THE SUNDIAL 
 XXII. AUREA'S REFLECTIONS
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 XXIII. AN HOUR OF LIBERTY 
 
 XXIV. ON YAMPTON HILL 
 
 XXV. LADY KESTERS AT THE DRUM 
 XXVI. THE OBSTACLE 
 XXVII. SCANDAL ABOUT MISS SUSAN 
 XXVIII. A NEW SITUATION . 
 XXIX. TOTTIE TOYE 
 XXX. MASHAM — THE MOTORIST 
 XXXI. TAKING RISKS 
 XXXII. AN EXPLANATION 
 
 XXXIII. SITUATION THE FOURTH 
 
 XXXIV. SIR RICHARD AS CHAPERON 
 XXXV. REINSTATED . 
 
 XXXVI. BY MOONLIGHT 
 
 PAGE 
 
 212 
 217 
 226 
 
 243 
 251 
 261 
 267 
 274 
 284 
 289 
 294 
 300 
 306
 
 A ROLLING STONE
 
 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 LADY KESTERS 
 
 After a day of strenuous social activities, Lady Kesters 
 was enjoying a well-earned rest, reposing at full length 
 on a luxurious Chesterfield, with cushions of old brocade 
 piled at her back and a new French novel in her hand. 
 Nevertheless, her attention wandered from Anatole 
 France ; every few minutes she raised her head to 
 listen intently, then, as a little silver clock chimed five 
 thin strokes, she rose, went over to a window, and, with 
 an impatient jerk, pulled aside the blind. She was 
 looking down into Mount Street, W., and endeavouring 
 to penetrate the gloom of a raw evening towards the 
 end of March. 
 
 It was evident that the lady was expecting some one, 
 for there were two cups and saucers on a well-equipped 
 tea-table, placed between the sofa and a cheerful log fire. 
 
 As the mistress of the house peers eagerly at passers- 
 by, we may avail ourselves of the opportunity to examine 
 her surroundings. There is an agreeable feeling of 
 ample space, softly shaded lights, and rich but subdued 
 colours. The polished floor is strewn with ancient 
 rugs ; bookcases and rare cabinets exhibit costly con» 
 I
 
 2 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 tents ; flowers arc in profusion ; the air is heavily scented 
 with white Hlac ; and a multitude of magazines and 
 papers lie scattered about in careless abundance. 
 The Hihhert Journal, the Clarion, Le Revue des deux 
 mondes, and the Spectator indicate a Catholic taste ; 
 but we look in vain for a piano, a pet dog, or a work- 
 basket. 
 
 As Lady Kesters turns from the window, it is seen 
 that she is tall and slim, with dark, expressive eyes, a 
 delicate, tip-tilted nose, and remarkably square chin ; 
 her figure, which is faultless, shows to admirable ad- 
 vantage in a simple gown of clinging black material. 
 
 And whilst she once more subsides into her sofa and 
 book, we may venture to introduce a little sketch of her 
 personal history. 
 
 Leila Wynyard and her brother Owen were the 
 orphan children of a dashing cavalry officer, who was 
 killed at polo, leaving family and creditors to the bene- 
 volence of his relations. Sir Richard, his brother, 
 undertook charge of the boy, the girl — some years his 
 senior — fell to the lot of a maiden aunt who lived in 
 Eaton Terrace, and maintained considerable dignity 
 in a small house, on an income to correspond. Leila 
 had lessons and masters, her teeth, complexion, and 
 deportment v/ere objects of anxious solicitude ; at 
 eighteen she was brought out and presented, and hopes 
 were entertained that, in her first or second season, she 
 would make a suitable match, and secure a husband 
 and a home. The girl carried herself with grace, had 
 fine dark eyes, and fine fashionable connections ; these 
 latter combined to take her into society, and exhibit 
 her at Ascot and Hurlingham, as well as balls and the 
 opera. She visited historical country seats and notable 
 Scottish moors, and was, so to speak, passed along
 
 LADY KESTERS 3 
 
 from one house-party to another ; and yet, despite her 
 friends' exertions, Leila Wynyard failed to "go off." 
 Perhaps the truth lay in the simple fact that the lady 
 herself was disinclined to move on ; and often joked 
 over her social failure with her Aunt Eliza, who had a 
 keen sense of humour and no mind to lose the light of 
 her old age. 
 
 On the other hand, Leila Wynyard was known to 
 be penniless ! (for what is a hundred a year ? — it scarcely 
 keeps some women in hats) had no surpassing accom- 
 plishments to lift her out of the ruck ; it was also whis- 
 pered that she had an independent character, and a 
 sharp tongue ! 
 
 No one could deny that Miss Wynyard's air was 
 distinguished. Some men considered her a brilliant 
 conversationalist, and extraordinarily clever — but 
 these are rarely the attributes of the women they marry ! 
 
 Time sped along, Miss Wynyard had been out 
 for nine seasons, was spoken of in the family as " poor 
 Leila," and now relegated to the worst spare room, 
 expected to make herself useful, " do the flowers," write 
 notes, and take over the bores. In short, she was about 
 to step into the position of permanent poor relation, 
 when, to the amazement of the whole connection, Leila 
 married herself off with triumphant success ! Alone 
 she did it ! Her uncle. Sir Richard Wynyard, owner 
 of the family title and estates, was an old bachelor, who 
 lived in a gloomy town house in Queen's Gate, but 
 spent most of his time at his club. At uncertain in- 
 tervals he repaid hospitalities received, and entertained 
 his friends at dinner under his own roof — he scorned 
 the fashionable craze of assembling one's guests at a 
 restaurant. These banquets were well done — wine, 
 menu, and attendance being beyond criticism. They
 
 4 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 would also have been insupportably dull, but for the 
 officiating hostess ; and, thanks to Miss Wynyard's 
 admirable supervision, they were usually an enviable 
 success. 
 
 The company were of a respectable age — the host's 
 contemporaries — old club friends or City folk, with 
 their sedate and comfortable wives. Miss Wynyard 
 introduced an element of youth and vivacity into the 
 gathering, selected flowers for the table decoration, 
 had a word about the savouries and dessert, and, on the 
 evening itself, radiant and well dressed, enjoyed herself 
 prodigiously — for Leila had the flair of the born hostess 
 — a gift that had no opportunity for expanding in the 
 limited space at home. 
 
 On one of these occasions, a certain Martin Kesters 
 sat on Miss Wynyard's right hand — a plain, elderly man, 
 of few words and many thoughts, with rugged features, 
 grizzled whiskers, and a made tie ! — a melancholy and 
 reluctant guest who rarely dined abroad, and had 
 martyrised himself to please and appease his old school- 
 fellow, Dick Wynyard. 
 
 The brilliant Leila, who adored playing hostess and 
 giving her talents full scope, drew him out with surprising 
 subtlety, listened to his opinions with flattering deference, 
 put him at his ease and in good humour with himself, and 
 won, so to speak, his heart ! She was not aware that 
 Mr. Kesters was a wealthy widower, and mainly respon- 
 sible for the enormous increase in her uncle's fortunes ; 
 but this would not have made an atom of difference. 
 Her attention would have been precisely the same had 
 he been a penniless curate ; she could see that he was 
 overpowered by his partner — a magnificent matron who 
 talked exclusively of royalties — his answers were short 
 and gruff ; — evidently he was bored to death and longing
 
 LADY KESTERS 5 
 
 to be at home ; and she instantly made up her mind to 
 capture his interest and rivet his attention. 
 
 Leila was on her mettle that night, and achieved a 
 notable success. How she shone ! Even Sir Richard 
 was amazed — he was proud of, and not a little afraid of, 
 his clever niece ; as for Mr. Kesters, he watched her 
 furtively, noted her upright grace, her animation, her 
 delightful smile, her art of saying the right thing — and 
 saying it well — her insidious dexterity in leading the 
 conversation into interesting channels, yet never ob- 
 truding her own personality. It was not the excellence of 
 the champagne that made every one at the table feel 
 themselves unusually shining and brilliant. No, poor souls! 
 they were but the pale reflection of this luminous star. 
 
 Then the girl's appearance — she was a girl to his 
 fifty-six years — of superb health and vitality. What 
 an inmate for a dull, drab home — what a stimulating 
 companion for a lonely man ! 
 
 It was a cosy little party of eight, and at a sign from 
 the hostess, three matrons arose and preceded her up to 
 the ghostly drawing-room, there to feel depressingly flat 
 and to sip very superior coffee. After some devastating 
 comments on the British climate and the British 
 domestic, two of the quartette retired, whispering, to 
 a sofa, in order to discuss a cure — leaving Miss Wynyard 
 and Lady Billing tetc-d-tete. 
 
 " This room is rather a dreadful specimen of Early 
 Victorian," said Leila, waving an apologetic spoon, " I 
 fought so hard for these loose chintz covers and lamp- 
 shades ; but everything else is as it was in grandmamma's 
 time — there she is, between the windows, in yellow satin 
 and ringlets ! The venerable servants who still survive 
 will not hear of a change. Do look at the carpet ; it must 
 be fifty years of age. How old things lifcar ! "
 
 6 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " I wonder Sir Richard does not live in a flat near his 
 club," suggested her ladyship in diamonds and velvet ; 
 " so much more comfortable and up-to-date." 
 
 " Yes ; but then this is the family town house, and 
 he is never quite sure that he won't marry." 
 
 " Marry ! " repeated Lady Billing, " what an idea ! " 
 
 "It is his favourite threat " — and Leila laughed — 
 " if the cooking is bad, the coal indifferent, or the 
 servants too autocratic." 
 
 " But isn't your brother his heir ? " opening her eyes 
 to their widest extent. " How would he like that ? " 
 
 " Oh, I really don't think Owen would care a straw ; 
 he is rather happy-go-lucky, and never thinks of the 
 future. After all. Uncle Dick is not an old man, and I 
 don't see why he should not please himself. I may dance 
 at his wedding yet ! " 
 
 " I suppose there is no particular lady in the case ? " 
 inquired the other judicially. 
 
 Miss Wynyard smiled, and shook her head. 
 
 " Do you know, my dear, that you have made an 
 important conquest this evening ? " Then, in answer 
 to Miss Wynyard's gaze of amazement, " Mr, Kesters," 
 she added, with impressive solemnity. 
 
 " Mr. — Kcstcrs ? " repeated Leila. 
 
 " Your neighbour at dinner, you know. He was 
 simply swept off his feet — any one could see that ! " and 
 she flourished a puffy hand. 
 
 " Well, I hope he has recovered his equilibrium by 
 now. Why, we never met till eight o'clock." 
 
 " He rarely goes anywhere. He is just a money-spinner 
 — enormously rich — he can make money, but he docs not 
 know how to spend or enjoy it." 
 
 " That's easily learnt," declared the young lady, with 
 a gay laugh ; " I'd give him lessons with pleasure."
 
 LADY KESTERS 7 
 
 " Oh, my dear, it is not so easy to spend, when you 
 have the habit of years of economy. His wife was 
 terribly close ; they say she counted the potatoes and 
 matches ! She was his cousin, and had a nice fortune." 
 
 " So, then, he is a widower ? " 
 
 " Yes, this five years ; he lives alone in Eaton Square 
 — such a frowzy house — it has never known a spring 
 cleaning ! Mrs. Kesters and I exchanged calls. She 
 would not allow the windows to be opened ; loved King 
 Charles dogs (horrid things) and parrots ; dressed on 
 thirty pounds a year ; and her only extravagance was 
 patent medicines. The premises simply reeked of them ! 
 Latterly, she was a helpless invalid, and since her death 
 Mr. Kesters goes nowhere, just occupies a couple of 
 rooms, and devotes himself to business. Business is 
 his pleasure. He is a mighty man in the City — though 
 he is so shy and reserved in society. I declare you quite 
 woke him up to-night ; I've known him for years, and I 
 never saw him so animated." 
 
 " I suppose I hit on a lucky topic— he told me such 
 interesting things about mining and minerals." 
 
 " Gold especially ; they say everything he touches 
 turns to that ! My husband and he are rather friendly, 
 and once or twice he has dined with us, scarcely uttered 
 a word, and looked as if he was going to sleep. Oh, here 
 they are ! " as the door opened, and the two ladies on the 
 sofa suddenly concluded a mysterious and confidential 
 conversation, and sat expectant and erect. But the men 
 as one man made straight for Miss Wynyard. 
 
 Later, as the guests departed, Mr. Kesters lingered to 
 the last, and his host said fussily — 
 
 " I say, look here, Martin, I suppose you have your 
 carriage, and you may as well take my niece home ; 
 you are going in her direction."
 
 8 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " My dear uncle, why should you victimise Mr. 
 Rasters ? " she protested; " I shall return as I came, in 
 a hansom." 
 
 But Mr. Kesters intervened with unexpected gallantry, 
 and declared that to escort Miss Wynyard was an honour 
 that he could not forgo. Subsequently he conducted 
 her down to a shabby, " one-horse " brougham — the 
 coachman's legs were wrapped in a specially odoriferous 
 stable rug — and conveyed her to Eaton Terrace. As 
 he took leave of her at the hall door, he ventured to put 
 a timid question. 
 
 He was such a near neighbour — might he come 
 and call ? 
 
 " Yes, of course," assented the lady ; " Aunt Eliza 
 will be delighted to see you — we are always at home on 
 Sundays, four to six." 
 
 Subsequently Mr. Kesters became a regular visitor, 
 and met with Aunt Eliza's approval ; and, before many 
 Sundays had elapsed, a paragraph concerning the names 
 of Wynyard and Kesters appeared in the Morning Post. 
 
 And so poor Leila became rich Leila ! and, from 
 being an insignificant relation, a person of considerable 
 social importance. Until her marriage few had dis- 
 covered Mrs. Kesters' beauty — her cleverness had 
 never been disputed. Now, as the result of a visit to 
 Paris, armed with a cheque-book, she glorified her 
 appearance, wore charming frocks and exquisite jewels, 
 and, with her fine air and admirable figure, it was im- 
 possible " to pass her unnoticed in a crowd." 
 
 Mrs. Kesters organised changes other than personal : 
 the gloomy abode in Eaton Square was sold, its contents 
 dispatched to an auction room — including two old 
 stuffed parrots, and the mangy remains of her prede- 
 cessor's King Charles ; another house was taken and
 
 LADY KESTERS 9 
 
 furnished regardless of expense, a motor purchased, 
 and a staff of experienced servants engaged. In a sur- 
 prisingly short time Mrs. Martin Kesters of 202 Mount 
 Street, Grosvenor Square, had become a popular member 
 of society. Her little dinners and luncheons were 
 famous, not alone for the quality of the menu, but also 
 of the guests. Martin, too, had been transformed as by 
 a wand ! His whiskers disappeared, he was persuaded 
 to change his tailor, and given a good conceit of himself. 
 He felt ten years younger, brisk, energetic, prepared 
 to enjoy his money and the Indian summer of his life. 
 Instead of being taciturn, he talked ; instead of going 
 to sleep after dinner, he patronised the theatre ; he 
 learnt to play bridge and golf. In the society of ladies 
 his manners had become assured, and he no longer 
 was at a helpless loss to know what to say, or stumbled 
 clumsily over their trains. For all these new accom- 
 plishments he had to thank Leila ; and he was devoted 
 to his brilliant and charming wife. She was more or 
 less in touch with political people, and clever men, and 
 women that mattered. The fascinating Mrs. Kesters 
 was successful in drawing-room diplomacy and the 
 delicate art of pulling strings ; and, to her husband's 
 astonishment, he had found himself a K.C.B., and elected 
 to an exclusive club — sitting on important committees, 
 dining in stately houses, and entertaining notable 
 guests. 
 
 Lady Kesters' connections held up their hands, 
 cast up their eyes, and declared that " Leila was too 
 wonderful ! " She had changed a dull, plodding, City 
 man into a well-turned-out, agreeable, bland individual 
 — who was her abject slave — and she had become a 
 leader in her own particular set. Her relatives re- 
 peated, " Who would have thought Leila had it in her ? "
 
 10 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 But Leila had, so to speak, always " had it in her." 
 " It " represented brains, tact, a passion for affairs and 
 managing, a hidden and ambitious spirit, and an active 
 and impatient longing to taste responsibility and power. 
 
 The clock pointed to a quarter past five. Lady 
 Kesters took up the silver caddy and was proceeding 
 to ladle out tea, when the door opened, a servant an- 
 nounced " Mr. Wynyard," and a remarkably good- 
 looking young man entered the room. 
 
 Before he could speak. Lady Kesters turned to the 
 butler, and said — 
 
 " Payne, if any one should call, I am not at home." 
 
 " Very good, my lady," he replied, and softly closed 
 the door. 
 
 A maid, who happened to be on the landing, witnessed 
 the recent arrival and overheard the order, now winked 
 at Payne with easy impudence, and gave a significant 
 sniff. 
 
 " I don't know what you're sniffing about," he said 
 peevishly. " I suppose you will allow her ladyship 
 to receive her own brother in peace and comfort, seeing 
 as he is just back from South America, and she hasn't 
 laid eyes on him for near a year." 
 
 " Oh, so that's her brother, is it ? " said the young 
 woman ; " and an uncommonly fine young chap — better 
 looking than her ladyship by long chalks ! " 
 
 " You go down to your tea and leave her ladyship's 
 looks alone. I don't know what you're doing hanging 
 about this landing at such an hour of the day." 
 
 Payne was an old servant in the Wynyard family, 
 and he was aware it had been generally said that " Master 
 Owen had the looks and Miss Leila the brains." Master 
 Owen was always a wild, harum-scarum young fellow,
 
 LADY KESTERS ii 
 
 and it wasn't at all unlikely that he had got into one of 
 his scrapes. With this conviction implanted in his 
 mind, Payne deliberately descended the stairs, issued 
 an edict to one of the footmen, and retired into his lair 
 and the evening paper.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 
 
 " Well," began Lady Kesters, as the door closed, " I 
 suppose you have seen him ? " 
 
 " I have very much seen him," repHed her brother, 
 who had thrown himself into a chair ; " I did a sprint 
 across the park, because I know your ladyship cannot 
 bear to be kept waiting. Everything must be done to 
 the minute in this establishment." 
 
 " Yes," she agreed ; " and you come from a country 
 where time is no object — everything is for " To-morrow," 
 Now, tell me about Uncle Richard. Was he furious ? " 
 
 " No ; I believe 1 would have got off better if he had 
 been in a rage. He received me in a ' more in sorrow 
 than in anger ' frame of mind, spoke as deliberately as 
 if he had written his speech, and learnt it by heart ; he 
 meant every word he said." 
 
 " I doubt it," said his sister, who had been filling the 
 teapot, and now closed the lid with a decisive snap. " Let 
 me hear all you can remember." 
 
 " He said he had done his best for me since 1 was a 
 kid — his only brother's son and his heir, — that he had 
 sent me to Eton " 
 
 "As if you didn't know that ! " she interrupted. 
 
 " Engineered me into the Service " 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes ! " with a wave of her hand. " Tell 
 me something new."
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 13 
 
 " He says that he is sick of me and my failures — is 
 that new ? " 
 
 " What does he propose ? " asked Lady Kesters. 
 
 " He proposes that, for a change, I should try and 
 get along by myself, and no longer hang on to other 
 people." 
 
 " Well, there is some sense in that." 
 
 " He says that if I continue as I've begun, I'll develop 
 into the awful loafer who haunts men's clubs, trying to 
 borrow half a sov. from old pals, and worrying them 
 with begging letters." 
 
 " A pretty future for you, Owen ! " 
 
 " He swears I must work for my living and earn my 
 daily bread ; and that, if, for two years from now, I can 
 maintain myself honourably in this country or the 
 Continent — Asia, Africa, and America are barred — and 
 neither get into debt, prison, or any matrimonial en- 
 tanglement " he paused for a moment to laugh. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said his sister impatiently ; " and if you 
 comply with all these conditions ? " 
 
 " He will reinstate me, put me into Wynyard to 
 take the place of his agent, and give me a handsome 
 screw. But if I play the fool, he takes his solemn oath 
 he will leave everything he possesses to a hospital, 
 and all I shall come in for will be the bare estate, an 
 empty house, and an empty title — and that he hopes 
 to keep me out of for the next thirty years ! " 
 
 " No doubt he will," agreed his sister ; "we are — 
 bar accidents — a long-lived stock." 
 
 " He also said that he was only fifty-six ; he might 
 marry ; a Lady Wynyard " 
 
 " No fear of that," she interposed; " the old servants 
 will never permit it, and never receive her. But how 
 are you to earn your living and your daily bread ? "
 
 14 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " That, he declares, is entirely my affair. Of course 
 he doesn't expect much from a wooden-headed duffer 
 like me ; he knows I've no brains, and no, what he 
 calls ' initiative or push.' He doesn't care a rap if I 
 sweep a crossing or a chimney, as long as I am able to 
 maintain myself, become independent, and learn to 
 walk alone." 
 
 " So that is Uncle Richard's programme ! " said 
 Lady Kesters reflectively. " Now, let's have some tea," 
 and she proceeded to pour it out. " The little cakes 
 are cold and stodgy, but try these sandwiches. Martin 
 is away to-night — he had to go to a big meeting in Leeds, 
 and won't be home. I shall send for your things. I 
 suppose you are at your old quarters in Ryder Street ? " 
 
 " Yes ; they have been awfully decent to me, and 
 kept my belongings when I was away." 
 
 " And you must come here for a week, and we will 
 think out some scheme. I wish you could stay on and 
 make your home here But you know Martin has the 
 same sort of ideas as Uncle Richard ; he began, when he 
 was eighteen, on a pound a week, and made his own 
 way, and thinks every young man should do the same." 
 
 " I agree with him there — though it may sound 
 funny to hear me say so, Sis. I hope you don't imagine 
 I've come back to loaf ; I shall be only too glad to be 
 on my own." 
 
 " I suppose you have no money at all ? " she in- 
 quired, as she replenished his teacup. 
 
 " I have fifteen pounds, if you call that nothing, all 
 my London kit, a pair of guns, and a gold watch." 
 
 " But what brought you back so suddenly ? You 
 did not half explain to me this morning, when you 
 tumbled from the skies." 
 
 " Well, you see," he began, as he rose and put down
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 15 
 
 his Clip, " the Estancia I was on was of the wrong sort, 
 as it happened, and a rotten bad one. Uncle Richard 
 was tremendously keen to deport me, and he took 
 hold of the first thing he heard of, some crazy advice 
 from a blithering old club fogey who did not know 
 a blessed thing about the country. The Valencia 
 Estancia, a horse-breeding one, was far away inland — 
 not one of those nearer Buenos Ayres and civilisation, 
 — it belonged to a native. The proprietor, Vincino, was 
 paralysed from a bad fall, and the place was run by a 
 ruffian called Murcia. I did not mind roughing it ; 
 it's a splendid climate, and I liked the life itself well 
 enough. I got my fill of riding, and a little shooting — 
 duck, and a sort of partridge — and I appreciated the 
 freedom from the tall hat and visiting card." 
 
 " You never used man}^ of those ! " she interposed. 
 
 " No. From the first I never could stand Murcia ; 
 he was such an oily scoundrel, and an awful liar ; so 
 mean and treacherous and cruel, both to men and 
 animals. He drank a lot of that frightfully strong spirit 
 that's made out there — fermented cane — and some- 
 times he was stark mad, knocking the servants and the 
 peons about ; and as to the horses, he was a fiend to 
 them. He killed lots of the poor brutes by way of train- 
 ing ; lassoed them — and broke their hearts. It made 
 my blood boil, and, as much as I could, I took over the 
 breaking-in business. When I used to jaw him and 
 remonstrate, it made him wild, and he always had his 
 knife into me on the sly." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " The stiff est jobs, the longest days, the largest herds, 
 were naturally for the English ' Gringo.' " 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " A dog. He never called it to my face — he was too
 
 i6 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 much of the cur — but we had several shakes up, and the 
 last was final. One afternoon I caught him half-killing 
 a wretched woman that he said had been stealing 
 coffee. It was pay-day, all the employes, to a man and 
 child, were assembled in the patio — you know what that 
 is ? An enclosed courtyard with the house round it. 
 This was a grand old dilapidated Spanish Estancia, with 
 a fine entrance of great iron gates. It was a warm, still 
 sort of afternoon. As I cantered across the campo I 
 heard harrowing shrieks, and, when I rode in, I soon saw 
 what was up ! Murcia, crazy with drink, was holding 
 a wretched creature by her hair and belabouring her 
 with a cattle-whip, whilst the crowd looked on, and no 
 one stirred a finger." 
 
 " You did ? " leaning forward eagerly. 
 
 " Rather ! I shouted to him to hold hard, and he 
 only cursed ; so I jumped off the horse and went for him 
 straight. He dropped his victim and tried to lay on to 
 me with the whip ; but the boot was on the other leg, 
 and I let him have it, I can tell you. It was not a matter 
 of fists, but flogging. My blood was up, and I scourged 
 that blackguard with all my soul and all my strength. 
 He ran round and round the patio yelling, whilst the 
 crowd grinned and approved. I settled some of Murcia's 
 scores on the spot and paid for many blows and outrages ! 
 In the end he coUapsed in the dust, grovelling at my feet, 
 blubbering and groaning, ' a worm and no man.' I 
 think that's in the Bible. Yes, I gave that hulking, 
 drunken brute a thrashing that he will never forget — 
 and those whe saw it won't forget it either. Naturally, 
 after such a performance I had to clear. You may do 
 a lot of things out there ; you may even shoot a man, but 
 you must never lay hands on an overseer ; so I made 
 tracks at once, without pay, bonus, character, or any-
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 17 
 
 thing except the adoration of the employes, my clothes, 
 and a few pounds. Murcia would have run me in, only 
 he would have shown up badly about the woman. 
 Well, I came down country in a cattle-train, and found 
 I was just short of coin to pay my way home." 
 
 Leila stared into the fire in silence ; her warm imagina- 
 tion transported her to the scene her brother had de- 
 scribed. She, too, was on the campo, and heard the 
 cries of the woman ; she saw the Englishman gallop 
 through the gates, saw the cowardly crowd, the maddened 
 ruffian, the victim, and the punishment ! 
 
 " But what did you do with your salary ? " she asked, 
 after an expressively long pause ; " surely you had no way 
 of spending it ? " 
 
 " That's true. As I was to have a bonus, you know, 
 on the year, my salary was small, and I got rid of it easily 
 enough." 
 
 " Cards ! " she supplemented ; " oh, of course. My 
 dear Owen, Tm afraid you are hopeless ! " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it's hereditary ! After the day's 
 work there was nothing to do. All the other chaps 
 gambled, and I could not stand with my hands in my 
 pockets looking on ; so I learnt the good old native 
 game of ' Truco,' but I had no luck — and lost my 
 doUars." 
 
 " And after your arrival at Buenos Ayres in the cattle- 
 train, what happened ? " 
 
 " Well, naturally, I had no spare cash to spend in that 
 little Paris : the Calle Florida, and the Cafe Florian, and 
 Palermo Park, saw nothing of me, much less the magnifi- 
 cent Jockey Club. I searched about for a cast home ! 
 I was determined to get back to the Old Country, for I 
 knew I'd do no good out there — I mean in Buenos Ayres ; 
 so I went down to the Digue, where the big liners lie, and 
 2.
 
 i8 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 cadged for a job. I believe they are pretty sick of chaps 
 asking for a Uft home, and I had some difficulty in getting 
 a berth ; but, after waiting several days, I got hold of a 
 captain to listen to me. 1 offered to stoke." 
 
 " Owen ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but he said, ' You look like a stoker, don't 
 you ? Why, you're a gentleman ! You couldn't stand 
 the engine-room for an hour. However, as I see you are 
 not proud and they are short of hands in the stewards' 
 pantry, they might take you on to wash plates.' " 
 
 Lady Kesters made no remark ; her expression was 
 sufficiently eloquent. 
 
 " ' All right,' I agreed, ' I'll do my little best.' So I 
 was made over to the head steward. We carried a full 
 number of passengers that trip, and, when one of the 
 saloon waiters fell sick, I was promoted into his place, as 
 I was clean and civil. Needless to say, I was thankful to 
 get away from the horrors of greasy plates and the fag 
 of cleaning knives. I can wait pretty well, the ladies 
 liked me — yes, and I liked them — and when we docked at 
 Southampton yesterday, Owen, as they called me, re- 
 ceived nearly six pounds in tips, not to speak of a steamer 
 chair and a white umbrella ! " 
 
 As he concluded, he walked over to the fire and stood 
 with his back to it. His sister surveyed him reflectively ; 
 she was thinking how impossible it was to realise that 
 her well-bred, smart-looking brother, in his admirably 
 cut clothes, and air of easy self-possession, had, within 
 twenty-four hours, been a steward at the beck and call 
 of the passengers on a liner. However, all she said 
 was — 
 
 " So at any rate you have made a start, and begun 
 to earn money already." 
 
 " Oh, that's'nothing new. I was neverTquite broke ; "
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 19 
 
 and, diving into his pocket, he produced a little parcel, 
 which he tossed into her lap. 
 
 " For me ? " 
 
 " For who else ? " 
 
 He watched her attentively as she untied the narrow 
 bit of red and yellow ribbon, unfolded a flat box, and 
 discovered a beautiful plaque or clasp in old Spanish 
 paste. The design w^as exquisite, and the ornament 
 flashed like a coruscation of Brazilian diamonds. 
 
 " Oh, Owen, how perfect 1 " she gasped ; " but how 
 dare you ? It must have cost a fortune — as much as 
 your passage money," and she looked up at him inter- 
 rogatively. 
 
 " Never mind ; it was a bargain. I picked it up in a 
 queer, poky little shop, and it's real old, old Spanish — 
 time of Ferdinand and Isabella they said — and I felt I'd 
 like to take something home to you ; it will look jolly 
 well on black, eh ? " 
 
 " Do you know it's just the sort of thing that I have 
 been aching to possess," she said, now holding it against 
 her gown. " If you had searched for a year you couldn't 
 have given me anything I liked so much — so beautiful 
 in itself, so rare and ancient, and so uncommon that 
 not one of my dear friends can copy it. Oh, it's a 
 treasure " — standing up to look at her reflection as she 
 held the jewel against her bodice — " but all the same, 
 it was wicked of you to buy it ! " 
 
 " There are only the two of us. Sis, and why shouldn't 
 I give myself that pleasure ? " 
 
 " What a pretty speech ! " and she patted his arm 
 approvingly. 
 
 At this moment Payne entered, salver in hand. 
 
 " A telegram for you, my lady." 
 
 " Oh," picking it up, and tearing it open, "it's
 
 20 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 from Martin. He is detained till Saturday — three 
 whole days ; " then, turning to the butler, she said, " You 
 can take away the tea-table," 
 
 As soon as the tea-things were removed, and Payne 
 and his satellite had departed. Lady Kesters produced 
 a gold case, selected a cigarette, settled herself com- 
 fortably in a corner of the sofa, and said — 
 
 " Now, Owen, light up, and let us have a pow-wow ! 
 Have you any plan in your head ? " 
 
 " No," he answered, " I'm afraid my head is, as 
 usual, pretty empty, and of course this ultimatum of 
 Uncle Richard's has been a bit of a facer ; I was in 
 hopes he'd give me another chance." 
 " What sort of chance ? ' 
 " Something in South Africa." 
 
 " Something in South Africa has been the will-o'- 
 the-wisp that has ruined lots of young men," she said ; 
 " you would do no good there, O. You haven't enough 
 push, originality, or cheek ; I believe you would find 
 yourself a tram conductor in Cape Town." 
 
 " Then what about India ? I might get a billet on 
 some tea estate — yes — and some shooting as well ! " 
 
 " Tea-planters' assistants, as far as I can gather, don't 
 have much time for shooting. There is the tea-picking 
 to look after, and the coolies to overseer in all weathers. 
 I believe the work in the rains is awful and the pay is 
 poor — you'd be much more likely to get fever than 
 shooting. Have you any other scheme ? " 
 
 She glanced at hor brother, who was lying back in an 
 arm-chair, his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes 
 fixed on the fire. Yes, Owen was undeniably good to 
 look at, with his clean-shaven, clear-cut face, well-knit 
 figure, and length of limb. He shook his head, but after 
 a moment said —
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 21 
 
 " Now let us have your ideas, Sis. You are always 
 a sure draw ! " 
 
 " What about matrimony ? " she asked composedly, 
 and without raising her eyes. 
 
 He turned and surveyed her with a stare of ironical 
 amusement. 
 
 " On the principle that what is not enough for one 
 will support two — eh ? " 
 
 " How can you be so silly ! I don't mean love in a 
 cottage ; I'm thinking of an heiress. There are several, 
 so to speak, on the market, and I believe I could marry 
 you off remarkably well, if you were not too critical ; 
 there is Miss Goldberger — a really good sort — enormously 
 rich, an orphan, and hideous to the verge of fascination. 
 She is in the racing set — and " 
 
 "No, thank you, Sis," he broke in; "I'd rather 
 drive a 'bus or motor any day than live on my wife's 
 fortune. If I married one of your rich friends I should 
 hate it, and I guarantee that she'd soon hate mc ; any- 
 way, I'm not keen on getting married. So, as the young 
 men in shops say, ' and the next article, please ? ' " 
 
 " Of course I know I need not again waste my breath 
 talking to you of business. Martin got j'ou a capital 
 opening in Mincing Lane, and you threw it up ; he'd 
 taken a lot of trouble, and he is rather sore about it still. 
 He fancies you look down on the City." 
 
 " I ? He never made a greater mistake ! The 
 City would soon look down on me. I'm no good at 
 figures ; I've no business ability or smart alacrity. If 
 I had not taken myself off, I'd soon have been chucked 
 out ; besides, I never could stick in an office all day 
 from ten to six. I'd much rather wash plates ! I want 
 something that will keep me in the open air all the time, 
 rain or shine ; and if I had to do with horses, so much
 
 20 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 the better. How about a place as groom — a breaker- 
 in of young hunters ? " 
 
 " Not to be thought of ! " she answered curtly. 
 
 " No ? " then drawing out another cigarette, " do 
 you know, I've half a mind to enlist. You see, I know 
 something of soldiering — and I like it. I'd soon get my 
 stripes, and for choice I'd pick the ' Death and Glory 
 Boys.' " 
 
 " Yes ; you may like soldiering as an officer, with a 
 fair allowance, a couple of hunters, and polo ponies ; 
 but I'm not sure that Trooper Wynyard would care 
 for stables, besides his drill and work, and I may be 
 wrong, but I think you have a couple of troop horses to 
 do up." 
 
 " Oh, I could manage all right ! I'm rather handy 
 with horses, though I must confess the bronchos I've 
 been riding lately did not get much grooming." 
 
 " No, no, Owen, I'm dead against enlisting, remember 
 that," she said authoritatively. " I shall go and inter- 
 view Uncle Richard to-morrow morning, and have a 
 tooth-and-nail combat on your behalf, find out if he means 
 to stick to his intention, or if / can't persuade him to 
 give you a job on the estate, say as assistant agent, 
 that would suit you ? " 
 
 " You're awfully clever. Sis," said the young man, 
 now rising and leaning against the chimney-piece, " and 
 in^every respect the head of the family. It's downright 
 wonderful how successfully you manage other people's 
 affairs, and give one a push here and a hand there. I 
 am aware that you have immense and far-reaching — 
 cr — influence. You have been the making of Kesters." 
 
 His sister dismissed the statement with an impatient 
 jerk of her cigarette. 
 
 " Oh yes, you have," he went on doggedly. " He was
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 23 
 
 formerly a common or garden wealthy man, whose day- 
 time was divided between meals and business ; now 
 he's a K.C.B., sits on all sorts of boards, has a fine place 
 in the country, shoots a bit, is a Deputy-Lieutenant, 
 and I don't know what all — and you've done it ! But 
 there is one person you cannot manage or move, and 
 that is Uncle Richard ; he is like a stone figure that all 
 the wind and sun and rain may beat on, and he never 
 turns a hair." 
 
 " How you do mix your metaphors ! " she exclaimed ; 
 " who ever saw a stone image with hair upon it ! Well," 
 rising to stand beside him, " I shall see what I can do in 
 the morning. Now, let us put the whole thing out of 
 our heads and have a jolly evening. Shall we go to a 
 theatre ? I suppose you've not been inside one since 
 you were last in town ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I was at theatres in Buenos Ayres, the 
 Theatre Doria, a sort of music hall, where I saw some 
 ripping dancing." 
 
 " I'll telephone for stalls at something. You may 
 as well have all the fun you can before you start off to 
 plough your lonely furrow." 
 
 " It's awfully good of you, Sis. I'm a frightful 
 nuisance to the family — something between a bad 
 penny and a black sheep ! " 
 
 " No, Owen, you know perfectly well you are neither," 
 she protested, as she lit another cigarette. " You 
 mentioned just now there are only the two of us, and it 
 would be rather strange if we did not stick by one another. 
 And there is this to be said, that although you've been 
 wild and extravagant, and your gambling and practical 
 joking were shocking, all the time you remain a gentle- 
 man ; and there are two things in your favour — you 
 don't drink "
 
 24 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " No, thank God ! " he responded, with emphasis. 
 
 " As far as I know you have never been mixed 
 up with women — eh, Owen ? " and she looked at him 
 steadily. 
 
 " No, To tell you the truth, I give them a wide 
 berth. I've seen some pretty awful affairs they had a 
 hand in. To be candid, I'm a little shy of your 
 sex." 
 
 " That is funny, Owen," she replied, " considering 
 it was on account of a woman you have just been thrown 
 out of a job," 
 
 " You could hardly expect a man to stand by and 
 see a brute like Murcia knocking a poor creature about 
 — half killing her — and never interfere ! " 
 
 " No, of course ; but you must not make the mistake 
 of being too chivalrous — chivalry is costly — and it is 
 my opinion that it has cost you a good deal already. 
 That detestable de Montfort was not the first who let 
 you in, or persuaded you to pull his chestnuts out of 
 the fire. Come now, own up — confess to the others." 
 
 " No — no " — and he smiled — he had a charming 
 smile — " there is such a thing as honour among thieves." 
 
 " That's all very noble and generous, my dear 
 brother, but some of the thieves were not honourable." 
 
 Her dear brother made no reply ; he was staring fixedly 
 into the fire and thinking of Hugo de Montfort. How 
 little had he imagined, when he backed Hugo's bill, 
 that the scribbling of his signature would make such 
 an awful change in his own life ! 
 
 Hugo and he had been at Eton in the same house ; 
 they had fagged together, sat side by side in chapel, 
 and frequently shared the same scrapes. Later they 
 had lost sight of one another, as Owen had struggled 
 into the Service and gone out to India. Some years
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 25 
 
 later, when stationed at the dep6t, he and de Montfort 
 had come across one another once more, 
 
 Hugo de Montfort was a self-possessed young man, 
 with sleek black hair and a pair of curiously unreadable 
 grey eyes : an idler about town — clever, crafty, unscrupu- 
 lous, and much given to cards and racing. 
 
 He welcomed his old pal Wynyard with enthusiasm — 
 and secretly marked him for his own. Wynyard — so 
 said report — was a nailing rider, a good sort, popular, and 
 known to be the nephew and heir of a rich, unmarried 
 uncle ; so he played the r61e of old schoolfellow and best 
 pal for all it was worth. 
 
 The plausible, insidious scoundrel, who lived by his 
 wits, was on his last legs — though he kept the fact a 
 secret — was seen everywhere, carried a bold front, and 
 owned a magnificent 60 h.p, motor, which was useful 
 in more ways than one. He was staying at the Metro- 
 p61e at Folkestone, and, struck by a bright idea — so he 
 declared — motored over to Canterbury one fine Sunday 
 morning, and carried off his friend to lunch. 
 
 As they sat smoking and discussing recent race meet- 
 ings, weights, and jockeys, de Montfort suddenly put 
 down his cigar and said — 
 
 " I say, look here, Owen, old man. I'm in rather a 
 tight fix this week. I want two thousand to square a 
 bookie — and, like the real sporting chap you are — will 
 you back my name on a bill ? " 
 
 Owen's expression became unusually grave ; backing 
 a bill was an iniquity hitherto unknown to him. Uncle 
 Dick had recently paid up handsomely, and he had given 
 certain promises ; and, indeed, had curtailed his expenses, 
 sold two of his ponies, and had made up his mind to keep 
 strictly within his allowance. 
 
 " Of course it's a mere form," pursued de Montfort,
 
 26 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 in his swaggering, off-hand way, " I swear to you. Do 
 you think I'd ask you, if it was not safe as a church ! I'll 
 have the coin in a fortnight ; but just at the moment 
 I'm terribly short, and you know yourself what racing 
 debts mean. So I come to you, my old pal, before any 
 one ; you are such a rare, good, generous, open-handed 
 sort ! Don't for a moment suppose that you will be 
 responsible," declared this liar; "I'll take up the bill 
 when it falls due ; I'd as soon let in my own mother as 
 a pal like you." 
 
 In short, Hugo was so urgent and so plausible, 
 that his victim was persuaded and carried away by 
 eloquence and old memories, accompanied de Montfort 
 to a writing-table, where he signed O. St. J. Wynyard 
 — and repented himself before his signature had been 
 blotted ! 
 
 Two days later Owen received a beautiful silver 
 cigarette-case, inscribed, as a token of friendship from de 
 Montfort, and this was succeeded by an alarming silence. 
 When the time approached for the bill to fall due, 
 Wynyard wrote anxious epistles to his old schoolfellow 
 — ^who appeared to be one of the crowd who believe that 
 letters answer themselves ! Then he went up to town 
 and sought him at his rooms and club ; no one could give 
 him any tidings of Hugo beyond the fact that he was 
 abroad — a wide and unsatisfactory address. He sent 
 distracted telegrams to some of the runaway's former 
 haunts ; there was no reply. The fatal day arrived, and 
 Owen was compelled to interview his uncle and make 
 a dean breast of the whole business j and his uncle was 
 furious to the verge of apoplexy. 
 
 " They used to say," he shouted, " put the fool of the 
 family into the army ; but my fool shall not remain in the 
 Serrice 1 I'll pay up the two thousand you've been
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 27 
 
 robbed of for the sake of my name — and out you go ! 
 Send in your papers to-day ! " 
 
 Lady Kesters was contemplating her face in the over- 
 mantle, which also reflected her brother's unusually grave 
 visage. 
 
 " Owen," she said, " what a pity it is that I hadn't 
 your looks and you my brains." 
 
 They presented a contrast, as they examined one 
 another in the glass. The woman's dark, irregular face, 
 her keen, concentrated expression ; the man with clear- 
 cut features, sleepy, deep-set grey eyes, and close-cropped 
 light brown hair. 
 
 " I think you are all right as you are. Sis," he re- 
 marked, after a reflective pause. 
 
 " But you are not," she snapped. " Now, if you 
 had my head. Oh, how I long to be a man ! I'd have 
 gone into Parliament. I'd have helped to manage the 
 affairs of a nation instead of the affairs of a family. I'd 
 have worked and slaved and made myself a name — yes, 
 and gone far ! " 
 
 " What's the good of going far ? " he asked, in a lazy 
 voice. 
 
 " Ah," she exclaimed, with a touch of passion, " you 
 have no ambition ; you don't even know what the word 
 means ! Look at the men in the Commons, who have 
 worked themselves up from nothing to be powers in the 
 land, whose influence is far-reaching, whose voices are 
 heard at the ends of the earth. What would be your 
 ambition, come now ? " and she surveyed him with 
 sparkling eyea. 
 
 *' Certainly not to go into Parliament," he answered, 
 " and sit in the worst atmosphere in London for eight 
 months of the year."
 
 28 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Well, at least it's an electrical atmosphere, charged 
 with vitality ! And your ambition ? " she persisted. 
 
 " To win the Grand National, riding my own horse, 
 since you must know," 
 
 " Pooh ! " she exclaimed, snapping her fingers with 
 a gesture of scorn, " and what a paltry aim ! — the 
 yells of a raving mob, a ' para ' in the papers, and the 
 chance of breaking 3^our neck." 
 
 " Better than breaking something else ! I'm told 
 that a political career, with its incessant work, crush- 
 ing disappointments, worry, and fag, has broken many 
 a fellow's heart." 
 
 " Heart ! Nonsense ; I don't believe you have one. 
 Well, now, as we are dining early, you had better see about 
 your things from Ryder Street, and I will go and 'phone 
 for stalls for The Giddy Girl."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE LAST WORD GOES BEGGING 
 
 Sir Richard Wynyard, aged fifty-six, was a little, 
 grey, square-shouldered man, with a good heart and 
 bad temper. His father, the notorious Sir Fulke, had 
 put his two sons into the army, given them small and 
 irregularly paid allowances, and then abandoned them 
 to their own devices, whilst he squandered the family 
 patrimony on horses and cards. When Richard, his 
 heir, was quartered in Dublin, he fell desperately in 
 love with a beautiful Irish girl ; but, painfully aware 
 of his own empty purse, he was too prudent to marry 
 — unlike his reckless younger brother, who adventured 
 a runaway match on a captain's pay and debts. Major 
 Wynyard made no sign, much as this silence cost him, 
 and when, after his father's death, he had at last a roof 
 to offer — Wynyard, a stately old place, although some- 
 what dismantled — he sought his lady-love in haste, but, 
 alas ! he was months too late ; she had already been 
 summoned to another home, — the beautiful Rose O'Hara, 
 his heart's desire, was dead. 
 
 This was said to have been Sir Richard's sole love- 
 affair, and the one grief of his life. The late baronet's 
 reckless extravagance had shattered the fortunes of his 
 descendants ; his heir found himself compelled to let the 
 land, close the Hall, sell off the horses, and take up his 
 abode with his mother in the town house in Queen's
 
 30 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Gate ; where he lived and how, was indifferent to him, 
 he seemed to have no heart for anything. This was 
 attributed to his supreme disgust at inheriting such a 
 legacy of debt ; but the real truth was that the loss 
 of the beautiful Rose had temporarily stunned her 
 lover. 
 
 Lady Wynyard, once a celebrated beauty, was now 
 a weak and withered old dowager, tyranically ruled by 
 her servants. When she, too, was carried to the ancestral 
 vault, her son still remained in the gloomy family abode, 
 and, more from apathy than anything else, fell under the 
 thrall of her retainers. 
 
 Between his father's and his mother's debts, Sir 
 Richard found himself sorely pressed, and he took 
 Martin Kesters, his schoolfellow and friend, into his 
 confidence. 
 
 " I shall be a crippled man all my life," he declared ; 
 " it will take years to nurse the property into anything 
 like what it was in my grandfather's day ; and, by that 
 time, that young chap, Owen, will step into my shoes." 
 
 " Well, Dick, if you don't mind a bit of risk," said 
 his companion, " I know a thing that will set you on 
 your legs and make your fortune ; but it's not abso- 
 lutely certain. Still, if it comes off, you get five hundred 
 per cent, for your money, and become a semi-million- 
 aire. It's an Australian gold-mine, and I believe it's 
 going to boom ! " 
 
 " Anything is better than this half-and-half exist- 
 ence," said Sir Richard impatiently. " You have a 
 long head, Martin, and I'll take your tip and put on all 
 I can scrape. I'll mortgage some outlying land, sell 
 some of the good pictures and the library, and be either 
 a man or a mouse. For once in my life I'll do a big 
 gamble. If I win, you say it's a big thing ; if I lose.
 
 THE LAST WORD GOES BEGGING 31 
 
 it means a few hundreds a year and a bedroom near my 
 club for the rest of my days. I take no middle course — 
 I'll be a rich man or a pauper." 
 
 And Sir Richard was as good as his word ; he scraped 
 up fifteen thousand pounds, staked the whole sum on 
 his venture — and won. 
 
 Subsequently, he cleared the property, invested in 
 some securities, began to feel at ease in the world, and 
 travelled widely. Having known the pinch and humilia- 
 tion of genteel poverty and practised stern self-denial 
 in his youth, Sir Richard was naturally the last man 
 to have any sympathy with a nephew — a restless, reck- 
 less scatter-brain — who was following in the foot- 
 steps of his squandering forefathers. The good-looking 
 young scapegrace must have a sharp lesson, and learn 
 the value of money and independence. 
 
 Lady Kesters' promised interview with her uncle 
 took place. He was fond of LeDa in his own brusque 
 fashion, and secretly plumed himself on having 
 manoeuvred her marriage. 
 
 " Well, Leila, I suppose 3'ou have come about this 
 precious brother of yours ? " he began, as she was 
 ushered into the smoking-room. 
 
 " Of course I have, Uncle Dick," she replied, as she 
 imprinted a kiss upon his cheek and swept into a chair. 
 " Something must be done ! " and she looked at him 
 with speculative eagerness. 
 
 " There I agree with you," he answered. " And 
 Owen is the man to do it. God helps those who help 
 themselves ! " 
 
 " Owen is most anxious to make another start ; but 
 it is not easy for a soldier man, brought up as he has 
 been." 
 
 " Brought up as a rich man's heir," broke in her
 
 3a A ROLLING STONE 
 
 uncle, with a quick, impatient movement ; " more fool 
 the rich man ! I gave the fellow a good education, 
 good allowance, good send-off. I got him into his father's 
 old regiment, and made him a decent allowance ; he did 
 fairly well in India, I admit ; but as soon as he came 
 home to the depot, he seemed to have lost his head. 
 Why, I believe the young scamp actually kept racers, 
 and as for his hunters, I never saw finer cattle in my 
 life 1 One day, when I happened to run down to Canter- 
 bury to visit him, I noticed a servant exercising a couple 
 of horses — such a pair ! I was bound to stop and admire 
 them, and the groom informed me that they belonged 
 to Lieutenant Wynyard of the Red Hussars ; and Mr. 
 Wynyard's uncle hadn't as much as a donkey to his 
 name 1 " 
 
 " But could have thousands if he chose," interposed 
 Leila. " As for racing, it was only his hunters Owen 
 put into regimental steeplechases and that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " And that sort of thing came devilish expensive ! " 
 snapped Sir Richard, who was now pacing the room. 
 " I had to pay his debts. I paid them twice, and he 
 promised on his word of honour to turn over a new leaf. 
 The next thing he did was to back a bill for an infernal 
 young swindler, and let me in for two thousand pounds 
 — that was the last straw ! " 
 
 " Yes, I know it was," assented his niece ; " but 
 really. Uncle Dick, Owen was not so much to blame as 
 you believe. He was very steady out in India for four 
 years ; coming home, as you say, went to his head ; he 
 did not realise that money does not go nearly as far 
 here — especially in an expensive cavalry regiment. He 
 kept polo ponies and racing ponies in Lucknow, and 
 could not understand that he could not do the same
 
 THE LAST WORD GOES BEGGING 33 
 
 at home. As to the bill, he is not suspicious, or 
 sharp at reading character, and is staunch to old friends 
 — or those he mistakes for friends — as in the case of 
 young de Mont fort. He had never heard what a ' wrong 
 un ' he turned out ; they were at Eton " 
 
 "Yes, I know — same house — same puppy -hole ! " 
 growled her uncle. 
 
 " And when Mr. de ]\Iontfort looked up Owen and 
 told him a pathetic and plausible tale about his affairs, 
 and swore on his word of honour that his signature was 
 a mere formality — and " 
 
 " Cleared off to Spain and left me to pay ! " inter- 
 posed Sir Richard, coming to a halt. 
 
 " Owen had to pay too," retorted his sister, with a 
 touch of bitterness. 
 
 " You mean that I made him leave the Service ? 
 Yes, I could not afford to go on supporting an extrava- 
 gant young ass." 
 
 " Owen is not brilliant. Uncle Dick, but he is no 
 fool." 
 
 " A fool and another man's money are soon parted. 
 Life was made too easy for the chap — very different to 
 what / found it at his age. I had no hunters, no dozens 
 of silk shirts, and rows of polo boots ; I never was to 
 be met lounging down Piccadilly as if the whole earth 
 belonged to me." 
 
 " Well, at least, Uncle Dick, you were never com- 
 pelled to give up a profession you adored, when you 
 were barely five-and-twenty." 
 
 " Fve given up a lot," he answered forcibly, " and 
 when I was older than him ; but never mind mc ; we 
 are talking of Owen. After leaving the Hussars, Kesters 
 took him on, and got him a capital billet in the City — a 
 nice soft berth, ten to four, but my gentleman could not 
 3
 
 34 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 stand an office stool and tall hat, and in five months 
 
 he had chucked " 
 
 Leila nodded. It was impossible to deny this 
 indictment. 
 
 " So then it was my turn again ; and I thought a 
 little touch of real work would be good for the future 
 Sir Owen Wynyard, and, after some trouble, I heard of 
 a likely opening in the Argentine on the Valencia 
 Estancia, well out of the way of towns and temptation 
 — a horse-breeding ranch, too. You see I studied the 
 fellow's tastes, eh ? " And Sir Richard twirled his 
 eyeglasses by the string — a trick of his when he con- 
 sidered that he had scored a point. 
 
 " I gave him his passage and outfit, and put a few 
 hundreds into the concern as a spec, and to insure him 
 an interest, and within twelve months here he is back 
 again on my hands — the proverbial rolling stone ! " He 
 cleared his throat, and continued : " Now, Leila, my girl, 
 you have a head on your shoulders, and you know that 
 these rolling stones find their way to the bottom, and 
 I am going to block my specimen in good time. I 
 suppose he told you what I said to him yesterday ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he came straight to Mount Street from seeing 
 you." 
 
 " He has got to shift for himself for two years, to 
 earn his bread, with or without butter, to guarantee 
 that he does not take a penny he has not worked for, 
 that he does not get into debt or any matrimonial 
 engagement ; should he marry a chorus-girl, by Jove I'll 
 burn down Wynyard ! If, by the end of that time, he 
 turns up a steady, industrious, independent member of 
 society, I will make him my agent — he shall have an 
 adequate allowance, the house to live in, and most of 
 my money when I am dead ! "
 
 THE LAST WORD GOES BEGGING 35 
 
 Lady Kesters was about to speak, but with a hasty 
 gesture her uncle interposed. 
 
 " I may as well add that I think myself safe in 
 offering this prize, for it's my belief that Owen will never 
 win it. He has the family fever in his veins — the rage 
 for gambling — and he is like the patriarch Reuben, 
 'unstable as water and cannot excel.' At the end of six 
 months he will be penniless, and you and Kesters will 
 have to come to his rescue ; for my part I wash my 
 hands of him." 
 
 " Uncle Dick," she said, rising, " I think you are too 
 hard on Owen ; he would not have come back from 
 South America if he had not had a row with the manager 
 of the Estancia : surely you could not expect an English 
 gentleman — an Englishman — to stand by and see a poor 
 woman nearly beaten to death ? " 
 
 " Oh," with an impatient whirl of his glasses, " the 
 fellow has always as many excuses as an Irishman ! " 
 
 " I think you are unjust," she said, with a flash in 
 her dark eyes. " I admit that Owen has been extravagant 
 and foolish, but he was not worse, or half as bad, as 
 many young men in his position. Are you quite deter- 
 mined ? Won't you give Owen another chance — or 
 even half a chance ? " 
 
 " No ; his future is now in his own hands, and I stick 
 to what I've said," he declared, with irritable vehemence. 
 " You came here, my clever Leila, to talk me over. 
 Oh, you are good at that, but it's no go this time ! 
 I am honestly giving the boy his only remedy. Let me 
 see," sitting down at his bureau, " what is the date ? 
 Yes — look here — I make an entry. I give Owen two 
 years from to-day to work out his time — to-day is the 
 thirty-first of March." 
 
 " But why not wait until to-morrow, and make it
 
 36 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 the first of April ? " suggested his niece, with a significant 
 and seductive smile. 
 
 " Leila," he spluttered, " I'm astonished at you ! 
 You jeer at me because I'm not disposed to keep your 
 beloved brother as an ' ohjH de luxe,' eh ? " 
 
 " I don't jeer. Uncle Dick, and I am sorry my tongue 
 was too many for me ; but I can see both sides of the 
 question, and it is hard that, after indulging Owen as a 
 boy, sending him to Eton, putting him into the Hussars, 
 and letting him become accustomed to the vService, sport, 
 and society, you suddenly pull up and throw him out 
 in the world to sink or swim. What can he do ? " 
 
 "That is for him to find out, and, since he wouldn't 
 pull up, I must." 
 
 " Listen to me," she said, risring and coming closer 
 to him ; " supposing Owen were to give you a promise 
 in writing that he would stick steadily to one situation 
 for two years, what would you say then ? " 
 
 " I'd say that the promise would not be worth the 
 paper it was written on ! " he answered, with gruff em- 
 phasis. " Give me deeds, not documents." 
 
 " Oh, so that is your opinion and your last word? " 
 
 " It's my opinion — yes — but as to the last word, 
 of course it's your perquisite ! " and he chuckled com- 
 placently. 
 
 Lady Kesters stood for a moment looking steadily 
 at her uncle, and he as steadily at her. Then she slowly 
 crossed the room and touched a bell to summon a 
 footman, who presentl}/ ushered her out of the house.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Leila's idea 
 
 As Lady Kesters motored home in her smart new Rolls- 
 Royce, her expression was unusually grave ; for once 
 Uncle Dick had proved invulnerable, and she was over- 
 powered with surprise; for her ladyship was so accustomed 
 " to push the world before her," to borrow an Irish 
 expression, that any little resistance affected her in the 
 nature of a shock. 
 
 Her brother was awaiting her in the smoking-room, 
 and as she entered and threw off her furs, he said — 
 
 " So it was no go, Leila ! Your embassy was a 
 failure ; defeat is written on your face — ahem — I told 
 you so ! " 
 
 " Now, Owen, I call this base ingratitude. I've 
 wasted my whole morning fighting for you, I am worsted 
 in the battle, and you receive me with grins and gibes ! " 
 
 " You see, I can understand Uncle Dick's attitude ; 
 he is pretty sick of me, and I don't blame him ; after all, 
 when you come to think of it, why should he support 
 a healthy, able-bodied duffer simply because he is his 
 nephew ? " 
 
 "Worse than that," amended his sister, "his heir! 
 / can understand his attitude even better than you, Owen. 
 As a young man he never had any real fling, and could 
 scarcely afford cabs and clothes or anything he wanted. 
 He was hampered by a hopelessly extravagant father."
 
 38 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " And now in his old age he is tormented by a spend- 
 thrift nephew." 
 
 " Yes, and I can't exactly explain ; but I grasp the 
 situation. You have had, what as a young man he never 
 enjoyed — that is to say, a splendid time — and chiefly at 
 his expense. He must feel just a little bit sore." 
 
 " No ; old Dick is a rattling good sort, and I don't 
 agree with you, Leila. It's not so much the money he 
 grudges, but that he thinks I'll never do any good. I've 
 no ballast. I've got to sally out into the world, like the 
 hero in a fairy tale, and prove myself ! " 
 
 " Yes, my dear brother ; you practically start to-day, 
 March the 31st, and do you know that I've got an idea, 
 — and from Purdon, of all people. He is rather smart 
 looking, and might pass for a gentleman, till he opens his 
 mouth ; besides, I happen to know that his mother lives 
 in Fulham, and keeps a small greengrocer's shop." 
 
 " Yes, but your idea ? You don't want me to start 
 in that line, do you ? " 
 
 " No," with an irrepressible smile ; " I want you to 
 become a chauffeur ! " 
 
 " A chauffeur ! " he repeated, subsiding into an 
 adjacent armchair; " but why ? " 
 
 " But why not ? " 
 
 " Well, of course, I used to drive a car — and yes — 
 your idea isn't half bad ; a chauffeur gets about the world 
 for nothing, has fair pay, and, by all accounts, bar 
 washing the car, a fairly good time." 
 
 " You need not be thinking of a good time, Owen ; but 
 put all idea of amusement out of your head, and make up 
 your mind that, during the next two years, you will be 
 doing time — as a punishment for your crimes ! Now, 
 to be practical, you must have a certificate, and you 
 and I will run into the country for the next day or two,
 
 LEILA'S IDEA 39 
 
 and you shall drive the car ; of course you are out of 
 practice, and Purdon shall give you tips. I suppose you 
 know all about magnetos, carburetters, and speed ? I 
 expect in a week you will qualify and pass, and there 
 you are ! " 
 
 " Yes, my lady, in a new black leather suit. I'll do 
 my best ; I see you've fixed it up." 
 
 She nodded assent. He was accustomed to Leila's 
 fixing up of his affairs, and never disputed her authority. 
 
 " You can take the car out in the morning, and get 
 accustomed to the traffic. I think you will make an 
 excellent chauffeur, as you have a strong head and 
 no nerves." 
 
 " Perhaps I may, and I've a sort of taste for mechanics. 
 As a kid, you remember, I was mad to be an engine-driver." 
 
 " Yes ; you were always blowing things up, or breaking 
 them down, or taking them to pieces." 
 
 " I dare say I'll have something of the breaking down 
 and taking to pieces in my new career." 
 
 " Only it's so frightfully risky ; you might go in for 
 being an airman — that's where you could make money ! " 
 
 " Yes, with a two to one chance of breaking my 
 neck." 
 
 " Think of ten thousand pounds earned in-a few hours ! 
 All the same it's out of the question, I couldn't bear the 
 anxiety, it's too dangerous ; though I see the day coming 
 when airships will displace motors, and I shall be flying 
 over to Paris to dine and do a theatre." 
 
 " Meanwhile, give me mother earth and a 60 h.p. car ! 
 Well, so it's settled," he said, jumping to his feet and 
 tossing the stump of his cigarette into the fire ; " yes, I'll 
 be a chauffeur all right — but what about the pay ? " 
 
 " I expect you start at two guineas a week, with or 
 without clothes, and find yourself,"
 
 40 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " A hundred a year, and an open-air billet ! I say, I 
 shall do splendidly. Leila, I feel that Uncle Dick's prize 
 is alread}^ in my hand." 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that ! Bear in mind that 
 some situations may not suit you, that you may not suit 
 them, and be thrown out of employment.' 
 
 " That's true ; it has happened to me twice already — 
 the Army and the ranch — and I've no luck." 
 
 " What do you mean, Owen ? " 
 
 " I mean that nothing comes my way ; other chaps 
 get all they want in big things, or little. Don't you know 
 the sort that fall across people they wish to meet, that 
 get the best corners at a shoot, the best hands at cards, 
 that win big sweepstakes and lotteries, come in for fine 
 legacies, and, at a good old age, die very comfortably 
 in their beds ? " 
 
 His sister nodded. 
 
 " I have one peculiarity. I can't call it gift, and it's 
 of no earthly value, I only wish it was marketable ; 
 I'd pass it on like a shot." 
 
 " What is it — second sight ? " 
 
 " No, that's all bosh ! It's — it's — I don't know how 
 to put it — the being on the spot when out-of-the-way 
 affairs come off, — sensational things, accidents, dis- 
 coveries, deaths. They seem to drop into my day's 
 work in an extraordinary way ; sometimes I begin to 
 think I've got the Evil Eye ! " 
 
 " Now that's nonsense if you like ! You have knocked 
 about a good deal for the last seven years, and naturally 
 seen far more than people at home." 
 
 " Well, anyhow, I wish this queer sort of fate would 
 change, and shove me towards something different — 
 a good post." 
 
 " And you believe you'd keep it ? "
 
 LEILA'S IDEA 41 
 
 " Anyway, I'd do my little best. My three weeks 
 as steward were a breaking-in." 
 
 " But you were acting all the time, Owen — you 
 know you love it ! and you realised that there was 
 a limit to the experience ? " 
 
 " No, honour bright, I wasn't playing the fool, I 
 am quick and ready, and not afraid of work. I say, look 
 here," and he took his hands out of his pockets and 
 held them up, the palms towards her. 
 
 " Oh, oh, my poor dear boy ! they are like — like — 
 leather ! Like a working-man's, only clean ! " 
 
 " Well, I never was a kid-glove chap, and the reins 
 have hardly been out of them for twelve months. I'm 
 fairly good with my hands, although an awful duffer 
 with my head." 
 
 " Just the opposite to me," declared his sister; " I 
 can scarcely sew a button on, and I can't do up a parcel 
 or tie a knot. But to return to our business. Once 
 you have a certificate, the next thing will be to find 
 you a situation. You had better begin in some very 
 quiet country place — a long way from Town and talk — 
 and I will recommend you." 
 
 " You ! " and he burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 " Oh yes, you may laugh ; but who else is there ? 
 We do not wish to invite the world into our family 
 laundry." 
 
 " Thank you, Leila." 
 
 " Don't be silly ! I will give you an excellent 
 character," she continued imperturbably, " as a sober, 
 respectable young man, most careful, obliging, and 
 anxious to please." 
 
 " Well, that sounds all right." 
 
 " And you must really be, as the French advertise- 
 ments say, ' un chauffeur serieux,' and promise not to
 
 42 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 play the fool, and I shall get you a nice situation that 
 I happen to know of, with two old ladies." 
 
 "O Lord!" he expostulated; "can't you make 
 it a couple of old gentlemen ? I'd much rather go to 
 them." 
 
 "Yes, no doubt you would," she answered; "but 
 you cannot pick and choose, and this place seems the 
 very one for a start. These are the two Miss Parretts." 
 
 " I say, what a name ! Any cats ? " 
 
 "I believe they are an old French family — de 
 Palairet, and have the dark eyes and animation of the 
 race, — but they are so long in England, they have become 
 Parrett." 
 
 "De Palairet is rather a mouthful. And where- 
 abouts do the old birds nest ? " 
 
 " In a remote part of Midshire. I came across them 
 when I stayed with our cousins, the Davenants, down at 
 Westmere ; when I was a girl I went there every summer, 
 but now the family place is sold." 
 
 " Yes, the Davenants are broke. Young Davenant 
 was in the Hussars with me, and was frightfully hard up." 
 
 " The two Miss Parretts lived in the village of Ottinge 
 — Ottinge-in-the-Marsh — in a little old red cottage. They 
 had two maids, two cats, and a sweet garden. The 
 original property was in the neighbourhood, and the 
 family manor of the Parretts. The father of these old 
 ladies, Colonel Parrett, married in India, when he was a 
 sub., a planter's daughter, simply because he, they say, 
 was dared to make her an offer — and whatever a Parrett 
 is dared to do — they do." 
 
 " I say, I think I shall like them ! I shall dare them 
 to double my salary." 
 
 " The first Mrs. Parrett died and left a baby, your 
 future mistress, Her father sent her home, and married,
 
 LEILA'S IDEA 43 
 
 years later, an Irish girl, and again his wife died and 
 left him with two more girls. One married the village 
 parson, the other lived with her father and sister in 
 the Manor. After the death of Colonel Parrett, it was 
 found that he had squandered all his money putting it 
 into follies : the Manor was mortgaged to the chimneys, 
 the daughters had to turn out, and for years lived in 
 genteel poverty. Now comes a turn of Fortune's wheel ! 
 Some distant Parrett relative bequeathed a heap of 
 money to Miss Parrett, and she and Miss Susan have 
 gone back to the Manor. Bella Parrett must be well 
 over seventy ; Susan is about fifty, has the youngest 
 heart I ever knew in an elderly body, and is the most 
 unselfish creature in the world. Miss Parrett is an 
 egotistical old person, full of pedigree and importance, 
 but always delightfully sweet and affectionate to me. She 
 looks obstinate and self-willed, and I feel positive that 
 some one has dared her to buy a motor ! I had a letter 
 from her the other day, asking me to take up the character 
 of a cook ; she mentioned that she was about to purchase 
 a most beautiful automobile upholstered in green morocco 
 leather, — think of that ! and would soon be looking 
 for a nice, steady, respectable young man as chauffeur, 
 and " — pointing at her brother with an ivory paper knife — 
 " here he is ! " 
 
 " Is he ? " he responded doubtfully, " I'm not so 
 sure." 
 
 " Yes. I admit that it will be hideously dull, and I 
 can absolutely guarantee you against any sensational 
 experiences. It is just a sleepy little country place, 
 with few big people in the neighbourhood : no racing, 
 shockingly bad hunting — not that this will affect you — 
 but it will be an ideal spot for putting in the time. You 
 will never see a soul you know ; I'll keep you well
 
 44 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 supplied with books, papers, and news, and steal down 
 to see 3/0U now and then, ' under the rose' " 
 
 " Don't, don't ! " he protested, with a laugh, " think 
 of my spotless character." 
 
 " Yes ; but I shall come all the same ! The place is 
 notoriously healthy, I dare say you may get some good 
 fishing, you will hardly have anything to do — they 
 won't go out much — of course you'll pay a boy to clean 
 the car, and I've no doubt that the old ladies will take 
 an enormous fancy to you and leave you a fortune, and 
 you will be just as happy as the day is long." 
 
 " Oh, all right. Then, in that case, my dear Sis, since 
 you say there is a chance of a great fortune and good 
 fishing, you may book me for the situation by the next 
 post."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 PLANS AND THREATS 
 
 When the choice of Owen's future employment was 
 duly imparted to his uncle and brother-in-law, the latter 
 received it with approval, the former with a series of 
 alarming explosions. 
 
 " His nephew — his heir — a common chauffeur ! Out- 
 rageous ! Why not enlist, and be the King's servant, 
 if livery he must wear ? " Then, in a tone of angry sar- 
 casm, " I see — I see his reason. The fellow will be 
 gadding round, making believe to himself it's his own 
 machine ; to many young asses, driving a car is an 
 extraordinary pleasure. Yes, that's why he hit on it ! " 
 and he slapped his leg with a gesture of triumph. 
 
 " You are wrong, Uncle Richard, it was / who hit 
 on it," protested the culprit. " Owen never had an 
 idea of being a chauffeur till I suggested it." 
 
 "That's likely enough; his ideas are few and far 
 between. Well, now look here, Leila, I forbid him to 
 adopt your plan." 
 
 " But, my dear uncle, have you not washed your 
 hands of him for the next two years ? " she demanded, 
 with raised brows. " Do j^ou really think you are 
 consistent ? " 
 
 " But a greasy chauffeur, got up in black leather, like 
 a boot " 
 
 " The pay is not bad, it's a job he can manage, and, 
 
 45
 
 46 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 after all, you will allow that Owen must live; or are 
 you going to say, " Je n'en vols pas la necessite? " 
 
 " Umph ! I wonder, Leila, where you got that 
 tongue of yours ? " 
 
 " And," dismissing the question with an airy gesture, 
 " I know of a nice quiet place in a country village, with 
 two darling old maiden ladies, where he will be, so to 
 speak, out at grass, with his shoes off ! " 
 
 " Oh yes," he snarled, " / know your quiet, wicked 
 little country village, with the devil peeping behind 
 the hedges and finding plenty for an idle young man to do. 
 Villages are pestilential traps, swarming with pretty 
 girls. Just the place where Owen will fall into the 
 worst scrape of all — matrimony. He is a good-looking 
 chap ; they'll all be after him ! " 
 
 " I don't believe there's a woman in Ottinge under 
 forty, and I never saw a more hard-featured lot — never. 
 You know I stayed in the neighbourhood with the 
 Davenants years ago." 
 
 " Another thing — no one can take Owen for any- 
 thing but a gentleman ! " and Sir Richard put up his 
 glasses and surveyed his niece, with an air as much as 
 to say, " There's a poser ! " 
 
 " Oh yes. He has only to show his hands, worn 
 with manual labour, and I'll tell him to grow his hair 
 long, wear gaudy ties, and hold his tongue." 
 
 " Well, have your own way ! But, as sure as I'm 
 a living sinner, harm will come of this mad idea ; it's 
 nothing more or less than play-acting. He'd much 
 better have gone on the stage when he was about it." 
 
 "Unfortunately, there's one objection, — it is the 
 most precarious of all professions ; for an amateur it 
 would be hard work and no pay. In five years Owen 
 might, with great luck, be earning thirty shillings a week.
 
 PLANS AND THREATS 47 
 
 Oh, I've thought over no end of plans, I can assure you. 
 Uncle Dick, and the chauffeur scheme is by far the 
 most promising." 
 
 " Of course you always get the better of me in talk ; 
 but I've my own opinion. You and Owen will make a 
 fine hash of his affairs between you. Bear in mind 
 that I won't have the Wynyard name made little of in 
 a stinking garage. He is not to use it, or to let any one 
 know he is a Wynyard, and that's fiat ; and you can 
 tell him that, as sure as he takes service as Owen Wynyard, 
 I'll marry — and to that I stick ! " and with this an- 
 nouncement, and a very red face, he snatched up his 
 hat and departed. 
 
 Sir Martin Kesters, on the other hand, saw nothing 
 derogatory in his brother-in-law's employment, and 
 warmly applauded the scheme. At twenty-six Owen 
 should be learning independence ; moreover, it was his 
 wife's plan, and, in his opinion, everything she said or 
 did was right. " I think it's a sound scheme," he said. 
 " If money is wanted, Leila, you know where to get it." 
 
 " No, no ; Owen has a little, and he must not touch 
 a halfpenny that he has not earned — it's in the bond ; 
 and he will have nothing to spend money on down there. 
 I don't believe there's a billiard-table or a pack of cards 
 in the place." 
 
 " The typical hamlet, eh ? Half-a-dozen cottages, a 
 pump, and an idiot — poor devil ! " 
 
 " Owen or the idiot ? " 
 
 "Both. All the same, Leila, I feel sure that, now 
 you've taken Owen in hand, he will come out on 
 top." 
 
 Wynyard fell in with everything, without question 
 or argument, and cheerfully accepted his sister's arrange- 
 ments, with the exception of the ties. He drew the
 
 48 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 line at an orange satin with green spots, or even a blue 
 with scarlet horse-shoes. 
 
 No, he declared, nothing would induce him to 
 be seen in them ; he was always a quiet dresser. He 
 could wear a muffler, hold his tongue, or even drop his 
 h's if necessary ; but he barred making an object of 
 himself, and suggested that she should offer the dis- 
 carded ties as a birthday present to Payne. 
 
 " He'd give notice. Payne, in his unprofessional 
 kit, looks like a chief justice. Well, I won't insist 
 on the ties, but you must' promise to be very countrified 
 and dense. You know you can take off any one's way 
 of talking in the most remarkable way, and do Uncle 
 Richard to the life ! " 
 
 " One of my rare accomplishments ; and as to being 
 dense, why, it's my normal condition." 
 
 " Oh yes, you may joke ! But I do hope you won't 
 let the cat out of the bag, Owen, or allow any one to 
 suspect that ' things are not what they seem ! ' I 
 wonder how you will manage in the kitchen and stables, 
 and if you will be unmasked ? " 
 
 " Well, I promise to do my best to pick up the local 
 manners and patois, and, my dear Leila, 3'ou appear 
 to forget, that for the last year Lve lived among a very 
 mixed lot, and got on all right." 
 
 " Got on all right ! " she cried. " How can you 
 say so ? when you told me yourself that you had half 
 killed a man ! However, as you and I are confederates 
 in this most risky enterprise, I feel sure you will do 
 your utmost for my sake. Think of the uproar and 
 scandal if Miss Parrett were to discover that you were 
 my brother — late of Eton College and the Red Hussars. 
 Explanation would be impossible; I should be com- 
 pelled to flee the country ! "
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS 
 
 The train which bore Wynyard to his situation was 
 slow, and lingered affectionately at every station ; never- 
 theless he enjoyed the leisurely journey. He was glad 
 to be in England once more ! His eyes feasted greedily 
 on the long stretches of quiet, secluded country, nice 
 hunting fences, venerable villages crowding round a 
 church steeple, and stately old halls buried in hollows, 
 encompassed by their woods. 
 
 The afternoon was well advanced when he saw " Cats- 
 field " on a large board staring him in the face, and, 
 realising that he had reached his destination, seized his 
 bag, sprang out, and went in search of his luggage — a 
 corded tin box of a remarkably vivid yellow. His sister 
 had insisted upon this, instead of his old battered port- 
 manteau, as a part of his disguise. A portmanteau, she 
 declared, would give him away at once ! For, no matter 
 how dilapidated and travel-stained, a portmanteau con- 
 ferred a certain position upon its owner ! 
 
 There were but two people on the platform of the 
 forlorn little station, which seemed to have no business 
 and no belongings, but had, as it were, sat down 
 helplessly to rest in the middle of a sweeping plain of 
 pasture. 
 
 Outside the entrance no cabs or vehicles were to be 
 seen, merely an unpainted spring-cart drawn by a hairy 
 4
 
 50 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 bay mare. In reply to the traveller's inquiries , the porter 
 said — 
 
 " Oh no, there's no call for flies here, sir, no work for 
 'em ; the cart was sent for a man-servant, and he ain't 
 come. To Ottinge ? Yes, sir, he'd take your luggage, 
 I dessay, and you, too, if you wouldn't despise driving 
 with him." 
 
 " I wouldn't despise driving with any one ; but, as I'm 
 rather stiff and dusty, I'll walk. You say Ottinge is four 
 miles across the fields and seven by the road. " Here," 
 addressing the driver in the cart, " if you are going to 
 Ottinge, will you take my bag and box, and I'll give you 
 a shilling ? " 
 
 " All right, master ; 'eave 'em in, Pete. Where to, 
 sir ? " 
 
 "Miss Parrett's, the Manor;" then, turning to the 
 porter, " can you pojnt me out the short-cut ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, straight over the fields. First you go along 
 this 'ere road to the left, down a lane, then over the water- 
 meadows and a wooden bridge — ye can see the spire of 
 Ottinge Church, and if you steer to that, you can't go far 
 out. Thank you," touching his cap in acknowledgment 
 of sixpence. 
 
 As the stranger moved off with an even, swinging 
 stride, the two men stared after him with a gape of 
 astonishment, 
 
 " I'm jiggered if I don't believe that's the motor 
 chap after all!" said the driver; "why, he looks 
 like a regular toff, and talks high. I was bid to 
 fetch a young man, so I was, but there was no 
 word of a gentleman — and I know he's boarding at 
 Sally Hogben's." 
 
 " It's a queer start," agreed the porter ; " he's a likely 
 looking fellow. I expect he'll make rare work among
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS 51 
 
 the maids ! " as his eyes followed the active figure in 
 tweeds and leather gaiters, till it was lost to sight round 
 a bend in the road. 
 
 " That soort o' chap won't be long with them two old 
 women, you may take your oath. Lor' bless ye, he'd 
 cut his throat ! Why, you haven't a good glass o' beer 
 nor a pretty girl in the parish." 
 
 "I'm none so sure o' that ! " retorted the driver, giving 
 the bay a smack with the reins, preparatory to starting ; 
 " there's a fair tap at the Drum, and a couple o' rare 
 pretty faces in our church." 
 
 " Is that so ? I'm not to say busy on Sunday — one 
 down and one up — and maybe I'll just step over and 
 have a look at 'em." 
 
 " Eh, ye might go furdcr and fare worse ! Well, I'm 
 off," and he rattled away in his clumsy cart, with the 
 gay new box for its only load. 
 
 It was about four o'clock on a lovely afternoon in 
 April ; the air was sweet and stimulating, and the new- 
 comer was conscious of a sense of exhilaration and satis- 
 faction, as he looked across the stretch of meadows lying 
 in the sunlight. 
 
 Wynyard was country-bred, and the familiar sights 
 and sounds awakened pleasant memories. He noted 
 the bleating of lambs, the cries of plover, the hedges 
 powdered with thorn, and the patches of primroses. 
 Everything was so rural and so restful — such a contrast 
 to the roar of London, the skimming taxis, the hooting 
 and clanking of motors, and the reek of petrol ; he had 
 stepped aside from the glare and noise into a byway. 
 As he strode along, steering steadily for the church spire, 
 his spirits rose with every step ; he vaulted stiles, leapt 
 lazy little streams, and, coming to a river, which he crossed 
 by a rickety wooden bridge, found that he was within
 
 52 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 measurable distance of his destination, and paused for 
 a moment to survey it. 
 
 The village, which lay under the shelter of some low 
 hills, was long and straggling ; red, hunched-up houses 
 and high-roofed, black barns had turned their backs on 
 the pasture, and a hoary church, with a high slated spire 
 and surrounded by a bodyguard of trees, stood sentry at 
 one end of Ottinge-in-the-Marsh. At the other, and 
 almost opposite to where he had halted, was an ancient 
 grey manor house of considerable pretensions, set in 
 creepers and encircled by yew hedges, A stone-faced, 
 sunk fence and a high wooden gate separated him from 
 this property, and, as far as he could judge, the only way 
 he could reach the village was by intruding into the 
 grounds. He looked up and down and could see nothing 
 but a fence abutting on the meadows, and, further on, 
 the backyards and gardens of the villagers. Like the 
 thundering ass he was, he had lost his way ! He tried 
 the wooden gate, found it padlocked, and vaulted over 
 — a bold trespasser ! As he alighted, a little figure, 
 which had been stooping over a flower-bed, raised itself 
 with a jerk, and he found himself face to face with a 
 bunchy old lady, trowel in hand. She wore a short 
 jacket made of Gordon tartan and a knitted hood with 
 shabby brown strings. 
 
 For a moment the two surveyed one another fixedly : 
 she, recognising that she was confronting a tall, hand- 
 some young man of six or seven-and-twenty ; he, that he 
 was gazing at a little woman, with grey hair worn in loops 
 at either side of a flatfish face which was animated by a 
 pair of quick, suspicious eyes — round and black as those 
 of a bird. 
 
 " There is no right-of-way through these grounds ! " 
 she announced, in a high reedy voice, something like a
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS 53 
 
 child's, but more authoritative ; and as she opened her 
 mouth it was apparent that she was toothless as a new- 
 born babe. 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry," said the interloper, cap in hand, 
 " but I'm afraid I've missed the footpath and lost my 
 bearings. I want to get into the village." 
 
 " Well, you're in the village here," she answered tartly. 
 " You've only to go down that avenue," pointing with 
 her trowel ; " the Drum is on the left. I suppose you are 
 come about the fishing ? " 
 
 " Thank you — no — I've nothing to do with fishing." 
 
 Once more he took off his cap. She bowed from her 
 waist as if it was hinged, and again indicated his direction. 
 
 " The Manor ? " echoed a yokel, in answer to Wyn- 
 yard's question ; " why," with a grin, " yer just come out 
 o' it, mister ! " 
 
 He accordingly retraced his steps down the short 
 drive and rang at the hall-door, which was at the side 
 of the dignified old house, and over the lintel of which 
 was the date, 1569, in deeply cut figures. A smart parlour- 
 maid answered the clanging bell, and stared in round- 
 eyed surprise. 
 
 " Can I see Miss Parrett ? " he asked; "my name is 
 Owen. I'm the new chauffeur." 
 
 " The chauffeur ! " she repeated, with incredulous 
 emphasis. "Oh ! — If you will just step inside, I'll let her 
 know; " and, tripping before him down a long, resounding, 
 flagged passage — which seemingly ran the length of the 
 house — she ushered him into a low-pitched room, with 
 heavy oak beams, and mullioned windows facing south, 
 overlooking the meadows he had recently crossed — a vast, 
 spreading stretch of flat country outlined by a horizon of 
 woods — possibly those of some great demesne. 
 
 " I'll tell Miss Parrett," said the maid, as, with a
 
 54 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 lingering look at the new arrival, she closed the 
 door. 
 
 The chauffeur awaited an interview for some time, as 
 it took Miss Parrett at least ten minutes to recover her 
 amazement, and invest herself with becoming dignity. 
 That man the chauffeur ! Why, she had actually 
 mistaken him for a gentleman ; but , of course, in these 
 socialistic days, the lower orders dressed and talked like 
 their betters ; and she registered a mental vow to keep 
 the creature firmly in his place. The fact that she had 
 supposed her new chauffeur to be a visitor who rented the 
 fishing, was an error she never forgave herself — and the 
 origin of her secret animosity to Wynyard. 
 
 The room into which he had been ushered was heavily 
 wainscoted in oak ; the chimney-piece, a most beautiful 
 specimen of carving — but some ignorant hand had painted 
 the whole with a sickly shade of pea-green ! Various 
 tables and chairs, which had seen better days, were 
 scattered about ; it was not a show apartment, but 
 evidently the retreat where people did all sorts of odd 
 jobs. A coil of picture wire, curtain rings, and a pile of 
 chintz patterns, were heaped on the round centre table, 
 and a stack of wall-papers littered the floor. A snug, 
 sunny, cheerful sort of den, which would make an Ai 
 smoking-room. Precisely as the chauffeur arrived at this 
 opinion, the door was flung open, and Miss Parrett 
 ambled in. 
 
 " So you are my new chauffeur ! " she began, in a shrill 
 voice, as she surveyed him with an air of acrid self- 
 assertion. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," and Owen, as he looked at her, was 
 conscious of a nascent antagonism. 
 
 " Your name, I understand, is Owen. What's your 
 christian name ? "
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS 55 
 
 He coloured violently. What was his christian 
 name ? 
 
 " St. John," he answered, after a momentary hesita- 
 tion. (It was his second name.) " That is — I mean to 
 say — John." 
 
 " St. John, what affectation ! Of course it's John — 
 plain John. I've engaged you on the recommendation 
 of my friend, Lady Kesters. She says you are steady, 
 efficient, and strictly sober," looking him up and down ; 
 " she mentioned you were smart — I suppose she meant 
 your clothes, eh ? " 
 
 Wynyard made no reply, but kept his gaze fixed 
 steadily on a crack in the floor, and the old woman 
 continued — 
 
 " Of course Lady Kesters knows you personally ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " I hope I shall find you satisfactory and experienced." 
 
 " I hope so, ma'am." 
 
 " And not above your place — ahem ! " — clearing her 
 throat — " I have recently purchased a most beautiful 
 motor, and I engaged you to drive it, and take great care 
 of it ; it is lined with real morocco leather, and cost, second 
 hand, five hundred pounds." As she paused for a moment 
 to see if he was properly impressed, he repeated his 
 parrot's cry of — 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " My sister and I propose to use it for paying calls at a 
 distance. You must drive very slowly and carefully, 
 and keep the car in perfect order, and spotlessly clean." 
 
 " I'll do my best, ma'am," he assented. 
 
 " Your wages will be, from to-day, two guineas a week. 
 You will live in the village. We have arranged for you 
 to board with a most respectable woman, and trust you 
 will give her as little trouble as possible, and we shall
 
 56 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 expect to see you in church at least once on Sunday. 
 You may join the Young Men's Christian Association, 
 and the choir — and " 
 
 But here he interrupted. 
 
 " Excuse me, ma'am, but I don't think there's any- 
 thing about church attendance and singing in our 
 agreement. Sunday, I presume, will be my day off, and I 
 shall be glad of some exercise." 
 
 " You never mean to tell me you don't go to 
 church ? " she demanded, fixing him with her little 
 beady eyes ; " as to exercise, you will got plenty of that 
 in the week — doing odd j obs and going messages. We are 
 only here about six months, and not nearly settled yet." 
 
 " I," he was about to add, " go to church when I 
 please;" but at this critical moment the door again 
 opened, and another lady, much younger than his 
 inquisitor, entered briskly. She had a long thin face, a 
 kindly expression, and a pair of bright blue eyes which 
 opened to their widest extent as she looked at Wynyard. 
 
 " I heard our new chauffeur had come," she began, 
 rather breathlessly. 
 
 " My chauffeur, Susan, if you please," corrected Miss 
 Parrett, " seeing that I am paying his wages and he is to 
 drive my car." 
 
 Miss Susan coloured faintly, and answered with a 
 nervous laugh — 
 
 " Yes, yes, dear, of course — of course." 
 
 " His name is Owen — John Owen — and I have been 
 telling him of his duties, and how we only require to be 
 driven about the country quietly — no dashing, no 
 racing, no touring." 
 
 " Yes, my dear sister, that is all very well for you who 
 are nervous ; but I do love motoring, and I hope this young 
 man will take me for miles, and let me see something of
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS 57 
 
 the country. I wish you would come with us, Bella, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 " I don't require you to invite me to use my own car, 
 Susan," rejoined Bella, with crushing dignity. Wynyard 
 gathered that an increase of riches had not been to the 
 moral advantage of Miss Parrett, and felt sorry for her 
 snubbed relation ; but Susan, a valiant soul, took what 
 the gods had given her or withheld, with extraordinary 
 philosophy, was never offended, envious, or out of 
 temper, and recovered from these humiliations with the 
 elasticity of an indiarubber ball. 
 
 " You left London early ? " said Miss Parrett, turning 
 to him. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, at nine o'clock." 
 
 Susan started at the sound of his voice ; he spoke like 
 a gentleman ! 
 
 " Then, no doubt you are ready for something to eat ? 
 Susan, you may take the young man down the village 
 and introduce him to Mrs. Hogben, and, on the way, you 
 can show him the motor." Then, to Wynyard, " And as 
 you find it, I shall expect you to keep it. I will give you 
 further orders in the morning. Then, in the voice of a 
 person speaking to a child : " Now, go with Miss Susan. 
 You won't be long ? " she added, addressing her sister; 
 " there are those letters to be answered." 
 
 " No ; but anyway I must run up to the Rectory. 
 I've just had a note from Aurea; she came home last 
 night."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 
 
 Miss Susan preceded Owen, and as he stalked along the 
 great flagged passage, he noted her trim, light figure, 
 quantity of well-dressed, grizzled hair, and brisk, tripping 
 walk, and he made up his mind — although they had not as 
 yet exchanged a word — that he liked her immeasurably 
 the better of the sisters ! How could Leila say they were 
 " dear old things ! " Miss Parrett was neither more or 
 less than an ill-bred, purse-proud little bully. On their 
 way out he caught sight, through open doors, of other 
 rooms with mullioned windows, and more vague efforts 
 at refurnishing and embellishment. 
 
 " We are not long here," explained Miss Susan, reach- 
 ing for her hat off a peg, and they crossed a vestibule 
 opening into a huge enclosed yard, " though we lived 
 here as children ; it's only lately we have come back to 
 our own — or rather my sister's own," she corrected, 
 with a little nervous laugh. "The Manor has been 
 occupied by a farmer for twenty-five years, and was 
 really in a dreadful state of neglect : the roof and upper 
 floors dropping to pieces, and everything that should 
 have been painted was neglected, and everything that 
 should not have been painted, was painted." 
 
 In the yard a small black spaniel, who was chained 
 to his kennel, exhibited convulsions of joy on beholding 
 
 Miss Susan. As she stooped to unfasten the prisoner, he 
 
 58
 
 MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 59 
 
 instantly rushed at Wynyard, but after a critical 
 examination received him with civility. 
 
 " You are highly favoured," remarked the lady ; 
 " Joss, although a nobody himself, is most particular 
 as to who he knows. He means to know you." 
 
 " I'm glad of that — I like dogs. What breed is he ? " 
 
 " That is a question we are so often asked. His 
 mother is a prize poodle, his father a small black 
 spaniel. We have never quite decided what we shall 
 bring him up as, sometimes we think we'll clip him 
 and pass him off as a poodle." 
 
 " Oh, he is much more of a spaniel — look at his 
 ears and tail," objected the new chauffeur. " Of course 
 he is a bit too leggy." 
 
 " Yes ; I'm afraid poor Joss's appearance is against 
 him, but his heart is in the right place." 
 
 " Dogs' hearts always are." 
 
 " Joss is so sporting, if he only had a chance," con- 
 tinued Miss Susan. " He swims like a fish and is crazy 
 after water-fowl — that is the spaniel side. The poodle 
 blood makes him clever, sly, inquisitive, and as mis- 
 chievous as a monkey." 
 
 " Is he your dog, miss ? " 
 
 " No, he belongs to my sister, though she does not 
 care for animals ; but she says a dog about the place 
 makes a topic of conversation for callers. We country 
 folk are often hard up ; the weather and gardens are 
 our chief subjects. Joss is a capital watch — though I 
 hate to see him chained here day after day. I believe 
 a young dog requires liberty — yes, and amusement — 
 as much as a human being." She glanced at Owen. 
 " You will think me silly ! " 
 
 " No, miss, I'm entirely of your opinion." 
 
 " And poor Joss leads such a dull life ; there are no
 
 6o A ROLLING STONE 
 
 young people to take him out, and no dogs of his own 
 class in the village, and now " — as she began to draw the 
 bolts of a coach-house door, but Owen came forward — 
 "here is the motor;" and, taking a long breath, she 
 ejaculated, " There ! " 
 
 There indeed was the car, newly painted, and dark 
 green, as described. It was a closed motor brougham 
 to hold four. Owen examined it critically, and with 
 the eye of an expert. Within the last few days he had 
 become rather wise respecting cars. This was an old- 
 fashioned machine, which had seen a great deal of hard 
 wear, and would not stand much rough usage — no, nor 
 many long journeys. 
 
 " Isn't it nice ? " said Miss Susan, " and do look 
 at all the lovely pockets inside," opening the door as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Yes ; but I don't see any Stepney wheel," he said. 
 " Why, it has four — what more do you want ? " 
 To which he replied by another question : 
 " Where did Miss Parrett get hold of it ? " 
 " Oh, she bought it through an advertisement from 
 a gentleman who had ordered a larger car, and as he 
 didn't want two — indeed, he made rather a favour of 
 selling it — he parted with this one, a bargain." 
 " Oh — a bargain ! " he repeated helplessly. 
 " Well, I suppose it was cheap for five hundred ? " 
 Wynyard made no reply ; in his opinion the machine 
 would have been dear at fifty. It was evident that 
 some unscrupulous rascal had foisted an old-fashioned 
 rattle-trap upon these ignorant and unsuspicious ladies. 
 " My sister is so nervous," exclaimed Miss Susan, 
 " and I don't think she will use the car as much as she 
 supposes. Even in a cab she sits all the time with her 
 eyes closed and her hands clenched. She would never
 
 MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 6i 
 
 have purchased the motor, only our brother-in-law, the 
 parson here — who is rather a wag in his way — chaffed 
 her, and, just to contradict him, she bought one within 
 a week ! " 
 
 Miss Susan was evidently a talker, and Wynyard 
 listened in civil silence as, chattering incessantly, she 
 accompanied him down the drive and out into the 
 village street. 
 
 " Now I am going to take you to your lodgings, where 
 I hope you will be comfortable," and she looked at him 
 with a kindly little smile. " There is where we lived 
 for thirty years," pointing to a pretty old red cottage, 
 with a paved walk through a charming garden — at 
 present gay with daffodils and crocus. 
 
 " Do you know I planted every one of those bulbs 
 myself," she said; "I'm a great gardener — my sister 
 only potters. The gardens at the Manor have run to 
 seed like the house, and it will take a long time to put 
 them straight. After we left it, on my father's death, 
 the tenant was a farmer, and only lately my sister 
 has bought it back. A relative we never saw left 
 Bella all his fortune, and money comes just a little 
 strange to her at first. We have always been poor — 
 and so sometimes she — is " 
 
 Miss Susan faltered, blushed, and came to a full 
 stop ; she felt conscious that she was forgetting herself, 
 and talking to this stranger — a man-servant — as if he were 
 her equal ! Her tongue always ran away with her ; 
 unfortunately, she could not help it, and it was absolutely 
 true, as Bella repeatedly told her, " she was 7nuch too 
 familiar with the lower orders ! " 
 
 " Ahem ! I dare say you will find Ottinge dull after 
 London. Do you know London? " she inquired, after 
 a conscious silence.
 
 62 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Yes, miss, I know it well." 
 
 " There's no one much of your stamp in the village ; 
 they are all Ottinge born and bred, and you seem to be 
 a superior sort of young man." 
 
 " I don't think I'm at all superior, miss ; anyway, 
 I've got to earn my bread the same as other people." 
 
 " Here we are at Mrs. Hogben's," she announced, 
 and, opening a gate, walked up the flagged path leading 
 to an old two-storeyed cottage, and a broadly built, 
 elderly woman, with a keen, eager face and a blue checked 
 apron, came to meet them, hastily wiping her wet hands. 
 
 "Here is your lodger, Mrs. Hogben; his name is 
 Owen," explained Miss Susan ; and Mrs. Hogben's 
 astonishment was so complete that she so far forgot 
 herself as to drop him half a curtsey. " You have given 
 him the top back-room, I understand ? " continued 
 Miss Susan, " and, remember, it's not to be more than 
 half-a-crown a week ; he will arrange about his board 
 himself." 
 
 " Yes, Miss Susan ; to be sure. Miss Susan." 
 
 " And you will do his washing moderately, and 
 cook, and make him comfortable, won't you ? " 
 
 " Of course. Miss Susan." 
 
 " I don't suppose you will eat meat more than once 
 a day," turning to him, " eh ? " 
 
 " I can't say, miss," he answered, with a slow smile, 
 " a good deal would depend upon the meat." 
 
 " Well, I think you will find everything here all 
 right. Mrs. Hogben's son, Tom, is one of our gardeners, 
 and you can come up in the morning with liim. Good 
 evening to you ! '' Wynyard touched his cap, and she 
 hurried off. He stood and watched her for a moment, 
 the slim, straight-backed figure tripping up the village 
 towards the tall grey church, which dominated the place. 

 
 MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 63 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Hogben had looked him over from 
 head to foot ; her sharp, appraising eyes, rested with 
 satisfaction on her lodger ; taken, womanlike, by a 
 handsome face, she said in a pleasant voice — 
 
 " So you're the shover ! My word, it do seem main 
 funny, them ladies a-settin' up of a motor — and last year 
 they hadn't as much as a wheel-barrow. Folks do say all 
 the money — and it's a lot — has gotten to Miss Parrett's 
 head, but she was always a terrible hard, headstrong 
 old woman. Now, Miss Susan there is a nice friendly 
 lady; all the place is main fond of Miss Susan." 
 
 " She seems — a good sort." 
 
 " Yes, and quite girlish still, and gay in herself, though 
 well over fifty, and thinks nothing a trouble. You'll be 
 takin' your meals here ? " 
 
 " Yes, with your permission, Mrs. Hogben." 
 
 " We don't have many high notions of food — just 
 plain and plenty, ye understand ? " 
 
 " That will suit me all right." 
 
 " I'll give you your victuals in the little parlour," and 
 she opened the door into a small gloomy room, with dead 
 geraniums in the window, a round table in the middle, a 
 horse-hair sofa against the wall, and shells upon the 
 mantelpiece. Evidently the apartment was rarely used ; 
 it smelt intolerably of musty hay, and was cold as a vault. 
 
 " I think, if it's all the same to you, I'll take my meals 
 in the kitchen." 
 
 " All right," she assented, " there's only me and Tom. 
 Now come away up, and I'll show you your room." 
 
 The stairs, which climbed round a massive wooden 
 post, were so narrow, so low, and so steep, that getting up 
 was by no means an easy performance. 
 
 " Eh, but you're a fine big man ! " declared Mrs. 
 Hogben admiringly, " and somehow you don't seem to
 
 64 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 fit in a place of this size ; it's main old too — some say as 
 old as the Manor." 
 
 " Oh, I shall fit all right," he answered, looking about 
 his chamber. 
 
 It was very low and scrupulously clean : the window 
 was on a level with the bare boards, there was a wooden 
 bed, with a patchwork quilt, a chest of drawers, a 
 washstand, and a rush-bottomed chair. 
 
 " I shall want a bath," he announced abruptly. 
 
 " A bath ! Well, I never ! " 
 
 " Yes; or, if the worst comes to the worst, an old wash- 
 tub." 
 
 " Oh," reflecting, " I do believe Mrs. Frickett at the 
 Drum has a tin one she'd lend — no one there wants it." 
 
 " I'll carry up the water myself." 
 
 " Will you so ? I suppose your box is at the house, 
 and Tom will bring it down on the barrow. He will be in 
 to his tea directly. Here he is," as the sound of clumping 
 boots ascended from below. 
 
 When confronted with Tom, Wynyard found him to 
 be a man of thirty, in rough working clothes, with one of 
 the finest faces he had ever seen, a square forehead, 
 clear-cut features, and a truly noble and benevolent 
 expression. The general effect was considerably marred 
 by the fact that Tom wore his thick brown hair several 
 inches too long, and a fringe of whiskers framed his face 
 and met under his chin, precisely as his father's and 
 grandfather's had done. 
 
 " Tom, here be Miss Parrett's shover," announced his 
 mother, " the man-servant, j^ou know, as will bide with 
 us. You'll take him in hand, and show him about, eh ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay," agreed Tom, seating himself heavily at 
 table ; then, addressing the guest — 
 
 " It's very tricky weather ? "
 
 MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 65 
 
 " Yes, it generally is in April/' 
 
 Tom stared hard at the newcomer. The young man 
 used grand words, had a strong look in his face, was well 
 set-up — and clean-shaved of a Wednesday ! 
 
 " Yer from London, eh ? One can see that. Ye 
 must be as hungry as a dog." With an impulse of hos- 
 pitality, he pushed the loaf towards him, and subse- 
 quently experienced a sense of relief and pleasure as he 
 noticed the new chap's hands, the hands of a working 
 man ! 
 
 The meal consisted of home-made bread, boiled eggs, 
 cold bacon, and tea. The two hungry men made con- 
 siderable ravages on bread and bacon, and no attempts 
 at conversation. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hogben's sharp eyes 
 and wits were still engaged in taking stock of the new- 
 comer. He did not say much, but when he did speak, 
 it was the pure talk of gentry-folk ; yet, he was not 
 uppish, his coat was well worn, and he spoke quite 
 humble-like to Miss Susan. 
 
 After a short silence, Mrs. Hogben — a notable gossip 
 — undertook the talking for all three. 
 
 " Of course it was Miss Parrett herself as come here 
 about a room for you, Mr. Owen, and says she to me, ' I 
 want you to take a respectable young man on reasonable 
 terms ; of course I can't have him at the Manor, on 
 account of the maids.' " 
 
 " Why not ? " inquired her lodger, with his mouth 
 full. 
 
 ■' 'Cause," with a laugh, " she thought you might be 
 making love to them, I expect ! And says she, ' Mrs. 
 Hogben, you having no daughters, and no young woman 
 in the house, it will be quite safe.' " 
 
 " Oh, I see," he assented, with an amused smile. *§'|'!^ 
 
 " Though for that matter," and she nodded at Tom, 
 5
 
 66 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 "I'm going to have a daughter-in-law one of these 
 days." 
 
 Tom bm-ied his face in a mug and spluttered. 
 
 " Ay, it's Dilly Topham, and a main pretty girl too ; 
 but Tom will mind her." 
 
 " Miss Parrett is terrible strict," said Tom, recovering 
 his self-possession, " and this do be a model village " ; and 
 he winked at Wynyard. 
 
 " I'm none so sure ! " objected his mother; " there's 
 a good lot of beer and quarrelling at the Drum, especially 
 of a Saturday night ; and there was Katie Punnett — 
 well — well — I say no more." 
 
 " Oh, the girls are all right, mother." 
 
 " Some on 'em ; of course that's Missie's doing — 
 she's so friendly with 'em, so nice and so gay ; but a good 
 few of the Ottinge girls is of no account. There's Mrs. 
 Watkins with three big young women on her hands ; they 
 won't stay in service at no price, and they won't do a turn 
 at home. Their mother holds the house together, and 
 has them, as well as her man, to work for, poor soul ! " 
 
 " Oh, Watkins, he does 'is share as carrier," protested 
 Tom. 
 
 " I don't know what you call a share, Tom," said his 
 mother sharply. " I know of a cold winter's morning 
 she gets up and milks the cows, and takes the milk round 
 herself, and comes back, and there's not a fire lit, and 
 them four lazy sacks are all stiU abed — ay, and asleep. 
 I've gone in of an afternoon, too, and seen Maudie and 
 Brenda stretched on their backs a-reading penny novels 
 — it's all they care for, that and dress, and young men ; 
 if I was their mother I'd let out at them ! " and she paused 
 for breath. " I never had no schoolin', and I'm not sorry ; 
 laziness and light readin' is the plague." 
 
 *' Well, Watkins — he don't read overmuch."
 
 MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 67 
 
 " No, but he smokes and drinks, and is main idle. 
 You know yourself I offered him the good grass off the 
 orchard for the cutting, for his horse — lovely grass it were, 
 too — but it were too much trouble, and he grazes the poor 
 beast along the road in every one's way instead. And 
 there's Jake Roberts — his father left him a fine business 
 as wheel\^Tight and carpenter, and he has let it all go over 
 to Shrapton-le-Steeple 'cause it was too much fag, and he 
 lives on his wife's washing." 
 
 " Ye see how my mother is down on Ottinge," said 
 Tom, with another wink, " not being an Ottinge woman 
 herself." 
 
 " No, thank the Lord ! I'm from another part, and 
 all for work. But I'll say this — that Ottinge is the 
 healthiest spot ye ever put yer foot in. We gets the 
 free air for miles over the pastures, and at the back we're 
 in shelter from the hills between us and Brodfield — that's 
 the big town ten miles off." 
 
 " So you have no doctor ? " said Wynyard. 
 
 " Indeed we have, and a good doctor too ; there is 
 not much call for him or for medicines. Ottinge isn't as 
 big as it looks ; though so rambling and showy, it's real 
 small." 
 
 " Are there many gentry around ? " inquired the 
 stranger. 
 
 " There's the parson, Mr. Morven — his lady is dead. 
 She wur a Parrett, and handsome. He's a good man, but 
 terrible bookish, and just awful for readin' and writin'. 
 There's Captain and the Honourable Mrs. Ramsay, as 
 live nearly opposite in the house covered with ivy, and 
 three rows of long windows, inside the little brick wall. 
 They are not much use ; she sells plants and cuttings, 
 and little Pom puppies now and then, and keeps what 
 she calls a ' Dogs' Hotel or Boarding-House ' ; did ye
 
 68 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 ever!" and Mrs. Hogben laughed. "Ay, and she adver- 
 tises it too ! She's so terrible busy with dogs, and takes 
 them walking out, and has all sorts o' food for them, and 
 young Bob Watkins as their servant. Her father was 
 a lord they make out, and her husband, the Captain, he 
 got some sort of stroke in the Indies and is queer — some 
 say from drink, some say from a stroke, some say from 
 both. He never goes into no company, but walks the 
 roads and lanes of an evening a-talkin' to himself right 
 out loud. Then he slopes up to the Drum, and though 
 he was an army officer, he sits cheek by jowl with common 
 men, drinkin' his glass, and smokin' his pipe. However, 
 he is quiet enough — quiet as the dead — and Mrs. Ramsay 
 is good pay." 
 
 " That's something," remarked her listener, and his 
 tone was dry. 
 
 " There's a rare bit o' money in Ottinge, though ye 
 mightn't think it," continued Mrs. Hogben, delighted to 
 have a listener after her own heart ; " folks being well left, 
 and mostly having a snug house, and nothing going out 
 but quit rent." 
 
 " But who lives round the village ? Are there any 
 big places ? " 
 
 " There's a good few within ten miles. The Wardes 
 of Braske, the Cranmers of Wells Castle, the Woolcocks 
 of Westmere Park — it was the Davenants' for hundreds 
 of years, and Woolcocks' father he was an iron- 
 monger ! " 
 
 " An ironmaster," corrected her son, with a touch of 
 impatience. 
 
 " Well, 'tis all the same. The Davenants were real 
 great folk, and the Hogbens served them for many a day ; 
 indeed, the late Sir Henry Davenant shot Hogben's 
 father himself." She folded her arms as she made the
 
 MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 69 
 
 announcement, and looked at her lodger as much as to 
 say, " What do you think of that ? " 
 
 " Shot ! What do you mean — on purpose ? " 
 
 " No, 'twas a pheasant he was mistook for — but he 
 killed Tom Hogben stone dead in the top cover, and 
 then sent a carriage to fetch him home. Of course the 
 shooting was given accidental, and the family had a 
 pension ; and I will say this, the Davenants were always 
 free and never a mite afraid of spending money, till 
 every stiver was gone." 
 
 " What you call open-handed." 
 
 " Yes, and the last of the gentlemen, when the place 
 was ate up of a mortgage, lived in a bit of a cottage 
 by the roadside, and was just as proud and grand as if 
 he had forty servants. This Ottinge is a mighty queer 
 quarrelling sort o' place, as you will soon see for your- 
 self. Last year a parson come, when Mr. Morven was 
 in Switzerland with the General — a very gay, pleasant 
 young man, a-visitin' everywhere, and talkin' to every 
 one, and amusin' the parish, and gettin' up cricket, 
 and concerts, so when he left they gathered up to make 
 him a present, and bought him a lovely clock (as he 
 preferred to a bit of a ink-bottle) ; but it just shows up 
 Ottinge! there was so much wicked jealousy and ill- 
 feelin' that there was no one to give it to him — you 
 see, one wouldn't let the other ! — and he'd never have 
 got it at all, only, at the last, they stuck in a child — a 
 little girl, as no one wanted to get the better of — and 
 so that settled it, but it may give ye some idea of the 
 place." 
 
 " Ye see my mother hasn't a good word for it," put 
 in Tom ; " but I'm Ottinge, and was born here." 
 
 "As to the gentlefolk," continued Mrs. Hogben 
 almost as glibly as if she were reading aloud, " there's
 
 70 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 the doctor and his wife. She is gayish, and great at 
 theatricals and games — no harm, though. Ay, 'tis a 
 dull place for young folk, and only fit for some to come 
 and end their days. There's the Woolcocks of Westmere 
 Park — terrible rich — they bought the Park when the 
 Davenants were broke, as I tell'd ye. They keep a crowd 
 of servants, and three motors. There's mister and 
 missus, and a son and two daughters — one of them's 
 married. They give a fair lot of employment too — but 
 still, folks 'ud rayther have the old fam'ly." 
 
 " My mother goes round telling of folk here and 
 there, and she's left out the one that matters most, that 
 starts everything in the village, and is the prettiest girl — 
 bar one — in ten parishes — and that's Miss Aurea ! " 
 
 " Why, Miss Aurea, of course, she's not to be over- 
 looked," said Mrs. Hogben, "not nowhere — Miss 
 Parrett's niece, and the parson's daughter ; but she's not 
 here now, she's a-stoppin' up in London with her father's 
 brother the General — often she does be there — ^the only 
 child to go round in three families." 
 
 Wynyard said to himself that he was actually better 
 posted up in village gossip than Mrs. Hogben ; she did 
 not know, as he did, that Miss Aurea had returned home ! 
 
 " She manages her aunt wonderful, that she do ; 
 indeed, she manages most things." 
 
 " She's awful taken up with settling the Manor House 
 and the garden," added Tom ; " she has a lucky hand, 
 and a real love for flowers." 
 
 " Ay, and folk do say that Woolcock of Westmere, 
 the only son, has a real love for her," supplemented Mrs. 
 Hogben, as she rose and pushed back her chair ; "it 
 would be a sensible thing to wed old family to good 
 money." 
 
 The newcomer rose also, picked up his cap, and
 
 MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME 71 
 
 walked to the open door. He had heard the latest news 
 of Ottinge-in-the-Marsh, and now he intended to have a 
 look round the village itself, 
 
 " I believe I'll take a bit of a stroll and smoke a 
 pipe," he said, as he put on his cap and went out. 
 
 " What do you think of the new lodger, Tom ?" asked 
 his mother, as she noisily collected plates and cups. 
 
 " I think — it's hard to say yet ; but I likes him. He's 
 not our sort, though." 
 
 " Why not ? He's had a good eddication, that's 
 sure, and talks up in his head like gentry, but his 
 hands is just the hands of a working man ; and look at 
 his box — that's no class ! " 
 
 In the opinion of Mrs. Hogben the box settled the 
 question, and she went off into the scullery and closed 
 the door with a slam of finality.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 OTTINGE-IN-THE-MARSH 
 
 Wynyard strolled out into the little front garden along 
 the red brick path to the wooden gate ; as he closed 
 this, he observed that it bore in large characters the 
 enticing name of " Holiday Cottage." He smiled rather 
 grimly as he looked back at his new residence, a wood 
 and plaster construction, bowed in the upper storey, 
 with small, insignificant windows. Then he glanced 
 up and down the empty thoroughfare, and was struck 
 by the deathlike silence of the place. What had become 
 of the residents of Ottinge ? A flock of soiled, white 
 ducks waddling home in single file from the marshes, 
 and a wall-eyed sheep-dog, were the only live objects 
 in sight. 
 
 Ottinge was undeniably ancient and picturesque, 
 a rare field for an artist ; the houses were detached — 
 no two alike — and appeared to have been built without 
 the smallest attempt at regularity. Some stood sideways 
 at right angles ; others had turned their backs upon the 
 street, and overlooked the fields ; many were timbered ; 
 several were entirely composed of black boarding ; one 
 or two were yellow ; but the majority were of rusty brick, 
 with tiled and moss-grown roofs. Wynyard noticed 
 the ivy-clad house or " dogs' " hotel, with its three 
 rows of long, prim windows, and close by another of the 
 same class, with a heavy yew porch that recalled a
 
 OTTINGE-IN-THE-MARSH 73 
 
 great moustache. On its neat green gate was affixed a 
 brass plate and the inscription — D. Boase, M.D. Farther 
 on at intervals were more houses and a few scattered 
 shops ; these looked as if they were anxious to conceal 
 their identity, and only suffered a limited display of 
 their wares. Chief among them was one double-fronted, 
 with tins of pressed beef and oatmeal on view, and above 
 the door the worthy signboard — T, Hoad, Grocer. 
 " Quality is my Watchword." Next came John Death, 
 Butcher, with a wide window, over which an awning 
 had been discreetly lowered. 
 
 Almost every house had its front garden, with a brick 
 wall or palings between it and the road. One, with a 
 flagged path, an arbour, and a bald, white face, exhibited 
 a square board close under the eaves, on which was 
 briefly inscribed the seductive invitation, " Tea." An 
 adjoining neighbour, with absolutely bare surroundings, 
 had affixed to his porch the notice, "Cut Flowers"; 
 and, from the two advertisements, it was evident that 
 the all-penetrating motor had discovered the existence 
 of Ottinge-in-the-Marsh ! 
 
 The next object of note — and in daring proximity 
 to the church — was the Drum Inn ; an undoubtedly 
 ancient black-and-white building, with dormer windows, 
 an overhanging top storey, and stack of imposing 
 chimneys. It was strikingly picturesque without (if 
 cramped and uncomfortable within), and stood forth 
 prominently into the street considerably in advance 
 of its neighbours, as if to claim most particular atten- 
 tion ; it was a fact that the Drum had been fre- 
 quently sketched, and was also the subject of a (locally) 
 popular postcard. 
 
 The tall church, grey and dignified, was a fitting 
 conclusion to this old-world hamlet ; parts of it were
 
 74 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 said to date from the seventh century. Splendid elms 
 and oaks of unknown age sheltered the stately edifice, 
 and close by, the last house in Ottinge, was the dignified 
 Queen Anne rectory. Surrounded by shaven lawns 
 and an imposing extent of garden walls, it had an appear- 
 ance of mellow age, high breeding, and prosperity. The 
 sitting-room windows stood open, the curtains were not 
 yet drawn, and Wynyard, noticing one or two flitting 
 figures, permitted his mind to wonder if one of these 
 was Miss Aurea, who, so to speak, ran the village, 
 ruled the Manor, and was, according to Thomas Hogben, 
 the prettiest girl — bar one — in ten parishes ? 
 
 Pipe in mouth, the explorer wandered along for 
 some distance, and presently came to a farmhouse, 
 encircled by enormous black barns and timbered out- 
 houses, with thatched, sloping roofs ; but there was no 
 smoke from the farm chimney, no sound from stables 
 or byre ; the yard was covered with grass, the very 
 duck-pond was dry. A former tenant and his family, 
 finding the old world too strong for them, had fled 
 to Canada many years previously, and ever since Claring- 
 bold's farm had remained empty and desolate. In 
 autumn, the village urchins pillaged the orchard ; in 
 winter, wandering tramps encamped in the outhouses. 
 Never again would there be a sound of lowing cows, 
 the humming of threshing gear, the shouts of carters 
 encouraging their horses, or children's voices calling to 
 their dogs. 
 
 The newcomer leant his arms upon the gate and 
 surveyed the low, flat country with its distant, dark 
 horizon. Then he turned to contemplate the hills 
 behind the church, dotted with sheep and lambs and 
 scored with lanes ; he must learn his bearings in this 
 new locality, as behoved his duty as chauffeur. He
 
 OTTINGE-IN-THE-MARSH 75 
 
 had now inspected Ottinge from end to end, from the 
 low-lying grey Manor, projecting into its fields, to the 
 Queen Anne rectory, a picture of mellowed peace. 
 
 So here he was to live, no matter what befell. He 
 wondered what would befall, and what the next year 
 held in store for him ? For nearly an hour he remained 
 leaning on the stout old gate, giving his thoughts a 
 free rein, and making stern resolutions. Somehow he 
 did not feel drawn to his billet, nor yet to Miss Parrett, 
 but he resolved that he would play the game, and 
 not disappoint Leila. She had, as usual, taken her own 
 line ; but had he chosen his fate he would have preferred 
 a rough-and-tumble town life, active employment in 
 some big garage, and to be thrown among men, and not 
 a pack of old women ! However, in a town he might 
 be spotted by his friends; here, in this dead-and-alive 
 village, his position was unassailable, and possibly 
 Leila was right — it was her normal attitude. 
 
 At last he recognised that the soft April night had 
 fallen, bats were flitting by, the marsh frogs' concert 
 had commenced — it was time to go back to Holiday 
 Cottage, and turn in, for no doubt the Hogbens were 
 early birds. 
 
 The ceiling of his room was so low that he hit his 
 head violently against a beam, and uttered an angry 
 swear word. 
 
 The place, which held an atmosphere of yellow soap 
 and dry rot, was palsied with age ; a sloping, creaking 
 floor shook ominously under his tread ; if it collapsed, 
 and he were precipitated into the kitchen, what an 
 ignominious ending ! 
 
 In a short time Mrs. Hogben's new lodger had 
 stretched himself upon his narrow, lumpy bed, and, 
 being tired, soon fell asleep, and slept like the proverbial
 
 76 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 log, until he was awoke by daylight streaming in at the 
 window, and the sound of some one labouring vigorously 
 at the pump. He looked at his watch — seven o'clock 
 — he must rise at once and dress, and see what another 
 day had in store for him.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE NEW CHAUFFEUR 
 
 As the new arrival wandered up the street, and inspected 
 the village, he had been under the impression that the 
 place was deserted — he scarcely saw a soul ; but this 
 was the way of Ottinge folk, they spent most of their 
 time (especially of an evening) indoors, and though 
 he was not aware of it, Ottinge had inspected him ! 
 Girls sewing in windows, men lounging in the Drum, 
 women shutting up their fowl, all had noted the stranger, 
 and wondered who this fine, tall young gentleman might 
 be ? An hour later they were amazed to learn that 
 he was no more and no less than the Parretts' new 
 chauffeur, who was lodging with Sally Hogben — Sally, 
 who could talk faster and tell more about a person in 
 five minutes than another in twenty. This intelligence — 
 which spread as water in a sponge — created a profound 
 sensation, and shared the local interest with the news 
 of the sudden death of Farmer Dunk's best cow. 
 
 The following morning it was the turn of the chauffeur 
 to be surprised. When he repaired to the Manor, to 
 report himself and ask for orders, he encountered Miss 
 Parrett herself in the hall, who informed him, in her 
 shrillest bleat, that as she did not propose to use the 
 car that day, and as there was nothing else for him to 
 do, he could put in his time by cleaning windows. 
 When Wynyard heard Miss Parrett 's order, his face
 
 78 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 hardened, the colour mounted to his forehead, and he 
 was on the point of saying that he had been engaged as 
 chauffeur, and not as charwoman ; but a sharp mental 
 whisper arrested the words on his lips : 
 
 " Are you going to throw up your situation within 
 twenty-four hours, and be back on Leila's hands after 
 all the trouble she has taken for you ? " demanded this 
 peremptory voice. " You must begin at the bottom 
 of the ladder if you want to get to the top. Let this 
 old woman have her own way, and bully you — and if 
 you take things quietly, and as they come, your affairs 
 will mend." 
 
 After what seemed to Miss Parrett a most disre- 
 spectful silence, during which she glared at Owen with 
 her little burning eyes, and mumbled with her toothless 
 jaws, he said slowly — 
 
 " All right, ma'am. Lve never cleaned windows 
 yet, but ril do my best ; perhaps j^ou will give me 
 something to clean them with ? " 
 
 " Go through that door and you will find the kitchen," 
 said Miss Parrett. " The cook will give you cloths, 
 soap, and a bucket of water. You may begin in the 
 dining-room ; " and pointing towards the servants' 
 quarters, she left him. As he disappeared, Susan, who 
 had overheard the last sentence, boldly remonstrated — 
 
 " Really, Bella, that young man is not supposed to 
 undertake such jobs ! He was only engaged as chauffeur, 
 and I'm sure if you set him to do housework, he will 
 leave." 
 
 " Let him, and mind your own business, Susan," 
 snapped her sister. " He is in my emploj^ment, and I 
 cannot afford to pay him two guineas a week — six 
 shillings a day — for doing nothing. I am not a mil- 
 lionaire ! As it is, my hand is never out of my pocket."
 
 THE NEW CHAUFFEUR 79 
 
 " But you engaged him to drive the car, and if you 
 are afraid to go out in it, is that his fault ? " argued 
 Susan, with surprising courage. 
 
 " Who says I'm afraid ? " demanded Miss Parrett 
 furiously. " Susan, you forget yourself. I shall have 
 the car to-morrow, and motor over to call on the 
 Woolcocks." 
 
 Meanwhile Owen passed into the back premises, 
 which were old and spacious. Here, in a vast kitchen 
 overlooking a great paved yard, he found a tall woman 
 engaged in violently raking out the range. She started 
 as he entered, and turned a handsome, ill-tempered face 
 upon him. 
 
 " Can you let me have some cloths and a bucket 
 oi hot water ? " he asked in his clear, well-bred voice. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she answered, going to a drawer. " What 
 sort of cloths — flannels or rubbers ? " 
 
 " Something for cleaning windows." 
 
 " Oh, laws, so you're the new chauffem- ! Well, I 
 never ! " And, leaving the drawer open, she turned 
 abruptly, leant her back to the dresser, and surveyed 
 him exhaustively. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " And so that's the sort of work the old devil has 
 set you to ? Lady Kesters engaged me for this place, 
 and by all accounts she did the same kindness by you 
 and me ! I understood as this was a proper establish- 
 ment, with a regular housekeeper and men — a butler 
 at least and a couple of footmen; there isn't as much 
 as a page-boy. It's a swindle ! I suppose you take 
 your meals with us ? " (Here, with an animated 
 gesture, she dismissed an inquisitive kitchen-maid.) 
 
 " No ; I board myself." 
 
 Her face fell. This good-looking chauffeur would
 
 8o A ROLLING STONE 
 
 be some one to flirt with, and her voice took a yet 
 sharper key. 
 
 " You're from London, I can see, and so am L Lord ! 
 this is a change " — now casting herself into a chair. 
 " Ye see, I was ordered country air, and so I came — 
 the wages being fair, and assistance given ; and thinking 
 we were in a park, I brought my bicycle, and expecting 
 there'd be some society, I brought a couple of ball- 
 gowns, and find this ! " and her expression was tragic. 
 
 " Have you been here long ? " he asked civilly. 
 
 " Two weeks too long. I give notice next day, 
 and am going at the month, and you won't be long 
 after me, I bet ! Do you bike ? " 
 
 " No," he answered rather shortly. 
 
 " Well, anyway, you've the use of your legs ! To- 
 morrow is my evening out, so you come round here at 
 five, and I'll give you a nice cup o' tea, and we'll go 
 for a stroll together. We ought to be friendly, seeing 
 as we both come from Lady Kesters' recommendation." 
 
 To walk out with the cook ! This was ten times 
 worse than window-cleaning ! Wynyard was beating 
 his brain for some civil excuse when Miss Parrett 
 herself appeared in the doorway — an accusing and 
 alarming figure. 
 
 " This is a nice way you waste my time ! " she 
 exclaimed, with an angry glance at both. " You and 
 cook gossiping together and idling. Where are the 
 cloths and the hot water, young man ? " 
 
 The cook, grumbling audibly and insolently, went 
 back to the dresser, and Miss Parrett, with folded arms, 
 waited dramatically in the kitchen till Wynyard was 
 provided for. He then walked off with a brief " Thank 
 y ou " to his fellow-culprit . As he passed along the flagged 
 passage he caught Miss Parrett 's shrill voice saying —
 
 THE NEW CHAUFFEUR 8i 
 
 " Now, I'll not have you flirting with that young 
 man, so I warn you ! I'll have no carryings-on in my 
 house." 
 
 Then a door was slammed with thunderous violence, 
 and there was silence. 
 
 No, by Jove, he could not stand it, he said to himself 
 as he set down his bucket, and wrung out a cloth ; 
 like the cook, he, too, would depart, and in his next 
 situation stipulate for no women. Of course Leila 
 would be disappointed, and he was sorry ; but Leila 
 would never ask him to put up with this ! He 
 would give a week's notice and advertise ; he had 
 enough money to keep him going for a while, and his 
 certificate. 
 
 Presently he set to work on the dining-room, where 
 there were three old casemented, mullioned windows ; 
 to clean these he stood on the lawn, and had begun his 
 job when Miss Susan entered, smiling and radiating 
 good humour. 
 
 " I dare say you don't know much about this sort 
 of work," she began apologetically, " and I'll just show 
 you ! You have to use lots of clean water, and stand 
 outside on the lawn — no fear of breaking your neck." 
 Then in another tone she added, " I'll see you are not 
 asked to do this again ; at present we are rather short- 
 handed, but by and by everything will go smoothly." 
 She was about to add something more, when her sister 
 put her head in at the door, and called out — 
 
 " Now, do come away, Susan, and don't stand gossip- 
 ing with the young man, and idling him at his work. 
 He has wasted half an hour with the cook already ! " 
 
 Wynyard, as he rubbed away at the panes, whistled 
 gaily whilst his mind dwelt on many matters, amongst 
 others of how strange that he should be down in this 
 6
 
 82 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 queer, God-forsaken village, living in a labourer's cottage, 
 and employed in cleaning windows ! Well, he had 
 Miss Susan's word for it that he would not be asked to 
 do it again ; she was a good sort, with a nice, cheery 
 face, and such a pair of twinkling blue eyes. Then he 
 thought of the tragic cook, also sent by Leila, and he 
 laughed aloud. The house wanted a lot of servants, 
 and as far as he could gather the staff was short-handed ; 
 probably Miss Aurea would see to all this, since she 
 managed every one in Ottinge, did as she liked, and 
 was the prettiest girl within ten parishes ! 
 
 Wynyard was a handy man, and got through his 
 work rapidly and well. He fetched many cans of 
 water, and presently moved on to the drawing-room 
 — another low room with heavily beamed ceiling and a 
 polished oak floor. The apartment was without carpet 
 or curtains, and scantily furnished with various old 
 chairs, settees and cabinets, ranged against the wall. 
 He was sitting outside on the sill, whistling under his 
 breath, polishing his last casement, when he heard, 
 through the half-open door, a clear young voice talking 
 with animation, and a girl came into the room laughing 
 — followed by an Aberdeen terrier on a leash. As she 
 advanced, he noticed that she had wild rose colouring, 
 wavy dark hair, merry dark eyes, and an expression of 
 radiant vitality. Tom was right ! Here, no doubt, was 
 Miss Aurea, the prettiest girl in ten parishes ! 
 
 As Wynyard looked again at this arresting vision 
 something strange seemed to stir in his heart and come 
 to life. First impressions have a value distinct from 
 the settled judgment of long experience. 
 
 " What a floor, Susie ! " exclaimed the young lady. 
 " Really, we must get Aunt Bella to give a dance ; " 
 and as she spoke she began to hum the " Merry Widow
 
 THE NEW CHAUFFEUR 83 
 
 Waltz," and to execute some remarkably neat steps, 
 accompanied by the terrier, who struggled round in her 
 wake, barking indignantly. 
 
 " Mackenzie, you are an odious partner ! " addressing 
 the animal ; then to her aunt, "I've brought him on 
 the chain, and he has me on the chain ; he is so strong 1 
 We have accosted and insulted every single village dog, 
 and frightened Mrs. Watkins' cats into hysterics ! How- 
 ever, he can't get loose and murder poor gentlemanly 
 Joss ! Oh, we little knew what we were doing when 
 we accepted Mac as a darling puppy ! " 
 
 " I must confess that I never care for these aggressive, 
 stiff-necked Aberdeens, and I don't pretend to like Mac. 
 To tell you the honest truth, I'm mortally afraid of him ! " 
 
 " But he must be exercised, Susan. And now we 
 must exercise ourselves, and begin on this room. I've 
 sent over the curtains, and they are ready to go up." 
 
 Suddenly she noticed the stranger, who was polishing 
 a distant window. " Why, I thought it was Hogben ! " 
 she muttered. " Who is it, Susie ? " and she looked 
 over at Wynyard with an air of puzzled interest. 
 
 " The new chauffeur, my dear," was the triumphant 
 response. " He only came yesterday ; his name is Owen." 
 
 " Oh!" exclaimed the girl, turning her back to the 
 window and speaking in a low voice. " And didn't he 
 object ? " 
 
 " No ; but I fancy he doesn't like it. He seems a nice 
 civil young fellow. Lady Kesters found him for us." 
 
 " Did she ? I sincerely hope he is a better find 
 than the cook. What a fury ! Even Aunt Bella is afraid 
 of her ! " 
 
 " She has a splendid character from her late mistress." 
 
 " I dare say, in order to pass her on at any price. 
 She's a first-rate cook, but a regular demon."
 
 84 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " My dear, they all have tempers — it's the fire, poor 
 things. Now, about the chauffeur " 
 
 At this moment the object of her conversation threw 
 up the sash and stepped into the room — a fine figure 
 in his clean blue shirt, turned up to the elbows, well- 
 cut breeches, and neat leather leggings, 
 
 " I've finished this room, miss," he said, addressing 
 himself to Miss Susan. " What am I to do next ? " and his 
 eyes rested upon her with respectful inquiry. 
 
 " No more windows to-day, thank you, Owen. I 
 expect it is nearly your dinner-hour." 
 
 " Shall you require the car this afternoon, miss ? " 
 
 ** No ; but it will certainly be wanted to-morrow, — 
 eh, Aurea ? " 
 
 " Then I'd better take her out and give her a turn ; " 
 and with this remark he picked up his bucket and rags, 
 and walked out of the room. 
 
 During this brief conversation, Aurea stood by listen- 
 ing with all her ears, and making mental notes. Her 
 aunt's new chauffeur, with his clean, tanned, high-bred 
 face, spoke like an educated man. 
 
 " My dear Susie," she inquired, " where did Lady 
 Kesters get hold of such a superior person ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I can't tell you. She said she had known 
 his family all her life, and that they were most respectable 
 people. Chauffeurs are supposed to be smart, and well- 
 groomed, eh ? " 
 
 Yes, but there was more than this about the late 
 window-cleaner — something in his gait, carriage, and 
 voice, and, unless she was greatly mistaken, the new 
 employe was a gentleman ; but with unusual prudence 
 Aurea contrived to keep her suspicion to herself. Aloud 
 she said — 
 
 " Well, now, let us see about the carpet ! This room
 
 THE NEW CHAUFFEUR 85 
 
 ought to be settled at once — pictures up, and curtains ; 
 there's no place to ask visitors into, and you've been here 
 six months. You are lazy. Miss Susan Parrett — this is 
 sleepy hollow." 
 
 " Oh, my dear child, you know perfectly well it's your 
 Aunt Bella; and she won't make up her mind. What's 
 done one day is taken down another. What is that awful 
 row ? " 
 
 " It's Mackenzie and Joss," cried Aurea, dashing 
 towards the door. Mackenzie, at large and unnoticed, 
 had stealthily followed the chauffeur out of the room, and 
 stolen a march upon his deadly enemy — Miss Parrett's 
 impudent and interloping mongrel. The result of this 
 dramatic meeting was a scene in the hall, where Miss 
 Parrett, mounted on a chair, looked on, uttering 
 breathless shrieks of " Aurea ! Aurea ! it's all your 
 fault ! " whilst round and round, and to and fro, raged 
 the infuriated animals, snarling and growling ferociously, 
 their teeth viciously fastened in each other's flesh. 
 
 Mackenzie, the more experienced, able-bodied, and 
 malevolent of the tv/o, had Joss by the throat — Joss, for his 
 part, was steadily chewing through Mackenzie's fore-leg. 
 
 Here Wynyard came to the rescue, and, though 
 severely bitten, succeeded after some diflSculty in separat- 
 ing the combatants ; he and Miss Aurea somehow 
 managed it between them, but he had borne the brunt 
 of the fray, the forefront of the battle. 
 
 A good deal of personal intimacy is involved in such 
 encounters, and by the time the panting Mackenzie was 
 hauled away by the collar, and the furious Joss had been 
 incarcerated in the dining-room, the new chauffeur and 
 Miss Morven were no longer strangers.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 AS HANDY MAN 
 
 The chauffeur was informed that there were no orders 
 for the car the following morning, as " Miss Parrett was 
 suffering from neuralgia in her face," and also — though 
 this was not mentioned in the bulletin — a sharp pain in 
 her temper. 
 
 Aurea, an early visitor, radiating gaiety, was on this 
 occasion unaccompanied by Mackenzie. Mackenzie, 
 aged six years, was the village tyrant and dictator. He 
 also had been accustomed to consider himself a dog of 
 two houses — the Rectory and the Red Cottage ; and 
 when the Red Cottage had moved to the Manor, and 
 installed an animal of low degree as its pet, he was natur- 
 ally filled with wrath and resentment, and on two oppor- 
 tunities the intruder had narrowly escaped with many 
 deep bites, and his life ! 
 
 Aurea found her Aunt Bella trotting about the 
 premises and passages, with the knitted hood over her 
 head, and key-basket in hand. 
 
 " Not going out to-day ! " she exclaimed ; " but it's 
 lovely. Aunt Bella. The air is so deliciously soft — it 
 would do you no end of good." 
 
 " My dear Aurea," she piped, " I know you don't 
 allow any one in Ottinge to call their soul their own, and 
 I must ask you to leave me my body, and to be the best 
 judge of my ailments — and state of health."
 
 AS HANDY MAN 87 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon, Aunt Bella ; I meant no 
 harm. Well, then, if you are not going to use the car 
 yourself, perhaps Susan and I could take it over to West- 
 mere ? The Woolcocks have a large house-party, and 
 Joey and her husband are there." 
 
 Miss Parrett closed her eyes tightly — a sure hoisting 
 of the storm cone — and screwed up her little old face till 
 it resembled an over-ripe cream cheese, 
 
 " Really, Aurea ! I don't know what the world is 
 coming to ! How dare you propose such a thing ! Take 
 out my car for the first time without me ! But, of course, 
 I know I'm only a cipher in my own house ! " — an almost 
 hourly complaint. 
 
 " But do think of the chauffeur. Aunt Bella ; is he 
 to have nothing to do ? " Here this crafty girl touched 
 a sensitive nerve — a responsive key. 
 
 " Plenty for him to do ; there's enough work in the 
 house for twenty chauffeurs : unpacking the book boxes 
 and china — never opened since your grandfather's death 
 — staining the floors, and putting up the curtains, and 
 laying carpets. If you and Susan are going to settle the 
 drawing-room at last, he may help you. I can't spare 
 Jones or Hogben from the garden." 
 
 " Very well, we must have some one to lift the heavy 
 things, and stand on ladders. Where is he ? " 
 
 " Outside in the hall, awaiting my orders," replied 
 Miss Parrett, with magnificent dignity, folding her hands 
 over what had once been a neat waist, but now measured 
 thirty inches. 
 
 Yes, the chauffeur was in the hall, cap in hand, 
 attended by the grateful Joss, and had overheard the 
 foregoing conversation. 
 
 Miss Parrett came forth as she concluded her speech, 
 and issued her commands.
 
 88 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Owen, you are to help my sister and Miss Morven in 
 settling the drawing-room. Be careful how you handle 
 things, and don't break anything ; and you may have 
 your dinner here for to-day, with the other servants." 
 
 " Very good, ma'am," he assented. 
 
 But with respect to dinner with the servants, it was 
 really very had. He would be compelled to fence with 
 the London cook, and keep her and her civil proposals 
 at arm's length — no easy job ! 
 
 From ten o'clock till half-past one, Wynyard spent an 
 agreeable and busy time in the service of Miss Susan and 
 her niece. His boast to his sister that he was " clever 
 with his hands " was fully justified. He hung the chintz 
 and white curtains with the skill of an upholsterer, he 
 laid the dark blue felt on the floor, stretched it and nailed 
 it neatly in its place, whilst Aurea stood by, and gave 
 directions, and sometimes — ^such was her zeal — went 
 down on her knees beside him, and pulled and dragged 
 too, exertions which enabled her associate to realise the 
 perfect curve of cheek and neck, and the faint perfume 
 of her glorious hair ! 
 
 And all this time industrious Miss Susan sewed on 
 rings, fitted loose chintz covers, and talked incessantly. 
 She did not appear to find the presence of the chauffeur 
 the slightest restraint — indeed, he was so quiet and kept 
 his personality so steadily in the background, that as 
 aunt and niece chatted and conferred, measured and 
 altered, they seemed to have entirely forgotten his 
 existence, and as the old drawing-room was full of nooks, 
 angles, and deep windows, he was not only out of mind, 
 but also out of sight. Meanwhile, he enjoyed the r61e of 
 audience, especially in listening to Miss Aurca ! What 
 a gay, light-hearted girl ! And in her playful arguments 
 with her aunt, he realised the delightful camaraderie that
 
 AS HANDY MAN 89 
 
 existed between them. Her chaff was so amusing that, 
 although he was not included in the conversation, he 
 often felt inclined to echo Miss Susan's appreciative 
 laugh. Never had he come across any one who had 
 attracted him so much ; the more he saw of Miss Morven 
 the more he admired her ! Possibly this was because for 
 the last twelve months he had not been brought in 
 contact with a happy, high-spirited English girl — or 
 was it because in this out-of-the-world village he had 
 met his fate ? 
 
 As Wynyard hung curtains, and put in screws, he 
 stole swift glances at Miss Susan's busy helper, noticed 
 her slim elegance, her infectious smile, and lovely face. 
 It was a ridiculous, but absolutely true fact, that to see 
 a really beautiful, charming, and unaffected girl, one 
 must come to Ottinge-in-the-Marsh ! 
 
 Meanwhile, as he worked in the background, he 
 gathered up many crumbs of conversation, and scraps of 
 family and local news. He learned that Mr. Morven's 
 great work on The Mithraic Heresy and Its Oriental Origin 
 was" nearly complete, that the Manor cook had given 
 notice, and that no one had rented the fishing. 
 
 '* The Woolcocks have a houseful at Westmere," so 
 said Miss Susan, " and their staff of servants had recently 
 enjoyed a sensational turning out. Joey Waring and 
 her husband are there, just back fromtheir winter trip." 
 
 " And how is Joe ? " inquired Aurea, 
 
 " Her hair is twice as fluffy, and she is louder, noisier, 
 and talks ten times more than ever ! " 
 
 " Now, Susan, you know that is impossible ! " 
 
 " Yes ; Kathleen declares that you can hear her laugh 
 as you pass the park gates." 
 
 " What ! a whole mile away ! She must have mis- 
 taken one of the peacocks for Joey, and however loud she
 
 90 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 laughs and talks, she never says an unkind word of any 
 one. 
 
 " No, a good, kind little soul ! but I wonder Captain 
 Waring can stand her, and her chatter does not drive 
 him crazy." 
 
 " On the contrary, he adores her, and is enormously 
 proud of her flow of animation and conversation. You 
 see, he is so silent himself, Joey is his antithesis ; and 
 Joey is worshipped at home, for in a family of large, 
 heavy, silent people, a little gabbling creature is appre- 
 ciated. Tell me about Kathleen." 
 
 " Oh, Kathleen is, as usual, very busy and cheery ; she 
 has three new boarders — hungry and quarrelsome." 
 
 " And he ? " 
 
 " Just as usual too, dear. You know he never can be 
 better." 
 
 " But he may grow worse ! " 
 
 " Oh, don't speak of such a thing ! Think of Kath- 
 leen." 
 
 " Yes ; and I think Kathleen is a saint — so brave and 
 unselfish. Now, where shall we put the old Palairet 
 mirrors ? " 
 
 " You had better consult your Aunt Bella." 
 
 " My dear, good Susan ! " (This was the style in 
 which she addressed her relative.) " Don't you know 
 your own sister by this time ? She has been here nearly 
 seven months, and you are not half settled yet — only 
 bedrooms and dining-room — and I have undertaken to 
 help you finish off in three days." 
 
 " Yes, but that's nonsense, though I must say you've 
 worked miracles this morning — curtains, covers, carpet ; 
 but there was no question of where they had to go. As 
 to pictures, mirrors, and cabinets, it will take your aunt 
 a twelvemonth to decide how to place them."
 
 AS HANDY MAN 91 
 
 " I shall decide, and place them to-day," rejoined the 
 girl, with calm decision ; " if I ask Aunt Bella, they will be 
 tried on every wall, till our backs are broken, and then 
 taken down after all. The round glass between the 
 windows," — looking about and speaking with authority — 
 " the other over the mantelpiece, the Chinese cabinet in 
 that niche — they are just made for one another — the 
 Charles the First black bureau from the schoolroom just 
 here, and the screen from her bedroom by the door," 
 
 " My dear child, you " — and she broke into a laugh 
 — " you wouldn't dare ! " 
 
 " Would I not ? Just wait and see. The room is 
 charming, and when it's finished Auntie B. will be en- 
 chanted ! You may leave her to me. Oh," in another 
 tone to Wynyard, who had come forward in search of 
 some wire, " you have worked well. It must be your 
 dinner-hour. We shall be ready to start again at half- 
 past two o'clock, and then the parlour-maid wiU help you 
 with the furniture." 
 
 " Very well, miss," he answered. 
 
 As Aurea walked off, followed by Miss Susan, Wynyard 
 the imposter assured himself that Miss Morven was 
 quicker witted than her aunts. He had noticed her ex- 
 pression of keen attention as he discussed a matter of a 
 curtain pole with her relative, and it was quite possible 
 that she already had an inkling of the truth ! He must 
 be careful and wary not to give himself away or utter a 
 word beyond " Yes, miss," and " No, miss." He was 
 already attending closely to the speech of Tom Hogben, 
 and had marked the scantiness and laziness of his vocabu- 
 lary ; how he never said more than he could help, and 
 used the words, " Sure-ly," and " I dunno," and " ye 
 see," and " 'ee " for " he," and " I be " for " I am," and 
 resolved to imitate him.
 
 92 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 The meal in the servants' hall proved an even more 
 trying ordeal than he anticipated, and was altogether so 
 disagreeable to the new chauffeur that, sooner than face 
 it again, he determined to fast. 
 
 The London cook (Miss Hicks) and four maids were 
 present, also the boot-boy — a clumsy yokel, who was in 
 terrified attendance. Owen sat on Miss Hicks' right 
 hand, and received all her attention, the best help- 
 ings, and daintiest morsels of a solid and satisfying 
 meal. 
 
 She would scarcely suffer the other servants to address 
 him, though the rosy-cheeked parlour-maid made bold 
 and even desperate attempts. She plied him with 
 questions, compliments, and information. For his part, 
 he proved a disappointing guest, and did not afford Miss 
 Hicks much satisfaction ; she came to the conclusion 
 that in spite of his fine figure and good looks the chauffeur 
 was a dull sort of chap, and terribly backward at taking 
 a hint. When she nudged him with her elbow, and 
 pressed his foot under the table, there was no response 
 — in fact, he moved a bit away ! However, she laid the 
 flattering unction to her soul that the poor fellow was shy. 
 He was duly favoured with the cook's candid opinion of 
 the place and their employers, namely, that Miss P. was 
 an old terror, was a shocking one for running after lords 
 and ladies, and talking grand, yet that mean and sneaking 
 she would frighten you ! She and Miss Norris, housekeeper 
 at the Rectory, were cuts, only for the Rector ; anyway, 
 Norris never came to the Manor. Miss Susan was a lady, 
 but a giddy old thing, so fond of gadding and amusement, 
 and laws ! what a one to talk ! As for Miss Aurea 
 
 No, he could not sit by and hear Miss Aurea dissected, 
 and with an excuse that he wanted to have a pipe before 
 he went back to his job, the chauffeur pushed away his
 
 AS HANDY MAN 93 
 
 unfinished cheese, and with a civil farewell took his 
 departure. 
 
 The afternoon was a busy one : the mirrors were put 
 up, pictures were hung, but with many incursions and 
 interruptions from Miss Parrett, Joss, the dog, was also 
 in and out, and seemed inclined to attach himself to 
 Wynyard. 
 
 Miss Parrett, still hooded, sat upright in an arm- 
 chair, offering irritating criticisms, and quarrelling 
 vigorously as to the position of pictures and articles 
 of furnitiure ; the old lady was altogether extremely 
 troublesome and argumentative, and gave double work. 
 Thoroughly alive to the fact that her niece had good 
 taste, she was jealous of her activities, and yet wished 
 to see the old rooms arranged to the best advantage 
 — as the result would redound to her personal credit. 
 
 It was an immense relief to the three harassed 
 workers when the parlour-maid entered and announced — 
 
 " If you please, Miss Parrett, Lady Mary Cooper has 
 called, and I've shown her into the study." 
 
 " You mean the library," corrected her mistress. " Say 
 I'm coming ; " and she trotted over to a glass, removed 
 her hood, and called upon Aurea to arrange her cap. 
 
 " Time Lady Mary did call ! " she grumbled. " We 
 are here seven months." 
 
 " She has been abroad," said Susan ; " and, anyway, 
 she's not much of a visitor." 
 
 " Well, she is our own cousin, at any rate." 
 
 " Our cousin — Lady Mary ! " repeated Miss Susan. " I 
 do declare, Bella, you have a craze for cousins. Why, we 
 scarcely know the woman ! " 
 
 " Now, Susan, don't argue ! She is our relative ; 
 her great -great-aunt married a Davenant, and I suppose 
 you will allow that they are our kin ? I have no time
 
 94 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 to explain now ; " and she pattered off, abandoning the 
 workers to their own devices. 
 
 " Your Aunt Bella is so funny about relations ! People 
 I've never heard of she will say are our own cousins." 
 
 " Yes, to the tenth generation," agreed Aurea, " if 
 they are well born. Aunt Bella has pedigree on the 
 brain — for myself, I think it a bore." 
 
 It was strange that Miss Parrett, who, on her mother's 
 side, was the granddaughter of a rough Hoogly pilot, 
 should be as haughty and exclusive as if she were an 
 Austrian princess. In the neighbourhood it had become 
 a well-established joke that, if any one of importance and 
 old family was mentioned before Miss Parrett, she was 
 almost sure to announce — 
 
 " Oh, I don't know much about them personally, 
 but they are our cousins ! " 
 
 By six o'clock the task of arranging the drawing- 
 room was completed. Wynyard had been assisted by 
 the rosy-cheeked maid in bringing tables, cabinets, and 
 china from other rooms, and they really had, as Miss 
 Susan declared, " worked like blacks." 
 
 " It is a dear old room ! " said Aurea, surveying the 
 apartment with unconcealed complacency. " When the 
 bowls are filled with flowers, and we have a bridge table, 
 and a jigsaw puzzle, we shall be perfect — old-fashioned, 
 and in the fashion." 
 
 " Glad you think so ! " said a little bleating voice in 
 the doorway. " Lady Mary asked for you, Susan, and I 
 told her you were out, or she'd have wanted to come 
 poking in here. So " — looking about — " you've brought 
 the black cabinet out of the schoolroom ! Who gave you 
 leave to do that ? And " — she threw out a quivering fore- 
 finger — " the blue china bowls from the spare room, and 
 my screen ! You take too much upon yourself, Aurea
 
 AS HANDY MAN 95 
 
 Morven ! You should have consulted me. I am tired of 
 telling you that I will not be a cipher in my own house ! " 
 
 Aurea coloured vividly. Did her aunt forget that the 
 chauffeur was present ? Really, Aunt Bella was too bad. 
 She glanced at the young man, who was standing on 
 the steps straightening a picture ; apparently he was 
 absorbed in his task, and to all appearances had not 
 heard the recent conversation. 
 
 " Oh, I'm so sorry you don't like the room, Aunt 
 Bella ! " said Aurea, seating herself in a high old chair, 
 crossing her neat feet, and folding her hands. 
 
 " Sorry ! " — and Miss Parrett sniffed — " that's what 
 you always say ! " 
 
 " Now, my dear, please don't be so cross," she replied, 
 unabashed ; " you know, in your heart, you are delighted, 
 and as proud of this drawing-room as a peacock with 
 two tails." 
 
 " Aurea ! " shrieked her aunt. 
 
 " You have been here seven months, and you've not 
 a single place in which to receive visitors. Look, now, 
 at Lady Mary — you had her in the musty old study — and 
 why? " — waving an interrogative hand — " simply because 
 for months you could not make up your mind about the 
 arrangement of this room. All the county have called 
 — the first calls — and carried off the first impressions. 
 None of your lovely old things were to be seen, but 
 waiting to be settled." 
 
 " Aurea, I will not suffer " 
 
 " Please do let me finish, dear. Before I left, you 
 may remember how you and 1 talked it all over — cabinets, 
 china, sofas — and settled exactly where everything was to 
 fit. I come back at the end of a month and I find nothing 
 done ; so I've made up my mind to work here for several 
 days. I've asked the padre to spare me. This room is
 
 96 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 finished, and looks extremely nice ; the next I take in 
 hand will be the den ! Now, as it's after six o'clock, 
 I'm afraid I must be off ; " and she arose, stooped down, 
 and kissed her aunt on the forehead, adding — 
 
 " Of course I know, dear, that you are immensely 
 obliged to me, and so you need not say anything. Good- 
 bye — ^good-bye, Susie," waving her hand, and she was 
 gone, leaving Miss Parrett in the middle of the room 
 temporarily speechless. 
 
 " Well — up — on my word ! " and she took a long 
 breath. 
 
 " After aU, BeUa, Aurea has made the room perfectly 
 charming," said Miss Susan, with unusual courage. " It's 
 the prettiest in the whole neighbourhood ; the old things 
 never were half seen before. She sewed the curtains 
 herself, and, until to-day, we've never had any decent 
 place to ask visitors to sit down in." 
 
 " Oh yes, it's all very well, but if she hadn't my 
 nice old things to work with, she couldn't have made up 
 such a room. Yes, I'm always just — every one says my 
 sense of justice is my strong point — and I admit that she 
 helped ; what I object to is Aurea's way — her way," she 
 repeated, " of just doing exactly whatever she chooses, 
 and smiling in your face. She leads the whole of Ottinge 
 by the nose, from the parson, her father, down to Crazy 
 Billy." And Wynyard, who was listening to this declara- 
 tion, told himself that he was not surprised. 
 
 Miss Parrett was not particularly attached to her 
 niece, although she was by no means indifferent to her 
 fascinating personality, and a sunny face that brought 
 light and gaiety into the house ; but this wizened old 
 woman of seventy-four grudged the girl her youth, and 
 was animated by the natural antagonism of one who has 
 lived, towards one who has life before her !
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE TRIAL TRIP 
 
 At last, with considerable pomp and circumstance, after 
 a whole week of procrastination, Miss Parrett ventured 
 to inaugurate her motor. 
 
 She appeared in a long fur cloak and gigantic sable 
 stole — a shapeless bundle, resembling a well-to-do bear, 
 with a cross human face. Susan, who, after all, was but 
 fifty, looked unusually trim and young in a neat tailor- 
 made, and becoming toque, whilst Aurea — who had been 
 permitted to share in the triumph — was so pretty herself, 
 that one scarcely noticed what she wore, merely that she 
 exercised marv^ellous dexterity in the matter of introduc- 
 ing a large black hat into the interior of the car. 
 
 The household were collected for this supreme event : 
 the cook, scowling and scornful, three maids, Hogben, 
 Jones the head gardener, and the boot -boy, all assembled 
 to witness the start — even Joss was in attendance. The 
 motor (in truth a whited sepulchre) had been recently 
 done up, and with its good-looking driver in smart 
 leather coat and cap, presented an imposing appearance 
 as it sped down the drive. 
 
 Miss Parrett closed her eyes, and when it swung out 
 of the gate with a slight lurch, she gave a loud scream, 
 but as it glided up the street, and she noticed that all 
 eyes were on her car (there was Mrs. Ramsay at her 
 door, and the doctor's wife too), she became comparat- 
 7
 
 98 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 ively composed. At the gate of the Rectory the Rector 
 awaited the great sight, and waved a valedictory stick ; 
 then they sped along easily, and, being now out of the 
 village, Wynyard put on the second speed, but was 
 instantly arrested by Miss Parrett's protesting cries. 
 
 " Tell him to stop ! " she called to her sister. " Sup- 
 posing we met something. There ! " as they passed the 
 local carrier's cart within three yards. 
 
 " Owen, you are not to go so fast ! " commanded 
 Susan. " Miss Parrett is nervous." 
 
 He obediently slowed down to eight miles an hour, and 
 as the old machine joggled along, bumping and shaking, 
 the window-glasses rattling, the chauffeur was conscious 
 of a feeling of angry contempt, instead of the usual 
 partiality which a driver reserves for his own car. He 
 had heard that a driver should be in tune with his machine, 
 but how could any sane man be in sympathy with this 
 bone-shaker ? He was confident that after a long 
 journey, or any extra strain, the old thing would collapse 
 and fall to pieces. 
 
 After many directions, and not one poor little adven- 
 ture, they entered a long avenue leading to an imposing 
 Tudor house with picturesque chimney-stacks, situated 
 in a great park. This was once the family seat of the 
 Davenants — cousins of the Wynyards ; and as she saw 
 the end of her journey. Miss Parrett's courage mounted. 
 When the car was crawling, or, better still, at a full 
 stop, she was extremely fond of motoring and not the 
 least nervous. 
 
 As the visitors approached the hall door, they over- 
 took a large and lively house-party, who were returning 
 from the golf links to tea. They included Mr. Woolcock — 
 a burly figure in knickerbockers, and brilliant stockings, 
 — his vivacious married daughter, Mrs. Wade Waring,
 
 THE TRIAL TRIP 99 
 
 commonly known as " Joey," her husband, and half a 
 dozen guests — altogether a smart and cheerful crowd. 
 
 After the first noisy greetings had subsided, Mrs. 
 Waring seized upon Aurea ; she, to use her own expres- 
 sion, " adored the girl." Aurea Morven was so pretty to 
 look at, so gay, and so natural, it was a sin to have her 
 buried in Ottinge ; and she secretly designed her for her 
 future sister-in-law. Aurea was just the wife for Bertie. 
 He was heavy, dull, and stodgy — a complete contrast 
 to herself, with her animated face, lively gestures, wiry 
 figure, and ceaseless flow of chatter. 
 
 As, arm in arm, she was conducting her friend indoors, 
 she halted for a moment to look back. 
 
 " So that's the wonderful new motor ! " she exclaimed 
 dramatically. " I say, where did you find such a tophole 
 chauffeur ? Why," she screamed, " I know him ! It's 
 Owen] he was a saloon steward on the Anaconda ! " and 
 Wynyard, seeing that he was recognised, made a virtue 
 of necessity, and touched his cap. 
 
 " Why, Owen," hastily descending the steps as she 
 spoke, " fancy you on dry land ! So you've given up 
 the sea, and taken to a new trade. How do you like it ? " 
 
 " It's all right, thank you, ma'am," he answered, with 
 an impassive face. 
 
 " I hope you got the beautiful white-covered umbrella 
 I left for you ? " 
 
 " Yes, thank you, ma'am." 
 
 " I was afraid the stewardess might bag it ! I 
 thought it would be useful to you in Buenos Ayres, when 
 you were walking in the Calle Florida with your best 
 girl ! " and she surveyed him with twinkling eyes. 
 
 " Come, come, Joey ! " expostulated her father ; 
 " you are blocking up the gangway, and we all want 
 our tea. Let the man take his car round."
 
 100 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " But only think, dad, he was my pet steward 
 coming home," declared his lively daughter; "on rough 
 days he brought me chicken broth on deck, and was so 
 sympathetic — just a ministering angel ! Toby will tell 
 you what a treasure he was, too. He always had a match 
 on him, always knew the time, and the run, and was the 
 best hand to tuck a rug round me I ever knew ! " 
 
 Long before the conclusion of this superb eulogy, 
 (delivered in a high-pitched voice from the steps), its 
 subject had found a refuge in the yard. 
 
 " Isn't it extraordinary how one comes across 
 people ? " continued Joey, as she led Aurea indoors. 
 " Fancy your chauffeur being one of the stewards on 
 the Anaconda ! " 
 
 " What's that you say about my chauffeur ? " 
 demanded Miss Parrett, with arrogant solemnity, who 
 had been a disapproving witness of the recent scene. 
 (She considered Joey Waring a shockingly fast, vulgar 
 little person, who absorbed far too much of the general 
 conversation and attention ; but as she was the wife of a 
 wealthy man, and the sister of a notable parti, she dis- 
 sembled her dislike, or believed she did. But Joey was 
 aware that the eldest " Polly " considered her a terribly 
 inferior, frivolous sort of person.) 
 
 " I'm only saying how odd it is to find a steward 
 turned into a chauffeur ! I do hope he is experienced, 
 dear Miss Parrett, and that he won't bring you or the car 
 to grief. I call him quite dangerously good-looking, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 To this preposterous question Miss Parrett made no 
 reply, merely squeezed up her eyes, tossed her head, and 
 as she followed Mrs. Woolcock into the drawing-room 
 her feathers were still quivering. 
 
 After tea Mrs. Waring carried Aurea off to her room
 
 THE TRIAL TRIP loi 
 
 to enjoy a good gossip, and to exhibit some of the 
 treasures she had collected during her recent trip. Joey 
 and her husband were enterprising travellers ; he, a big, 
 silent man — the opposite of his lively little wife — was 
 also a mighty sportsman. 
 
 " Now, let me hear what you have been doing with 
 yourself, Aurea," said the lady, after a long and animated 
 description of her own experiences in the West Indies and 
 Buenos Ayres. " You have been up in town, I know. Do 
 tell me all about your love-affairs — I know they are legion. 
 Do confide in little Joey ! " 
 
 " My love-affairs ! " and the girl laughed. " I have 
 none ; and if I had, Joey, you are about the worst 
 confidante I could find. All particulars would be given 
 out no later than at dinner to-night, and you'd put my 
 most heart-breaking experience in such a light, that 
 every one would be shrieking with laughter." 
 
 " Well, an5^vay, you are heart-whole so far, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I think I may admit that." 
 
 " And so your Aunt Bella has set up a motor ; what 
 possessed her ? " And she stared into the girl's face, 
 with a pair of knowing, light grey eyes. " She's as 
 nervous as a cat ! " 
 
 " Aunt Bella was possessed by the spirit of contra- 
 diction. And, talking of the car, do tell me some 
 more about the chauffeur." 
 
 " Or the waiter that was," lighting another cigarette. 
 " He was awfully quick and civil ; every one liked Owen." 
 
 " Did it strike you, Joey, that he was something 
 above his class — er — in fact, a gentleman ? " And as 
 Aurea asked the question she coloured faintly. 
 
 " No, my dear," rejoined her friend, with decision. 
 " I have not a scrap of imagination, or an ounce of 
 romance in my composition. Such an idea never dawned
 
 102 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 on me. You see, Toby and I go about the world so 
 much ; although we have two big houses, we almost 
 live in hotels, and I am accustomed to being served 
 by men with nice voices and agreeable manners, who 
 speak several foreign languages. So sorry to dispel 
 your illusions, but Owen waited to the manner born. 
 He may have been trained in some big house, and been 
 a gentleman's gentleman. I fancy he is a roving 
 character. I think some one said he had been on a 
 ranch up-country." 
 
 Aurea looked out of the window, and was silent. 
 Joey knew the world, and Joey, for all her free-and- 
 easy ways and her noisy manners, was au fond a sensible, 
 practical, little person. 
 
 " I dare say you are right, Joey," she remarked at last. 
 
 " Why, of course I am ! I grant you that the man 
 is rather an unusual type of chauffeur, to come down to a 
 dull situation in a dull little village ; but, for goodness' 
 sake, don't run away with the idea that he is some 
 swell in disguise, for he is not ; he is just ' off the cab 
 rank ' — no more and no less. I admit his good looks, 
 but that's nothing. One of the handsomest young men 
 I ever saw was a London carriage groom. I give you 
 my word, his eyelashes were half an inch long ! In 
 these days, too, there are such hideous scandals about 
 women and their smart chauffeurs, that one cannot be 
 too reserved or too careful." 
 
 " Joey ! " cried Aurea, turning on her with a crimson 
 face. 
 
 " Oh, I'm not thinking of you, darling ; you are as 
 cold and austere as Diana herself. I do wish you were 
 not so icy to some one — you know who I mean." 
 
 But Aurea 's expression was not encouraging, and 
 her vivacious companion continued —
 
 THE TRIAL TRIP 103 
 
 " Isn't this a darling old place ? " rising and looking 
 over the Italian gardens and sloping lawns. " Some- 
 how I always feel sorry for those Davenants, and as if 
 we had no business here, and it was still theirs. We 
 have their heirlooms too — the Davenants' Vandyke, 
 the lacquered cabinets, the Chippendale chairs. Dad 
 bought them, as they matched the place ; but we don't 
 fit in. Dad and mum were far happier in London ; keep- 
 ing up a great estate and a great position is an awful 
 strain when one was not caught young. Do you know, 
 the servants are a frightful trial ; they find the country 
 dull. And at the last ball we had, nearly all the hired 
 waiters were intoxicated ; they drank most of the cham- 
 pagne, and one of them handed a lemonade to Lord 
 Mottisfont, and said there was no fiz left ! The mum 
 was so mortified she wept, poor dear." 
 
 " Well, everything always seems to go smoothly, 
 quite London fashion, and without a hitch," said Aurea 
 consolingly. 
 
 " Yes, but not behind the scenes ; and the Mum 
 sometimes makes such horrible blunders in etiquette, 
 such as sending in a baronet's wife before a countess 
 — and the countess looked pea-green ! Altogether it's a 
 fag. When Bertie marries I expect pater will make him 
 over the place. I wouldn't mind reigning here myself 
 — would you, Aurea ? " 
 
 " What a silly question, Joey ! I'm not cut out for 
 reigning anywhere." 
 
 " Only in people's hearts, eh ? " stroking her cheek 
 with a finger. " Isn't that a pretty speech ? Well, 
 come along, I want to show you the pretty things I 
 collected abroad — my fans and lace and embroideries." 
 
 But just at this moment a maid entered, and said — 
 
 " If you please, ma'am, I was to say that Miss
 
 104 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Parrett's car is at the door, and she's waiting for Miss 
 Morven." 
 
 The drive home was made by another road (in spite 
 of Miss Parrett's querulous protestations, and it was 
 evident that the sooner she could abandon the motor 
 the better she would be pleased). Susan, on the other 
 hand, was anxious to see more of the country, and make 
 a detour round by a little town, eight miles away. 
 
 " Why, it's nothing," she protested ; " it's not 
 worth taking out the car for a run over to Westmere 
 — one might as well walk ! " 
 
 " One would think it was your car, to hear you talking, 
 Susan;" and Miss Parrett threw herself back in the 
 comer, and closed her eyes, only to open them again 
 immediately, as they sped along the empty, country 
 roads between hedges already green. 
 
 " There's Hopfield Hill ! " she exclaimed, suddenly 
 sitting bolt upright. "I'm not going down that in a 
 motor, so don't suppose it, either of you." 
 
 " But it's three-quarters of a mile long, and you 
 have a blister on your heel," expostulated her sister. 
 "' Come, Bella, don't be foolish." 
 
 " Don't argue ; if it was twenty miles I'd walk it. 
 This thing gives me palpitation as it is." 
 
 In spite of Aurea's and Miss Susan's prayers, vows, 
 and assurances. Miss Parrett descended at the top of a 
 long hill, insisted that her companions should accom- 
 pany her, and together the trio tramped down in the 
 mud, whilst the chauffeur sped along merrily, and awaited 
 them at the base. On their way home by a narrow 
 byroad they nearly met with a nasty accident. A cart, 
 drawn by a young horse, was comng out of a gate as the 
 motor approached, and there was an exciting scene. 
 The boy who was driving lost his head, the horse reared
 
 THE TRIAL TRIP 105 
 
 and plunged, Miss Parrett shrieked, and the motor — 
 which was jammed into the bank — shuddered all over ; 
 but, after a moment — a critical moment — all was well — 
 all but Miss Parrett, who collapsed into her corner, and 
 announced that she had spasms of the heart, and was 
 dying ! 
 
 Ultimately they reached the Manor without further 
 trouble ; the dying lady was restored with brandy and 
 water, and Owen the chauffeur spent the next two hours 
 in cleaning the muddy car. This was the part of the job 
 he loathed. Just as he had completed his task, he beheld, 
 to his discomfiture, the cook stepping delicately across 
 the yard, carrying a black bottle in one hand, and a wine- 
 glass in the other. 
 
 " Good-evening to you, Mr. Owen. My word ! you 
 do look hot after all your fag with the car. Beastly work, 
 ain't it ? I've just run over with a glass of ginger wine — 
 it's my own." 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Hicks. It's awfully good of you, 
 but it's a thing I never touch," he answered politely. 
 
 " Then what do you say to a pint o' beer, or a cup o' 
 tea? " 
 
 " No — er — I'm about done," pulling down his sleeves ; 
 " and I'm going." 
 
 " The old girl seems a bit upset," remarked the cook, 
 who had come out for conversation ; " she's awful 
 frightened of the car." 
 
 " She needn't be," he answered shortly. 
 
 " Not with you a-driving, I'm sure, Mr. Owen. I 
 wish I could have a run in it, eh ? There was a chauffeur 
 as I knew in London — rather a pal of mine — that used to 
 give his friends fine drives, as much as down to Brighton, 
 when the family was out of town. He were a treat, I can 
 teU you ! "
 
 io6 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Was he ? I'd say he was a thief — unless he used 
 his own petrol." 
 
 " Oh, come now, you're mighty strict and proper, I 
 can see. Chapel, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No ; you're wrong there." 
 
 " Look here, what's the use of being so stand-off and 
 so stiff — it's downright silly; you and me, as it were, 
 coming to this cruel place from the same reference. 
 Won't you call round and take me for a nice walk on 
 Sunday afternoon ? " 
 
 " No ; you're very kind — but I can't." 
 
 " Why, what else have you to do ? " her eyes kindling. 
 
 What else had he to do ? Lie on his bed and smoke, and 
 read Leila's papers. And there were other alternatives ; 
 he could take a long stretch, say ten miles out and back, or 
 he might go to evening service and gaze at Aurea Morven! 
 
 " My word ! you are a stupid ! " declared Miss Hicks ; 
 " even if you have a young woman up in town, she won't 
 mind. Have you a young lady ? " and her bold eyes were 
 searching. 
 
 Had he ? He had ! His young lady was Miss Aurea, 
 her mistress's niece — Aurea or no other ; and as he put 
 on his coat he looked his tormentor steadily in the face 
 and answered — 
 
 "Yes, I have." 
 
 " Oh, so that's it ! I see ! And you're hurrying off 
 to write to her ? Well," — spitefully — " I can tell you one 
 thing for yer comfort, there's no post out of Ottinge 
 before Monday morning ! " 
 
 " Isn't there ? That's a pity. Well, good-evening to 
 you. Miss Hicks ; " and he walked off, leaving Miss Hicks 
 gaping after him. She, however, consoled herself with a 
 couple of glasses of ginger wine, before re-entering the 
 house.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE dogs' hotel 
 
 The morning succeeding the motor's first trip proved 
 depressingly wet ; thick mists of cold spring rain shrouded 
 the outlook from the Manor, beat down upon the pleasure 
 ground, and made pools in the hollows of the drive. 
 
 Miss Parrett, who was, as the servants expressed it, 
 " dodging " in and out of the sitting-room, issuing com- 
 mands and then withdrawing them, fastened upon the 
 chauffeur the moment he came for orders. 
 
 No, the car would not be required, and he could go 
 some errands into the village. 
 
 " Mind you don't go loitering and gossiping," she 
 added. " I know your sort, chattering with the maids. 
 Remember that your time belongs to me ; " and she 
 pointed a stumpy forefinger at her knitted jacket. " I've 
 a note for Miss Morven at the Rectory, and another for 
 Ivy House, and I want some things at Topham's shop. 
 I'll give you a list. You can go into the schoolroom and 
 wait." 
 
 Calm with excessive rage Wynyard entered the school- 
 room, where he found Miss Susan with a handkerchief 
 tied over her head, and an apron over her dress, unpacking 
 dusty china from a battered case, 
 
 " Such a day ! " she exclaimed cheerfully ; " and they 
 say it's going to last — so we shall be very busy, and make 
 use of you."
 
 io8 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 "All right, miss," he assented shortly; the accusa- 
 tion of " chattering with maids " still left its sting, 
 
 " We are going to get up the cases of old books and 
 china, and unpack them here. The carpenter is putting 
 shelves in the library ; but he is such a lazy fellow, I don't 
 expect he will come out in this weather." 
 
 " There you are as usual, Susan, talking and idling 
 people," said her sister, entering with two notes and 
 a list ; and in another moment Wynyard had been 
 dispatched. 
 
 First of all he went to the Rectory, and here the door 
 was opened by Mr. Morven himself, attended by Mac- 
 kenzie, who immediately stiffened from head to tail, and 
 growled round the chauffeur's legs, evidently recognising 
 in him the ally of his mortal foe. Mr. Morven was a 
 squarely built elderly man with a grey beard, a benevolent 
 expression, and the eyes of the dreamer. 
 
 As he took the note he glanced at the messenger, and 
 his eyes dilated with the intentness of a surprised stare. 
 Wynyard's type was not common in the parish ; some- 
 how Mrs. Hogben's lodger did not correspond with his 
 surroundings. 
 
 " I see this is for my daughter," he said, and beckon- 
 ing to a parlour-maid he handed it to her. "Just come 
 into my study, will you, till the answer is written," leading 
 the way across a wide hall panelled in oak. Through an 
 open door Wynyard caught a glimpse of the drawing- 
 room, and was conscious of a faded carpet, fresh chintz, 
 books, old china, a glowing fire, and a fragrant atmo- 
 sphere. The general impression of the Rectory, with its 
 oaken staircase, family portraits, and bowls of potpourri, 
 was delightful but fleeting ; it seemed a peaceful, flower- 
 scented old house, of spotless neatness. 
 
 " You're a newcomer, I believe ? " said the Rector,
 
 THE DOGS' HOTEL 109 
 
 preceding him into a room lined with books from floor to 
 ceiHng, and seating himself at a writing table. " Miss 
 Parrett's chauffeur ? " and he smiled to himself at some 
 reminiscence. " I see they are making use of you. 
 Church of England ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " If you have any sort of voice — tenor, baritone, or 
 bass — we shall be glad to have you in the choir ; our tenor 
 is getting on ; he must be close on seventy." 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm not much good, sir." 
 
 " Well, if you don't sing, you look like a cricketer, eh ? 
 I must get something out of you, you know ; " and he 
 laughed pleasantly. 
 
 " Oh yes, I can play cricket all right." 
 
 " If you can bowl a bit, with Miss Parrett's leave, I'll 
 put you into the village club ; we rather fancy ourselves, 
 and a young man of your stamp will be an acquisition," 
 
 At this moment Aurea entered, carrying an enormous 
 cardboard box. 
 
 " Good-morning," she said. " I see aunt sent you for 
 the lampshade, and here it is." 
 
 " What a size ! " exclaimed her father. " Why, you 
 must have robbed your best hat ! I declare it's not 
 fair to a man to ask him to be seen with such a thing 
 going through the village." 
 
 " Not half so bad as seeing people go down the street 
 with a black bottle in either hand ! " retorted his daughter. 
 
 " I don't mind, sir," said Wynyard, taking up the 
 box as he spoke. 
 
 " Please tell Aunt Bella I will be after you in two or 
 three minutes," said Aurea ; then to her father, " She 
 wants to unpack grandpapa's books at last ! " 
 
 " You mean that she wants you to unpack the books," 
 corrected Mr. Morven ; " you might steal a few for me, eh ?
 
 no A ROLLING STONE 
 
 I suppose you will be away all day ? " and he looked at 
 her rather wistfully. 
 
 " No, no, dear, I'll be back soon after tea." To Owen : 
 " Straight on, it's an easy door." 
 
 As Wynyard turned in the hall and backed out, box in 
 hand, he had a vision of pretty Miss Aurea perched on the 
 arm of his chair, with her arm round her father's neck. 
 Lucky old beggar ! 
 
 His next errand was to the shop — Topham's — and as 
 he lingered irresolutely in the rain, staring up and down 
 the street, he was overtaken by a brisk figure in an aqua- 
 scutum and motor cap. 
 
 " I see you are searching for our emporium," she 
 began, " and I'll show it to you — in fact, I'm going in 
 myself to get some brass-headed carpet nails." 
 
 The shop stood sideways to the street, as if anxious 
 for concealment, and was the most astonishing place of 
 its kind that Wynyard had ever entered. A stall in an 
 Indian bazaar was tame and tidy in comparison. The 
 house was old and low, the shop of narrow dimensions ; 
 it widened out as it ran back, and lost itself in a sort of 
 tumbledown greenhouse. The smell was extraordinary, 
 so varied, penetrating, and indescribable — and smaU 
 wonder, he said to himself, when he had inspected the 
 stock ! 
 
 An oldish woman with a long nose (the Ottinge nose) 
 stood stiffly behind the counter ; at her left the window 
 was full of stale confectionery, biscuit tins, sticky sweets 
 in glass bottles, oranges and apples in candle boxes ; heaps 
 of Rickett's blue, and some fly-blown advertisements. 
 
 Behind Mrs. Topham were two shelves dedicated to 
 " the library," which consisted of remarkably dirty and 
 battered sixpenny novels ; these she hired to the village 
 at the generous price of a penny a volume for one week.
 
 THE DOGS' HOTEL iii 
 
 To the left of the entrance were more shelves, piled 
 with cheap toys, haberdashery, and china ; and here 
 ended the front of the shop. Concealed by a low screen 
 were tins of oil, a barrel of ginger ale on tap, and a large 
 frying-pan full of dripping. The remainder of the 
 premises was abandoned to the greengrocery business 
 on a large scale — onions, potatoes, and cabbages in 
 generous profusion. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mrs. Topham," said Miss Morven. 
 " What a wet day ! How is your cough ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'm amongst the middlings, miss. Wliat can I 
 do for you ? ' ' 
 
 " I want some brass-headed carpet nails, and my 
 aunts have sent a list ; " and she motioned to Wynyard. 
 
 Mrs. Topham seized upon it with her long, yellow 
 fingers (they resembled talons) — the Manor were good 
 customers. 
 
 " You can send over the things, Mrs. Topham ; but I 
 want the nails now." 
 
 " I'm sure, miss, I've got 'em, but I can't just rightly 
 think where they be." 
 
 As she spoke, she turned out a drawer and rummaged 
 through it violently, and then another ; the contents of 
 these gave one an idea of what is seriously understood 
 by the word "chaos": wool, toffee, night-lights, dog 
 biscuits, and pills were among the ingredients. 
 
 " Try the blue box," suggested Aurea, who was 
 evidently acquainted with the resources of the estab- 
 lishment. 
 
 The blue box yielded nothing but a quantity of faded 
 pink ribbon, a few postcards of the church and Drum, a 
 dozen tennis balls, some small curling-pins, and several 
 quires of black-edged paper. 
 
 " Why, if that isn't the very thing I was looking for
 
 112 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 last week ! " exclaimed Mrs. Topham, as she pounced on 
 the paper. " And now Miss Jakes she's bin and got it 
 over at Brodfield ; 'tis a cruel chance to be near a big 
 town — and so there's for you ! " 
 
 As the search for nails promised to be protracted, 
 Miss Morven turned to Wynyard and said — 
 
 " You need not wait ; please take the lampshade on, 
 and say that I'm coming." 
 
 But before returning to the Manor he had yet another 
 errand to fulfil — a note for Mrs. Ramsay at lyy House. 
 Here he rang repeatedly, he even gave heavy single 
 knocks with the bulbous brass knocker, but received no 
 reply beyond the distant barking of indignant dogs. At 
 last he went round and discovered a large paved yard, 
 but no human being. Then he ventured to approach 
 one of the sitting-room windows and peered in — a com- 
 fortable dining-room with a cheerful fire, but empty. 
 No, just underneath the window on a sofa lay an elderly 
 man fast asleep. He wore grey woollen socks on his 
 slipperless feet, an empty tumbler stood on a chair beside 
 him — and this at eleven o'clock in the morning. (True, 
 O. Wynyard, but it had contained no stronger drink than 
 hot water.) 
 
 He had the intention of rapping at the pane, but 
 changed his mind and retired to the door, and as he 
 waited he heard a voice above him calling out in a rich 
 brogue — 
 
 " Bad scran to ye, Fanny, if there isn't a young 
 gentleman below wid a big band-box, and he is afther 
 puUin' out the bell by the roots ; 'tis a shame to lave 
 him standin' in all the pours of rain ! An' such a lovely 
 big man ! " 
 
 At this moment the hall door was opened by a tall 
 dark woman in a mackintosh and motor cap, with two
 
 THE DOGS' HOTEL 113 
 
 frantic fox-terriers on the lead, and a self-possessed 
 French bulldog in dignified attendance. 
 
 " I'm afraid you've been waiting," she said, in a soft 
 brogue. " I was away at the kennels, the servants 
 were upstairs, and the Captain is asleep." Then, open- 
 ing the note (as well as the fox-terriers would permit), 
 she glanced over it, and the messenger glanced at her — 
 a woman of thirty-five, with a thin, well-bred face, 
 black hair, and very long lashes. When she lifted them, 
 he saw that her eyes were of a blue-black shade, both 
 sad and searching — the whole expression of her face 
 seemed to be concentrated in their pupils. 
 
 " Please tell Miss Parrett I'll come to tea. I've no 
 time to write. I have to take the dogs out," The fox- 
 terriers were straining hard at their leash. " They must 
 have exercise; and when these come back, there are 
 three more." 
 
 As she spoke, Wynyard could hear the injured yelping 
 of their disappointed companions. 
 
 " Now, don't open the little dogs' room," she called 
 to an elderly woman in the background, who gave the 
 amazing answer — 
 
 " And what would ail me ? " 
 
 " And mind that the Captain has his broth at twelve." 
 Then she stepped out into the beating rain, and Wynyard 
 was surprised to fmd that Mrs. Ramsay was about to 
 accompany him. 
 
 "I'm going your way," she explained; "it's the 
 safest. These two are new dogs, and I'm rather afraid 
 to go near the Rectory ; their Aberdeen is such a quarrel- 
 some beast — always trailing his coat." 
 
 " Mackenzie ? " 
 
 " Ah, and so you know him ? " she said, with a 
 smile; "you weren't long in making his acquaintance." 
 8
 
 114 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Wynyard exhibited his left hand, and a severe bite. 
 
 "I suppose he was trying to kill Joss; that's his 
 profession — a killer of other dogs." 
 
 " You seem to have a good many of them," as an 
 afterthought, " ma'am." 
 
 " Yes ; they are not all my own. I take in boarders 
 — only six at a time, and they must be small, no invalids 
 accepted. I look after them for people who go abroad, 
 or from home for a few weeks. I am fond of dogs, so 
 I combine business and pleasure." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; but they must be a trouble and a 
 responsibility — other people's pets." 
 
 " I have to take my chance ! Some are so nice, it 
 just breaks my heart to part with them. Indeed, there's 
 Tippy here, the bulldog, I'm pretending he is sick — 
 isn't it a shame of me ? Some are surly, others so sport- 
 ing, that half my time is spent in scouring the country, 
 and looking into rabbit -holes. Others are quarrelsome, 
 or chase, snap, and kill fowl and get me into great 
 trouble. I never keep them on an hour after their time 
 is up. You are the Miss Parretts' chauffeur, aren't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Is this your first situation ? " eyeing him keenly. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 Why did she ask such a question ? Did she, to use 
 the good old expression, " smell a rat " ? 
 
 " I'm afraid you will find Ottinge terribly dull. I 
 wonder how you discovered a place so far from every- 
 where — just the back of beyond?" and she looked 
 at him interrogatively — her dark blue eyes were extra- 
 ordinarily piercing. 
 
 To this impertinent remark no reply was necessary, 
 as it brought them precisely to the Manor gate. The 
 lady nodded, and walked on quickly — a slim, active.
 
 THE DOGS' HOTEL 115 
 
 resolute figure, with the straining fox-terriers dragging 
 at her hands, the Httle bulldog trotting sedately at her 
 heels. The group passed steadily out towards the open 
 country, with the light rain drifting down upon them. 
 What queer people one came across in Ottinge ! Miss 
 Parrett, the ill-tempered old buUy, the Hon. Mrs. 
 Ramsay, with her soft voice and expressive eyes, eking 
 out a living by making herself a slave to strangers' 
 dogs. 
 
 " Oh, so she sent a verbal message, did she ? " 
 snorted Miss Parrett. " Well, when / was a girl," — 
 turning to her sister — " and people asked me out, I always 
 wrote them a proper note) but manners are not what 
 they were in my day. Oh, if my dear, courteous father 
 could only know of some of the things that are done, 
 he would turn in his grave ! " 
 
 Miss Parrett was fond of quoting the old Colonel, 
 and insisting upon his devotion to herself; whilst, if the 
 truth were known, they had been bitterly antagonistic 
 to one another during his lifetime, and the Manor was 
 the frequent scene of acrimonious quarrelling, unfilial 
 gibes, and furious rejoinders. 
 
 It was fully a quarter of an hour later when Miss 
 Morven arrived with the brass-headed carpet nails. 
 
 " I knew she had them ! " she declared triumphantly ; 
 " for she got a lot for us last winter, so I ransacked the 
 shop, and, after a long search, where do you think I 
 found t'hem, Susan ? " 
 
 " In her pocket, to be sure ! " 
 
 " No, not quite — probably I shall next time. In one 
 of the brown teapots she has on sale ! She was surprised 
 — I wasn't ! She is getting quite dotty, and won't have 
 help ; and there is Dilly, her pretty, flighty grand- 
 daughter, with nothing to do but flirt ! "
 
 ii6 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 All that day Wynyard worked zealously, assisting 
 the carpenter (who had come after all) and in unpacking 
 and dusting books that had not seen daylight for thirty 
 years. On this occasion, in spite of Miss Parrett's 
 condescending invitation, he dined at Holiday Cottage. 
 
 That very same evening Mrs. Ramsay came to tea 
 at the Manor, and was fervent in her admiration of the 
 drawing-room, which praise Miss Parrett absorbed with 
 toothless complacency, saying in her quavering bleat — 
 
 " I'm so glad you like it. Of course it was my taste, 
 and my ideas, and they are my things ; but Aurea and 
 Susan helped me — yes, and the chauffeur made himself 
 useful." 
 
 Wynyard, who was working close by, felt inclined 
 to laugh out loud. It seemed to him that he was every- 
 thing but a chauffeur : window-cleaner, carpet -layer, 
 messenger, and assistant carpenter — a good thing he 
 was naturally pretty handy. And although all these 
 extra burdens had been laid upon him, the first impulse 
 to throw up the situation had died away ; he did not 
 mind what jobs the old lady set him to do, but would 
 take them as all in the day's work, for he had no intention 
 of leaving Ottinge at present — he must have some con- 
 sideration for Leila ! 
 
 After tea, when Miss Parrett was engaged in 
 scolding her domestics and writing violent post cards 
 to her tradesmen, Mrs. Ramsay drew Aurea into the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 " WeU, me dear," and her dark eyes danced, " I did 
 not say a word before your aunts, but I've seen the 
 remarkable chauffeur ! I assure you, when I opened the 
 door and found him standing there with a large box, 
 you might have knocked me down with the traditional
 
 THE DOGS' HOTEL 117 
 
 feather ! I was taking the new dogs out for a run, and so 
 we walked together to this gate." 
 
 " What do you think of him ? " asked Aurea, care- 
 lessly, as she rearranged some daffodils in a blue bowl. 
 
 " What do I think ? I think — although he scarcely 
 opened his Hps — that there is some mystery attached to 
 him, and that he is a gentleman." 
 
 " Why do you say so ? " inquired the girl, anxious to 
 hear her own opinion endorsed. '* He is not a bit smarter 
 than the Woolcocks' men." 
 
 " Oh, it's not exactly smartness, me dear, it's the 
 ' born so ' air which nothing can disguise. His matter- 
 of-course lifting his cap, walking on the outside, opening 
 the gate, and, above all, his boots." 
 
 " Boots ! " 
 
 " Yes, his expensive aristocratic shooting boots ; I 
 vow they come from Lobbs, Jimmy got his ther© — 
 before he lost his money." 
 
 " Perhaps the chauffeur bought them second-hand ? " 
 suggested Aurea. 
 
 Mrs. Ramsay ignored the remark with a waving 
 hand. 
 
 " I cannot think what has induced a man of his class 
 to come and bury himself here in this God-forsaken spot." 
 
 " Ottinge-in-the-Marsh is obliged to you ! " 
 
 " Now, you know what I mean, Aurea. You are a 
 clever girl. I put the question to him, and got no satis- 
 factory answer. Is it forgeiy, murder, piracy on the high 
 seas, somebody's wife — or what ? " She rested her chin 
 on her hand, and nodded sagaciously at her companion. 
 " I understand that he has been working indoors a good 
 deal, and helping you and Miss Susan." She paused 
 significantly. " You must have seen something of him. 
 Tell me, darling, how did you find him ? "
 
 Ii8 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 "Most ifseful, wonderfully clever with his hands, 
 strong, obliging, and absolutely speechless." 
 
 " Ah ! Does he have his meals here ? " 
 
 *'No." 
 
 '' Dear me, what a cruel blow for the maid-servants ! 
 Did he come from a garage ? " 
 
 " No ; a friend of Aunt Bella's found him." 
 
 ** A woman friend ? " 
 
 " Yes ; she gave him an excellent character." 
 
 " And what of hers ? " 
 
 *' Oh, my dear Kathleen, she is Lady Kesters, a 
 tremendously smart Society lady, awfully clever, too, and 
 absolutely sans reproche ! " 
 
 " Is that so ? " drawled Mrs. Ramsay. " Well, some- 
 how or other, I've an uneasy feeling about her protege. 
 There is more than meets the eye with respect to that 
 young man's character, believe me. My woman's 
 instinct says so. I'm sorry he has come down and taken 
 up your aunt's situation, for I seem to feel in me bones 
 that he will bring trouble to some one." 
 
 ^' Oh, Kathleen ! You and your Irish superstitions ! " 
 and Aurea threw up her hands, clasping them among her 
 masses of hair, and stared into her friend's face and 
 laughed. 
 
 ** Well, dear, if he does nothing worse, he wiU have 
 half the girls in love with him, and breaking their hearts. 
 It's too bad of him, so good-looking, and so smart, coming 
 and throwing the ' comether ' over this sleepy little 
 village. Believe me, darlin', he has been turned out 
 of his own place ; and it would never surprise me 
 if he was just a nice-looking young wolf in sheep's 
 clothing ! " 
 
 *' Oh, what it is to have the nice, lurid, Celtic imagina- 
 tion ! " exclaimed Aurea. " I don't think the poor man
 
 THE DOGS' HOTEL 119 
 
 would harm a fly. Joss has taken to him as a brother — 
 and " 
 
 " Miss Morven as — a sister ? " 
 
 " Now, what are you two conspiring about ? " inquired 
 Miss Susan, entering, brisk, smihng, and inquisitive. 
 
 " I'm only discussing your chauffeur, me darlin' Miss 
 Susan. I notice that several of the village girls drop in 
 on Mrs. Hogben — you see I live opposite — and they 
 expose their natural admiration without scruple or 
 reserve." 
 
 " Owen is a useful young man, if he is a bit ornamental 
 — isn't he, Aurea ? I'm going to get him to help me in 
 the greenhouse, for I don't believe, at this rate, that we 
 shall ever use the car."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS 
 
 Mrs. Hogben had lost no time in giving her lodger ex- 
 plicit instructions as to what was expected of him in 
 Ottinge ! Her lecture assumed a negative form. He 
 was not to take out any one's girl, or there'd be trouble ; 
 he was not to talk too much politics, or there'd be more 
 trouble ; he was not to drink and get fuddled and fight- 
 ing, or there was the Bench and a fine ; as to amuse- 
 ment, there was cricket, Mrs. Topham's Library, and 
 the Drum Inn, for his evenings. 
 
 The good woman said to herself, " The motor is always 
 washed and put away by six o'clock, and if he comes 
 here, he must either sit in his room or in the kitchen, and 
 she wasn't a-goin' to have that blocked up with young 
 girls, and never a chair for herself and her own friends." 
 
 Wynyard readily took the hint ; at Ottinge one 
 must do as Ottinge did, and he cheerfully accompanied 
 Tom over to the Drum a few evenings after his arrival. 
 
 " What sort of liquor do they keep, Tom ? " he 
 asked, as they crossed the street. 
 
 " Well, some be better nor some, but there's no 
 bad beer ; the old stuff here is rare and strong, but it 
 comes pretty dear." 
 
 The low, wainscoted taproom, with its sanded 
 floor, was full of day - labourers, herds, ploughmen, 
 cow -men, and carters taking their bit of pleasure.
 
 THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS 121 
 
 talking loudly and disjointedly, drinking beer in 
 mugs, or playing the ever-popular game of " ring." 
 Here, for the first time in his life, Wynyard was brought 
 into personal contact, as man to man, with the 
 agricultural world as it is. In the more exclusive bar 
 were to be found farmers, owners of certain com- 
 fortable red houses scattered up and down the street, 
 the organist, the schoolmaster, the grocer — in short, the 
 moneyed patrons of the hostelry. Several were talking 
 over village affairs, discussing politics, racing, artificial 
 manures, or cattle. Some were playing draughts, some 
 were reading the daily papers, others were doing 
 nothing. Of these, one was a bent, gentlemanly indi- 
 vidual in a grey tweed suit, with a grey moustache, a 
 grey, sunken, vacant face, who sat aloof smoking a brier 
 pipe — his eyes staring into vacancy. Another was a 
 white-haired, shrunken old man, who wore green 
 carpet slippers, and occupied a cushioned arm-chair, 
 and the best seat near the fire. This was Joe Thunder, 
 the oldest inhabitant, ninety-three years of age his last 
 birthday. Once upon a time he had seen the world — 
 and other worlds ; now he was comfortably moored 
 in a fine, substantial cottage with a garden back and 
 front, kept bees, was an authority on roses, and filled 
 the post of the patriarch of Ottinge. 
 
 All newcomers were formally presented to Daddy 
 Thunder, and as Tom pushed Wynyard in his direction 
 he said — 
 
 " This be the Parrett ladies' new man, daddy." 
 To Owen, "Daddy, here, he knows the place well, and 
 can tell ye all about it, better nor any, though he wasn't 
 Ottinge born." 
 
 Daddy slowly removed his long clay pipe, and in- 
 spected the stranger with a pair of shrewd little grey
 
 122 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 eyes. He had rosy cheeks, a benevolent, even sweet 
 expression, and looked fifteen years younger than his age. 
 
 " Ye come fra' London ? " he began agreeably. 
 
 " Yes, sir, three days ago. It's a good long journey." 
 
 " Ay, mister," nodding his white head expressively. 
 " Ye don't belong to us. Yer speech — like the Bible 
 chap — bewray eth ye — y're no working man ! " 
 
 " I am, indeed," rejoined Wynyard quickly, " and 
 working for my bread the same as the rest of the com- 
 pany ; it's all I have to look to — my two hands." 
 
 " Nay, is that so ? " and he glanced at him incredu- 
 lously. " Well, I've bin here a matter o' twenty year, 
 and I never see one o' your make a-comin' in and settin' 
 in the Drum. There's 'im," and he indicated the bent 
 figure in the comer, whose pipe was in his hand, his eyes 
 riveted on the stranger with a look of startled inquiry. 
 
 "That's the Captain, but 'e's no account. 'E comes 
 in and 'e sits and maybe listens ; 'e never speaks. They 
 do say 'e 'ad a soort o' stroke in India, and 'is brain 'as 
 melted like, but 'e is 'armless enough — anyhow, 'is lady 
 won't put 'im away." 
 
 *' I suppose you've lived here a long time ? " said 
 Wynyard, drawing forward a chair, and placing it so as 
 to sit with his back to the said Captain, whose stare was 
 disagreeably steady. 
 
 " Twenty year, more or less. I am a south country 
 man, and my daughter she married and settled 'ere, 
 and 'er 'usband died; an' as there was only the two on us, 
 I come along to keep 'er company, and to die 'ere, since 
 I was gettin' pretty old, being over seventy ; but, Lor' 
 bless ye ! that's twenty-two year ago, and 'ere I be 
 still gettin' about, and doin' a bit o' gardenin'. The air is 
 grand — nothing ails me but gout," holding out a crippled 
 hand. " This isn't the place to die in — it's the place to
 
 THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS 123 
 
 live in. It keeps ye alive. Why, I'm ninety-three. 
 Oh, it's what ye may call a terrible lively place." 
 
 This was not his listener's opinion, who would have 
 instituted instead the word " deadly." 
 
 " You must have seen a great deal in ninety-three 
 years," said Wynyard, lighting his pipe. 
 
 " Lor' bless ye, yes ; and I've a wunnerful memory." 
 
 " Do you remember the days of Napoleon ? " 
 
 " What— old Bony ! Nay," a little offended, "I'm 
 not as old as that ; but I do mind a talk o' 'is funeral 
 in France." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I'm an awful duffer at dates. 
 You remember Wellington ? " 
 
 "Oh ay, 'e was only the other day, so to speak." 
 
 " And what else do you remember ? " 
 
 " Well, as a lad, I remember I was terrible afeerd o' 
 the press gang." 
 
 " The press gang ? " 
 
 " Ay ; that come pokin' round after able-bodied men 
 for the Navy, and kidnappin' 'em away to sea, and 
 keepin' them there, whether or no, for years, and their 
 families at home starvin'." 
 
 " I say, what times ! " 
 
 " Ay, so they was. I've seen two men 'angin' in 
 chains on Camley Moor when I was about ten — it were 
 for sheep-stealin', and put the fear o' death on me. Surely 
 I can 'ear them chains a-clankin' now ! " 
 
 Wynyard felt as if he had been suddenly precipitated 
 into another world. Here he was, sitting talking to a 
 live man, who discoursed familiarly of hanging in chains, 
 and the press gang ! 
 
 " Would you take something, sir ? " he asked. "I'd 
 like to drink your health." 
 
 " Ay, ay, I don't mind 'avin' a glass wi' ye.
 
 134 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Ginders ! Ginders I " raising his voice, " give us a taste 
 of yer old beer, the best — two half-pints ; " and, as they 
 were brought, he looked at Wynyard, and said, " To ye, 
 young sir, and good luck to ye in Ottinge ; may ye live 
 as long as I do ! " 
 
 " Thank you ; have you any prescription for your 
 wonderful health ? " 
 
 " Ay, I have so. Look 'ere, I've not tasted medicine 
 for fifty year. I don't hold wi' doctors. I only eat twice 
 a day — my breakfast at eight, and my dinner at two. 
 My daughter she do mike me a cup o' tea at six, but I 
 don't want it, and it's only to oblige her. Work — work's 
 the thing when yer young. I mind bein' in the train 
 one day, and a great heavy man complainin' o' his pore 
 'ealth, and 'is inside, and another says, ' I can tell ye o' a 
 cure, master, and a sure one.' ' What's that ? ' ses 'e, all 
 ahve. ' Rise of a momin' at four o'clock, and mow an 
 acre before ye break yer fast, and go on mowing all day — 
 that will cure ye — ye'll be a new man.' ' I'd be a dead 
 un,' ses 'e. My advice is : no medicine, short commons, 
 lots of work, and there ye are, and ye'll live to maybe 
 a hundred." 
 
 " But what about cuts and wounds ? How do you 
 doctor them ? " 
 
 " Oh, just a plaster o' earth, or a couple o' lily leaves. 
 One is as good as t'other. Well, I'm a-goin'," struggling 
 to his feet ; " an old gaffer hke me keeps early hours." 
 
 As Wynyard handed him his stick, he slapped him 
 smartly on the back, and it was evident from this 
 accolade that the "shover" was now made free of the 
 Drum. 
 
 The newcomer looked about him, some were playing 
 dominoes, some cards, one or two were reading the day's 
 papers, and all the time the Captain sat immovable in a
 
 THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS 125 
 
 comer, and his eyes never moved from Wynyard, Such 
 cold, impassive staring made him feel uncomfortable, 
 and settling his reckoning he presently followed old 
 Thunder's example and went home. 
 
 Captain Ramsay, whose fixed attention had made the 
 stranger so uneasy, had once been a popular officer in a 
 popular regiment, and when quartered in India had fallen 
 in love with and married the Hon. Kathleen Brian 
 (daughter of an impoverished viscount) who was on a visit 
 to relatives in Simla. The first year was rapturously 
 happy for both of them, and then one day, when out pig- 
 sticking near Cawnpore, Captain Ramsay had his topee 
 knocked off, and in the excitement of the chase galloped 
 on, with the result that he was knocked over by a sun- 
 stroke. Sunstroke was followed by brain fever, and he 
 nearly died. Ultimately he was invalided home, and, 
 owing to iU-health, obliged to leave the Service, Nor was 
 this all. He seemed to become another man, his character 
 underwent a complete change ; he was quarrelsome and 
 morose, fought with his own family, insulted his wife's 
 people, and developed into an Ishmael. He invested his 
 money in the maddest ventures, and rapidly dispersed 
 his entire fortune (Kathleen was penniless), and now 
 nothing remained but his smaU pension. Year by year 
 he became more disagreeable, restless, and strange. 
 The couple wandered from place to place, from lodging to 
 lodging. Vainly his wife's relatives implored her to leave 
 him ; he was " impossible," her health was suffering ; she, 
 who had been so pretty, at twenty-seven looked pre- 
 maturely faded and haggard ; but Kathleen was obstinate, 
 and would go her own way and stick to her bad bargain. 
 Her brothers did not know, and would never know, the 
 Jimmy she had married — so clever, amusing, good- 
 looking, the life of his company, a first-rate officer,
 
 126 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 and a matchless horseman ; the man who got up the 
 regimental tlieatricals, ran the gymkhana, was editor 
 of the regimental paper, and so devoted to her alwajrs. 
 No, no, she would never abandon him, though every 
 year he grew worse, and more brusque, excitable, and 
 unsociable ; and every year saw them sinking still 
 further in the social scale. 
 
 At last an aged uncle died, and left Ca]:)tain Ramsay 
 Ivy House, Ottinge, with its old-fashioned furniture, 
 linen, books, and plate. This windfall, with his pension, 
 would keep them going, and at best it afforded a retreat 
 and a hiding-place. The neighbourhood with flattering 
 alacrity had called on Captain and the Hon. Mrs. Ramsay, 
 and she was declared to be charming, so agreeable and still 
 handsome. She duly returned their visits in a hired fly, 
 left her husband's cards, Captain J. V. Ramsay, and made 
 his excuses. 
 
 It soon was evident that the Ramsaj^s were desperately 
 poor, and did not intend to keep a trap or entertain ; that 
 he was queer, and only to be met about the fields and 
 lanes, or in the Drum ; but by degrees the neighbours 
 came to know Mrs. Ramsay better, and to like her 
 extremely. She had travelled, was a brilliant con- 
 versationalist, and a sound bridge player ; she was also 
 an Honourable — one of the many daughters of Lord 
 Ballingarry of Moyallan Castle — so the neighbours bought 
 her little ' Poms,' recommended the hotel to their friends, 
 lent her carriages or motors, sent her game and books, 
 and did their best for her. But Captain Ramsay was 
 beyond any one's assistance ; he refused to see people, 
 or to know Ottinge. He went abroad generally with the 
 bats and the owls, along lonely roads and footpaths ; his 
 daily paper and the Drum were his sole resources, and 
 only that, at long intervals, a shrivelled figure was caught
 
 THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS 127 
 
 sight of sluilHing up the High Street, the neighbourhood 
 would have forgotten that Captain Ramsay existed. 
 
 Lady Kesters sent papers and wrote weekly letters to 
 J. Owen, Holiday Cottage, Ottinge. But her brother's 
 replies were short, vague, and unsatisfactory, and in 
 answer to a whole sheet of reproaches, he dedicated a wet 
 Sunday afternoon to his sister. He began : — 
 
 " Dear Leila, — I had your letter yesterday, and it's a 
 true bill that I am a miserable correspondent, and that 
 my notes are as short and sweet as a donkey's gallop. 
 I only got twenty marks in composition when I passe<l. 
 Now, however, I'm going to put my back into this 
 letter, and send you a long scrawl, and, as you command 
 me, all details — no matter how insigniiicant. I am 
 writing in my room, because the kitchen is full of young 
 women — Mrs. Hogben's at-home day, I suppose ! The 
 parlour windows are never opened, the atmosphere is 
 poisonous, and thick with the reek of old furniture. So 
 here I am ! I've faked up a table by jMitting blocks 
 under the yellow box, for the washstand is imjiossible. 
 This room is old and low ; if I stand upright in some ])laces, 
 my head is likely to go through the ceiHng, and in others 
 my legs to go through tlie floor ; but I know the li(^ of the 
 land now. The window looks into a big orchard, and 
 beyond that are miles of flat country ; but you've seen 
 Ottinge, so I spare you local colour. I am all right here. 
 Mrs. Hogben is a rare good sort, and does me well, washing 
 included, for twenty-three sliiHings a week, and I make 
 out my own bills— as she neither reads nor writes, but 
 takes it out in talking. When I liad a cold, she made 
 me a decoction called ' Tansie Tea ' and insisted on my 
 swallowing it — the fear of another dose cured me. Her 
 son Tom is a decent chap, and we are pals ; he works at 
 the Manor as second gardener of two. As to the ladies 
 there, I am disappointed in Miss Parrett ; you told me 
 they were both ' old dears.' Susan really is an old dear, 
 but, in my opinion. Miss P. is an old D. Possibly you 
 only knew her as a tea-drinking, charming hostess, fuU of
 
 128 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 compliments and sweetness ; the real Miss Bella is a bully, 
 vain of her money, and shamelessly mean. 
 
 " The Manor is a nice, sunny house, flat on the ground, 
 with great oak beams and rum windows, and a splendid 
 garden enclosed in yew hedges run to seed ; they are 
 trying to get it in order, clipping the yews and digging 
 out the moss, but two men and a boy are not enough, and 
 Miss P. is too stingy to employ more. As I've little to 
 do, I sometimes lend a hand. The motor is a faked-up 
 old rattletrap, all paint and smart cushions ; but its inside 
 is worn out. Miss Parrett is under the impression that 
 petrol is not a necessity, and I have such desperate work 
 to get it, and she always cross-examines me so sharply, 
 and gives the money as such a personal favour, that one 
 would suppose I wanted the beastly thing for my own 
 consumption. It is a riddle to me why she ever bought 
 the car. She is afraid to go out in it, and won't let her 
 sister use it alone. I've been here four weeks ; it's been 
 out six times, always at a crawl, and within a four-mile 
 radius. Miss Parrett likes to pay visits to show off her 
 ' beautiful ' car ; but I feel like a Bath-chair man ! 
 
 " One day we went over to Westmere, the Davenants' 
 old place, where you used to stay. The Woolcocks, who 
 have it now, are enormously rich, go-ahead people, and 
 the married daughter pounced on me as Owen the 
 steward on board ship ! No one here has any idea who I 
 am, and I keep a shut mouth ; and when I do talk, I try 
 to copy Tom Hogben. There are few gentry about, — that 
 is, in Ottinge ; the parson, Mr. Morven, the Parretts' 
 brother-in-law, comes in sometimes and gives advice 
 about the garden. He is a cheery sort, elderly, a widower, 
 and a splendid preacher — thrown away on this dead-and- 
 alive spot. His sermons are sensible and modern, and 
 you've something to carry away and think of, instead of 
 wanting to shy hymn-books, or go to sleep. The church 
 is a tremendous age, and restored — the Ottinge folk are 
 very proud of it. In one chancel, the north chancel, lie 
 our kin the Davenants ; there is a fine window, erected 
 by a certain Edward Davenant to the memory of his wife, 
 the lady in a pink scarf — quite a smart get-up of, say, a
 
 THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS 129 
 
 hundred years ago, is represented as one of the angels, and 
 he himself is among the disciples. Both were copied 
 from family portraits. What do you think of the idea ? 
 
 " Mr. Morven has let me in for singing in the choir ; you 
 should see me in a surplice — it barely comes to my knees, 
 and makes me feel so shy ! Thanks to the choir, I've got 
 to know the organist, and the schoolmaster — a very decent 
 chap ; I go and smoke a pipe there of an evening, and 
 also a young farmer who has promised me some fishing 
 when I can get off — that's not often. There is no village 
 club, as you may remember, and the men of the place 
 assemble at the Drum Inn. I drop in there sometimes, 
 though, just as often, I take a tramp over the country, 
 accompanied by the Manor dog, who has adopted me, and 
 often does ' a night out.' Mrs. Hogben leaves the door 
 on the latch. She also told me I should go to the Drum 
 along with Tom, as she thought I was a bit dull ; so to the 
 Drum I go, to show I'm not above my mates, and I have 
 a glass of beer and a pipe, and hear all the village news, and 
 the village elders discussing parish rates, socialism, free 
 trade, the price of stock, and how Jakes' Bob is going into 
 the grocery, and Harry Tews' spring cabbage has failed ! 
 
 "There is one queer figure there: a broken-down, 
 decrepit officer. Captain Ramsay, whose wife lives in the 
 village and keeps a dogs' hotel. He looks as if he drank, 
 and is always muddled, or else he is mad. He speaks to 
 no one, but he never takes his eye off me. I tell you. Sis, 
 I don't half like it — though I swear he has never seen me 
 before. 
 
 " Well, I hope Martin is better. I'm sorry he has been 
 feeling a bit cheap ; it's a pity I can't send him some of 
 this air — splendid ; there's an old chap of ninety-three in 
 the place — still going strong. 
 
 " Your papers are a godsend. I pass them on to the 
 schoolmaster, and he lends me books ; but although I 
 seem to do little, I never have much time for reading. 
 I'm getting on all right, and intend to stick to the old 
 birds, the green car, and Ottinge ; though, as it said 
 in the Psalms this morning, it does seem to be a ' land 
 where all things are forgotten.' At any rate our ways are 
 
 9
 
 130 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 primitive and virtuous — we have one policeman, he sings 
 bass in the choir, — and we hold little conversation with 
 the outer world. Indeed, news — other than local — is 
 despised. The sweep is our postman, and the village 
 softy limps round with the papers when he thinks of it. 
 I'm about to be enrolled in the Ottinge Cricket Club, and 
 I'm looking forward to some sport. They little guess 
 that I played in the Eton eleven ! Here endeth this 
 epistle, which must count as a dozen and thirteen. — 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 "O. St. J. W." 
 
 Lady Kesters read this letter quickly, then she went 
 over it very deliberately ; finally she handed it to her 
 husband. 
 
 " He seems perfectly happy and satisfied, though he 
 detests Miss Parrett and says the car is an old rattle- 
 trap. He has no pals, very little to do, and has taken to 
 gardening and singing in the choir." She paused ex- 
 pressively. " Somehow I don't see Owen in that picture, 
 do you ? " 
 
 " Can't say I do," replied her husband. 
 
 " Just the last sort of life to suit him, I should have 
 thought, Martin, do you suppose that's a faked-up 
 letter, and he wrote it to relieve my mind ? " 
 
 " No ; the chap hasn't it in him to fake anything. I'd 
 rather like to hear his attempts at the local dialect ! " 
 
 " Then tell me what you really think ; I see you have 
 something in your head." 
 
 " My dear, I'm astonished you don't see it for your- 
 self ! You are ten times as clear-sighted as I am," and 
 he hesitated ; " why, of course, there's a young woman in 
 the case." 
 
 " He never mentions her ! " objected his wife. 
 
 " A deadly symptom." 
 
 " Some village girl — no. And he is bound not to
 
 THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS 131 
 
 think of any love-affair or entanglement for two whole 
 years." 
 
 " How long has he been at Ottinge — four weeks, eh ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Well, I believe that, in spite of your uncle and you, 
 Owen is in love with some one already."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 LIEUTENANT WYNYARD 
 
 It was an undeniable fact that the chauffeur spent much 
 more time in the Manor grounds than driving the car. 
 The car was rarely used, and anything was better than 
 loafing about the yard or the village with his hands in 
 his pockets — one of the unemployed. Wynyard liked 
 the fresh smell of the earth, and growing things, the 
 songs of birds — especially of the blackbird, with his 
 leisurely fluting note. 
 
 The garden, which lay to the left of the house, over- 
 looked meadows, and was evidently as ancient as the 
 Manor itself. It was also one after the heart of Bacon, 
 " Spacious and fair, encompassed with a stately hedge." 
 The farmer, who had neglected the roof and upper floors 
 of the dwelling, had suffered these same yew hedges to 
 grow as they pleased ; and they now required a great 
 deal of labour in trimming them to moderate propor- 
 tions. The soil was rich — anything and everything 
 seemed to flourish in the garden, which was intersected 
 by broad gravelled walks that crossed one another 
 at regular intervals ; these were lined by a variety of 
 old-fashioned plants — myrtle, lavender, and sweetbrier, 
 grown to gigantic dimensions ; here were also Madonna 
 Lilies, London Pride, Hollyhocks, Sweet-William, and 
 bushes of out-of-date roses, such as the " York and 
 
 Lancaster," and other Georgian survivals. Precisely 
 
 132
 
 LIEUTENANT WYNYARD 133 
 
 in the middle of the garden, where four walks met, 
 was a hoary sundial, which bore the inscription, " Time 
 Tries All." A path, leading direct from the sundial 
 to an ancient bowling-green, was enclosed with rustic 
 arches, and in the summer time the Manor pergola 
 was a veritable tunnel of roses, and one of the sights of 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 And here it was that the unemployed chauffeur 
 spent most of his time, clipping intractable hedges, plant- 
 ing, pruning, and digging. Such occupation removed 
 him effectually from the orbit of his enemy — Miss Parrett 
 — who merely pottered about the beds immediately sur- 
 rounding the house. This was Miss Susan's realm — she 
 was the family gardener ; his volunteered labour also 
 afforded Wynyard the now rare and priceless privilege 
 of seeing Miss Morven when she ran in to talk to her 
 aunt and help in the greenhouse — since, thanks to her 
 active exertions, the IVlanor had been set in order, and her 
 visits were no longer of daily occurrence. Now and then 
 he caught sight of her, walking with Mrs. Ramisay and 
 her " guests," motoring with Mrs. Waring, or riding 
 with her father. Once or twice they had passed him in 
 the lanes at a late hour, riding fast, pursued by the 
 panting Mackenzie. His best opportunity of meeting 
 the young lady was at choir practice, and here he admired 
 Miss Morven, not only for her sweet, clear voice, but her 
 marvellous tact and admirable skill, the way she pacified 
 Pither, the cranky old organist (a fine musician), and 
 smoothed down rivals who claimed to sing solos, ap- 
 plauded the timid, and gently repressed the overbold. 
 It was delightful to watch her consulting and advising 
 and encouraging ; but how could any one escape from 
 the effect of that girl's beauty and contagious spirits ? or 
 withstand the influence of the subtle power called charm ?
 
 134 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 On Sundays she sat in the Rector's pew, facing the 
 square enclosure of the Woolcocks, over which hung 
 stately hatchments and memorials of the Da venant family ; 
 and from his corner in the choir Wynyard noted, with 
 secret uneasiness and wrath, how the heir of Westmere 
 — a squarely built, heavy young squire — kept his wor- 
 shipping eyes fastened upon Aurea's clear-cut profile. 
 After all, what was it to him ? he asked himself furiously. 
 Young Woolcock was heir to twenty thousand a year, 
 and what was he at present ? but her aunts' servant ! 
 
 There had been a good deal of excited speculation 
 in the village respecting Wynyard — as to who he really 
 was, and where he came from. But although some 
 swore he had been a soldier, and others vowed he had 
 been a sailor, no one was any the wiser than the first 
 day that he had arrived at Mrs. Hogben's, followed by 
 his yellow tin box. " Ay, he could hold his tongue, 
 that was sure ; and was always ready enough to lend an 
 ear to other people's affairs — but tight as an oyster with 
 regard to his own." 
 
 Miss Susan, who felt towards him a kindness that was 
 almost maternal, tormented by curiosity, had done her 
 utmost to pump him. One day, in the greenhouse, she 
 had seemed to see her opportunity. He had read off a 
 French name on a label, and his accent and glibness were 
 perfection. 
 
 " Ah ! I see you have had a good education, Owen," 
 she remarked, beaming at him over her glasses. 
 
 "Oh, middling, miss." 
 
 " You keep a boy to clean the motor, I hear ! " 
 
 " Only once or twice, miss, when my hand was sore. 
 His people are poor, and a shilling doesn't come amiss." 
 
 " I feel certain," clearing her throat, " that you are 
 not accustomed to this sort of hfe, Owen." As she spoke.
 
 LIEUTENANT WYNYARD 135 
 
 she kept her clear blue eyes on his face, and looked at 
 him with the direct simplicity of a child. " I am inter- 
 ested in you, Owen. Do tell me about yourself, you 
 know I wish you well." 
 
 " Miss Susan," and he straightened his shoulders 
 and set down the pot he was holding, " you received 
 my reference from Lady Kesters — and I believe it was 
 all right ? " 
 
 Miss Susan became very red indeed, and the garden 
 scissors slipped from her thumb. There was something 
 unusual in the young man's tone and glance. 
 
 " If you or Miss Parrett find that I am not giving 
 satisfaction ' ' 
 
 " Oh no, no, no ! " she broke in breathlessly, " I — 
 I'm afraid I'm rather inquisitive — but I take a real 
 interest in you, and you have been such a help to me — 
 and I feel so friendly towards you — but, I won't ask 
 you any more questions." 
 
 This little scene was subsequently related to Aurea, 
 as she and her aunt drank tea together at the Rectory, 
 and Miss Susan imparted to the girl — between bites of 
 buttered toast — her own eager speculations. Mystery 
 has a wonderful charm ! A handsome young man, 
 who was both reserved and obliging, who, it was known, 
 was respected in the Drum, and kept to himself, and 
 whom she believes to be one of her own class — offers a 
 dangerous attraction for a girl of twenty ! Aurea 
 debated the puzzle in the abysmal depth of her own 
 heart, and when a girl once allows her thoughts to dwell 
 persistently upon a man — no matter what his station 
 — her interest in him is bound to develop far beyond 
 the bounds of everyday acquaintance ! 
 
 Aurea was startled to discover that her mind was 
 dwelling on the chauffeur more than was desirable ; he
 
 136 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 occupied too large a share of her thoughts, though she 
 did her utmost to expel him, and fill them with other 
 matters — such, for instance, as the parish almshouses, the 
 clothing club, and the choir — but a taciturn, mysterious 
 young man, figuratively, thrust himself head and shoulders 
 above these commonplace matters. Owen had a good 
 voice, and had been impressed into the choir — a rollickng 
 hunting song, sung at the Drum, had betrayed him. It 
 was customary there, on certain nights, to sit round in a 
 circle and call upon the members for entertainment, and 
 Owen's " John Peel " had established his reputation. 
 
 Aurea was secretly annoyed by the way that girls on 
 practice nights set their caps at the newcomer — boldly 
 attracting his attention, appealing to his opinion, nudging 
 one another significantly, and giggling and simpering 
 when they spoke to him. And he ? He met them half- 
 way, shared hymn-books, found places, and talked, and 
 seemed to be entirely happy and at ease in their company. 
 Why not ? He was ostensibly of their own class. He 
 had not flinched from accepting a peppermint from Lily 
 Jakes, — on the contrary, had received it with effusion, — 
 and the overblown rosebud, tossed at him by Alexandra 
 Watkins, had subsequently decorated his buttonhole. 
 
 Aurea contemplated these signs of good fellowship 
 with stifled irritation. Was she envious, because the 
 chauffeur, her aunts' servant, usually so monosyllabic 
 and self-contained, could laugh and talk with these 
 village girls ? At this appalling arraignment her face 
 flamed, she shrank in horror from her own thoughts. 
 No, no, no, a hundred thousand times no ! 
 
 Still, it must be confessed that, strive as she w^ould, 
 she could not help wondering and speciflating about 
 Owen, the chauffeur — whether she saw him vigorously 
 washing the car, or trundling a wheelbarrow in the garden ;
 
 LIEUTENANT WYNYARD 137 
 
 zealously as he worked, it seemed to her observant eye that 
 he looked as if he had not been accustomed to such em- 
 ployment. Who was he ? The answer to this question 
 came to her unexpectedly, and in a most unlikely place. 
 
 Aurea and her Aunt Susan went to Brodfield one after- 
 noon, in order to execute various commissions for the 
 Manor ; the car was grudgingly lent for the occasion. 
 There would have been no expedition, only that Miss 
 Parrett was out of a certain shade of pink wool, the new 
 cook was out of tapioca, and Miss Susan was a little out of 
 sorts, and declared that " adriveintheairwouldcureher." 
 
 The car waited at the post office, whUst the ladies 
 accomplished their different errands in different shops. 
 Aurea was the first to finish, and was sauntering slowly 
 up the street, when she noticed that rare sight — a soldier 
 in uniform — a smart Hussar on furlough, with a friend in 
 mufti, coming towards her. As they passed the car, they 
 glanced at it, and the soldier started, made a sort of halt, 
 stared stupidly, and brought his hand to the salute ! Yes, 
 and the chauffeur gave him a little nod, and put his finger 
 to his cap ! (apparently unconscious of Miss Morven's 
 vicinity) . 
 
 As the two men approached, talking loudly, she over- 
 heard the Hussar say, as he strutted by — 
 
 " Well I'm damned, if that fellow on the car wasn't 
 Lieutenant Wynyard ! I was in his troop at Lucknow — 
 a rare smart officer, too. What's his little game ? " 
 
 " You'd better go back and arsk 'im," suggested the 
 other, with a loud laugh. 
 
 " Not me," and they were out of earshot. 
 
 Aurea felt dumbfounded, as she moved on and got into 
 her place. Susan, of course, was lingering as usual, 
 chattering and last-wording to acquaintances, and she 
 was not sorry to have a few moments to herself, to sit and
 
 138 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 meditate on her surprising discovery. So Owen's real 
 name was Wynyard — and he had been an officer in a 
 Hussar regiment. What was his game ? 
 
 And her first impressions were justified ; he was a 
 gentleman, in spite of Joey's authoritative verdict and 
 Mrs. Ramsay's gloomy forebodings. What dreadful 
 thing had he done to be compelled to live under 
 an assumed name, and bury himself, of all places, in 
 Ot tinge ? 
 
 Aurea was now more deeply interested and puzzled 
 than ever ! She and Susan had no secrets from one 
 another — for Susan was so young in her mind and heart 
 that she seemed to be almost Aurea's contemporary ! 
 
 From the first they liked the chauffeur, and though 
 they had not said much, each was conscious of the other's 
 opinion. Now that Aurea knew his name and former 
 status for a fact, strange to relate, she resolved to have 
 just this one little secret from Susan — and keep the 
 knowledge to herself ! 
 
 On the way home she proved an unusually silent 
 and unsympathetic companion. Her conversation was 
 jerky and constrained; she was not in the least inter- 
 ested in the scraps of local news that her aunt had col- 
 lected in street and shops, but appeared to be lost in 
 a maze of speculation and abstraction.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 BY WATER 
 
 Miss Parrett felt slightly embarrassed and uncomfort- 
 able when people remarked how seldom her motor was 
 seen ! " Was it not satisfactory ? " they inquired. The 
 old lady also recognised that her chauffeur was doing 
 the work of a really capital gardener, and was Susan's 
 right hand ; this annoyed her excessively. She disliked 
 the idea that her employe was slaving to please her sister ; 
 and accordingly changed her tactics, gave instructions 
 for the car to go out twice a week with Miss Susan and 
 Miss Morven, or Miss Susan and Mrs. Ramsay. 
 
 Susan and her niece had promptl}^ availed themselves 
 of this permission, and seized the opportunity of pene- 
 trating into far-away villages and to distant country 
 scats ; and the poor old motor, at their request, was 
 racketted along at its best speed, as they were bound to 
 be in Ottinge before dark, in order that the car might be 
 washed. If they, by any chance, were a little late, they 
 were received at the hall door by Miss Parrett, in cold 
 silence, watch in hand. 
 
 After the recent heavy rains, the low, marshy country 
 was flooded, and, returning one afternoon from a twenty- 
 mile expedition, at a sharp turn in the road where the 
 ground sloped steeply, the motor ran into a wide sheet of 
 water — a neighbouring river had burst its banks. There 
 was no going back, that was impossible. Miss Susan
 
 140 A POLLING STONE 
 
 for once lost her nerve, and, putting her head out, asked 
 the chauffeur piteously — 
 
 " What shall we do ? " 
 
 " There's only one thing for it, miss," he answered 
 promptly. " I don't think the water is deep, and I'll 
 keep straight on — as near as I can guess — in the middle 
 of the road ; you see, there are ditches at either side, and 
 I can't turn ; but you need not be nervous — as long as 
 the water doesn't reach the magneto you are all right." 
 
 But, as they crept forward cautiously, the water was 
 gradually rising ; it rose and rose, till it stole in under the 
 door, and then the motor came to a full stop. 
 
 " Now, what's going to happen ? " demanded Miss 
 Susan excitedly. 
 
 " I see the road is not more than fifty yards ahead, 
 and the water is shallower. We have stuck in the worst 
 part." 
 
 " But what is to become of us, my good man ? Are 
 we to sit here all night — and the motor may blow up ? " 
 
 " I'll go to a farmhouse and borrow a couple of horses, 
 and I daresay after a bit I can start her again." 
 
 " And are we to remain here, Owen, and be half- 
 drowned ? You know my sister will be crazy if we are 
 not home by seven." 
 
 " There's one thing I could do. Miss Susan," he 
 replied, " that is if you have no objection; I can carry 
 you and Miss Morven through the water, and put you out 
 on the road high and dry. I think I might get a trap in 
 Swingford village ; you could drive home, and I'll bring 
 the car along to-morrow. It seems the only thing to be 
 done." 
 
 After this suggestion there ensued a long and animated 
 consultation between aunt and niece ; at last Miss Susan, 
 raising her voice, said —
 
 BY WATER 141 
 
 " Very well, Owen, I see no alternative ; you can take 
 mc first — I am a light weight." 
 
 Owen now descended from his place and waded to the 
 door, which he opened. 
 
 " All right, Miss Susan, you may depend on me. I 
 won't drop you." 
 
 " How am I to manage ? " she asked shame- 
 facedly. 
 
 " It's quite easy ! Just put your arms round my neck, 
 miss, and hold tight." 
 
 After a moment's coy reluctance — it was the first time 
 in her life she had ever put her arms round a man's neck 
 — Miss Susan timidly embraced him. 
 
 " Hold on," he commanded^ and, lifting her bodily out 
 of the car as if she were a child, waded away, striding and 
 splashing up to his middle in water. When he had care- 
 fully deposited her on dry land, the chauffeur returned 
 for the young lady, who, it must be confessed, awaited 
 him with a wildly beating heart ; it seemed to her that in 
 his air there was actually a look of mastery and triumph. 
 If he had been an ordinary chauffeur, such as the Wool- 
 cocks', she would not have minded; but this man — this 
 Lieutenant Wynyard, who was of her own class — oh, how 
 she shrank from this enforced ordeal; she felt deeply 
 reluctant and ashamed. 
 
 However, she asked no questions, made no hysterical 
 protests, but rose as he appeared, put her arms on his 
 shoulders — though she would rather have waded up to 
 her neck — and was borne into the stream, upon which a 
 laggard moon had recently arisen. Little, little did 
 Aurea guess that, as she leant her head upon his leather 
 shoulder, how Owen, the chauffeur, had to fight with a 
 frantic, almost overmastering, desire to kiss her ! And 
 what an outcry there would have been, not merely from
 
 142 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 the young lady herself, but the sole witness, her maiden 
 aunt ! 
 
 Fortunately, with a superhuman effort, he pulled 
 himself together, steadied his racing pulses, and thrust 
 the dreadful idea behind him, as he struggled to the end 
 of his task, and presently placed Miss Morven high and dry 
 on the road beside her relative. Then, leaving the rescued 
 ladies to one another's company, he set off to a village 
 two miles distant to hunt up some conveyance. 
 
 As Wynyard tramped along in his wet clothes, he had 
 it out with his ego. For all his youth and hot blood, he 
 had always a cool power of judgment — as far as his own 
 acts were concerned — and he was now prepared to discuss 
 the present situation with himself. Since he had held 
 Miss Aurea's light form in his arms, felt her sweet breath 
 on his cheek, he knew there was no use in playing the 
 ostrich, and that he was hopelessly in love — had been in 
 love since the very first time he had set eyes upon her ! 
 Looking back at the matter, calmly and dispassionately, 
 he realised that it was not on account of Leila's dis- 
 appointment that he stayed on, and did not throw up his 
 situation — as Miss Parrett's exasperating behaviour so 
 often tempted him to do. He remained at Ottinge solely 
 to be near Aurea ; it was for Aurea that he kept his 
 temper, slaved in the garden, and sang in the choir ; 
 yet he could not say a word to Aurea, or endeavour to 
 ingratiate himself like other more fortunate young men ; 
 he had his bond to remember, and his hands were tied — 
 yes, and his tongue too. Was ever any fellow in such a 
 fix ? And such was the contrariness of life, he had gone 
 about the world when he was free, and had never once 
 met a girl he thought of twice — and here he was always 
 thinking of Aurea, yet dared not disclose his feelings ; 
 meanwhile, some luckier fellow would come along and
 
 BY WATER 143 
 
 make up to her and marry her ! And at the thought 
 he stopped and ground his heel into the earth with 
 savage force. 
 
 There was Bertie Woolcock, rolling in money, heir to 
 that fine place ; and he would have one year and ten 
 months' start, whilst he was left at the post ! Oh, it 
 was enough to drive him mad to think of ! Well, Bertie 
 had never held her in his arms, at any rate, — he had ; 
 how she had trembled, poor darling ! Yes, he was that 
 to the good, 
 
 " Mean beast ! " apostrophising himself ; " when you 
 know that the girl could not help herself, and would have 
 given everything she possessed to get out of such a 
 dilemma ! " What would Leila say ? Should he tell her ? 
 No ; she would only laugh (he could hear her laugh) and 
 ask, " What are you going to marry on, even if Uncle 
 Dick lets you off ? " 
 
 He had two pounds two shillings a week, and if he 
 made love to her niece. Miss Parrett would naturally 
 and properly send him about his business. Oh, it was 
 all an infernal muddle — there was no way out of it — 
 nothing to do but hide his feelings and bide his time ; 
 the wild, haunting refrain of an old negro camp hymn 
 came into his head, " And hold the Lion down ! and 
 hold the Lion down ! " Well, he was holding the lion 
 down, and a thundering hard job he found it ! 
 
 He had no reason to suspect that Aurea ever thought 
 of him — why should she ? She was always polite, 
 gracious — no more. His only little scrap of comfort 
 lay in the fact that he believed Miss Susan liked him — 
 liked him really, in a nice, sentimental, proper, old-maid 
 fashion ! She was romantic, so said her niece, who 
 bantered her on her passion for promoting love-affairs 
 and love-matches — he had heard her taunt her play-
 
 144 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 fully with the fact. Undoubtedly Miss Susan was his 
 good friend, and that was the sole morsel of comfort 
 he could offer himself ! 
 
 Presently Wynyard reached a sleepy little village, 
 unearthed a carrier's cart, horse, and man, and returned 
 to the place where the two ladies were awaiting him 
 with the liveliest impatience. 
 
 That evening, at nine o'clock, Miss Susan, who had 
 deposited her niece at the Rectory, arrived at home in 
 a carrier's cart — the sole available mode of conveyance. 
 Her sister, who had been roaming about the hall and 
 passages, accompanied by Mrs. Ramsay, wringing her 
 hands and whimpering that " Susan had been killed," 
 was considerably relieved. But, as soon as her fears 
 were subdued, she became frightfully excited respecting 
 the fate of her beautiful motor, which, by all accounts, 
 had been left standing in the middle of a river — five 
 miles from home. 
 
 " Oh, I assure you it will be all right, Bella ; please 
 don't worry yourself. Owen will manage." 
 
 " Owen, indeed ! " she echoed angrily ; " it's my 
 opinion that he manages you — you think a great deal too 
 much of that young man ; there's something at the back 
 of him — it would never surprise me if some day he went 
 off with that motor, and we never saw him again." 
 
 " My dear sister ! You know you are overwrought, 
 or you would never talk such rubbish." 
 
 " If the motor was stuck in the middle of a river, I 
 should like to know how you and Aurea got out of it 
 without being half drowned ? " she demanded judicially. 
 
 " Oh, we got out of it very simply, and it was as 
 easy as kiss my hand," rejoined Miss Susan, with a 
 gay laugh. " The only person that got wet was Owen ; 
 he carried us."
 
 BY WATER 145 
 
 " What ! " cried Mrs. Ramsay, with dancing eyes ; 
 " carried you and Aurea — how ? " 
 
 " Wliy, in his arms — where else ? First he took 
 me, then he took her ; and we were no more trouble 
 to him than if we had been a couple of babies." 
 
 " Well, upon my word," snorted Miss Parrett, casting 
 up her hands, " I think the whole thing is scandalous ! 
 You and Aurea flying about the country, and spending 
 most of your time in the motor, going here and going 
 there, coming home at night alone in a carrier's cart, 
 and telling me you left the motor in the middle of a river, 
 and that you were carried out of it in the arms of 
 the chauffeur ! and that without a blush on your faces 1 
 Upon my word, Susan Parrett, I don't know what's 
 coming to you ! Either you are going mad, or you 
 are falling into your second childhood." 
 
 Miss Parrett was profoundly relieved to see her 
 valuable car arrive on its own horse-power the following 
 afternoon. It certainly looked rather limp and sorry 
 for itself, and did not recover from its adventures in the 
 river for some time. Water had a fatal effect upon its 
 organisation ; indeed, its condition became so serious 
 that it had to be sent to a garage, there to be over- 
 hauled — and a bill, which was the result, proved one 
 of Miss Parrett's favourite grievances for the ensuing 
 six months. 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 TWO PRISONERS 
 
 By the middle of June Miss Susan had departed to visit 
 friends in the south of England, escorting her niece as 
 far as London, where she was to spend some weeks 
 with General and Mrs. Morven. The motor was in 
 hospital at Brodfield, and Owen, the chauffeur, had 
 absolutely nothing to do ; no gardening, no greenhouse, 
 no car. Miss Parrett was now the undisputed ruler of 
 Ottinge — manor and village — and he kept out of her 
 way in a crafty, not to say cowardly, fashion ; when 
 at home. Miss Susan and her niece had intervened as 
 buffers between him and Miss Parrett's despotic rude- 
 ness. Doubtless her bullying and browbeating were 
 a legacy from her burly grandfather, the Hoogly Pilot ; 
 indeed, she was positively so insulting with regard to 
 repairs, his bill for petrol, and the extraordinary — the 
 incredible quantity he wasted, that sooner than face 
 her and have rows, he more than once paid for it out 
 of his own pocket ! But do not let it be for a moment 
 supposed that the chauffeur was afraid of the old lady ; 
 he was afraid of himself — afraid that if she became 
 altogether insupportable, he might lose, in one and the 
 same moment, his temper, and his situation ! 
 
 When Bella Parrett reigned alone, it was a sore time 
 for the Manor, and especially for Joss. The old lady 
 
 did not care for any animals or pets, save a venerable 
 
 146
 
 TWO PRISONERS 147 
 
 green and blue parrot — her own contemporary. She 
 had accepted Joss, a gift from Mr, Woolcock, as she 
 was assured that, having no man hving at the Manor, a 
 dog was a necessity in case of robbers, but chiefly because 
 Miss Parrett half suspected that the Martingales — 
 neighbours of the Woolcocks — were anxious to possess 
 the said amusing little puppy. Joss was often in dis- 
 grace ; but what could one expect of an idle young 
 dog, without companions, education, or pursuits ? When 
 Susan was at home all went well ; she looked after him 
 and screened his failings, and took him out — though 
 her sister frequently expostulated, and said — 
 
 " Now, I won't have the creature attaching himself 
 to you, Susan ; he must learn to know that he is my 
 dog ! " 
 
 All the same, she never troubled about " her dog's " 
 food or sleeping quarters, and it was actually Susan 
 who paid for his licence ! 
 
 Now Susan was absent, also his good friend Aurea — 
 and Joss was in confinement and deep disgrace ; even 
 before his friends' departure he had been under a black 
 cloud. His youthful spirits were uncontrollable ; Joss 
 had inherited the keen sporting instincts of his father, 
 with the intellectual faculties of his accomplished mother, 
 Colette, the poodle, and was both bold and inquisitive. 
 Recently, the wretched animal had chewed off the tail 
 of a magnificent tiger-skin, and concealed it, no one knew 
 where ! Miss Parrett hoped he had eaten it — as it 
 was cured with arsenic — but more likely it had been 
 stored in one of his many bone larders. He had poked 
 his nose into a valuable jar, upset, and smashed it ! 
 he had come in all wet and muddy from a rat-hunting 
 excursion in the river, and recouped his exhausted 
 energies by a luxurious siesta in Miss Parrett's own bed
 
 148 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 — and there was also a whispered and mysterious com- 
 munication respecting the disappearance of a best and 
 most expensive front, which had undoubtedly gone to 
 the same limbo as the tiger's tail ! 
 
 "The brute is worse than a dozen monkeys," 
 declared his furious mistress, and he was accordingly 
 bestowed on a farmer, who lived miles away near Cats- 
 field, merely to return, accompanied by a piece of rope, 
 the same evening. After this, the word " poison " was 
 breathed ; but luckily for Joss, Ottinge did not possess 
 a chemist. Finally he was condemned to a fare of cold 
 porridge, and solitary confinement in an empty stable 
 — being suffered to roam loose at night after the house 
 was closed. 
 
 The chauffeur and the brown dog had a good deal in 
 common ; they were both young and both captives in 
 their way. Oh, those long, endless summer days, when 
 the young man hung about the yard, with nothing to do, 
 awaiting orders, unable to undertake any job in case the 
 car should be wanted. When he cahed each morning for 
 Miss Parrett's instructions, and to ask if she would 
 require the motor, the invariable reply was that "she 
 would let him know later." 
 
 The first time they met. Miss Parrett had taken a 
 dislike to the chauffeur, and this dislike had recently 
 been increased by an outrage of more recent date. She 
 had seen Owen, her paid servant, in convulsions of 
 laughter at her expense ; yes, laughing exhaustively at 
 his mistress ! This was on the occasion of a ridiculous 
 and distressing incident which had taken place one sultry 
 afternoon in the garden. The Rector and his daughter 
 were helping Susan to bud roses — a merry family party ; 
 the chauffeur was neatly trimming a box border, Hogben 
 raking gravel. Miss Parrett herself, hooded like a hawk,
 
 TWO PRISONERS 149 
 
 was poking and prowling around. All at once she 
 emerged from a tool -shed, bearing in triumph a black 
 bottle, which she imprudently shook. 
 
 " I'd like to know what this is ? " she demanded, in 
 her shrillest pipe. The answer was instantaneous, for 
 the liquor being " up," there was a loud explosion, a wild 
 shriek, and in a second Miss Parrett's identity was com- 
 pletely effaced by the contents of a bottle of porter. The 
 too inquisitive lady presented a truly humiliating spec- 
 tacle. Hood, face, hands, gown, were covered with thick 
 cream-coloured foam ; it streamed and dripped, whilst 
 she gasped and gurgled, and called upon " Susan ! " and 
 " Aurea ! " 
 
 As the stuff was removed from her eyes by the latter — 
 anxiously kind, but distinctly hysterical — almost the 
 first object to catch the old lady's eye was the chauffeur, 
 at a little distance, who, such was his enjoyment of the 
 scene, was actually holding his sides ! He turned away 
 hastily, but she could see that his shoulders were shaking, 
 and told herself then that she would never forgive him. 
 She bided her time to award suitable punishment for his 
 scandalous behaviour — and the time arrived. 
 
 The malicious old woman enjoyed the conviction that 
 she was holding this too independent chauffeur a prisoner 
 on the premises, precisely as she kept the detestable Joss 
 tied up in the stables. Joss rattled and dragged at his 
 chain, and occasionally broke into melancholy howls, 
 whilst the other paced to and fro in the red-tiled yard, 
 thinking furiously and smoking many more cigarettes 
 than were good for him. 
 
 Accustomed from childhood to a life of great activity, 
 to be, perforce, incarcerated hour after hour, awaiting the 
 good — or evil — pleasure of an old woman who was afraid 
 to use her motor, exasperated Wynyard to the last degree.
 
 150 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 The car was ready, he was ready ; usually about six 
 o'clock Miss Parrett would trot out in her hood and 
 announce in her bleating voice — 
 
 " Owen, I shall not require the car to-day ! " 
 
 Sometimes she would look in on a humble, fawning 
 culprit in the stable, and say, as she contemplated his 
 beseeching eyes — 
 
 " Hah ! you bad dog, you had dog ! I wish to good- 
 ness you were dead — and you shall wish it yourself before 
 I've done with you ! " 
 
 It was not impossible that these amiable visitations 
 afforded Miss Parrett a delicious, and exquisite satis- 
 faction. 
 
 The Drum Inn closed at ten o'clock, and even before 
 the church clock struck, the Hogbens had retired ; but 
 the former Hussar officer, accustomed to late hours, and 
 with the long summer night seducing him, found it im- 
 possible to retire to his three-cornered chamber — where 
 the walls leant towards him so confidentially, and the 
 atmosphere reeked of dry rot. No, he must breathe the 
 sweet breath of the country, have some exercise, and 
 walk himself weary under the open sky. 
 
 Mrs. Hogben — who had now absolute confidence in 
 her lodger, and told him all her most private family 
 affairs — entrusted him with the door-key, that is to say, 
 she showed him the hole in which — as all the village knew 
 — it was concealed. Sometimes it was one in the morning 
 when the chauffeur crept upstairs in stockinged feet, 
 accompanied by Joss — yes, Joss ! There were a pair of 
 them, who had equally enjoyed their nocturnal wander- 
 ings. The dog slept on a bit of sacking, in his confederate's 
 room, till Mrs. Hogben was astir, then he flew back to the 
 Manor, and crept through the same hole in the yew hedge
 
 TWO PRISONERS 151 
 
 by which, in answer to a welcome whistle, he had emerged 
 the preceding evening. Behold him sitting at the kitchen 
 door when the kitchen-maid opened it, the personification 
 of injured innocence — a poor, neglected, hungry animal, 
 who had been turned out of doors for the whole long 
 night. 
 
 These were delightful excursions : over meadows and 
 brooks, through deep glens and plantations, the two 
 black sheep scoured the country, and, as far as human 
 beings were concerned, appeared to have earth and 
 heaven to themselves. Wynyard roamed hither and 
 thither as the freak took him, and surrendered himself 
 to the intoxication that comes of motion in the open air 
 — a purely animal pleasure shared with his companion. 
 
 They surprised the dozing cattle, and alarmed aston- 
 ished sheep, sent families of grazing rabbits scuttling to 
 their burrows ; they heard the night-jar, the owl, and the 
 corn-crake ; bats flapped across their path, and in narrow 
 lanes the broad shoulders of Wynyard broke the webs of 
 discomfited spiders. The extraordinary stillness of the 
 night was what impressed the young man ; sometimes, 
 from a distance of four or five miles, he could hear, with 
 startling distinctness, the twelve measured strokes of 
 Ottinge church clock. 
 
 During these long, aimless rambles, what Joss' 
 thoughts were, who can say ? Undoubtedly he recalled 
 such excursions in ecstatic dreams. Wynyard, for his 
 part, took many pleasure trips into the land of fancy, and 
 there, amidst its picturesque glamour and all its doubts, 
 distractions, and hopes, his sole companion was Aurea ! 
 Nothing but the hope of her return sustained and kept 
 him day after day, pacing the Manor yard, in a sense her 
 prisoner ! His devotion would have amazed his sister ; 
 she could not have believed that Owen, of all people,
 
 152 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 would have been so enslaved by a girl, could have become 
 a dumb, humble worshipper, satisfied tolisten to her laugh, 
 to catch a radiant glance of her dark eyes, and, when he 
 closed the door of the car, to shield her dainty skirt with 
 reverent fingers. 
 
 Presently there came a spell of bad weather, the rain 
 sweeping across the country in great grey gusts and 
 eddying whirls, moaning and howling through the village, 
 making the venerable trees in Mrs. Hogben's orchard 
 quite lively in their old age, lashing each other with their 
 hoary arms, in furious play. 
 
 It was impossible for Wynyard to spend the entire 
 evening indoors over Mrs. Hogben's fire, listening to tales 
 of when " she was in service," though he was interested 
 to hear that Miss Alice Parrett as was — Mrs. Morven — 
 " was the best of the bunch, and there wasn't a dry eye 
 when she was buried." He also learned that Mr. Morven 
 was rich for a parson, and had once kept a curate, well 
 paid, too ; but the curate had been terribly in love with 
 Miss Aurea, and of course she wouldn't look at him — a 
 little red-haired, rat-faced fellow ! and so he had gone 
 away, and there was no more regular curate, only week- 
 ends, when Mr. Morven went abroad for his holiday. And 
 now and then Mrs. Hogben would fall into heartrending 
 reminiscences of her defunct pigs. 
 
 " Afore you come. Jack, I kep' pigs," she informed 
 him; " one a year. I bought un at Brodfield — a nice 
 little fellow — for fifteen shillings to a pound, and fattened 
 un up, being so much alone all day, I could never help 
 making sort of free with the pig, and petting un. He 
 always knew me, and would eat out of my hand, and was 
 a sort of companion, ye see ? " 
 
 " Yes," assented Wynyard, though he did not see, for 
 in his mind's eye he was contemplating Aurea Morven.
 
 TWO PRISONERS 153 
 
 " Well, of course, he grew fat, and ready for the 
 butcher, and when he was prime, he had to go — but it 
 just broke my heart, so it did ; for nights before I couldn't 
 sleep for crying," here she became lachrymose; " but it 
 had to be, and me bound to be about when the men came, 
 and the cries and yells of him nigh drove me wild ; though, 
 of course, once he was scalded and hung up, and a fine 
 weight, it wor a nice thing to have one's own pork and 
 bacon." 
 
 Her companion nodded sympathetically. 
 
 " Howsomever, the last time I was so rarely fond of the 
 pig, and his screams and carryings-on cut me so cruel, that 
 I made a vow, then and there, I'd never own another, but 
 take a lodger instead — and you. Jack, be the first ! " 
 
 " I'm sure I'm flattered," rejoined Wynyard, with an 
 irony entirely wasted on his companion, who, with her 
 skirt turned over her knees, and her feet generously 
 displayed, sat at the other side of the fire, thoroughly 
 enjoying herself. 
 
 " Tom is out," he said, and this remark started her 
 at once into another topic, and a series of bitter complaints 
 of Dilly Topham — Tom's girl. 
 
 " The worst of it is, she's mighty pretty, ain't she ? " 
 she asked querulously. 
 
 " She is," he admitted. Dilly was a round-faced, smiling 
 damsel, with curly brown hair and expressive blue eyes — 
 a flirt to her finger-tips. It was also true that she did 
 lead poor Tom a life, and encouraged a smart young 
 insurance agent, with well-turned, stockinged calves, and 
 a free-wheel bicycle. 
 
 "I'd never put up with her," declared Mrs. Hogben, 
 " only for her grandmother." 
 
 " Why her grandmother ? " he questioned lazily. 
 
 " Bless your dear heart, old Jane Topham has been a
 
 154 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 miser all her life. Oh, she's a masterpiece, she is, and lives 
 on the scrapings of the shop ; she hasn't had a gown this 
 ten year, but has a fine lump of money in the Brodfield 
 Bank, and Dilly is all she's got left, and the apple of her 
 eye. Dilly will have a big fortune — only for that, I'd 
 put her to the door, with her giggling and her impudence, 
 yes I would, and that's the middle and the two ends of it ! " 
 
 When Wynyard had heard more than enough of 
 Billy's doings and misdoings, and the biographies and 
 tragedies of his predecessors (the pigs), he went over 
 to the Drum, listened to discussions, and realised the 
 prominent characteristics of the English rustic — reluct- 
 ance to accept a new idea. Many talked as if the world 
 had not moved for thirty years, and evinced a dull- 
 witted contentment, a stolid refusal to look facts in the 
 face ; but others, the younger generation, gave him a 
 new perspective — these read the papers, debated their 
 contents, and took a keen interest in their own times. 
 
 Wynyard generally had a word with old Thunder, 
 and played a game of chess with Pither, the organist. 
 Captain Ramsay was established in his usual place — 
 smoking, silent, and staring. So intent was his gaze, so 
 insistently fixed, that Wynyard invariably arranged to 
 sit with his back to him, but even then he seemed to feel 
 the piercing eyes penetrating the middle of his spine ! 
 
 One evening Captain Ramsay suddenly rose, and 
 shuffled out of his corner — an usual proceeding, for he 
 remained immovable till closing time (ten o'clock). He 
 came straight up to where Wynyard was bending over 
 the chess-board, considering a move, and laying a heavy 
 hand on his shoulder, and speaking in a husky voice, said — 
 
 " I say — Wynyard — don't you know me ? "
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 LADY KESTERS HAS MISGIVINGS 
 
 At this amazing question the chauffeur started violently, 
 looked up into the anxious, sunken eyes gazing into his 
 own, and answered — 
 
 " No, to the best of my belief, I've never seen you 
 before — never till I came here." 
 
 The man's worn face worked with violent emotion — 
 which he vainly struggled to subdue. 
 
 " What ! " he demanded, in a high, hoarse key, 
 " have you forgotten Lucknow ? — and Jim Ramsay of 
 the Seventh ? Impossible ! " 
 
 Wynyard glanced at him and again shook his head. 
 
 After a long pause, expressive of indignant in- 
 credulity — 
 
 " Why, man alive, you and I were at school together ! 
 Don't you remember your poky little room over the 
 churchyard, and how we fagged for Toler, and played 
 hard rackets ? " 
 
 As Wynyard still remained irresponsive, suddenly, 
 to his horror, the questioner burst into tears and 
 tottered unsteadily towards the door, wringing his 
 hands, uttering loud convulsive sobs, and exclaim- 
 ing, "As a dead man out of mind ! As a dead 
 man out of mind ! Tell them to sound the Last 
 Post ! " 
 
 There was a loud murmur from the card-players,
 
 156 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 and old Thunder, turning about and addressing the com- 
 pany, said — 
 
 " Poor old chap, 'e's worse nor ever. At school 
 together " — to Wynyard — "Lor' bless me ! why, ye might 
 be his son ! I suppose 'e's a stranger to ye, mister ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I never laid eyes on him before." 
 
 " He's a-going off his nut," declared a voice from the 
 nap table ; " he did ought to be put away — he did." 
 
 " Ay," agreed the organist, addressing Wynyard, 
 " his good lady won't hear of it ; but it's my opinion 
 that he is no longer safe to himself or others — it's the 
 loose and at-home lunatics that commit these awful 
 crimes ye read of in the papers, and makes your blood 
 run cold." 
 
 Wynyard made no reply. He had more than once 
 heard Pither himself spoken of as a madman and a 
 crazy fellow ; but he was merely eccentric. As for 
 Captain Ramsay, he was lost in conjecture as to how 
 that unfortunate and afflicted gentleman had got hold 
 of his real name ? 
 
 This mystery was solved no later than the next 
 evening. In the lovely, soft June twilight he was 
 walking past the Claringbold's empty farm, and here 
 came upon the captain, who was leaning over the gate, 
 and signalled imperatively to him with his stick. 
 
 " Look here ! " he called out, and Wynyard stood 
 still. " You've been a puzzle to me for nearly six weeks 
 — and at last I've got you." 
 
 " Got me ! " 
 
 " Of course you are Owen Wynyard ; you and I knew 
 one another long ago. Wliy, man ! we were school- 
 fellows, almost like brothers, and afterwards, when our 
 two regiments lay in Lucknow — why, God bless me ! 
 it's over thirty years ago ! "
 
 LADY KESTERS HAS MISGIVINGS 157 
 
 Captain Ramsay had got hold of his right name, but 
 otherwise he was a raving lunatic. 
 
 " You are Owen Wynyard, aren't you ? " he asked 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Yes, I am, but I don't use the Wynyard here ; 
 and I must beg you to keep it to yourself." 
 
 " Oh, all right ; in one of your old scrapes, my boy ! 
 Money scarce ! Ha ha ! " and he laughed hysterically. 
 " So you're lying doggo from the Soucars, but why 
 here ? " 
 
 " That's my business," he answered sharply. 
 
 " Come, come, don't be so grumpy and short with 
 me, Owen, You were always such a rare good-tem- 
 pered chap. What has changed you, eh ? Now, come 
 along home with me, and we will have a good ' bukh ' over 
 old times," and, as he spoke, his grasp — a fierce, possess- 
 ive clutch — tightened painfully on his prisoner's arm. 
 
 " But," objected the victim, " I was going for a 
 turn." 
 
 " No, you are not ; you are coming straight home 
 with me. My wife will be glad to make your acquaint- 
 ance, I forget if you've met her ? " and he touched 
 his forehead. " I'm a little funny here, Owen. India, 
 my boy ! she takes it out of all of us one way or another 
 — teeth, hair, liver, brains. Come on now — right about 
 turn ! " he concluded facetiously. 
 
 There was no use in resistance or in having a violent 
 personal struggle with the lunatic — nothing for it but 
 to submit ; and, in spite of his reluctance, Wynyard 
 was conducted, as if in custody, right up to the door of 
 Ivy House. Were he to refuse to enter, he knew there 
 would only be a scene in the street, a gaping crowd, 
 and an unpleasant exposure. 
 
 " Look, look, Tom ! " cried Mrs. Hogben, pointing
 
 158 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 to the opposite house, " if the captain hasn't got hold 
 of our young fellow, and a-walkin' him home as if he 
 had him in charge — he has took a fancy to him, I do 
 declare ! " 
 
 " There's more nor one has took a fancy to Owen," 
 remarked Tom, with gruff significance ; "but, as to the 
 captain — well — I'd rather it was him — nor me." 
 
 The captain entered his house with a latchkey and 
 an air of importance ; there was a light in the square 
 hall, and a door at one side was ajar. He called out — 
 
 " Katie, Katie, come and see what I have found for 
 you ! " 
 
 A door was opened wide, and there stood Mrs. Ramsay 
 in a tea-gown, with a little black Pom. in her arms. She 
 looked amazed, as well she might, but instantly dis- 
 sembled her surprise, and said — 
 
 " Good evening — I see my husband has invited you 
 in for a smoke ? " 
 
 " Smoke ! " said Captain Ramsay, passing into 
 the drawing-room, and beckoning Wynyard to follow 
 him. As he did so, he glanced apologetically at the 
 lady of the house, and it struck him then that he was 
 looking into a face that had seen all the sorrows of the 
 world. 
 
 The room was furnished with solid old furniture, but 
 Mrs. Ramsay's taste — or was it Miss Morvcn's — had 
 made it a charming and restful retreat, with pretty, 
 soft wall-paper, rose-shaded lamps, flowers, a quantity 
 of books, and a few Indian relics — such as a brass table, 
 a phoolcarrie or two, and some painted TiJlah work which 
 he recognised as made near Lucknow. 
 
 " Katie," resumed her husband, after a pause, " I know 
 you will be pleased to hear I've met a very old friend," 
 and he laid his hand heavily on Wynyard's shoulder.
 
 LADY KESTERS HAS MISGIVINGS 159 
 
 " Let me introduce Captain Wynyard — Owen Wynyard 
 of the Red Hussars. He and I were quartered together 
 in Lucknow, a matter of thirty-three years ago — why, I 
 knew him, my dear, long before I ever set eyes on you ! " 
 
 As he concluded, he gazed at her with his dark shifty 
 eyes, and Wynyard noticed the nervous twitching of his 
 hands. 
 
 " I'm sure I'm delighted to make your acquaintance," 
 she said, with the utmost composure, though her lips 
 were livid. Jim was getting worse — this scene marked 
 a new phase of his illness — another milestone on the road 
 to dementia. 
 
 " We were inseparable, Katie, I can tell you, and 
 went up together for our leave to Naini Tal, and stayed 
 at the club, rowed in the regatta, had a ripping time, 
 and went shooting in Kumaon. I say, Owen, do you 
 remember the panther that took your dog near Bhim Tal 
 — and how you got him ? " 
 
 Wynyard nodded assent — in for a penny, in for a 
 pound ! He was impersonating a dead man, and what 
 was a dead dog more or less ? 
 
 " Do you remember the cairn we raised over him, and 
 he was so popular, every one who knew him, that passed 
 up or down, placed a stone on it ? " 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to go and smoke in the dining- 
 room ? " suggested Mrs. Ramsay. "Jim, I'll ring for 
 Maiy to light the lamp, she does not know you arc in." 
 
 " No, no, I'll go myself," and he shuffled into the hall. 
 
 " He has taken you for some one else, of course, poor 
 fellow ! " she said, turning quickly to Wynyard, and 
 speaking under her breath. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " for my father — but please 
 keep this to yourself — I've always heard I am extra- 
 ordinarily like him."
 
 i6o A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Then humour him, humour him, do. You see how 
 bright and happy this imaginary meeting has made him. 
 Oh, it will be so kind of you to talk to him of India — he 
 loves it — how I wish you knew the country — you must 
 pretend, and I will coach you. Lucknow is very hot, 
 and gay, not far " 
 
 " But I needn't pretend," he broke in, " I know the 
 country — yes — and Lucknow too, I was there with my 
 father's old regiment." 
 
 She stared at him for a moment in bewildered 
 astonishment. 
 
 " I say, you won't give me away, will you ? "he added 
 anxiously. 
 
 " No ; is it likely ? If you will only come and talk 
 to him of an evening now and then, it will be truly one of 
 the good deeds that will be scored up to you in heaven. 
 Ah, here he is, and the lamp." 
 
 " Now come along, Owen," he said briskly. " Here 
 you arc, I've got my best tobacco for you. Let's have a 
 bukh ! " 
 
 And what a bukh it was ! Captain Ramsay carried 
 on most of the conversation, and as he discoursed of old 
 friends, of shikar, of camps and manceuvres, racing and 
 polo, his sunken eyes kindled, he became animated ; it 
 was another personality to that of the silent, drooping 
 figure known to Ottmge. Wynyard, as he listened and 
 threw in a word or two, could now dimly realise the good- 
 looking smart officer in this poor stranded wreck. 
 
 Mrs. Ramsay, who had brought her work and her 
 little dog, sat somewhat apart, beyond the shaded lamp's 
 rays, listened, wondered, and inwardly wept. What 
 vital touch to a deadened mind had kindled these old 
 memories ? What a mysterious organ was the human 
 brain !
 
 LADY KESTERS HAS MISGIVINGS i6i 
 
 And the taciturn chauffeur, he too was changed — it 
 was another individual ; he sat there, smoking, his elbow 
 on the table, discussing army matters (now obsolete), 
 notable generals, long dead and gone, the hiUs and plains 
 of India, the climate — that, at least, was unchanged — 
 with extraordinary coolness and adaptibility. The 
 guest was playing the role of being his own father, with 
 astounding success. And what a good-looking young 
 fellow ! she noticed his clear-cut features, the well set-on 
 head, the fine frame, the distinguished looking brown 
 hand that lay carelessly on the table. The scene was 
 altogether amazing ; this sudden recognition seemed to 
 have aroused Jim from a long, long mental slumber. 
 Was it a sign of recovery — or was it a symptom of the end ? 
 
 When at last Owen rose to go. Captain Ramsay made 
 no effort to detain him, but sat, with his head thrown 
 back and his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, lost in a 
 reverie of ghastly vacuity. 
 
 It was Mrs. Ramsay who accompanied her guest into 
 the hall, and inquired, in her everyday manner — 
 
 " And when is the motor of Ottinge coming back ? " 
 
 " I am to fetch it to-morrow." 
 
 Then, in another voice, almost a whisper, she added — 
 
 " I am so grateful to you. My husband and your 
 father seem to have been like brothers — and you really 
 managed wonderfully. You have given Jim such 
 pleasure, and, poor fellow, he has so little ! " Her eyes 
 were dim as she looked up, " Even I, who am with him 
 always, see a change. I am afraid he is growing worse." 
 
 " Why not better ? " asked Wynyard, with forced 
 cheerfulness. " Have you seen a mental specialist ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, long ago ; his condition is the result of 
 sunstroke, and they said he — he ought to be — put away 
 in an asylum ; but of course his home is his asylum." 
 II
 
 i63 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Her visitor was not so clear about this, and there was 
 no doubt that now and then the captain's eyes had an 
 alarmingly mad expression. 
 
 " Can you manage to come and see him occasionally, 
 or is it asking too much ? " 
 
 "I'll come with pleasure ; I have my evenings off — 
 the car never goes out at night, as you may know ; but 
 I'm only Owen Wynyard, late of the Red Hussars, in 
 this house, if you please, Mrs. Ramsay." 
 
 " Of course; and I shall be only too thankful to see 
 you whenever you can spare us an hour," and she opened 
 the door and let him out. 
 
 From this time forth there commenced an intimacy 
 between the chauffeur and the Ramsays. He not only 
 spent an hour now and then with the captain, smoking, 
 playing picquet, and talking over old times, but he gave 
 Mrs. Ramsay valuable assistance with her boarders, 
 treated bites, thorns, and other casualties with a practised 
 hand ; on one occasion sat up at night with a serious 
 case of distemper ; on another, traced and captured a 
 valuable runaway. He admired her for her unquench- 
 able spirit, energy, and pluck, and helped in the kennel 
 with the boy she employed, and undertook to exercise 
 the most boisterous dogs of an evening. These thoroughly 
 enjoyed their excursions with an active companion, who, 
 however, maintained a strict but kindly discipline ; and, 
 of a bright moonlight night, it was no uncommon sight to 
 meet the chauffeur, four or five miles from Ottinge, 
 accompanied by, not only Joss, but by several of Mrs. 
 Ramsay's paying guests. 
 
 The friendship between the captain and the chauffeur 
 naturally did not pass unnoticed, and the verdict of the 
 Drum was that the young fellow, having spare time on his 
 hands, had been " took on as a sort of keeper at Ivy House,
 
 LADY KESTERS HAS MISGIVINGS 163 
 
 and gave a help with the kennel and the old man — and 
 the old man was growing worse." 
 
 Leila had arranged to pay a flying visit to Brodfield 
 when her brother went there to fetch the motor, and he 
 found her awaiting him in a gloomy sitting-room of that 
 once celebrated posting-inn — the Coach and Horses. 
 
 "Three months are gone ! " she said, after their first 
 greetings, " so far so good, ce n'esi que le premier pas qui 
 coute !" 
 
 " There are a good many pas yet ! It's awfully nice 
 to see you, Sis, and be myself for once in a way," and 
 then he proceeded to unfold his experience with Captain 
 Ramsay. 
 
 " Oh, how ghastly ! The poor lunatic talking away 
 to you, and taking you for our father ! Imagine him 
 recognising you by the likeness, and skipping thirty- 
 three years ! No one else suspects you, do they ? " 
 
 " His wife knows my real name, and that's all ; I had 
 to tell her, but she is safe as a church. Miss Susan has 
 been curious." 
 
 " Bless her dear simple heart ! " 
 
 " I say amen to that ; but of all the mean, purse- 
 proud, tyrannical old hags, give me Bella Parrett ! She's 
 always bragging of her family, too, and her crest — in my 
 opinion it ought to be a civet cat ! " 
 
 " Oh, Owen," and she laughed, " it's not often that 
 you are stirred to such indignation." 
 " Ah, you don't know her." 
 
 " Apparently not. Well, what do you say to a move, 
 and to better yourself ? I believe I could find you a 
 capital place in Somersetshire, not so retired, more in the 
 world, and with quite smart people." 
 
 " No, thanks, I'll stick to this now — anyway till 
 Christmas."
 
 i64 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " But, Owen, when the old woman and the motor 
 are so objectionable — by the way, I must inspect it 
 before you start to-morrow — why remain ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've got the hang of the place now. I know the 
 people, I've comfortable quarters — and — er — I like Miss 
 Susan " 
 
 " Do you like any one else, Owen, come ? " 
 
 " I like the parson, and the schoolmaster, and Tom 
 Hogben." 
 
 " Well, well, well ! " throwing herself back, " I see you 
 won't give me your confidence ! I am positively certain 
 there is some one in Ottinge you like much better 
 than the parson and the schoolmaster — or even Miss 
 Susan." 
 
 " I swear there is not," he answered, boldly confront- 
 ing her. (Aurea was not in Ottinge, but visiting her rich 
 London relatives, doing a bit of the season with, to borrow 
 the native term, " Mrs. General Morven.") 
 
 Leila was puzzled. Owen, she knew, was a hopelessly 
 bad liar, and his face looked innocence itself. 
 
 " I've got a box for the theatre here — a company 
 on tour. We may as well go — you can sit in the back," 
 she said, rising. 
 
 " All right ; it's to be hoped none of the Ottinge folk 
 will be there, and spot me ! " 
 
 " Not they ! Don't you know your Ottinge by this 
 time ? Is it likely that any one of them would come all 
 this way to see a mere play ? " 
 
 " Miss Susan might, she loves an outing and any 
 little bit of amusement ; but she's not at home, and if she 
 was, she would not get the use of the motor." 
 
 " The theatre is only across the square — it's quite near, 
 so we may as well walk ; " and they did. Lady Kesters 
 in a high black dress, her brother in a dark suit, passed
 
 LADY KESTERS HAS MISGIVINGS 165 
 
 unnoticed among the crowd, and enjoyed the enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 The next morning Lady Kesters left Brodfield by the 
 ten o'clock train for London, having previously inspected 
 the celebrated green gem at the garage. She even got into 
 it, examined it critically, and laughed as she descended. 
 
 " Oh, what a take in ! What a shame to have 
 cheated those poor old women ! Why, Owen, I believe it 
 must be years and years old ! " 
 
 " And a bad machine always ; strong when you want 
 it to be weak, and weak when it should be strong. Some 
 of these days it will play me a trick, I'm sure." 
 
 " What, that old bone-shaker ! No, no. Well, I'm 
 afraid you must soon be starting — as you say Miss Parrett 
 awaits you, watch in hand — and so must I. It's been 
 awfully good to see you, and find you are getting on so 
 well — 'a chauffeur almost to the manner born.' Martin 
 takes a profound interest in our enterprise." 
 
 " He keeps me supplied with lots of tobacco and Ai 
 cigars. Tell him that Miss Susan asked me if I got them 
 in the village ? and Miss Parrett, who is as sharp as a 
 razor, inquired how I could afford to buy them ? I 
 ventured to offer a couple to the doctor — I told him they 
 were a present ; he took them like a lamb, and asked no 
 questions." 
 
 " What ! does a lamb smoke ? Well, I'll tell Martin 
 how much his offerings are appreciated, and that you 
 really are fit — and quite happy, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, tell him that neither of you need worry about 
 me; I'm all right at Ottinge." 
 
 But when, an hour later. Lady Kesters gazed meditat- 
 ively on the flying Midlands, with her thoughts concen- 
 trated upon her brother, she was by no means so sure, 
 that he was all right at Ottinge !
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE REASON WHY 
 
 Whilst Ottinge had been dozing through lovely summer 
 days, Aurea Morven was enjoying a certain amount of 
 the gay London season. General and Mrs. Morven had 
 no family — Aurea was their only young relative, the 
 Parretts' only niece, the parson's only child; and, 
 though she was the light of the Rectory, he was not 
 selfish, and shared and spared her company. Besides, 
 as Mrs. Morven said, " Edgar had his literary work, his 
 large correspondence, his parish, and Jane Norris to 
 look after him, and it was out of the question to suppose 
 that a girl with such beauty and attractiveness was to 
 be buried in an out-of-the-way hole like Ottinge-in-the- 
 Marsh — although her father and her aunts did live 
 there ! " Mrs. Morven, a masterful lady on a large 
 scale, who carried herself with conscious dignity, looked, 
 and was a manager — a manager of ability. She was 
 proud of the general's pretty niece, enjoyed chaperoning 
 her and taking her about, and anticipated her making 
 a notable match ; for, besides her pretty face, and charm- 
 ing, unspoiled nature, Aurea was something of an heiress. 
 It seemed to this clear-sighted lady that her niece 
 was changed of late, her spontaneous gaiety had evapor- 
 ated, once or twice she had sudden fits of silence and 
 abstraction, and, although she laughed and danced 
 and appeared to enjoy herself, refused to take any of
 
 THE REASON WHY 167 
 
 her partners seriously, and shortened her visit by three 
 weeks ! 
 
 Miss Susan had arrived at Eaton Place for a couple 
 of days. It was arranged by the girl that she and her 
 aunt were to leave town together — though the general 
 and his wife pleaded for a longer visit, offering Aurea, 
 as a temptation, a ball, a Windsor garden-party, and 
 Sandown — the filial daughter shook her head, with smil- 
 ing decision ; she had promised the Padre, and, besides, 
 she wanted to get back to the garden before the best of 
 the roses were over ! Theatre dinners were breaking up 
 at the Ritz, and a stream of smart people were gradually 
 departing eastward. Among the crowd in the hall, await- 
 ing her motor, stood Lady Kestcrs, superb in diamonds 
 and opera mantle. She and Miss Susan caught sight 
 of one another at the same moment, and Miss Susan 
 immediately began to make her way through the 
 throng. 
 
 " So glad to meet you ! " gasped the elder lady. 
 " I called yesterday afternoon, but you were out." 
 
 " Yes, so sorry — I was down in the country. Do 
 come and lunch to-morrow." 
 
 " I wish I could, but, unfortunately, we are going 
 home. Let me introduce my niece, Aurea Morven — 
 Lady Kesters." 
 
 Lady Kesters smiled and held out her hand. Could 
 this extremely pretty girl be the reason of Owen's sur- 
 prising contentment ? She looked at her critically. 
 No country mouse, this ! her air and her frock were of 
 the town. What a charming face and marvellous com- 
 plexion — possibly due to the Marsh air ! 
 
 " I have known your aunts for years " ; and, though 
 addressing Miss Susan, she looked straight at Aurea, as 
 she asked, " And how is the new chauffeur suiting you ? "
 
 i68 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 The girl's colour instantly rose, but before she could 
 speak, Miss Susan flung herself on the question. 
 
 " Oh, very well indeed — most obliging and civil — 
 has been quite a treasure in the house and garden." 
 
 Lady Kesters raised her delicately pencilled eye- 
 brows and laughed. 
 
 " The chauffeur — gardening ! How funny ! " 
 
 " You see, Bella is so nervous in a motor, it is not 
 often wanted, and Owen likes to help us. We find him 
 rather silent and reserved about himself ; he gives the 
 impression of being a bit above his place ? " and she 
 looked at Lady Kesters interrogatively. 
 
 " Really ? " 
 
 " I suppose you can tell me something about him — 
 as you said you'd known him for years ? " continued 
 Miss Susan, with unconcealed eagerness. " I am, I 
 must confess, just a little curious. Where does he 
 come from ? Has he any belongings ? " 
 
 " Oh, my dear lady, do you think it necessary to 
 look into your chauffeur's past ! I believe he comes 
 from Westshire, his people — er — er — lived on my grand- 
 father's property ; as to his belongings — ah ! there is 
 my husband ! I see he has found the car at last, and I 
 must fly ! So sorry you are leaving town to-morrow — 
 good-hye ! " Lady Kesters now understood her brother's 
 reluctance to leave Ottinge — she had seen the reason 
 why. 
 
 Miss Susan and her niece travelled down to Catsfield 
 together, were met in state by the motor and luggage- 
 cart, and created quite a stir at the little station. Miss 
 Morven had such a heap of boxes — one as big as a sheep 
 trough — that the cart was delayed for nearly a quarter 
 of an hour, and Peter, the porter, for once had a job: 
 
 The ladies found that, in their absence, the neigh-
 
 THE REASON WHY 169 
 
 bourhood had awakened ; there were large house-parties 
 at Westmere and Tynflete, and not a few smart motors 
 now to be seen skimming through the village. It was 
 a fact that several tourists had visited the church, and 
 had " tea " at Mrs. Pither's, and patronised her neigh- 
 bour's " cut flowers." The old church was full on 
 Sundays, dances and cricket matches were in prospect, 
 and Miss Morven, the countryside beauty, was immedi- 
 ately in enviable request. 
 
 Miss Parrett had relaxed her hold, so to speak, upon 
 the car, and lent it daily, and even nightly, to her niece 
 and sister ; indeed, it seemed that she would almost do 
 anything with the motor than use it herself ; and though 
 she occasionally ventured to return calls at a short 
 distance, it was undoubtedly pain and grief to her to 
 do so — and, on these occasions, brandy and heart-drops 
 were invariably secreted in one of its many pockets. 
 
 Owen, the automaton chauffeur, was the reluctant 
 witness of the many attentions showered upon his lady- 
 love, especially by Bertie Woolcock, who was almost 
 always in close attendance, and put her in the car with 
 many voluble regrets and urgent arrangements for 
 future meetings. He would linger by the door some- 
 times for ten minutes, prolonging the " sweet sorrow," 
 paying clumsy compliments, and making notes of future 
 engagements upon his broad linen cuff. He little 
 suspected how dearly the impassive driver longed to 
 descend from his seat and throttle him ; but once he 
 did remark to the lady — 
 
 " I say, what a scowling brute you have for a 
 chauffeur ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, Miss Susan looked on and listened to 
 Bertie's speeches with happy complacency. Bertie was 
 heir to twenty thousand a year, and it would be delightful
 
 170 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 to have her darhng Aurea hving at Westmere, and 
 estabhshed so near home. 
 
 One evening, returning from a garden-party, Miss 
 Susan and her niece had a narrow escape of being killed. 
 Aurea was seated in front — she disliked the stuffy 
 interior, especially this warm weather ; they had come to 
 a red triangle notice, "Dangerous to Cyclists," and were 
 about to descend a long winding hill — the one hill of 
 the neighbourhood. Just as they commenced the 
 descent with the brake hard on, it suddenly broke, and 
 in half a second the car had shot away ! 
 
 Wynyard turned his head, and shouted, " Sit tight ! " 
 and gave all his mind to steering; he took the whole width 
 of the road to get round the first corner, and then the hill 
 made an even sharper drop ; the car, which was heavy, 
 gathered momentum with every yard, and it seemed 
 impossible to reach the bottom of the hill without 
 some terrible catastrophe. Half-way down was another 
 motor. Wynyard yelled, sounded the horn, and flashed 
 by ; a pony-trap, ascending, had a narrow escape of 
 being pulverised in the green car's mad flight. Then, to 
 the driver's horror, he saw a great wagon and horses on 
 the road near the foot of the hill, and turned cold with the 
 thought that there might not be room to get by. They 
 missed it by a hair's -breadth, and continued their wild 
 career. At last they came to the level at the foot of the 
 slope, and Wynyard pulled up, after the most exciting 
 two minutes he had ever experienced. He glanced at his 
 two companions ; they were both as white as death — and 
 so was he ! Miss Susan, for once, was speechless, but at 
 last she signed that she wished to get out, and Wynyard 
 helped her to the bank, on which she collapsed, inarti- 
 culate and gasping. 
 
 " It's a good thing Aunt Bella was not with us," said
 
 THE REASON WHY 171 
 
 Aurea, and her voice sounded faint ; " this time she really 
 would have died ! What happened ? " turning to Owen. 
 " The brake rod broke, miss — the old car is rotten," 
 he added viciously. 
 
 " Old car ! " repeated Susan, who, though her nerves 
 were in a badly shattered condition, had at last found 
 utterance. 
 
 " Very old and crazy — and you never know what 
 she is going to do next, or what trick she will play you — 
 and you ladies have been giving her a good deal of work 
 lately." 
 
 " If you had lost your head, Owen ! " exclaimed Miss 
 Susan. 
 
 " I hope I don't often do that, miss," he answered 
 steadily. 
 
 " If you had not had splendid nerve, we would all 
 have been killed ; why, we just shaved that wagon by a 
 hair's-breadth — that would have been a smash ! We 
 were going so fast." 
 
 He made no reply, but moved away to examine the 
 machine. 
 
 " Of course it would have been death, Aurea, and I 
 don't want to go like that ! " 
 " I should hope not, Susie." 
 
 " I don't think I shall be afraid when it comes — I 
 shaU feel like a child whose nurse has called it away to 
 go to sleep ; but I'd prefer to go quietly, and not like 
 some crushed insect." 
 
 Wynyard, as he worked at the car, could not help 
 overhearing snatches of the conversation between aunt 
 and niece ; the latter said — 
 
 " The other day I was watching a flock of sheep in 
 the meadows ; the shepherd was with them, and they were 
 all collected about him so trustfully. By his side was a
 
 172 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 man in a long blue linen coat. I said to myself, " There 
 is death among them ; poor innocents, they don't know it. 
 That's like death and us — we never know who he has 
 marked, or which of the flock is chosen." 
 
 " He nearly chose us to-day — but he changed his 
 mind." 
 
 Aurea nodded, and then she went on — 
 
 "As to that odious motor, every one says Aunt Bella 
 was shamefully taken in ; but she would not listen to 
 advice, she would buy it — she liked the photo. The car is 
 medieval, and, what's more, it's unlucky, — it's malignant ! 
 and you remember when we met the runaway horse and 
 cart near Brodfield ; I was sitting outside, and I declare it 
 seemed to struggle to get into the middle of the road, and 
 meet them ! you remember what Goethe said about the 
 demoniac power of inanimate things ? " 
 
 " Now, my dear child, that's nonsense ! " expostulated 
 Miss Susan. " I had a poor education, and I've never read 
 a line of Goethe's ; if he wrote such rubbish, I had no loss ! " 
 
 " Well, you will allow that the car did its very best to 
 destroy us to-day ! And Mrs. Ramsay told me a man 
 she knew recognised it by its number — and that it once 
 ran over and killed a girl on a bicycle, and the people 
 sent it to auction, where some one bought it for a song, 
 passed it on to Aunt Bella, and here it is ! " 
 
 " The car will be all right now, Miss Susan," announced 
 the chauffeur, touching his cap ; " there are no more 
 hills, we are on the fiat, and I can take you home safely ; 
 but I'm afraid she will have to go to Brodfield again 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Owen, do you believe in a motor being unlucky ? " 
 she asked, rising as she spoke. 
 
 " I can't say I do, miss ; I don't know much about 
 them."
 
 THE REASON WHY 173 
 
 " What do you mean ? — not know about motors ! " 
 " Oh," correcting himself, " I mean with respect 
 to their characters, miss ; it's said that there are unlucky 
 engines, and unlucky ships, and submarines — at least 
 they have a bad name. I can't say that this car and I 
 have ever, what you may call, taken to one another." 
 
 And with this remark, he tucked in Aurea's smart 
 white skirt, closed the door, mounted to his place, and 
 proceeded steadily homewards.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 OWEN THE MATCHMAKER 
 
 Undoubtedly it was hard on Wynyard that, at a time 
 when his own love-affair was absorbing his soul and 
 thoughts, he should be burthened with the anxieties of 
 another — in fact, with two others — those of Tom Hogben 
 and Dilly Topham. 
 
 For some weeks Tom had been unlike himself, silent, 
 dispirited, and almost morose, giving his mother short 
 answers or none ; yet, undoubtedly, it is galling to be 
 accused of a bilious attack when it is your heart that is 
 affected. 
 
 Mrs. Hogben was dismayed. What had come over 
 her boy ? Her lodger, too, was concerned, for Tom, 
 hitherto sober, now brought with him at times a very 
 strong suggestion of raw whisky ! At last he was received 
 into his confidence — the communication took place over 
 an after-dinner pipe in the Manor grounds. 
 
 During the dog-days, the atmosphere of Mrs. Hogben's 
 little kitchen was almost insupportable — such was the 
 reek of soap-suds, soda, and the ironing blanket ; and 
 Wynyard suggested that he and Tom should carry their 
 dinner, and eat it in the old summer-house on the Manor 
 bowling-green. 
 
 " We'll be out of your road," he added craftily, " and 
 save ourselves the tramp here at midday." 
 
 At first Tom did not see precisely eye-to-eye with his
 
 OWEN THE MATCHMAKER 175 
 
 comrade; he liked his victuals "conformable" — and to be 
 within easy reach of the loaf, pickle jar, and — though 
 this was not stated — the Drum ! 
 
 But after one trial he succumbed. There was no 
 denying it was rare and cool in the old thatched tea- 
 house, and his mother, who was thankful to get rid of 
 " two big chaps a-crowding her up — so awkward at her 
 busiest laundry season," — provided substantial fare in the 
 shape of cold meat and potatoes, home-made bread, and 
 cheese — and, for Tom, the mordant pickles such as his 
 soul loved. The pair, sitting at their meal, presented a 
 curious contrast, although both in rough working 
 clothes, and their shirt-sleeves. 
 
 The chauffeur, erect, well-groomed, eating his bread 
 and cheese with the same relish, and refinement as if he 
 were at mess. 
 
 The gardener, exhibiting a four days old beard, and 
 somewhat earthy hands, as he slouched over the rustic 
 table, bolting his food with the voracity of a hungry dog. 
 
 They were both, in their several ways, handsome 
 specimens of British manhood. Hogben, for all his 
 clownish manners, had good old blood in his veins ; he 
 could, had he known the fact, have traced and established 
 his pedigree back to King Henry the Sixth ! 
 
 Wynyard's progenitors had never been submerged ; 
 their names were emblazoned in history — a forebear had 
 distinguished himself in the tilting ring, and achieved 
 glory at Agincourt. 
 
 Possibly, in days long past, the ancestors of these 
 two men had fought side by side as knight and squire — 
 who knows ? 
 
 Having disposed of his last enormous mouthful, 
 closed his clasp-knife, and produced his pipe, Hogben 
 threw himself back on the seat, and said —
 
 176 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Look here, mate, I want a bit of a talk with 'ee." 
 
 " Talk away, Tom," he replied, as he struck a match. 
 " You have fifteen minutes and a clear course." 
 
 " Oh, five will do me. As fer the course, it hain't clear, 
 and that's the truth. It's like this. Jack, I'm in a 
 mort o' trouble along o' Dilly Topham." 
 
 Wynyard nodded, the news had not taken him by 
 surprise. 
 
 " An' you, being eddicated, and having seen London 
 and life — and no doubt well experienced with young 
 females — might give me a hand." 
 
 Wynyard nodded again — Tom was undoubtedly 
 about to make a clean breast of it. So he lit his cigarette, 
 and prepared to listen. 
 
 " Dilly and I was children together — I'm five year 
 older nor she — and my mother, being a widder, I had to 
 start to work when I was ten, with a milk round — and 
 indeed long afore — so my schoolin' wasn't much, as ye 
 may know ! 'Owever, Dilly and I was always goin' to 
 be married for fun ; and she grew up a main pretty girl, 
 and then it was agreed on in earnest. Well, now she 
 gives me the go-by ! Most days she won't look near me, 
 and she never comes 'ere ; she's got a gold bangle from 
 some other chap, and when I ask about it, she gives me 
 a regular doing, and says I'm to mind me own business ! 
 What do ye say to that ? It's the insurance fellow, I'll 
 go bail, from Brodfield ; if I catch him — I'll — I'll bash 
 'is 'ead in — so I will — 'im and 'is logs ! What am I to do 
 — I ask you as a friend ? " 
 
 " Well, Tom, I'm not as experienced as you suppose," 
 said Wynyard, after a thoughtful pause, "but, if I were 
 in your shoes, I'll tell you just exactly my plan of 
 operations." 
 
 " Ay, let's have 'em right away."
 
 OWEN THE MATCHMAKER 177 
 
 " First of all I'd have my hair cut, and trim myself 
 about a bit." 
 
 " What ! an old blossom like me ? " 
 
 " Yes ; shave that fringe of yours altogether, and 
 wear your hair like mine," running his hand over his 
 cropped head. " I declare, I could not live with a mop 
 like yours ! And you may not know it, Tom, but you are 
 an awfully good-looking fellow." 
 
 "Eh — am I ? " with slow complacency. "They do say 
 so of Ottinge folk ; they are mostly of fine old blood, come 
 down in the world — and the only thing that's stuck is the 
 features — especially the nose." 
 
 " I can't tell you anything about that, but I'm certain 
 of one thing — you must give up whisky." 
 
 " Ay " — reddening — " must I so ? " 
 
 " Don't let it get a hold, or it may never leave you." 
 
 " Ay, but sometimes when I'm down, the devil 'e 
 comes, and 'e says, ' You go and 'ave a drink, Tom, it 
 will do you good ' ; and 'e keeps on a-whisperin' ' Go and 
 'ave a drink, Tom, go and 'ave a drink, Tom,' and so I 
 goes at last, and 'as three or four ! " 
 
 " Tell the devil to shut up, and do you go to the 
 barber." 
 
 " 'E's away this week thatching," was the amazing 
 reply. 
 
 " Well, when he comes back get shaved, and you 
 won't know yourself ! Then I'd like to give you one of 
 my old coats, and a tie, and a few collars — we are about 
 the same size — and Miss Dilly won't recognise you ; and 
 after that, mind you take no notice of her ; but share your 
 hymn-book with Nellie Hann — ask her out walking of an 
 evening, and I bet you anything you like, you will have 
 Miss Dilly after you like a shot ! " 
 
 " Well, mate, I'll do it," said Tom moodily; "but 
 12
 
 178 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 it's a tricky business walkin' with another girl — she 
 might take notions — and if it falls out badly with Dilly, 
 I'll drown myself, but thank you all the same," 
 
 After a long and brooding silence, Tom struggled to 
 his feet and scratched his head — 
 
 " If ye understood what it was to be set on a girl — 
 you would know what a misery I feel ; but you are not 
 built that way, as any one can see — and now I must go 
 back to my job, or I'll have the old lady on to me. She 
 stands in the landing window, a-watching like a cat at a 
 mouse-hole. It's not so much the work — as that she 
 likes to see us a-slaving. Well, I'll take yer advice, and 
 I am much obliged to ye." And, shouldering his spade, 
 Tom lurched away, with long uneven strides. 
 
 " Now, what did you do that for ? " Wynyard asked 
 himself. "You silly idiot ! giving advice and putting your 
 finger in other people's pies. Why should you meddle ? " 
 
 No answer being forthcoming from the recesses of his 
 inner consciousness, he rose and stretched himself, and 
 presently returned to his struggle with a contrary old 
 lawn-mower. 
 
 By chance, the very next evening, on the road to 
 Brodfield, Wynyard came upon Dilly and the insurance 
 agent ; they were evidently about to part, and were 
 exchanging emphatic last words. He accosted them in a 
 cheery, off-hand manner, and after a few trivial remarks 
 about the weather, and the heat, said — 
 
 " As I suppose you are going back, Miss Topham, we 
 might as well walk together. May I have the honour of 
 your company ? " 
 
 Dilly beamed and giggled, the agent glowered and 
 muttered inarticulately ; but he was a little in awe of 
 the chauffeur chap, with his quiet manners, steady eye, 
 and indefinable suggestion of a reserve force never
 
 OWEN THE MATCHMAKER 179 
 
 exerted — and with a snort and a " So long, Miss Dilly ! " 
 he mounted his bike, and sped homewards. 
 
 Dilly was both amazed and enchanted. So, after all, 
 she had made an impression on this quiet, good-looking 
 Owen chap ! and for him, did he wish to " walk out with 
 her," she was ready — to speak the brutal, naked truth — 
 to throw over both Ernest Sands and Tom Hogben. 
 
 "I'm glad to have met you like this," he said, as they 
 proceeded side by side. 
 
 " Oh yes," she responded eagerly, " so am I — awfully 
 glad ! " 
 
 " Because I want to have a word about Tom." 
 
 " Oh — Tom," with inexpressible scorn, " I've just 
 about done with Tom ! " 
 
 " Done for him, you mean ! You're breaking his 
 heart ; he's a topping good chap, I know, for I live in the 
 house with him." 
 
 Here, indeed, was a bitter disappointment for Miss 
 Dilly. So the smart chauffeur was merely talking to her 
 as a friend of Tom's ! 
 
 " I say," he continued, " do you think it's playing the 
 game to be carrying on with this other^^chap, if you are 
 engaged to Tom ? " 
 
 " Who says so ? " she demanded sharply. 
 
 " He does — Ottinge does." 
 
 " Laws ! A lot of jangling old women ! Much / care 
 what they say ! " and she tossed her head violently. 
 
 " You need not tell me that." 
 
 " Why ? " she snapped. 
 
 " Because you meet a young man you are not engaged 
 to, and walk miles with him through the lanes after 
 sundown." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure ! Why mayn't I have a friend if I 
 choose ? "
 
 i8o A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " It is entirely a matter of opinion ; if I were in Tom's 
 shoes, Miss Dilly, and knew of this evening's outing, I'd 
 give you the chuck at once, and have nothing more to 
 do with you." 
 
 " Oh — you /" — insolently — " they say you're a sort 
 of half gentleman as has got into some trouble. Why 
 don't you mind your own affairs ? Come now ! " 
 
 " Tom is my friend and my affair." 
 
 " Bah ! a working man and a gentleman — friends ! 
 Go on ! " and she stared at him defiantly. 
 
 " Yes, he is ; and I won't stand by and see his life 
 spoiled, if I can help it." 
 
 " Well, then," and she burst into sudden tears, " it's 
 his mother as is spoiling it — not me." 
 
 " How do you make that out ? " 
 
 " Wasn't we pledged four year ago, and I took his 
 ring, and there's Maggie Tuke engaged years after me, 
 and nicely set up in her own house now, with a grama- 
 phone and a big glass — yes, and Nellie Watkin too ; and 
 I've got to wait and wait till Mrs. Hogben pleases. She 
 won't give up Tom, so there it is ! Oh, of course she's 
 all butter and sugar to a good lodger like you, but she's 
 as hard as a turnpike, and she's waiting on till my grand- 
 mother comes forward — and that she'll never do. Why, 
 she grudges me a bit of chocolate, let alone a fortin'." 
 
 " Oh, so that's it, is it ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's it, since you must know ; and I tell you 
 I'm not going on playing this 'ere waiting game no longer 
 — I'm about fed up, as they say ; I'm twenty-six, and I've 
 told Ernest as I'm going to break it off with Hogben." 
 
 " Come now, which do you like the best ? " asked 
 Wynyard, amazed at his own impertinence, " Tom or 
 Ernest ? " 
 
 " Why, Tom, of course, but what's the good ? "
 
 OWEN THE MATCHMAKER i8i 
 
 " Look here, will you promise not to hate me — and 
 will you let me see what I can do ? " 
 
 For a moment she gazed at him with an air of pro- 
 found mistrust ; at last she muttered in a peevish voice — 
 
 " Yes, you can't make things no worse, anyway — 
 and that's certain sure." 
 
 This was not a very gracious permission, but Miss 
 Topham wiped her eyes and held out her hand ; at the 
 moment, by most provoking bad luck, the Rector and his 
 daughter dashed by in a dog-cart, and the former, re- 
 cognising him, called back a cheery " Good-night, Owen ! " 
 
 " Is it possible that the fellow has cut out Tom 
 Hogben, and is making up to Dilly Topham ? "he said to 
 his daughter. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," she answered stifHy. 
 
 " I should not have thought she was his sort ; but one 
 never can tell ! At any rate, she was crying and holding 
 his hand — there must be an understanding between 
 them, eh ? " 
 
 But Aurea made no reply ; apparently she was 
 engrossed in watching a long train of rooks flying 
 quickly homewards — drifting across the rose-tinted sky — 
 and had not heard the question. Her father glanced at 
 her ; her pretty lips were very tightly compressed, one 
 would almost suppose that something had annoyed Aurea ! 
 
 That evening, when Tom was at the Drum, Wynyard 
 had a serious conversation with Mrs. Hogben — a really 
 straight and private talk, respecting her son and his love- 
 affair. " If Leila were to see me now ! " he said to him- 
 self, " trying to engineer this job, how she would laugh ! " 
 To his landlady he pointed out that one was not always 
 young, and that Tom and Dilly had been engaged four 
 years. (He had a vague idea that Tom's wages and Tom's
 
 i82 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 company all to herself, were considerable factors in his 
 mother's reluctance to name the wedding-day.) 
 
 And for once Wynyard was positively eloquent ! 
 He put down his pipe, and spoke. He pleaded as he 
 had never in his life pleaded for himself — he felt amazed 
 by his own arguments ! Mrs. Hogben was thunder- 
 struck ; generally, the fellow had not a word to throw 
 to a dog, and now to hear him talk ! 
 
 " Think, Mrs. Hogben," he urged, " what is Tom to 
 wait for ? He has his twenty-five shillings a week and 
 this house — it's his, I understand," and he paused. 
 " n Dilly gives him up who will blame her ? She has 
 waited — and for what ? " Another dramatic pause. 
 " You are waiting for Mrs. Topham to die. She is likely 
 to hold on another ten or twenty years. You say this 
 is a healthy place — and she may even see you out ; it's 
 a way old people have — they get the living habit, and 
 hold on in spite of no end of illnesses. And I tell you 
 plainly that if Dilly throws over Tom — as she threatens 
 — Tom will go to the bad ; and then perhaps you will be 
 sorry and blame yourself when it's too late." 
 
 By this time Mrs. Hogben was in tears. 
 
 "And so I'm to turn out, am I ? — out of the house 
 I was in ever since I married and the house where my 
 poor husband died of ' roses on the liver ' {cirrhosis) 
 " and let that giddy girl in on all my good china and 
 linen," she sobbed stertorously. 
 
 " No, not by any means — there's room for all ! I 
 shall not always be here, you know. Well, Mrs. Hogben," 
 rising, " I hope you will forgive me for intruding into 
 your family affairs, but just think over what I have said to 
 you ; you know I mean well, and I'm Tom's friend," and 
 with this declaration her lodger bade her good-night, and 
 climbed up the creaking stairs into his crooked chamber.
 
 OWEN THE MATCHMAKER 183 
 
 The immediate result of the chauffeur's interference 
 was the transformation of Tom into a smart, clean- 
 shaven young man — who openly neglected his lady-love, 
 actually escorted her hated rival from evening church, 
 and remained to share the family supper of pig's cheek 
 and pickles, Owen's prescription had a marvellous 
 effect ; for, three weeks after this too notorious enter- 
 tainment, it was olhcially given out at the Drum that 
 Tom and Dilly Topham were to be wed at Christmas — 
 and to make their home with Sally Hogben. On hearing 
 this, so to speak, postscript, various maids and matrons 
 were pleased to be sarcastic respecting the two Mrs. 
 Hogbens, and wished them both " joy."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 SUDDEN DEATH 
 
 There had been an outbreak of festivities in the neigh- 
 bourhood of lethargic Ottinge ; the cUmax of these was 
 a grand ball given by Mrs. Woolcock at Westmere, to 
 celebrate her youngest daughter's engagement to Lord 
 Lowestpff. Every one who was any one — and indeed 
 not a few nobodies — were bidden as guests ; Mrs. Wool- 
 cock liked to see her rooms crammed to suffocation. 
 No expense was spared — the arrangements were made 
 on a lavish scale. On this occasion the extra waiters 
 and other luxuries were imported from London by 
 special train, and a carefully selected house -party 
 provided the bride-elect with a ready-made court that 
 intervened between the future peeress and the vulgar 
 herd. Dancing took place in the great drawing-room 
 (in old days it was called the White Saloon), and through 
 its wide, open windows humble spectators — such as 
 coachmen and chauffeurs — were at liberty to look on, 
 to wonder, and to criticise. 
 
 The Misses Parrett and their niece were present. 
 Miss Parrett — who had nerved herself for the ordeal 
 with a glass and a half of port — had motored to Westmere 
 through the darkness, with great, flaring lamps — a 
 truly heart-shaking experience ! but she was determined 
 to exhibit her new velvet gown and her new diamonds. 
 Her satisfaction with her own appearance was such
 
 SUDDEN DEATH 185 
 
 that, before she embarked on her venture into the night 
 and the motor, her household were summoned to a 
 private view — precisely as if she were a young beauty 
 or a bride ! 
 
 The old lady, who bore an absurd resemblance to a 
 black velvet penwiper, enjoyed the ball immensely, and 
 took a number of mental photographs ; she also " took 
 the wall " of various obnoxious people who had dared 
 to patronise her in her days of poverty. Her particular 
 satellites, stout widows and anxious-looking spinsters, 
 rallied around her, ardently admiring her toilette, and 
 listened patiently to her boring recollections of the balls 
 she had attended years ago ; but, in point of fact, they 
 were more keenly interested in the ball of to-night and 
 their prospects respecting escorts to the supper-table. 
 
 Much as she was engrossed in herself and her own 
 importance, Miss Parrett could not help noticing that 
 her niece was singled out for special attention by Bertie 
 Woolcock. This, though a genuine satisfaction to her, 
 was no pleasure to her chauffeur, who, from a coign 
 of vantage on the lawn, commanded a capital view 
 of the gay scene — the illuminated room, the constant 
 circulation of black and white, and sometimes coloured, 
 figures. Among these Miss Morven was pre-eminent — 
 the undisputed beauty of the evening — wearing a filmy 
 white gown, with a sparkling ornament glittering in her 
 dark hair ; she looked radiantly lovely and radiantly 
 happy, as she floated lightly by. 
 
 The chauffeur's watchful eyes noted that she had 
 (quite unnecessarily) bestowed three waltzes on that 
 blundering elephant, Bertie Woolcock ; how red and hot 
 he looked — more as if he were threshing than dancing ! 
 What would he not give for just a couple of turns with 
 the belle of the ball ! The band was " Iffs" and the
 
 i86 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 floor seemed to be ripping ! Well, there was nothing 
 for it but to wait as an outsider, and to hold on to his 
 patience with both hands. 
 
 After the great ball — its glories, shortcomings, sur- 
 prises, and failures — had died away into a nine days' 
 wonder, there were several cricket matches, and Ottinge 
 discovered, to its supreme elation, that they had a notable 
 man in Miss Parrett's chauffeur ! (This became evident 
 when the local eleven assembled for their evening practice 
 in the Manor fields.) The fame of Owen's batting actu- 
 ally brought old Thunder on the scene ; for he, too, had 
 been a fine cricketer, long before gout had seized upon 
 him and he had subsided into carpet slippers. 
 
 "Ottinge V. Westmere" was a two days' match, and the 
 last day at the park included a garden-party, arranged, 
 as Mrs. Woolcock murderously expressed it, "to kill off 
 all the neighbours ! " 
 
 " I say, Miss Morven," said Bertie Woolcock, greeting 
 her and her father on their very late arrival. " We are 
 catching it hot now, though Ottinge was nearly out at 
 three o'clock ; that chauffeur fellow of your aunts' has 
 made sixty runs for his side. I hope you sympathise 
 with us — we shall lose the match." 
 
 " No, no indeed, Ottinge for ever ! " she replied. 
 "Where is the chauffeur ? " glancing round. 
 
 " Out in the field now." 
 
 For some time she did not discover him, standing, a 
 good way off, bareheaded, and in well-fitting flannels. 
 He looked every inch a gentleman ! What a contrast to 
 poor Bertie, who seemed, in comparison, a great slouching 
 yokel. 
 
 " He's a good-looking chap, isn't he ? " said the Rector, 
 with the complacency of a man who is alluding to one of 
 his own parishioners.
 
 SUDDEN DEATH 187 
 
 " Yes," admitted young Woolcock in a grudging tone, 
 " I suppose he is — a ladies' beauty ! One hears such a 
 lot of sultry stories, in these days, about women being 
 mashed on their chaui^eurs, and runaway matches. 
 For my part, I call a chauffeur a rank idler — a chap who 
 sits all day, looks as solemn as an undertaker, and gets 
 spoiled by the ladies." Then to Aurea, "Now, come 
 over to the tent. Miss Morven, my mother has kept a 
 place for you." 
 
 The match proved close and exciting. Westmere 
 had a strong team, and Aurea looked on with intense 
 interest ; the Park was in, and out in the field were Dr. 
 Boas, Hogben, Jones, Owen, and others. Time went on, 
 the last man was in, and making runs — the fate of 
 the match hung in the balance, when it was brought 
 to an end by a capital catch ; Owen had not merely to 
 run at top speed, but to stoop suddenly to catch the 
 ball — a fine effort — which was loudly and deservedly 
 applauded. 
 
 " He knows all about it," remarked a man who was 
 standing beside Aurea. "He is a public school boy, Til 
 bet my hat. What is he doing in Ottinge ? A chauffeur ! 
 Good Lord ! Some young swell in disgrace with his 
 family." 
 
 Miss Morven mentally endorsed this speech ; but 
 actually she shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 Miss Susan beamed at the victory — Owen's triumphs 
 were hers. She felt as proud of his cricket and his songs 
 at the Parish Hall Concerts as if he had been her 
 own flesh and blood — other elderly spinsters have been 
 known to take young men into the recesses of their empty 
 and innocent hearts. 
 
 When the match was over, she kept her eye on the hero 
 of the occasion, and, seeing him getting into his coat and
 
 i88 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 preparing to depart, she beckoned eagerly, and then 
 hurried towards him with outstretched hands. 
 
 " Congratulate you, Owen ! I do feel so proud of 
 you ! " 
 
 " Thank you, miss. I'm going to fetch the car — it's 
 getting late." 
 
 " Can you tell me the time ? " 
 
 He pulled out his watch from his breast-pocket, and 
 hastily touched — as luck would have it — the wrong 
 spring ; the back flew open, and a small photograph, no 
 bigger than a finger-nail, fell upon the grass. In a second 
 Owen had put his foot upon it, swooped, and snatched it 
 up. Whether from stooping or otherwise, his colour was 
 higher than usual, as he boldly confronted Miss Susan, 
 whose face had become unusually grave — for, unless her 
 eyes deceived her (and she had capital sight) the treasure 
 was a photograph of her niece Aurea, cut out of a group 
 of " First Aid " recently taken at the Rectory ! She had 
 recognised it in one lightning glance ! 
 
 However, the chauffeur met her eyes imperturbably, 
 as he replaced the little scrap, opened the face of his 
 watch, and announced, with staggering self-possession — 
 
 " Half-past six, Miss Susan." 
 
 Miss Susan turned hastily away, her maiden mind in 
 a violent commotion. So Owen, the chauffeur, carried 
 Aurea 's photograph about with him in his watch ! What 
 did it mean ? Well, of course, it could only mean one 
 thing, he was — and who could wonder — in love with 
 the girl ! Yes, and the conviction gave Miss Susan a 
 violent shock ; she was scandalised, she was pleased, and 
 she was not pleased — a peculiar and contrary state of 
 mind. She determined to keep the amazing revelation 
 to herself. Aurea must not be told on any account — it 
 might put disturbing ideas into her head — it would not be
 
 SUDDEN DEATH 189 
 
 proper ; and for one whole week Miss Susan contained 
 her mighty secret, which secret disagreed with her both 
 mentally and physically. She was short and snappy — 
 a new phase of her character — ate little, avoided the 
 garden, and mainly subsisted on tea. At the end of 
 seven long days she found her endurance had reached 
 its limits, and, sitting with her back to the dim light 
 of the Rectory drawing-room, Susan Parrett solemnly 
 divulged to her niece the tale of her significant 
 discovery. 
 
 Was she shocked ? Did she turn red and white ? 
 No, indeed ; Aurea received the astonishing information 
 with a peal of laughter. 
 
 " Oh, my dearest Susie, what a tale ! Why, it 
 was no more my photograph than yours ! Am I 
 the only young woman that is known to Owen, the 
 chauffeur ? " 
 
 This clever girl was so insistent and so amused that 
 she actually persuaded her deluded aunt that her eyes 
 had deceived her, and she had made a ridiculous and 
 silly mistake — yet all the time the girl's own heart sang 
 to the tune that the story was true. 
 
 This silent chauffeur was a gentleman who had been 
 in the Service, and he carried her picture inside his watch. 
 These two facts were of profound interest to Aurea 
 Morven, and she turned them over in her mind many, 
 many times a day ; the result being, that she held herself 
 as much as possible aloof from her aunts' employe. When 
 she did avail herself of the car, it was never to sit, as 
 heretofore, outside by the driver, but within the stuffy 
 interior. She shrank from coming into contact with a 
 man who was seldom, to tell the honest truth, out of 
 her thoughts. To garden-parties and tennis tournaments 
 she now hailed her father, instead of accompanying Susan ;
 
 igo A ROLLING STONE 
 
 and together they drove in the Rectory dog-cart — this 
 arrangement entaihng not a few excuses and pleadings, 
 that were not too firmly based on the truth — and tlie poor 
 forsaken car remained in the coach-house, or took Miss 
 Parrett out for a brief and agonising airing. 
 
 In consequence of all this, the car's driver had more 
 time than ever on his hands ! The summer days are long, 
 and, when off duty, he saw a good deal of the Ramsays. 
 The captain seemed of late to have sunk into a further 
 depth of mental lethargy, and to have lost much of 
 his affectionate interest in his old schoolfellow, Owen 
 Wynyard. 
 
 " I am giving up the dogs for the present," announced 
 Mrs. Ramsay one morning at the kennels, as he brought 
 back three leg-weary companions. " I find I must not 
 continue what absorbs so much of my time and carries 
 me from home — though you are so good, and have 
 undertaken the three worst characters — they're just as 
 wild as goats." 
 
 " But I like them," he declared ; "they are capital 
 company, and give me an object for my tramps — these 
 two fox-terriers and the little beagle and I are great 
 chums. We have done a fine round this morning — 
 they have had the time of their lives ! Just look at 
 them ! " and she looked and smiled at their bespattered 
 legs, lolling tongues, and happy eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure of that," she replied ; "for they are 
 three town dogs ! However, I must send the poor 
 fellows away, all the same. I want to be with Jim 
 altogether, and without his knowing it. You see, 
 he will never allow me to walk with him ; and he always 
 fancies he is being watched, and looks behind him 
 every now and then. All the same, I mean to follow 
 him."
 
 SUDDEN DEATH 191 
 
 Wynyard listened in silence. Mrs. Ramsay was, 
 in his opinion, little short of a saint ; for years and years 
 she had devoted her own individual life to this unhappy 
 madman. It was for him she slaved to increase their 
 small income, trading in plants and cuttings, and keeping 
 other people's dogs. With the money she earned she 
 made Ivy House homelike and comfortable. The 
 captain's food, drink, tobacco, and surroundings were 
 of a class that the exterior of the place did not seem to 
 warrant, and were accepted by him as a matter of course. 
 Nothing could induce him to believe that their income 
 was less than a thousand a year ; he had no recollection 
 of his money losses. But this long-drawn-out effort and 
 strain was beginning to tell on his wife. There were 
 many white strands in her thick black hair, many lines 
 in her face ; she had grown thin and haggard, her beauti- 
 ful Irish eyes were sunken, and wore an expression of 
 tragic anxiety. She alone knew what she dreaded, 
 and at last she put her fears into words — not to old 
 friends like the Parson, or Susan Parrett, but to this 
 recent acquaintance, this young Wynyard, who knew 
 so much already. 
 
 " Tell me, Owen, don't you think that Jim looks rather 
 strange of late ? " she asked him, in a low voice. 
 
 " No — much as usual." 
 
 " He sleeps so badly, and has no appetite, and seems 
 horribly depressed. Oh, I feel miserable about him ! " 
 and she buried her face in her thin hands. 
 
 " I wish I could do something, Mrs. Ramsay. Would 
 you like me to stop here at night — you know you've 
 only to say the word," he urged, in a boyish tone that 
 was irresistible. 
 
 " Oh no, no, no ; but it's awfully good of you to 
 offer. It's not at night, but when he is out by himself
 
 192 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 that is so trying. I do follow as much as I dare. You 
 see," now lowering her voice, " once this mental break- 
 down of his took the form of suicide" — and here her 
 voice sank to a whisper — "he tried to hang himself in 
 Claringbold's barn ; but I caught him just in time, and 
 it never got out. That was years ago ; and after- 
 wards he made a wonderful recovery. Now, it seems to 
 me more like a decay of will-power and memory, with 
 occasional outbreaks of violence — I can manage him then 
 — but it's the dying of the mind ! " and she gave a little 
 sob. 
 
 "If I may speak plainly, Mrs. Ramsay, I really 
 think you should get an experienced man to look after 
 him at once. I know nothing of mental disease, but I'm 
 sure it's not right for you to be alone here with him, and 
 just two maids and old Mary." 
 
 " You mean for me to get a keeper ? No ; I couldn't 
 do it ; and think of what people would suppose." 
 
 Poor innocent lady ! Did she imagine for a moment 
 that all Ottinge did not know for a fact that her husband 
 was insane ? 
 
 " You might let them suppose he had come to help with 
 the dogs," he suggested, after a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " Of course — of course — what a splendid idea ! " 
 
 " And you will send for him to-morrow, won't you ? 
 Or would you like me to wire or write to-night ? I know 
 some one in London who would see about this." 
 
 (Leila would have been considerably astonished if her 
 brother's first commission from Ottinge was to dispatch 
 a keeper for a male lunatic !) 
 
 " I must consult Dr. Boas. Thank you very much. 
 I won't do anything in a hurry." 
 
 " Won't you ? Why not ? I think you should see 
 Dr. Boas at once."
 
 SUDDEN DEATH 193 
 
 " Well, then, I will to-morrow. Jim complains of 
 his head — he often does, but now he says the pain is Uke 
 a saw, and he can't stand it. Then he imagines he is 
 back in the Service, and expecting to be warned for 
 parade or a court martial, and talks very strangely. Dr. 
 Boas has gone away to a funeral, and won't be back till 
 to-night, and then I must confess Jim doesn't like him ; 
 he likes no one but you, and some of the dogs — and me, 
 of course," she added, with a sickly smile. 
 
 " Shall I come in this evening ? " 
 
 " Oh, do ; you are a kind fellow ! Even if he never 
 speaks now, sure I know he loves to see you sitting there. 
 Ah, here he is, and I must go and coax him to eat some 
 dinner ! " 
 
 To his visitor's surprise. Captain Ramsay was unusually 
 animated and talkative that night, and mentioned many 
 little details about his father, and recalled certain dare- 
 devil deeds, acts of generosity, and even nascent love- 
 affairs. 
 
 " I say, Owen, you remember the pretty girl up at 
 Simla — the dark-eyed one you were so mad about — 
 and how you swore you'd run away with her, and marry 
 her in spite of her father, the General, and the whole 
 family ? Oh, of course I know — what a duffer I am 1 
 You eloped, tore down the hill by special dak, and were 
 married at Saharanpore. Where is she now ? " 
 
 Wynyard made no reply. Captain Ramsay's wander- 
 ing memory had evidently evoked a vision of his dark- 
 eyed and remarkably pretty mother. She had run 
 away with the handsome Hussar officer, and had, in 
 consequence, been cast off by her relations. 
 
 " Dead ? " inquired the other after a pause. 
 
 Wynyard nodded. 
 
 "Ah, well, we shall all be dead one day — some sooner 
 13
 
 194 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 — and some later," and he fell into one of his sudden 
 silences. 
 
 " I think he is better ! " whispered his wife to W^yTi- 
 yard, as they parted at the hall door. " Didn't he seem 
 almost himself this evening ? And he took great notice 
 of Topsy and Darkie, and made their dinner himself." 
 
 Two days later, as the chauffeur was leaving Mrs. 
 Hogben's cottage after his midday meal, preparatory to 
 getting ready the car, Mrs. Ramsay suddenly appeared 
 at her gate and beckoned to him frantically. She 
 looked white and frightened. 
 
 "Jim went off this morning," she began, " and 
 hasn't been home since. He never did this before. Oh, 
 I ought to have taken your advice," and she wrung 
 her hands. " I've been searching for him since eight 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Did he speak to any one before he left the house ? " 
 inquired Wynyard. 
 
 " No. Fanny saw him going out in a terrible hurry ; 
 he had on a pair of white gloves, and said he would be late 
 for parade." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " 
 
 " And the stupid girl never said one word to me till 
 she brought me my hot water at eight o'clock." 
 
 " I'm just off with the car, taking Miss Susan to a 
 croquet tournament, or I'd go and have a look round. 
 What about the policeman ? " 
 
 " The policeman ! Why, he cannot walk ! He weighs 
 sixteen stone." 
 
 " Well, anjrway, if you don't mind, I'll send Tom 
 Hogben and Jones ; they know the country, and will keep 
 a shut mouth. I'll just tell them now," and he hurried 
 away. 
 
 ;_^ Although Miss Susan had no money wherewith to buy
 
 SUDDEN DEATH 195 
 
 diamonds, sables, and motor cars, she contrived to extract 
 a great deal of pleasure out of her elderly spinster life. 
 She enjoyed mild little tea-parties, followed by bridge 
 at sixpence a hundred — and received her partner's scold- 
 ings with disarming humility. Her one passion was 
 croquet. " Miss S. Parrett " was a notable player — her 
 name appeared in print in connection with local tourna- 
 ments ; her arm was steady, her aim was deadly, and, not 
 only this, she played the game with her head as well as 
 with her hands. 
 
 On the present occasion Miss Susan had lured her 
 reluctant niece to a meeting at Upstreet — a village about 
 ten miles from Ottinge ; in fact, she made such a point 
 of Aurea's company, of Aurea's support — whether in 
 success or failure — that the girl felt compelled to go — 
 and, at any rate, she took a sincere pride in Susan's 
 modest triumphs. The tournament was prolonged till 
 seven o'clock; Miss Susan was detained, being in the 
 Finals. Dusk was closing on the world when the two 
 ladies, with two prizes (salad bowl and a silver cigarette 
 case), took their departure. The prize-winner, in exuber- 
 ant spirits, uttering effusive expressions of enjoyment 
 and thanks, had talked herself into the car, and there were 
 so many after-thoughts and messages that even the 
 chauffeur became impatient with his dear Miss Susan ; 
 he was desperately anxious to get home and hear the 
 result of the search for Captain Ramsay. 
 
 It was an unusually close evening — there was thunder 
 in the air — and the interior of the motor was stuffy even 
 with the windows down on both sides — and how they 
 rattled ! The old machine trundled along at its best 
 speed, as if inspired by the fear of Miss Parrett awaiting 
 its arrival, watch in hand. Its driver had another and 
 more weU-grounded dread in his mind.
 
 196 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 The ladies within discussed the recent party, the 
 play, the prizes, and the guests. 
 
 " The Wendovers were there ; did you see them ? " 
 said Miss Susan — " Mrs. Wendover and Gertrude. I 
 thought they both looked very ill." 
 
 " Yes, and I beheve it was from hunger, Susan," was 
 her niece's surprising reply. " I never saw such a tea as 
 they had — surreptitiously. It's shameful to watch, I 
 know, but I was not playing, and happened to be sitting 
 near, and could not help myself. I felt so frightfully 
 sorry for them — I was inclined to cry ! " 
 
 " My dear girl, surely you are not in earnest ? " 
 
 " I only wish I wasn't. Gertrude had a whole plate 
 of sandwiches, besides cakes ; she took them quietly, 
 when no one was looking, and devoured them ravenously, 
 and her mother pocketed several buns and lumps of 
 sugar." 
 
 " But why ? I don't understand." 
 
 " Because probably they have nothing to eat at 
 home ! Mrs. Lucas, the parson's wife, told me in con- 
 fidence that they are almost penniless ; the little money 
 they had has been lost in some bank that tempted people 
 with high interest and then went smash. The Wen- 
 dovers cling to the old cottage — it's their own — but they 
 have no servant ; they do their own washing and, 
 very early in the morning, their own doorstep ! Every- 
 thing is spick and span still. After dark they steal out 
 and collect firewood and apples, and even field turnips, 
 and yet they hold up their heads and ' pretend.' I heard 
 Mrs. Wade pressing them to have cake and tea — and they 
 declined." 
 
 " Have they no friends or relations ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Mrs. Lucas said she did not like to 
 ask for their confidence. She always has them to supper
 
 SUDDEN DEATH i^ 
 
 on Sundays, and sends them eggs ; but she is poor 
 enough herself with eight children. She thinks the 
 Wendovers will break down now that the winter is 
 coming, and yet they won't allow any one to guess 
 that they are destitute." 
 
 " Dear, dear, dear, how shocking ! What is to be 
 done, Aurea ? " 
 
 " I've just had my allowance, and I'll post them 
 a five -pound note to-morrow anonymously, and I'll 
 get something later on from dad." 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes, and I must see what I can do too. 
 Poverty is cruel — a terrible thing — what a trial of one's 
 character ! " 
 
 " It is indeed, and so are riches sometimes. They 
 seem to change people's dispositions — if they come in 
 for a fortune." 
 
 " That's true ; but I do hope, dear child, you are not 
 thinking of your poor Aunt Bella ? " 
 
 " Aunt BeUa was much nicer when she lived in the 
 Red Cottage, dined at one o'clock, and put a penny in 
 the plate." 
 
 " Oh, now, Aurea, I can't let you say that ; she is very 
 proud of you, and a dear, kind sister to me. Why, only 
 last week she gave me a lovely lace parasol, and when 
 she writes to me it is always ' My own darling Susan.' " 
 
 Aurea was silent . She was thinking of darling Susan's 
 many deprivations, humiliations, and hardships. 
 
 " We all have our foibles, have we not, Aurea, my 
 child? " 
 
 " Oh, 1 know that, Susan, and I " 
 
 Whatever Aurea was going to add was cut short by 
 her aunt's piercing scream. From some thick bushes on 
 the left bank, a tall figure had shot out ; there was a 
 lightning rush, a shout from the chauffeur, who jammed
 
 igS A ROLLING STONE 
 
 on the brake, then a violent swerve, an upheaval, and a 
 sickening, crunching sensation. 
 
 A man had deliberately flung himself in front of the 
 car, which had gone over him, then stopped abruptly, 
 shuddering throughout its rickety frame. 
 
 The driver sprang off and dragged from beneath the 
 wheels a limp and motionless body. Yes, his vague fears 
 had been justified. 
 
 " It's Captain Ramsay ! " he called to Aurea, who 
 had already hurled herself into the road. " I'm afraid he 
 is done for. Stay where you are." 
 
 As he spoke, he raised a limp and bleeding figure in 
 his arms, which he carried to the hedgerow ; next, he took 
 off his coat and laid him upon it, and ran and lit a motor 
 lamp. All his actions were surprisingly prompt and 
 vigorous. 
 
 " Now, will you come over here, miss ? " he called to 
 Susan authoritatively, but she was almost beside him. 
 In a crisis, simple, talkative Susan was another person, and 
 could rise to the occasion. " And you, Miss Morven, try 
 and find some water — we passed a stream just now; 
 bring it in an3rthing — your hat or — yes, the salad bowl ! 
 I'm afraid it's a bad business," he continued, " and his 
 head is all cut — and his wrist — it's an artery. Miss 
 Susan, fetch a stick quickly, quickly, and I'll make a 
 tourniquet." 
 
 The chauffeur seemed to have taken complete com- 
 mand of the situation ; he ordered the ladies hither and 
 thither, he bandaged up Captain Ramsay's head with 
 Aurea's white scarf — which he tore into strips — whilst 
 Aurea stood by, eager to help, but trembling like an 
 aspen. She had never heard a man moan, or witnessed 
 such a scene. 
 
 " I think I've fixed him up just for the moment," said
 
 SUDDEN DEATH 199 
 
 Owen, rising, " and now I'll fetch the doctor. You two 
 ladies won't mind stopping, will you ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ! What do you think we are made 
 of ? " rejoined Miss Susan. " Here," — now sinking down 
 — " place his head in my lap, and just go as hard as ever 
 you can ! " 
 
 " He is in a very bad way, I'm afraid, and I really 
 don't like leaving you, but there's no help for it." Then, 
 after sticking a flaring lamp on the ground beside them, 
 he climbed into his place and sped away. 
 
 In less than half an hour he had returned, accompanied 
 by Dr. Boas ; they found the poor sufferer still alive and 
 moaning, his head supported by Miss Susan, and his lips 
 bathed by her niece. 
 
 " I half expected this," said the doctor, as he 
 knelt beside Captain Ramsay. " Internal injuries," he 
 announced, after a rapid examination, " and fatal." 
 
 " The stretcher and the parish nurse will be here 
 presently," said Owen; and, hearing a familiar voice, 
 Captain Ramsay slowly opened his eyes and asked — 
 
 " Oh, it's cold. Where am I ? Where's Katie ? " 
 
 As he recognised Owen bending over him, he 
 murmured — 
 
 " Wynyard, Wynyard — hold on — I'm coming ! " 
 
 " You see he is off his head," said Miss Susan, " poor 
 fellow ; he did not know what he was doing." 
 
 Then, as the chauffeur relieved her of the dying man's 
 weight, he regained consciousness, and, again opening his 
 eyes, he whispered " Wynyard/ " and passed away in 
 the arms of Wynyard's son.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 BY THE SUNDIAL 
 
 A LONG time had elapsed since a tragedy or an inquest 
 had taken place in Ottinge ; the last had occurred 
 twenty years previously, when Joe Watkins (a village 
 name), being jealous, had thrown his wife down a well, 
 and, despite her prayers, entreaties, and screams, had left 
 her to drown, for which crime he had paid the extreme 
 penalty of the law in Brodfield Gaol. 
 
 A suicide was something entirely foreign to the 
 character of the community, and the topic was exhaust- 
 ively debated in the Drum. Joe Thunder gave it as his 
 opinion that the remains of Captain Ramsay — speaking 
 from recollection — would be buried with a stake at a 
 cross-roads — probably at Crampton, being nearest. The 
 village was stirred out of its normal lethargy and, secretly, 
 rather proud of being the scene of a sensation, and news- 
 paper paragraphs. 
 
 The Parson and Miss Morven spent the night succeed- 
 ing Captain Ramsay's death at Ivy House, and were 
 anxious to carry his widow off to the Rectory ; but she 
 preferred to remain in her own home until after the 
 funeral, and then leave Ottinge. All Mrs. Ramsay's 
 little world, gentle and simple, had shown her their kind- 
 ness and sympathy : the Rector looked after business 
 matters. Miss Susan had undertaken correspondence 
 (she enjoyed letter-writing), Wynyard took charge of
 
 I 
 
 BY THE SUNDIAL 201 
 
 the dogs, whilst Aurea gave personal attendance and 
 warm affection. 
 
 The inquest was conducted as quietly and as speedily 
 as possible, thanks to the good offices of Dr. Boas ; the 
 verdict returned was "suicide whilst of unsound mind," and 
 the jury offered their sincere condolences with the widow. 
 At the funeral Ottinge was proud to note a lord and t^vD 
 honourables appearing as mourners, and the remains of 
 Captain Ramsay receivedChristian interment inthe church- 
 yard ; there was no word of cross-roads — much less a stake ! 
 
 Aften\'ards, Mrs. Ramsay's brothers, who were guests 
 at the Rectory, took their departure, and it was generally 
 known that their sister would follow them to Ireland 
 within a week. Her obstinate persistence in for years 
 clinging to a man who by rights should be in an asylum 
 had alienated her friends ; but now that he was no more, 
 there reigned a great peace. The boarder dogs had been 
 abruptly dispersed, and Wynyard, who obtained special 
 leave, personally conducted several parties over the 
 fields to Catsfield station, and wound up matters out of 
 doors. Aurea did the same within — but they rarely 
 met. She was surprised to discover the footing on which 
 her aunts' chauffeur stood at Ivy House. Till now she 
 knew little of their acquaintance; it was a before- 
 breakfast and after-dark affair. 
 
 It was also Wynyard's task to collect and sort and pack 
 the Captain's belongings, by his widow's particular desire. 
 
 " I like to have you about," she said. "Is it not 
 wonderful how well we have got to know one another, 
 and how much we have in common, since I opened the 
 hall door to you, a stranger, that wet morning last April ? 
 Jim was devoted to you, and you were so good to him — 
 sitting here, evening after evening, talking and listening 
 and playing picquet with that poor fellow. Oh, Owen,
 
 202 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 if you had known him as your father and I knew him, 
 you would understand why I, forsaking all my own 
 people, clung to him till the end ! " 
 
 " Yes, you did that ! " he answered, with emphasis, 
 
 " Only think of the tragedy of his life," she resumed, 
 in a broken voice, " the last fifteen years, all through 
 a branch knocking off his sun topee and his determina- 
 tion to get first spear. Oh, what a little thing to mean 
 so much ! The way of hfe." 
 
 W3niyard, the handy man, packed up cases con- 
 taining old Indian relics, such as faded photographs, 
 horns, bear skins, khaki uniforms, Sam Brown belts, 
 packets of tiger claws, and all sorts of rubbish dear to 
 Mrs. Ramsay. Among the collection was a photograph 
 album, aged at least thirty years, and considerably the 
 worse for Indian rains and Ottinge damp. 
 
 " I think this must be your father," said Mrs. Ramsay, 
 pointing to the old-fashioned carte-de-visite of a hand- 
 some man in Hussar uniform, " and this is your mother 
 opposite," indicating a pretty, dark-eyed girl holding 
 up a puppy. " You see, she was fond of dogs, like you 
 and me ! Do you care to have them ? " drawing them 
 out as she spoke. 
 
 " Yes, thank you most awfully, I should. It's 
 funny that I should come upon my people and hear 
 so much of them in Ottinge of all the world ! I don't 
 remember either of them, for my mother died when I 
 was two years old, and my father was killed at polo — it 
 killed her too — and then my sister and I were sent home." 
 
 " So you have a sister ? " 
 
 " I have very much a sister," and he laughed ; " she 
 has aU the family brains — and her own as well." 
 
 " I will not allow that, Mr. Wynyard ; it was 
 marvellous how, with a few hints from me, you threw
 
 BY THE SUNDIAL 203 
 
 yourself into a life before you were born. Isn't it 
 strange that I am the only one in Ottinge who knows your 
 real name ? ' ' 
 
 " Except Miss Morven," he corrected. " You know 
 he recognised me, and said ' Wynyard.' " 
 
 " Yes, but no doubt she believes he was wandering. 
 You don't wish your surname to be known here, do 
 you ? " 
 
 " No, my christian name does as well." 
 
 " I must confess I wonder you remain ! You are 
 so young, and life here is deadly dull for such as you, 
 with all the years and energies before you," and she 
 looked at him interrogatively. It was dusk ; she was 
 sitting in the deep drawing-room window, her slim 
 figure silhouetted against the fading light. Wynyard 
 had been nailing down some cases, and came and stood, 
 hammer in hand, in the middle of the room. She knew 
 perfectly well why he remained in the sleepy village ; 
 it was because Aurea Morven had glorified Ottinge. 
 
 " I believe I know your secret," she remarked sud- 
 denly. He made no reply. Mrs. Ramsay was no doubt 
 thinking of Aurea, whilst he was dwelling on the bargain 
 with his uncle. Should he tell her ? They had of late 
 been drawn so much to one another — she already knew 
 half his story, and had just given him the photographs 
 of his father and mother — her husband and his father 
 had been like brothers — yes — he would ! 
 
 And there in the semi-dusk, leaning his hands on 
 the back of a chair, in as few words as possible, he 
 related his tale, and how he had made a solemn compact 
 for two years, which compact he was bound to keep 
 to the letter and the bitter end. 
 
 " And it's a good deal more bitter than I expected," 
 he concluded.
 
 204 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Listening with tightly folded hands, the slim figure 
 in black accorded him her entire sympathy. Now she 
 was in possession of all his confidence, and such was 
 his unhappy phght, he was desperately in love with a 
 girl, and could neither speak nor show a sign — nor make 
 his real position known. What an amazing state of 
 affairs ! Did Aurea recognise in Wynyard a silent 
 worshipper ? And was it not true that love and smoke 
 cannot be concealed ? 
 
 " You will keep this to yourself, I know," he said. 
 " I'm not sure that I'm within my right in telling you, 
 but somehow I had to." 
 
 " You may be certain I shall never breathe it till 
 you give me permission," she answered, drawing a long 
 breath ; " but what an extraordinary man your uncle 
 must be ! " 
 
 " Yes, he is eccentric ; but I believe he is right — this 
 sort of apprenticeship will do me a jolly lot of good. I 
 know more of the people now I'm one of them. Many 
 a thing I've learnt here, that I'd never have had a glimpse 
 of, and I must tell you fair and square that I gave 
 Uncle Dick a lot of bother in the way of my debts." 
 
 " Hereditary extravagance — your father — a younger 
 son — drove a four-in-hand, you know. Ah, here comes 
 Aurea," as the little gate swung. " I half promised 
 to go over there this evening," 
 
 " Then good-bye, I'm off ; I'll finish the packing 
 to-morrow," and he escaped through the back garden. 
 
 It was abundantly evident that of late Miss Morven 
 avoided him, and he had not spoken to her since the 
 tragic occasion when they both hung over a dying man 
 on the high road to Upstreet. 
 
 More than six months had gone by since he had 
 come to Ottinge ; sometimes it seemed an endless time,
 
 BY THE SUNDIAL 205 
 
 at others as but yesterday. One thing was clear and 
 stationary in his mind — his hving among working people 
 had opened the eyes of a future landowner, given him 
 a better estimate of his responsibilities, and a S3nnpathy 
 and undertsanding that nothing could obliterate. 
 
 At last Ivy House was closed ; the bUnds were drawn 
 down, the key hung in Mrs. Hogben's bedroom, and 
 the memory of the recent catastrophe had become a 
 little dim. It was three weeks since the Captain had 
 killed himself, and other events had begun to press 
 upon public attention. Since the tragedy Aurea had 
 absolutely refused to drive in the motor, to her Aunt 
 Bella's great annoyance ; she was painfully anxious to 
 have it in daily use, for she feared that being the cause of 
 a man's death might depreciate the car's value ! And 
 when the girl announced she would never get into it 
 again, she was furious, and her face assumed a dull red 
 shade as she asked — 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that, if there's an accident 
 to a carriage, or if a cart runs over somebody, that cart 
 is never to be used ? How could people" get on ? " 
 she demanded. " I never heard of such affected non- 
 sense. And now I suppose you will go and give my 
 nice car a bad name ? As if it could help the madman 
 throwing himself under it ! " 
 
 " I'll say nothing about it, Aunt Bella, you know 
 that perfectly well ; but if you had been in the motor 
 yourself and felt the crunch, I don't think you would 
 have cared ever to drive in it again." 
 
 " Rubbish — you are hysterical ! You should get 
 Dr. Boas to give you a tonic and go away somewhere 
 for a change ; only you are too much away from your 
 father as it is — every one says so. It was remarked to 
 me only the other day."
 
 2o6 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 "It is funny, Aunt BeUa, how many people make 
 nasty remarks about me to you. Do you suppose that 
 they think you hke hearing them ? " and she laughed, 
 and before Miss Parrett could find her breath or an 
 answer had left her. 
 
 It was a fact that Miss Parrett cultivated a cordon 
 of idle, elderly women, who came to tea or lunch or 
 to spend the day, who were aware that Miss Parrett 
 had " a good deal in her power to bestow " (not only 
 in the form of fruit and vegetables), and who knew 
 that, even more than talking of herself and her wonder- 
 ful successes in her youth, her many broken-hearted 
 lovers, she liked to discuss her pretty, popular niece 
 and to listen to their hostile criticisms. Miss Parrett 
 was openly jealous of this girl's ascendancy in Ottinge, 
 where she was the great lady. After all, Aurea was only 
 a sort of half-niece, and she could leave her money where 
 she liked. This notification was promptly repeated, and 
 received with unqualified and respectful approval, 
 by the two Miss Dabbs and Mrs. Forbes Cattermole 
 and her freckled daughters. On these occasions, when 
 Aurea was the topic, and her appearance, manners, 
 and customs were figuratively placed under the micro- 
 scope, and then exhaustively debated, the entrance of 
 Miss Susan was invariably followed by an abrupt and 
 awkward silence. 
 
 It was a lovely afternoon — Saturday — the third 
 day of September, and the chauffeur was working in 
 the Manor garden close by the sundial, repairing some 
 of the rose pergolas with nails and wire. Suddenly, to 
 his delight, he beheld Miss Morven coming through the 
 yew arch nearest to the house — a slim white figure in 
 a dark green frame — with her hat over her arm, and
 
 BY THE SUNDIAL 207 
 
 accompanied by Joss, who, in exuberant joy, was leaping 
 his own height from the ground. 
 
 As the young lady sauntered slowly up the broad 
 walk, she stopped every now and then to pick flowers 
 from the luxuriant borders on either hand. As these 
 were white, she was evidently gathering them for the 
 church. He watched, surreptitiously, her wonderfully 
 supple figure, her lithe grace, as she stooped and stretched 
 hither and thither. Aurea had grown thin, her lovely 
 colour had certainly faded, no doubt she had not yet 
 recovered from the shock of Captain Ramsay's horribly 
 sudden death. 
 
 By and by his vicinity was discovered to her by 
 Joss, who had been dashing about among the cabbages 
 in chase of an historic pheasant, and now accorded him 
 a rapturous acknowledgment. He had just finished 
 his task, and stepped out into the walk ; as the young 
 lady approached he touched his cap, and she halted 
 for a moment and said, with obvious hesitation — 
 
 " A lovely day, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, miss ;" and then he ventured to add, " You 
 never come out in the car now ? " 
 
 " No," she answered, "never again; it's a juggernaut ! " 
 
 " I would not say that ! " he protested. " What 
 happened could not have been helped ; of course, it's 
 an old machine and out of date" — (he was thinking 
 of the 60 h.p. Napier at Westmere) — " and requires a 
 lot of humouring to get her to run at all, and if put to 
 too high a pressure might go to pieces — still " 
 
 But here Miss Morven interrupted with a hasty 
 gesture, and, laying her flowers upon the sundial, turned 
 to face him fully, and said — 
 
 "I'm rather surprised " — she paused for a moment, 
 and then resumed — " that when you saw what a dull
 
 2o8 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 sort of place this was, and what a wretched old car you 
 had to drive, you stayed on. You really have no 
 proper job ; my aunt's motoring is absurd. I cannot 
 imagine why you remain here." 
 
 " Can you not, miss ? " he answered, in a low voice, 
 his gaze fixed on the sundial and its motto, " Time 
 Trieth All." Suddenly raising his eyes, he met hers 
 steadily — for one unguarded moment the truth was in 
 his face ! — and there was a thrill of passion in his voice 
 as he added, " Then, in that case, I am afraid it would 
 be impossible for me to tell you." 
 
 For as long as one could count ten, there was an 
 expressive silence, only broken by the crashing of cabbage 
 leaves, the notes of wood pigeons, the boom of a passing bee. 
 
 Miss Morven remained motionless, but the trembling 
 of her lip indicated the tension of her self-control, and a 
 wave of sudden colour invaded her cheeks, and raced 
 up into her wavy dark hair. This tell-tale blush be- 
 trayed that she knew as well as the chauffeur, his sole 
 reason for remaining in Ottinge. 
 
 Then without a word she lifted the flowers, and, holding 
 herself unusually erect, the slim white figure proceeded 
 down the walk that led towards the old bowling-green. 
 
 Wynj^ard, as he stood watching her, asked himself. 
 Was she also passing out of his life ? In another moment 
 a yew hedge had hid her from his eyes. 
 
 "I believe I've done it now!" he muttered. "I 
 could not help it ; she knows, and is ready to kill me 
 for my presumption ! She will tell her aunts, and I 
 shall get the sack." 
 
 He picked up a small blossom that Aurea had dropped 
 on the sundial, opened his watch, and carefully placed 
 the little flower along with the little photograph. When 
 people are in love, what irrational foUies tempt them !
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 aurea's reflections 
 
 But Aurea had no intention of " telling her aunts " ; on 
 the contrary, she crossed the old bowling-green in order 
 to avoid the Manor, and returned home across the 
 meadows that led by Claringbold's Farm. In the dim 
 hall of the Rectory she encountered Norris — who, of an 
 afternoon, often haunted that vicinity — and said, as she 
 handed her the flowers — 
 
 " Will you please fill the church vases ? I've rather a 
 headache from the sun." 
 
 The girl really did feel considerably dazed and be- 
 wildered, and passed into the drawing-room, where she 
 ruthlessly dislodged Mac from her own particular pet 
 chair. Mac vacated the seat with an air of injured 
 deliberation, found another, and sighed as heavily as if 
 he were a human being. 
 
 The time had come for thinking things out, and his 
 mistress, having seated herself, prepared to hold a court 
 of inquiry on Aurea Morven, One would suppose that 
 she really had had a sunstroke like poor Captain Ramsay ! 
 What mad impulse had urgedhertoquestionthe chauffeur? 
 At the moment, she seemed to be listening to another 
 personality speaking by her lips. She felt a fluttering 
 in her throat as she told herself that this inscrutable 
 young man was certainly in love with her. Behold, she 
 summoned her evidence ! The photograph in the watch, 
 14
 
 210 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 the village concert, when, after a rousing camp song, he 
 had given, as an encore, "I'll sing thee songs of Araby " ; 
 she believed that the words were addressed to herself, 
 that the singer was pouring out his soul to her. Possibly 
 other girls shared her conviction, and had taken it to 
 their tender and palpitating hearts. When the last note 
 had died away in a ringing silence, Ottinge recognised a 
 gentleman's song and a gentleman's voice ; after a pause 
 of astonishment, there came a storm of belated clap- 
 ping and applause, and one or two timid female voices 
 were heard to cry out " Encore ! " Some of the rustic 
 audience grinned, and declared that the words were no 
 good, and damned nonsense, but the tune was pretty 
 enough ; it was whistled in the street within the week. 
 
 Aurea summed up the photograph, the song, and the 
 recent interview by the sundial ; the recollection of 
 Owen's voice, the look in his extremely expressive grey 
 eyes, set her heart beating. At the same time she 
 blamed herself for her amazing indiscretion. She, who 
 had lately avoided this gentleman chauffeur at choir- 
 practice, at the Manor, and in the village — she, who 
 knew that he treasured her photo, to actually accost 
 him in the garden, and demand what he meant by re- 
 maining in Ottinge ! 
 
 She felt her face burning, and no wonder ! Well, at 
 any rate the scene had given her a shock — it had roused 
 her to the knowledge of her own feelings. It was with 
 difficulty her maidenly reticence could put the thing into 
 thought, but it simply came to this — she had arrived, at 
 last, at the clear realisation that the daughter of the 
 Rector of Ottinge was in love with her aunts' chauffeur ! 
 She whispered it to herself and Mackenzie ! How did 
 it sound ? How would it sound when talked abroad, 
 cill over the parish and the county ? What would people
 
 AUREA'S REFLECTIONS 211 
 
 say ? When she thought of her Aunt Bella, she actually 
 laughed aloud, and Mackenzie, whom she had disturbed, 
 raised his head and gave a low growl. 
 
 The chauffeur disturbed her — even now her pulses 
 were racing ; she had never felt like this when in the 
 company of Bertie Woolcock — no, nor any of Aunt 
 Morven's young eligibles — but this man affected her 
 differently. Was it because she knew that he cared for 
 her ? Was it because he was handsome, reserved, and 
 self-reliant ? Was it because there was a mystery about 
 him ? No ; it was simply because he was himself ; 
 his voice was still speaking to her inward ear — " It would 
 be impossible for me to tell you ! " Nevertheless, his 
 eyes had been eloquent, and, since the truth must be 
 confessed, her heart was in a wild whirl of happiness. 
 
 But why was he here in retreat ? Surely not because 
 he had done anything disgraceful ? Mrs. Ramsay liked 
 him, and said he had been such a comfort to her husband 
 and herself ; her father liked him, so did Susan, so did 
 the village; the dogs adored him — all but Mackenzie, 
 an exception who proved the rule ! 
 
 Yes, she would give her heart to the chauffeur — as 
 a matter of fact it was not a case of giving ; it was already 
 bestowed — and keep the knowledge to herself. No 
 one should ever know — above all, he should not know. 
 " Time Tries All." His affairs might improve ; some day 
 he might be able to throw off his chauffeur's disguise and 
 be himself ; meanwhile, she determined to avoid him, 
 and never again enter the Manor garden when there was 
 a chance of meeting him ; as to the green motor, she had, 
 as she assured him, done with it for ever.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 AN HOUR OF LIBERTY 
 
 The white flowers had been gathered on Saturday in the 
 Manor garden, and it was now Monday. Miss Parrett 
 had adventured a drive to Westmere, returning home by 
 four o'clock, and the car being washed and put away 
 betimes, the chauffeur found himself at liberty. The 
 glowing and golden September evening was enticing, and, 
 whistling for Joss, he set out for a good long stretch 
 before supper. On this occasion, man and dog deserted 
 the low country and the water-meadows, and climbed 
 the hills which sheltered the village. Their road lay by 
 a grassy cart-track, which ran sometimes between high 
 hedges, sometimes along a headland, with here and there 
 a hoary old gate — it was chiefly used in harvest-time 
 (indeed, wisps of fresh hay and straw were still clinging to 
 the bushes), and was the short-cut to Shrapton-le-Steeple, 
 a hamlet which lay eight miles south of Ottinge, The 
 track emerged upon a bare plateau, from whence was a 
 fine view of the surrounding country, and here was also 
 a sharp freshness in the air, which the man inhaled 
 with unmistakable enjoyment. Here, too, in the banks, 
 were inviting burrows, and these afforded the dog an 
 absorbing interest, as he drew their savourjinto his 
 nostrils with long-drawn sniffs of ecstatic satisfaction. 
 
 After a tramp of between three and four miles, 
 Wynyard threw himself down on a tempting patch of
 
 AN HOUR OF LIBERTY 213 
 
 grass, drew out his case, and lit one of Martin Kesters' 
 excellent cigars. His eyes roamed meditatively over 
 the broad landscape below, stretching away into the 
 dim distance — the spreading uplands splashed with orange 
 gorse, dotted with sheep and cattle, with here and there a 
 rust-coloured farmhouse, whose pale blue smoke lazily 
 ascended into the cool clear air. Wynyard enjoyed 
 the scene and the sensation of absolute freedom ; at 
 least he was out of livery — he glanced at his shabby 
 tweed coat — beyond the reach of orders, and master 
 of himself ! Not much to boast of ! To think that 
 this job was the only one he could take on when driven 
 into a corner by circumstances and Uncle Dick ! He 
 had no head, that was his trouble, although he could 
 keep it at a pinch — and wasn't this what was called a 
 paradox ? If he were only clever with his tongue 
 and his pen, like Leila, and had her talent for languages 
 and for organisation, her genius for saying and doing 
 the right thing ! 
 
 As he unconsciously picked bits of grass, his 
 thoughts returned to Aurea and their recent meeting 
 in the Manor garden. Her confusion and her vivid 
 blush held for him a most stupendous significance. 
 Memory and imagination had magnified the occasion, 
 until it seemed to be the one important event in his 
 whole life ! 
 
 If, by any chance, Aurea cared for him, and saw in 
 him something more than her aunts' civil man-servant, 
 why should he not present himself in his true character ? 
 The gruff replies in imitation of Tom Hogben were 
 surely an unnecessary handicap ? Anyway, he had 
 let himself go on the night of the accident, hustling 
 and ordering on the spur of the moment, sending Miss 
 Morven for water, Miss Susan for wood — though no
 
 214 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 doubt they were both too much upset to have noticed 
 anjrthing besides the tragedy. 
 
 Possibly a change of manner would make a difference, 
 and Aurea was so bright, and so wonderfully clear-sighted, 
 she might divine something of his situation, and wait. 
 " Wait ! " repeated incredulous common sense, " wait 
 eighteen months till he had cast off his shackles ! " 
 On the other hand, Bertie Woolcock loomed large. 
 Undoubtedly he would not wait, nor would Aurea 's 
 own relations. The Rector himself was a good, un- 
 worldly old scribbler, but the people that mattered, 
 such as Miss Parrett and General and Mrs. Morven, 
 they would never allow their niece to refuse many 
 thousands a year and Woolcock, in order to keep faith 
 with a mysterious and penniless chauffeur. And Bertie 
 undoubtedly meant business ; he was continually ap- 
 pearing at the Rectory or the Manor, charged with 
 paltry messages and unnecessary notes — any excuse 
 or none served him ! He even attended evening 
 church, where he openly and shamelessly worshipped 
 the Rector's daughter, and not the Rector's God. 
 
 As Wynyard contemplated Woolcock's position 
 and the desperate obstacles that lay in his own path, 
 he picked many blades of grass. Naturally he disliked 
 his rival ; he remembered him when he was in the upper 
 fourth at Eton, a big, loutish fellow — not of course in 
 Pop — and an awful duffer at games ; who never did 
 anything for himself, that others could be bullied into 
 doing for him. " Woolly " was now a stout, sleek, 
 well-groomed man of thirty, with a heavy red face, a 
 lethargic manner, and — in the company of respectable 
 women — a great talent for silence. 
 
 Supposing that Aurea was talked over ? Westmere 
 was a temptation. No ; he could not face such a hideous
 
 AN HOUR OF LIBERTY 215 
 
 possibility — yet he was penniless and gagged. Woolly, 
 a rich man and free ; he, a prisoner to a promise and 
 in a false position — a position which compelled him to 
 touch his cap, not only to his lady-love, but to his rival I 
 and the latter salutation made him feel murderous. 
 
 Woolly had tons of money ; he was so rich that 
 possibly he had never seen a penny ! His attentions 
 to Aurea, his rides, his churchgoing, his marked civilities 
 to Miss Parrett, paraded themselves before Wynyard's 
 mental sight — and the old Polly bird was all for the 
 match ! Why, that very afternoon, as she was leaving 
 Westmere, she had held a long, mysterious " last word " 
 conversation with Mrs. Waring before she bundled 
 into the car, and squeaked out " Home — and go slowly ! " 
 Meanwhile, Woolcock's fluffy-haired sister stood on the 
 steps with her hands on her hips, a newly lit cigarette 
 in her mouth, the very embodiment of triumphant 
 satisfaction ! 
 
 Undoubtedly a solemn treaty had been signed and 
 sealed. He had no powerful allies, how could he 
 interfere ? His mind groped round the puzzle in con- 
 fusion and despair. If his own forefathers had not been 
 such crazy, spendthrift fools, he would not have found 
 himself in this maddening situation. To think that 
 his great-grandfather had lost thousands of pounds and 
 hundreds of acres, racing snails on the dining-room 
 mahogany, against another lunatic ! However, the 
 original place still remained in the family, also the 
 most important heirlooms, and these were pucka 
 (good old Indian word !) and not those of other people. 
 
 If he could only hold on to the end, and put in his 
 time fairly and squarely, he might yet see Aurea at 
 Wynyard — though at present his prospects were blank ; 
 all he had to his name was his weekly wages, and these
 
 2i6 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 wages, figuratively, bore him into the presence of Miss 
 Parrett. What an old bully she was ! how she brow- 
 beat and hectored her unfortunate sister, and what 
 a jabbering impostor ! talking incessantly of all she did, 
 and was going to do, but leaving everything in the 
 way of work to Miss Susan and her niece — whilst she 
 trotted round spying and scolding. 
 
 As Wynyard reclined against the bank smoking, 
 absorbed in his reflections — and Joss was equally en- 
 grossed in an adjacent ditch — a far-away sound broke 
 faintly on their ears. In a few seconds this had resolved 
 itself into the regular " thud, thud, thud," of a galloping 
 horse, and here he came into sight — a chestnut in a 
 lather, with streaming reins, and exultant tail, carrying 
 an empty side saddle. 
 
 Wjmyard instantly recognised Aurea's weedy 
 thoroughbred, and, flinging away his cigar, ran forward, 
 but the animal, bound for his stable, was not thus to be 
 captured and detained ; with a snort of defiance, he made 
 a violent swerve, and tore on, hotly pursued by Joss.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ON YAMPTON HILL 
 
 It was not the horse, but the horse's rider that was of 
 consequence. Where was she ? What had happened ? 
 Spurred by an agony of apprehension, Wynyard ran in 
 the direction from which the runaway had appeared. 
 In five minutes' time a speck, and then a figure came 
 into sight, and this presently resolved itself into Miss 
 Morven — apparently unhurt. She, too, had been running ; 
 her habit was splashed, she carried her hat in her hand, 
 her beautiful hair was becomingly loosened, and she had 
 a brilliant colour. 
 
 As Wynyard slowed down to a walk, she called to 
 him — 
 
 " Have you seen my horse ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he must be in Ottinge by this time," was the 
 comforting rejoinder. 
 
 " Why didn't you stop him ? " 
 
 " It would have wasted a lot of time, and I wanted to 
 see what had happened to you. — I was afraid you'd had 
 a spill." 
 
 This was not the ever silent and respectful chauffeur 
 to whom Miss Morven had been hitherto accustomed ; 
 but no less a person than Lieutenant Wynyard, late of 
 the Red Hussars, who, in a cheery voice, addressed her 
 as an equal — as no doubt he was. So be it. She in- 
 stantly decided to abandon herself to the situation.
 
 2i8 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Possibly he would now confide something about himself, 
 and how and why he came to be in her aunts' service. 
 So, after a momentary hesitation, she replied — 
 
 " Oh no, I only got off to open a gate, and Rufus 
 broke away. I suppose I shall have to walk home ! " 
 
 To this Wynyard secretly and joyfully agreed, but 
 merely said — 
 
 " I see you are alone." 
 
 " Yes ; father and I rode over to Shrapton-le-Steeple ; 
 he wanted to see Mr. Harnett, a literary friend, and 
 Mr. Harnett had so much to show and to say that he 
 persuaded father to stay and dine, as there is a moon, 
 and I came home by the short-cut. I must be three 
 miles from Ottinge ? " and she halted and deliberately 
 looked about her. 
 
 " Yes," he replied ; " a good three miles." 
 
 (Oh, a very good three miles, during which he would 
 have Aurea's undivided company — what a piece of luck !) 
 
 For some little time the couple proceeded in silence 
 — a sensitive silence. During the interval since their last 
 meeting, they had accomplished a vast amount of very 
 special thinking — many disturbing, dominating, and 
 dangerous thoughts had entered the young lady's brain, 
 and she said to herself — 
 
 " I must keep perfectly composed, and if ever he 
 intends to speak freely, now — now is the time ! To 
 think of us two alone on Yampton Hills, three miles 
 away from home ! " 
 
 Somehow those three miles held a thrilling prospect. 
 Wynyard, for his part, was longing to utter what was in his 
 mind ; here was his one grand opportunity ; and yet for 
 several hundred yards a strange silence hung betweenthem, 
 though the man was burning to speak and the girl was 
 longing to listen ; meanwhile moments, precious as life
 
 ON YAMPTON HILL 219 
 
 itself, were ebbing fast ! At last the conversation began 
 to trickle ; the topics were the choir, the boy scouts, old 
 Thunder's pig, and Mrs. Hogben's face-ache — a spent 
 cartridge in the path introduced sport and shooting. 
 
 " I wonder why men are so keen on killing things ? " 
 said Aurea. 
 
 " I believe we inherit it from our ancestors, who had to 
 kill wUd creatures or starve. I must say 1 like shooting." 
 
 " Oh, do you ! " — a blank pause — " the only sport I 
 can imagine any pleasure in, is hunting." 
 
 " Do you hunt ? " 
 
 " No ; I only wish I did ; but Aunt Bella thinks it so 
 improper for a woman to follow the hounds, and father 
 could not escort me." 
 
 " But parsons do hunt." 
 
 " They did ; a vicar of Ottinge actually kept hounds. 
 Father says he only left a dozen dusty books in the 
 library, but a hundred dozen of sound wine in the cellar." 
 
 " Yes, those were the good old days ! " 
 
 " I'm not so sure that they were superior to our own 
 times. What do you say ? " 
 
 " That I hope you will always have a good time, Miss 
 Morven." 
 
 Miss Morven coloured and bit her lip, but resumed — 
 
 " If I only might hunt, I would be bound to have a 
 good time." 
 
 " Is your horse a clever jumper ? " 
 
 " No; he either blunders on his head, or sits down." 
 
 " Doesn't sound very promising ! " and they both 
 laughed. " Anyway, it's a rotten, bad country," said 
 Wynyard, with a contemptuous wave of his hand ; " the 
 uplands are full of rabbit holes, and as for the lowlands — 
 you'd want a boat ! You should see Leicestershire — big 
 fields and sound turf."
 
 220 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Yes ; but I'm afraid I can't hunt in Leicestershire 
 fromOttinge," she answered, with a smile; " and I have 
 some hopes of sport this winter. Mrs. Waring, who is 
 tremendously keen, wants me to go out with her." 
 
 " On a pillion ? " 
 
 " No; her brother has a capital horse, not up to his 
 weight, that would just carry me. He is so anxious 
 that I should try it ; it jumps beautifully." 
 
 " And what does Miss Parrett say ? " 
 
 " I think Mrs. Waring may talk her over, and Mr. 
 Woolcock promises to look after me." 
 
 This information roused Wynyard's ire, his face 
 hardened, and his tone was dry as he said — 
 
 " Woolcock is too heavy to hunt, except pounding 
 along the road. He must weigh seventeen stone ! " 
 
 " Very likely ; but he is going to do a cure before the 
 season opens." 
 
 " Why not a couple of hours with the garden roller, 
 and save the donkey ? " 
 
 Miss Morven took no notice of this impudent sugges- 
 tion — merely flicked her habit with her hunting crop, 
 and he continued — 
 
 " Westmere is a fine old place." 
 
 " Yes, isn't it ? The hall and galleries are real Tudor, 
 and the park is lovely." 
 
 " How would you like to live there ? " 
 
 " I ? " and as she turned to him her air was lofty. 
 " What a — a — an extraordinary question ! " 
 
 "Yes," he replied, with hasty penitence; "please 
 forgive me, it was more than extraordinary, it was 
 impertinent." 
 
 " By the way (it was, after all, the girl who broke the 
 ice), 1 must ask you to excuse me for my inquisitive 
 question the other day in the garden."
 
 ON YAMPTON HILL 221 
 
 " You wanted to know why I hung on at Ottinge, with 
 little or nothing to do ? " and he paused. " I think 
 you do know, Miss Morven, in fact, I'm sure you know. 
 I'd be only too glad to speak out, but my hands and 
 tongue are tied. I've given a promise I'm bound to 
 keep, and between you and my absolute confidence, 
 there stands at present an enormous obstacle." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " I ought to tell you that I'm not what I seem." 
 
 " Of course," with a touch of impatience, " you are a 
 gentleman by birth ; I've always known that." 
 
 " Nor am 1 here in my own name — only my christian 
 name ; but I've never done anything to disgrace it, 
 I give you my word of honour." As he came to a halt 
 and faced her, and the setting sun shone into his truthful 
 eyes and touched his crisp brown locks, the glow of 
 the evening air seemed to give added force to his per- 
 sonality, " I've played the fool — the silly ass — and 
 I've got to pay. How I wish I might talk to you openly, 
 and tell you all about myself ! " 
 
 " I wish you might," repeated the girl, and her voice 
 shook ; an emotional tension had crept into the situation 
 — her pulses beat wildly, and her mind was in a tumult. 
 
 " You cannot imagine what it is to be in my fix," 
 he continued, speaking with low, passionate intensity ; 
 " for months and months to love some one with all my 
 soul, and never be able to open my lips." 
 
 " It must be trying," she answered, now moving on, 
 with her eyes on the ground. 
 
 " And when I'm free, I may be too late ! " he said 
 gloomily. 
 
 " You may," she assented ; "for how could some 
 one guess ? " 
 
 " That's it ! That is what is the awful part of the
 
 222 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 whole thing ; but, look here, Miss Morven, let me state 
 a case. Supposing you knew a fellow in such a hole, and 
 felt that you cared for him, and could trust him "and 
 stick to him, as it were, blindly for a time ; supposing 
 he were your social equal, and had a clean record, and 
 that you knew he worshipped your very shadow — would 
 — and here he looked straight into her face — " you 
 wait ? " To this question, impetuously delivered, there 
 followed a silence. 
 
 " This is a sort of problem, isn't it ? " she faltered 
 at last, " like the Hard Cases in Vanity Fair ? " 
 
 " No, by Jove, part of it is God's truth ! but I'm 
 only talking like an idiot. Of course no girl that ever 
 was born could do it." 
 
 "I'm not so sure," she murmured, with her eyes on 
 the ground, her heart beating in hurried thumps. 
 
 " Miss Morven — Aurea," he went on, now moved 
 out of all discretion, and casting self-control to the 
 winds, " you are the only girl I've ever cared for in all 
 my life. I fell in love with you the first moment I ever 
 saw you, when you danced with Mackenzie in the Manor 
 drawing-room. This meeting to-day has been the one 
 good turn luck has done me in three years — and I 
 seize upon it perhaps unlawfully ; perhaps it's not just 
 cricket, my talking to you in this way, but it's my only 
 chance, so I snatch it, for I may never see you alone 
 again — and all is fair in love and war." 
 
 At this moment he caught sight of a stout figure, 
 far below, labouring up the winding lane ; it was Miss 
 Morven's maid, Norris. He recognised her bright blue 
 gown. Oh, the precious moments were numbered, and 
 it was now — or never ! 
 
 " Wliat do you say ? " he demanded, coming to a 
 standstill.
 
 ON YAMPTON HILL 223 
 
 "But what can I say?" she rejoined, lifting her 
 startled eyes to his. "I don't know anything about 
 you. You cannot even tell me your name." (Natur- 
 ally she did not mention that it was already kno\vn 
 to her.) " It's all rather bewildering, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, it's simply crazy," he admitted; " here am I, 
 your aunts' chauffeur, receiving weekly wages, living 
 like a working man, telling you, with the most audacious 
 and astounding impertinence, that I've been in love 
 with you for months. You know that I'm of your own 
 class, but who I am, or where I come from, I refuse 
 to disclose. No wonder you feel dazed." They were 
 now within sight of the village and of Norris. " Look 
 here. Miss Morven," he continued, and his voice was a 
 little hoarse, " I see your maid coming, and my price- 
 less, precious time is running out. Let me ask you one 
 question; supposing I were not Owen, the chauffeur, 
 but had fair prospects, good friends, and say a thousand 
 a year to start with — would you — marry me ? " 
 
 Aurea knew perfectly well that she would marry 
 him if he had only a few^hundreds a year, no prospects, 
 and no friends ; but ?she took refuge in that nice, use- 
 ful, and evasive word " Perhaps." 
 
 " Perhaps " — he"stooped and kissed her gloved hand — 
 " perhaps — will keep me going ! Even if I don't see 
 you, I shall live on that one little word for the next 
 eighteen months. Ijdon't suppose I shall have another 
 opportunity of speaking to you." 
 
 Here he was£interrupted by Norris, who sudderJy 
 appeared round a bend in the lane, puffing like a grampus, 
 her hat on the back of her head, and her face crimson 
 from exertion. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Aurea ! " she screamed, as she halted 
 and held her fat sides, " such a cruel fright as you give
 
 224 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 me — and the three men gone by the road looking to find 
 your corpse ! and I ran this way, after your horse come 
 home all loose and wild. Are you hurt ? " 
 
 " No ; he only broke away when I was opening a 
 gate, and I had to walk," replied the young lady with 
 wonderful composure. 
 
 Norris threw a sharp glance at the chauffeur. 
 
 " And couldn't he have helped you ? What was 
 he about ? " 
 
 "I'm afraid, like yourself, 1 was looking for Miss 
 Morven," he replied. 
 
 Norris turned from him with a sniff of disparage- 
 ment, and, addressing herself to her mistress, said — 
 
 " And Where's the Rector ? " 
 
 "He is dining with Mr. Harnett." 
 
 " Tut, tut, tut ! And he will stay half the night 
 talking books, and there are a brace of grouse for 
 dinner — kept to the hour — and all he will get at 
 Harnett's will be green vegetables, like a goat — he's a 
 sexagenarian ! " 
 
 At this Aurea laughed and the chauffeur smiled ; he 
 was now walking alongside of Miss Aurea, as much at 
 his ease as if he were a gentleman ! Norris turned on 
 him abruptly, and said — 
 
 " Look here, young man, you'd better be getting on 
 — it's your supper-time, and Mother Hogben won't 
 keep it hot for you." 
 
 " It's very good of you to think of my supper," he 
 replied, with a touch of hauteur ; " but I'm not in any 
 hurry." 
 
 He spoke to her as her superior; his was the voice 
 and air of the ruling and upper class, and Norris' dislike 
 to the insolent young ne'er-do-well suddenly flared into 
 active hatred. Meanwhile, he walked with them to
 
 ON YAMPTON HILL 225 
 
 the very end of the lane, and opened the side gate for 
 Miss Morven and herself ; and as he held it, he took off 
 his cap to Miss Aurea and said — 
 
 " Good-night — miss." 
 
 As mistress and maid crossed the lawn, the latter 
 burst out — 
 
 " I can't abide that young fellow, with his fine 
 manners and his taking off his cap like a lord ! Miss 
 Aurea dear, I'm thinking the Rector would not be too 
 weU pleased to see you in the lanes a-walking out like 
 any village girl along of your aunts' chauffeur." 
 
 " Norris, how dare you speak to me in such a 
 way ! " cried Aurea passionately. And yet, why be 
 furious? She had been "a-walking out" precisely 
 like any other country girl. 
 
 " Well, well, well, dearie, don't be angry. I'm only 
 giving you a hint for your good, and I know you are 
 a real lady, as proud as proud, and as high-minded 
 as a queen or an angel. Still and all, I'm mighty glad 
 that none of our talkers happened to come across you ! " 
 
 15
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 LADY KESTERS AT THE DRUM 
 
 Jane Norris, who had been Aurea's nurse, was now 
 her maid and housekeeper, a most efficient individual 
 in both capacities, Jane was a woman of fifty, with 
 a round, fat face, a complacent double chin, a com- 
 fortable figure, and a quantity of ginger-coloured hair 
 — of which she was unreasonably vain. Jane had also 
 a pair of prominent brown eyes (which gave the im- 
 pression of watchfulness), a sharp tongue, a very sincere 
 affection for her child, and an insatiable appetite for 
 gossip. She was left in sole charge of the Rector and 
 Rectory when Aurea was absent, and considered herself 
 a person of paramount importance in the community, 
 not only on account of her position at the Rectory, 
 but also for being the happy possessor of a real fur 
 coat, a gold watch, and, last, but by no means least, 
 considerable savings. Her circle was naturally con- 
 tracted and select ; her intimates, the village dressmaker, 
 Miss Poult — who had many clients in the neighbour- 
 hood — Mrs. Frickett, of the Drum; and Mrs. Gill, the 
 schoolmistress. (Mrs. Hogben, who took in washing, 
 needless to say, was not in her set.) Miss Norris had a 
 flair for uncloaking scandals, and was a veritable Captain 
 Cook in the way of making marvellous and unsuspected 
 discoveries. She had always beenjparticularly anxious 
 to explore the chauffeur's past and to learn what she 
 
 2X6
 
 LADY KESTERS AT THE DRUM 227 
 
 called the " geography " of this young man. Hitherto 
 the young man had defeated her efforts, and baffled 
 her most insidious inquiries. He did not drink or 
 talk or give himself away ; he did not carry on with 
 girls, or encourage them. Oh, it was an old head on 
 young shoulders, and there was something about him 
 that was not fair and square — and she was bound to 
 know it ! 
 
 Miss Norris had been occasionally disturbed by a 
 vague apprehension (resembling some persistent and 
 irritating insect) that her mistress was interested in this 
 good-looking stranger, but she thrust the idea angrily 
 aside. Miss Aurea was not like those bold, chattering 
 minxes who were always throwing themselves in his 
 way ! She was really ashamed of herself, and her 
 wicked mind. Of course. Miss Aurea would make a 
 grand match, and marry young Woolcock — who was 
 just crazy about her, as all the world knew — and she 
 would go with her as maid to Westmere Park. But 
 the vision of her young lady and the chauffeur talking 
 to her so earnestly in the hill lane had excited her fears, 
 and she resolved to give Miss Aurea something to think 
 of, and put her from speaking to the upsetting, impudent 
 fellow — who got more notice and made more talk in 
 Ottinge than the Rector himself ! 
 
 Aurea, who had been accustomed to Norris ever 
 since the days of socks and strapped shoes, regarded 
 her as a friend, and even suffered her to gossip (mildly) 
 as she dressed her hair, for she said to herself — 
 
 " The poor thing has no one else to talk to all day 
 long " — Simple Aurea ! — " being set in authority over the 
 other servants, and must have some safety-valve." 
 
 The night after her walk with Wynyard, Aurea 
 slept but little ; she was thinking, and wondering, and
 
 228 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 happy. As she dressed, she was unusually abstracted, 
 and when Norris began her coiffure, she did not as usual 
 read the Psalms for the day, but sat with crossed hands 
 in a trance of meditation, whilst her maid brushed her 
 soft and lustrous locks. After twice clearing her throat 
 with energetic significance, Norris began — 
 
 " So Mrs. Ramsay is letting the house for six months, 
 I hear ? " 
 
 " Yes," was the languid reply. 
 
 " To a sort of county inspector ; the chauffeur fellow 
 showed him in — he has a finger in every one's pie." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, Norris." 
 
 " Well, anyway, he did a lot for Mrs. Ramsay," she 
 answered, with significance. " He was in and out at all 
 hours — some think he is good-looking — and ladies like 
 him." 
 
 " What ladies ? " 
 
 " Well, now. Miss Aurea, you know I don't intend 
 any harm, but the talk is that your aunt. Miss Susan, 
 makes too great a pet of him. Why, half his day he's 
 helping her in the garden or potting plants in the 
 greenhouse ; and she lends him books, and talks and 
 makes a fuss of him, just as if he were in her own 
 station." 
 
 Norris' speech was so rapid, such a cataract of words, 
 that her young mistress had not been able to interrupt ; 
 at last she broke in — 
 
 " How wicked of people ! " endeavouring to wrench 
 her hair away. " Poor Aunt Susan — so good, unselfish, 
 and kind — not even spared ! Oh, it's too abominable ! 
 I'm ashamed of you, Norrie ; how can you listen to such 
 things ? " 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Aurea, I said just what you said, 
 and that Miss Susan was too old; but they say there
 
 LADY KESTERS AT THE DRUM 229 
 
 is no fool like an old one — and some folk will gossip. And 
 there was Mrs. Lambert, who married a boy that was 
 at school • with her own son. You know there's not 
 much to talk of here — now the Ramsays are gone. 
 As for the young man, as I told you to-night, / never 
 held a good opinion of him ; he's too secret and too 
 off-hand to please me. He goes out of a night for 
 exercise, so he says, walking the country till daybreak ; 
 but that's just a blind. Who is he with ? — tell me 
 that ? " 
 
 Aurea remembered, with a sudden stinging pang, 
 how she and her father had overtaken him one evening 
 escorting Dilly Topham. Dilly had been crying, and 
 she was holding his hand ! 
 
 " Why, I saw him myself in the theatre at Brodfield," 
 resumed Norris, " and he had a young woman with 
 him — so he had." 
 
 " And why not ? " bravely demanded Aurea, but 
 her lips were white. 
 
 " The two were in a box, and he sat back — but I 
 knew him — and afterwards they walked together to 
 the Coach and Horses Hotel, the best in Brodfield. 
 She was tall and slim, and wore a long coat and black 
 lace scarf over her head — I call it very bold in the public 
 street." 
 
 " One of his friends," explained Aurea, with a stoical 
 indifference her heart belied ; and to cut short any 
 further disclosures, she released herself from her hand- 
 maiden's clutches and knelt down to say her prayers. 
 
 By a disagreeable and curious coincidence. Miss 
 Morven received that same evening ample confirmation 
 of Norris' arraignment ! 
 
 Lady Kesters had decided to pay her brother another 
 visit, and wrote to announce that, as she and Martin
 
 230 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 were within fifty miles, she would fly down to see him 
 for a few hours, 
 
 " I'll come to Brodfield by train and motor over. 
 Don't breathe a word to the Parretts. I can put up 
 at the Drum and meet you there. I've ever so much 
 to say and hear ; your letters are miserable, and I've 
 not seen you for more than two months. Martin is 
 off to America in October — he has to look after some 
 business — and I am going with him, as I want to see the 
 country, but I shudder to think of the crossing. Uncle 
 Dick is at Carlsbad. If you come over to the churchyard 
 about six to-morrow, I shall be there. I'U hire a car 
 for the day and get back to Brodfield for the night, 
 and rush to Rothes next morning with the milk ; if 
 you will make an appointment, I can meet you, and go 
 for a stroll and a talk." 
 
 A smart Napier and a motor-veiled lady were not 
 now a startling novelty in Ottinge — it was the highway 
 to many places ; but the 40 h.p, motor and lady who 
 put up at the Drum was a refreshing novelty — and a 
 novelty invested in mystery. 
 
 The Drum jutted out obtrusively; the front faced down 
 the road towards the Manor, and one side was parallel 
 to the street, and whoever entered or left was well in 
 evidence. Lady Kesters asked for dinner and a sitting- 
 room, as if such were a matter of course ! The sole 
 sitting-room was just across the passage from the bar 
 and overlooked the street. It was oak-panelled, 
 very low, the walls were decorated with cheap prints 
 and faded photographs of cricket groups, there was a 
 round table, three or four chairs, and an overpowering 
 atmosphere of stale beer. 
 
 " Oh, let me see — I'll have some tea and roast 
 chicken," announced the traveller, 
 
 " Chicken, ma'am ? " repeated Mrs. Frickett, and
 
 LADY KESTERS AT THE DRUM 231 
 
 her tone was dubious. " I don't know as I can run to 
 that. The hens is roosting now," 
 
 " Oh, well," — impatiently — " bacon and eggs. I'll 
 go and take a turn about the village." 
 
 With her veil drawn over her face, Lady Kesters 
 walked out, went slowly up to the church, and critically 
 inspected the Parsonage. Then, just inside the church- 
 yard, she discovered her brother sitting on a tombstone. 
 As he sprang to meet her, she exclaimed — 
 
 " Are you smiling at Grief ? " 
 
 " Hullo, Sis, this is most awfully good of you ! How 
 are you ? Very fit ? " 
 
 " Yes. Do come out of this horribly dismal rendez- 
 vous, and let us go down one of the lanes, and talk." 
 
 " Aren't you tired ? " 
 
 " No, only hungry. I've ordered a meal at the 
 Drum. I'm tired of sitting in a train or motor, and glad 
 of a walk. Well, Owen, so far so good — six months are 
 gone — hurrah ! " 
 
 " Yes, thank goodness, but it's been a pretty stiff 
 job." 
 
 " An uphill business, and terribly dull ! Again I 
 repeat, would you like to move ? You could so easily 
 better yourself." 
 
 " No, I stop on till the car breaks up." 
 
 Lady Kesters raised her eyebrows. 
 
 " Well, I can only hope that blest epoch will be 
 soon ! I met Miss Susan, you know, and the crafty old 
 thing was fishing to find out who you are ? She has 
 her suspicions, but I gave her no assistance. The 
 niece was with her — Miss Aurea " She paused ex- 
 pressively, then went on, " Owen — she's a remarkably 
 pretty girl." 
 
 He nodded.
 
 232 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Yes, I understand your reason for remaining in 
 Ottinge ; it is beautiful — simplicity itself." She looked 
 at her brother attentively. " Are you making love to 
 her ? " 
 
 " I — her aunts' chauffeur ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! Are you in love with her ? " she 
 persisted. " Come, tell the truth, my dear boy. Why 
 should you not take me into your confidence ? Are you ? " 
 
 " Well— I am." 
 
 "And she? " 
 
 " Don't I tell you that I'm only her aunts' chauffeur, 
 and my tongue is tied? All the same, Sis — it's beastly 
 hard lines." 
 
 " Then, Owen, you really ought to go away ; you'll 
 soon forget her and Ottinge. I'll find you another 
 opening at once." 
 
 " No, I won't stir yet," he answered doggedly. 
 
 " You are wrong, and on your head be it ! I wish 
 you could come out to America with us ; but foreign 
 countries are barred." 
 
 " Why are you and Martin off there ? " artfully 
 changing the subject. 
 
 " Partly business — chiefly, indeed. He has not been 
 well, and I can't allow him to go alone ; but, anyway, 
 I'm looking forward to the trip. Tell me, how are you 
 off for money ? " 
 
 " All right ; I fare sumptuously on a pound a week 
 and washing extra." 
 
 " I suppose you live on bacon ? That's to be my 
 dinner." 
 
 " Bacon — eggs — fowl — steak. Mrs. Hogben is a 
 mother to me, and a real good sort." 
 
 " I must say I think you look rather thin, Owen." 
 " I'm glad of it ; I'm as fit as a fiddle, and made sixty
 
 LADY KESTERS AT THE DRUM 233 
 
 runs last week for Ottinge. They little dream that I was 
 in the Eton Eleven ! Hullo ! here are some people 
 coming. I say — what a bore ! " 
 
 No less than two couples now approached arm in 
 arm ; as they passed, they stared hard, and even halted 
 to look back. 
 
 " What will they think, Owen ? " and she laughed 
 gaily. 
 
 " I don't care a blow what they think ! " he answered 
 recklessly ; " but all the same you'd better return to the 
 Drum alone." 
 
 " Well, mind you come in this evening — 1 start at 
 nine ; you can pretend my chauffeur is your pal — pretend 
 anything ! " 
 
 "Oh, I'm good enough at pretending; it's now my 
 second nature ! Joking apart, you ought to be going 
 back to the inn, and getting something to eat."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE OBSTACLE 
 
 At seven o'clock Wynyard went boldly to the Drum and 
 inquired for the lady who was stopping there. 
 
 Mrs. Frickett stared at him with a stony expression 
 in her dull grey eyes. She had heard of his airs and his 
 impudence from Norris, 
 
 " Will she see you ? " she asked, and her tone was 
 aggressively insolent. 
 
 " Oh yes," was the ready answer ; " it's business." 
 
 " Oh, if it's business " and she gave an incredulous 
 
 sniff and, flinging open the parlour door, ushered him into 
 the presence of his sister. 
 
 Lady Kesters had removed her cap and motor coat, 
 and was seated at the table in a careless attitude, leaning 
 her head on her hand and smoking a cigarette. The 
 door was exactly opposite to the tap-room, and the 
 assembled crowd enjoyed a rare and unexpected spectacle. 
 A woman smoking — ay, and looking as if she were well 
 used to it and enjoying herself — a lady, too — there was 
 a string of pearls round her throat, and the hand that 
 supported her dark head was ablaze with diamonds. 
 Ottinge had heard and read that females were taking to 
 tobacco, and here was the actual demonstration before 
 their gloating eyes. A fine, handsome young madam, 
 too, with a car in the yard — ay, and a friend to visit 
 her ! They craned over to catch a glimpse of the figure
 
 THE OBSTACLE 235 
 
 ushered in by Mrs. Frickett, The man's back and 
 shoulders had a familiar look. Why, if it wasn't 
 Owen, Miss Parrett's chauffeur ! The immediate result of 
 this astounding discovery was a deadly and expressive 
 silence. 
 
 Since Wynyard had parted with his sister he had 
 made up his mind to tell her all about Aurea, He longed 
 to share his secret with some one, and who could be better 
 than Leila ? She would give him her sympathy and — 
 what was more — a helping hand ; if any one could un- 
 ravel a hopeless tangle, it was she. After a little common- 
 place talk, in a few abrupt sentences he commenced to 
 state his case. 
 
 " Ah ! " she exclaimed as he paused, and she dabbed 
 the end of her cigarette on the old oak table, " so it's 
 all coming out now ! You show your good sense, Owen, 
 in confiding in me — two heads are better than one. I've 
 seen the young lady ; she is distractingly pretty — and I 
 think I approve." 
 
 " Think ! " The words were a text upon which her 
 brother delivered to his astounded listener an address of 
 such emotional eloquence, that she sat and stared in 
 bewildered silence. 
 
 As he spoke, he strode about the room, carried away 
 by his adorable subject — Aurea's beauty, her cleverness, 
 her unselfishness, her simple and single-hearted disposi- 
 tion, her good influence in Ottinge, her delicious voice, 
 and her entrancing smile. Oh, it was a wonderful relief 
 to share with another the raptures so long bottled up in 
 his own breast ! 
 
 In the middle of his discourse, the door, which was 
 flung open to admit " two lemonades," — Owen had warned 
 his sister against the deadly Drum coffee, — revealed 
 to a profoundly interested tap, young Owen, the shover^
 
 236 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " a-walkin' and a-talkin' and a-carryin' on like old Billy, 
 and in such a takin' as never was seen." 
 
 " She's his sweetheart, 'tis sure ! " suggested one 
 sightseer. 
 
 " Nay, more likely his missus," argued another ; " she 
 was a-laughin' at him ! " 
 
 As the door closed Leila threw her cigarette into the 
 grate with a quick, decided gesture, and, leaning both 
 elbows on the table, said, as she looked up at her 
 brother — 
 
 "It's an extraordinary entanglement, my dear boy. 
 You are in love — for the first and only time in your life. 
 Of course I can believe as much of that as I like ! " 
 
 " You can ! " His voice was sharp and combative. 
 
 " In love with an angel. I may tell you that she 
 really is a fellow- creature ! You think she likes you, but 
 for one solid year and a half you may not impart to her 
 who you are, or where you come from, or even your name — 
 I mean your surname. You are at liberty to inform her 
 that you are ' Owen St. John Willoughby FitzGibbon ' — 
 a nice long string ! — but must never breathe the magic 
 word ' Wynyard.' " 
 
 " No, you know I can't," he answered irritably. 
 
 " You are her aunts' servant now, though you will 
 be, if you live. Sir Owen Wynyard of Wynyard ; but you 
 may not give her the faintest hint, as you must stick 
 to your bargain with Uncle Dick and he to his with you. 
 Now, let me consider," and she held up a finger: "if 
 you speak, and reveal your identity, and become engaged, 
 you lose a fortune." 
 
 " Yes," he agreed, a trifle dryly. 
 
 " If you don't speak, you run a great chance of losing 
 the young lady ! Mr. Woolcock is on the spot, and as 
 willing as Barkis. Westmere is close by — an ever-entic-
 
 THE OBSTACLE 237 
 
 ing temptation — and he has the goodwill of the girl's 
 relations." 
 
 " Yes, that's a true bill ; it's wonderful how you grasp 
 things," 
 
 " What grounds have you for supposing the girl would 
 wait for eighteen months in absolute ignorance of who 
 you were? Have you ever spoken to her, as her 
 equal ? " 
 
 " Yes, once," and he described their walk two days 
 previously. " I stated a similar case ; I made the most 
 of my time, and asked her what she would do under such 
 circumstances." 
 
 " My dear Owen," — and she looked at him with an 
 expression of wonder in her eyes — " I am simply staggered 
 at your presumption ! " 
 
 " Yes, so was I ; but, you see, it was my only chance, 
 and I snatched it." 
 
 " And what did she answer. That it was evident 
 you were an uncertified lunatic ! " 
 
 " No ; she said ' Perhaps.' " 
 
 " ' Je m'en vais, chercher un grand peut-etre,' as some 
 one said on his death-bed." 
 
 " Don't talk French — or of death-beds. Sis." 
 
 " No, I won't. I see that your divinity is a clever, 
 modern young woman, who refuses to commit herself. 
 Look here, Owen, I won't tease you any more ; this 
 situation is such that it even baffles the activity of my 
 clever and contriving mind ! I'm afraid I can do nothing 
 at present ; but when we return from America, I shall 
 make a point of cultivating General and Mrs. Morven, 
 on account of the girl. I'll cultivate the girl for your sake, 
 and ask her to stay in Mount Street. Possibly she may 
 open her heart to me, and tell me everything ! I have 
 a wonderful knack of extracting similar confidences even
 
 238 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 from my housemaids ! I shall listen sympathetically, 
 advise sagaciously, and urge her to stick to you ! " 
 
 " Yes, I know that once you take a thing in hand, Sis, 
 it goes like an express train ; but you will be away for 
 six months — six months is a long time." 
 
 " Time ! " — springing to her feet — " and talking of 
 time, I must be off. Ring the bell, my dear boy, and 
 order the car at once." 
 
 Miss Morven had been dining at the Manor. She had 
 endured a long, leaden evening playing draughts with 
 her Aunt Bella ; she played so carelessly that Bella had 
 repeatedly huffed her, and eventually won with six 
 kings to the good ! After their niece's departure, the 
 sisters were for once unanimous in their opinion : they 
 had never seen Aurea looking so well, as that night, 
 
 " What a rose-blush complexion, what clear, glowing 
 eyes ! " said Susan, with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Yes," agreed Miss Parrett, who was putting away 
 the draught-board, " she's got my skin, and her mother's 
 eyes. I've often been asked if I were painted ! " she 
 announced, with serene complacency. 
 
 Susan felt inclined to say, " And were you ? " but 
 her courage failed her. Bella could never see a joke ! 
 She had no recollection of Bella's beauty — Bella's 
 complexion, as long as she could remember it, had been 
 the colour of mutton fat — but Bella was twenty-five 
 years her senior — and no doubt her bloom had withered 
 early. 
 
 " The girl looks to me — as if — as if " 
 
 " Bertie Woolcock had proposed ! " supplemented 
 Bella. " Yes, I shouldn't wonder." 
 
 " No— not that." 
 
 " Then what ? " snapped her sister. " As if — and you
 
 THE OBSTACLE 239 
 
 stop; it's a dreadful habit not to be able to finish a 
 sentence — it shows a weak intellect." 
 
 •' Well, since you must have it, Bella — as if she were 
 in love." 
 
 " So she is — ^with young Woolcock." 
 
 " Nonsense," repeated Susan, with unusual decision. 
 
 " Susan, don't you dare to say ' nonsense ' when I 
 say a thing is so ; you forget yourself. Aurea wlQ be 
 married to Herbert Woolcock before Christmas — that 
 is pretty well settled. And now you may lock up the 
 silver; I am going to bed." 
 
 As Miss Morven was proceeding homewards, and, as 
 usual, unattended (in spite of her Aunt Bella's repeated 
 remonstrances), she passed the Drum, and noticed a 
 motor in waiting, and also a light in a conspicuous 
 pail of the premises — the little, bulging, front sitting- 
 room. Here two figures were sharply outlined on 
 the yellow blind. As Aurea looked, she saw a man 
 and woman standing face to face ; the man put his hands 
 on the woman's shoulders and stooped and kissed her. 
 She recognised his profile in that instant — it was the 
 profile of Owen Wynyard ! 
 
 Although brother and sister had taken leave of one 
 another, when they reached the car Wynyard looked 
 up at the sky and said — 
 
 " It's a splendid night ; I believe I'll go on with you 
 to Brodfield, and walk back." 
 
 The motor overtook Miss Morven as she reached 
 the Rectory gate ; here she stood for a moment in the 
 shadow of the beech trees, and as the car and its occu- 
 pants swung into the full light of the last lamp (oil) in 
 Ottinge, she had a view of the->back of the woman's 
 head — a woman talking eagerly to her companion, who
 
 240 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 faced her in an easy attitude, cigar in hand. The man 
 was her aunts' chauffeur. As the car glided by, he 
 laughed an involuntary, appreciative, and familiar 
 laugh that spoke of years of intimacy — a laugh 
 that pierced the heart of its unseen listener with the 
 force and agony of a two-edged sword. 
 
 For a moment the girl felt stunned ; then she began 
 to experience the shock of wounded pride, of insulted 
 love, of intolerable humiliation. 
 
 So the dark-haired lady was " the Obstacle ! " 
 That impassioned declaration on Yampton Hill had 
 been — what ? Mr. Wynyard was merely experiment- 
 ing on her credulity ; he wished to discover how far 
 he might go, how much she would believe ? A gay 
 Hussar, who had got into such trouble that he was 
 compelled to hide his whereabouts and name, until he 
 could return to the world after a decent interval of 
 obscurity and repentance ! Meanwhile, he played the 
 mysterious adorer, and amused himself with " a country 
 heart," pour passer le temps. 
 
 And yet — and yet — when she recalled his steadfast 
 eyes, the tremulous ardour of his bearing in the garden, 
 and, on the hill side, he had looked in desperate earnest. 
 
 " Yes," jeered another voice, " and in deadly earnest 
 in the Drum window ! " 
 
 And she ? She had actually believed that he was 
 hopelessly in love ; and she, who had been ready to stand 
 by him against all her kindred, who had blushed and 
 trembled before his eyes and voice, had kissed her 
 own glove where his lips had pressed it ! As these 
 memories raced through her brain an awful sensation 
 of sinking down into the solid earth possessed her. 
 Aurea groped blindly for the gate and rested her head 
 upon it. It seemed to her as if, under the shade of those
 
 THE OBSTACLE 241 
 
 beeches, a something not of this world, some terrible 
 and relentless force, had fought and wrested from her, 
 her unacknowledged hopes, and her happy youth. 
 
 Half an hour later she toiled up the drive with 
 dragging, unsteady steps. Prayers were over when 
 she entered the library — a white ghost of herself, and, 
 with a mumbled apology, she went over and bade her 
 father good-night, and touched his cheek with lips that 
 were dry and feverish. He, simple, blind man, absorbed 
 in proofs, barely lifted his head, and said — 
 
 " Good-night, my child, sleep well ! " 
 
 And his child, evading Norris with a gesture of dis- 
 missal, hurried to the seclusion of her own apartment, 
 and locked the door. 
 
 Three days later, Miss Morven left home somewhat 
 unexpectedly ; but it was conceded even by her Aunt 
 Bella that the shock of Captain Ramsay's death had 
 upset the girl. She wanted a change, and a lively place 
 and lively society would divert her mind. 
 
 Wynyard had not once seen her since their never- 
 to-be-forgotten walk, and the news of her departure 
 came as a shock — although his outward composure was 
 admirable — when he was informed that Miss Morven 
 had left home, to be followed by her father. The Rector 
 would return in three weeks, but Ottinge was not likely 
 to see his daughter for a considerable time. Miss Davis 
 had taken over the surplices. Miss Jones the girls' sewing- 
 class, and Miss Norris the altar flowers. 
 
 Wynyard put artful and carefully guarded inquiries, 
 respecting her niece, to his friend. Miss Susan, who was 
 never reticent, and talked as long as she found a sym- 
 pathetic and intelligent listener. 
 
 " Well, indeed, Owen, I must confess Miss Morven's 
 going was a great surprise," she volunteered, in a burst 
 16
 
 242 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 of confidence, as she swiftly snipped off dead leaves. 
 "I'd no idea of it till she came to me on Wednesday, 
 and asked me to help her pack, and take over some of 
 her parish accounts. She looked pale and not a bit 
 like herself ; though she said she was all right, I didn't 
 believe her. It struck me she had had some sort of 
 shock, she looked as if she hadn't slept, but she wouldn't 
 see the doctor, and was quite vexed at the idea. Dr. 
 Boas told me it was really the reaction of the dreadful 
 tragedy that she and I witnessed. So I'm glad she's 
 gone, though I miss her terribly ! " 
 
 And what was her loss to his ? Wynyard had 
 believed he was on the point of establishing a firm if 
 inarticulate understanding — at least he had shown his 
 colours, and she had said " Perhaps." This morsel 
 of comfort was all that remained to him ; and oh, the 
 many, many things that he could and should have 
 said during that memorable walk ! These unspoken 
 sentences tormented him with cruel persistency. Had 
 he wasted the opportunity of a lifetime ?
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 SCANDAL ABOUT MISS SUSAN 
 
 Before Aurea had departed — and her departure was, 
 as we know, in the nature of a flight — she had paid the 
 necessary visit of ceremony to her Aunt Bella, who 
 imagined herself to be busy making plum jam, but 
 was really obstructing the operations and straining the 
 forbearance of the new cook to a dangerous limit. The 
 old lady trotted into the drawing-room with sticky 
 outstretched fingers, and announced — 
 
 " Susan is out laying the croquet ground — the old 
 bowling green; you may go and find her." 
 
 " If you don't mind sending for her. Aunt Bella." 
 
 " Oh, I know you like giving your orders ! Then 
 ring the bell. Well, and so you are off to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes, father will come up later ; he has a good 
 deal of work in hand, and he wants to go over to Hill- 
 minster once or twice." 
 
 " I know ; I'm lending him my car on Friday." 
 
 " Aunt Bella, I do wish you'd sell it ! " said Aurea, 
 speaking on an irrepressible impulse ; " do get rid of it." 
 
 " Rid of it ! you silly, excitable girl, certainly not. 
 I'm more likely to get rid of the chauffeur; he does not 
 know his place, and he does other people's jobs, too, in 
 my time. He exercised Katie's dogs, and attended the 
 Hanns' sick pony, and, when the carrier lost his horse, 
 I believe he doctored it and probably killed it — and they
 
 244 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 sent round for subscriptions for another, / gave ten 
 shillings — handsome, I call it ! — and what do you think 
 I saw in the list afterwards ? ' J. O., One Guinea.' My 
 own servant giving double — such unheard of imperti- 
 nence ! But Susan has spoiled him ; I blame her. She 
 talks to him as if he were an equal ; I declare, if she were 
 a girl, I'd be in a fine fright." 
 
 Aurea maintained a pale silence. 
 
 " Yes ; and Mrs. Riggs and others have remarked 
 to me that they really thought it was dangerous to 
 have such a good-looking young man about the place, 
 though / don't think him good-looking — a conceited, 
 dressed-up puppy. Oh, here's Susan. Susan," — raising 
 her voice — " you see, Aurea sends ior you now ! " 
 
 " And welcome ! Now, my dear child, come along ; 
 I want to show you my — I mean — the new croquet 
 ground ; it's going to be splendid ! Won't you come 
 out and have a look at it ? " 
 
 " No, thank you, Susan. It will be something to 
 see when I come back. Let me get your hat, and we 
 will stroll up together to the Rectory." 
 
 " Oh, very well, my dear ; but I'd like you to see 
 the croquet lawn. Owen has made it. He really is 
 worth half a dozen of Tom Hogben — and it's as 
 level as a billiard-table." 
 
 But nothing would induce Aurea to change her mind. 
 
 Miss Susan accompanied her brother-in-law over to 
 Hin minster, where he was due at a Diocesan meeting ; 
 it was thirty miles off, and he had suggested the train, 
 but Miss Susan assured him, with eloquence, that " it 
 was ten times better to motor, and to go through nice, 
 out-of-the-way parts of the country, and see dear old 
 villages and churches, instead of kicking your heels
 
 SCANDAL ABOUT MISS SUSAN 245 
 
 in odd little waiting-rooms, trying to catch one's cross- 
 country slow coach, and catching a cold instead." It 
 happened that Mr, Morven had arranged to spend the 
 night with friends in the Cathedral Close, but Susan 
 Parrett was bound to be home before sunset ; only on these 
 conditions was she suffered to undertake this unusually 
 long expedition with the precious car. 
 
 " Yes, Bella, I'll be back without fail," she declared; 
 " though I'd like to stay for the three o'clock service 
 in the Cathedral," and she gazed at her tyrant 
 appealingly. 
 
 " Not to be thought of," was the inflexible reply ; 
 " you will be here at six. — Remember the motor must 
 be washed and put away, and the evenings are already 
 shortening." 
 
 The run was made without any mishap, and ac- 
 complished under three hours. It happened to be 
 market day in Hillminster, the main street was crowded 
 with vehicles, and Miss Susan could not but admire 
 the neat and ready manner in which their driver steered 
 amongst carts, wagons, gigs, and carriages, with 
 practised dexterity. 
 
 Presently they drove into the yard of the Rose Inn, 
 and there alighted. Mr. Morven and his sister-in-law 
 were lunching with the Dean in the Close, and Miss 
 Susan notified to Owen, ere she left him, that she pro- 
 posed to start at half-past two sharp, adding — 
 
 " For, if we are late. Miss Parrett is so nervous, you 
 know." 
 
 The drive home began propitiously ; but after a 
 while, and in the mean way so peculiar to motors, the 
 car, when they were about ten miles out of Hillminster, 
 and a long distance from any little village or even 
 farmhouse, began to exhibit signs of fatigue. For some
 
 246 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 time Wynyard coaxed and petted her ; he got out 
 of the machine several times and crawled underneath, 
 and they staggered along for yet another mile, when 
 there was a dead halt of over an hour. Here Miss Susan 
 sat on the bank, talking with the fluency of a perennial 
 fountain, and offering encouragement and advice. 
 
 Once more they set out, and, before they had gone 
 far, met a boy on a bicycle, and asked him the way to 
 the nearest forge ? 
 
 With surprising volubility and civility, this boy 
 told them to go ahead till they came to a certain finger- 
 post, not to mind the finger-post, but to turn down a 
 lane, and in a quarter of a mile they would come to the 
 finest forge in the country ! The misguided pair duly 
 arrived at the finger-post, turned to the left as directed, 
 and descended a steep lane — so narrow that the motor 
 brushed the branches on either side, and Miss Susan 
 wondered what would become of them if they met a 
 cart ? They crept on and on till they found them- 
 selves in some woods, with long grass drives or rides 
 diverging on either side — undoubtedly they were now 
 on the borders of some large property ! The lane con- 
 tinued to get worse and worse — in fact, it became like 
 the stony bed of a river, and the motor, which had 
 long been crawling like some sick insect, finally collapsed, 
 and, so to speak, gave up the ghost ! The axle had 
 broken; there it lay upon its side with an air of ag- 
 gravating helplessness ! and it was after six o'clock by 
 Miss Susan's watch ! 
 
 " Now," she inquired, with wide-open eyes, " what 
 s to be done ? " 
 
 " We must go and look for some farmhouse ; I'm 
 afraid you will have to pass the night there, Miss Susan, 
 unless they can raise a trap of some sort ! "
 
 SCANDAL ABOUT MISS SUSAN 247 
 
 " Oh, but I'm bound to get home," she protested, 
 " if I have to walk the whole way. How far should 
 you say we were from Ottinge ? " 
 
 " Well, I'm not very sure — I don't know this part 
 of the country — but I should think about fifteen miles. 
 You might manage to send a telegram to Miss Parrett, 
 — in fact, I wouldn't mind walking there myself, but of 
 course I must stick by the car." 
 
 " See ! " she exclaimed, " there are chimneys in the 
 hollow — red chimneys — among those trees." And she 
 was right. 
 
 As they descended the hill, in a cosy nook at the 
 foot they discovered, hiding itself after the manner of 
 old houses, an ancient dwelling with imposing chimney- 
 stacks, and immense black out -buildings. Here Miss 
 Susan volubly told her story to a respectable elderly 
 woman, who, judging by her pail and hands, had evi- 
 dently just been feeding the calves. 
 
 " I don't know as how I can help you much," she 
 said; " this is Lord Lambourne's property as you've got 
 into somehow. Whatever brought you down off the 
 high road, ma'am ? " 
 
 " We were told to come this way by a boy on a 
 bicycle. We asked him to direct us to a forge." 
 
 " The young limb was just a-making game of you, 
 he was ! There ain't a forge nearer than five miles, 
 and my master took the horses in there this afternoon ; 
 he's not back yet." 
 
 "I suppose," said Miss Susan, "that you have 
 no way of sending me in to Ottinge — no cart or pony 
 you could hire me ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid not, ma'am. Where be Ottinge ? " 
 
 Here was ignorance, or was it envy ? 
 
 " Then I don't know what I'm to do," said Miss
 
 248 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Susan helplessly. " My sister will be terribly anxious, 
 and I'm sure the motor won't be fit to travel for quite 
 a long time. What do you think, Owen ? " 
 
 " I think that the motor is about done ! " he 
 answered, with emphatic decision. " To-morrow morning 
 I must get a couple of horses somewhere, and cart her 
 home, I wonder if this good woman could put you up 
 for the night ? This lady and I," he explained, " went 
 to Hillminster from Ottinge to-day, and were on our 
 way home when the motor broke down ; and I don't 
 think there's any chance of our getting to Ottinge to- 
 night." 
 
 " Oh yes, I can put the two of you up," she said, 
 addressing Miss Susan, " both you and your son." 
 
 Miss Susan became crimson. 
 
 " I am Miss Parrett of Ottinge," she announced, 
 with tremulous dignity ; " that is to say. Miss Susan 
 Parrett." 
 
 "I'm sure I beg your pardon. Miss Parrett ; I can 
 find you a bed for the night. This is a rare big house — 
 it were once a Manor — and we have several empty 
 bedrooms — our family being large, and some of the boys 
 out in the world. Mayhap you'd like something to 
 eat ? " 
 
 " I should — very much," replied Miss Susan, whose 
 face had cooled, " tea or milk or anything ! " 
 
 At this moment a respectable-looking, elderly man 
 rode up, leading another horse. 
 
 " Hullo, Hetty," he said to his wife, " I see you ha' 
 company, and there's a sort of motor thing all smashed 
 up, a-lyin' there in the Blue Gate Lane." 
 
 " It's my motor," explained Miss Susan, " and we 
 have walked down here just to see what you and your 
 wife could do for us."
 
 SCANDAL ABOUT MISS SUSAN 249 
 
 " Our best, you may be sure, ma'am," rejoined the 
 farmer, and descended heavily from his horse, then led 
 the pair towards the stables, where he was followed by 
 Wynyard, who gave him a hand with them and borrowed 
 their services for the morrow. 
 
 A meal was served in the very tidy little sitting-room, 
 where Miss Susan found that places had been laid for 
 Owen and herself ; it was evident that the farmer's 
 wife considered him — if not her son — her equal ! To 
 this arrangment she assented, and, in spite of his apologies. 
 Miss Susan and her chauffeur for once had supper 
 together without any mutual embarrassment. 
 
 Afterwards, he went out to a neighbouring farm to 
 see if he could hire a pony-trap for the following day, 
 and although Miss Susan was painfully nervous about 
 her sister, she was secretly delighted with a sense of 
 freedom and adventure, and slept soundly in the middle 
 of a high feather-bed — in a big four-poster — into which 
 it was necessary to ascend by steps. 
 
 Owing to vexatious delays in securing a trap, driver, 
 and harness, it was tea-time the next afternoon when 
 Miss Susan drove sedately up to the hall door at the 
 Manor. 
 
 Miss Parrett was prostrate, and in the hands of the 
 doctor ! The telegram, dispatched at an early hour from 
 the nearest office to Moppington, was — on a principle 
 that occasionally prevails in out-of-the-way places — 
 delivered hours after Miss Susan had set the minds of 
 her little world at rest ! There had been an exciting 
 rumour in the village — emanating from the Drum — 
 that " Miss Susan had eloped with the good-looking 
 shover," at any rate no one could deny that they had 
 gone to Hillminster the day before, had probably been 
 married at the registry office, and subsequently fled !
 
 250 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 The Drum was crowded with impassioned talkers, Mrs. 
 Hogben was besieged, and the whole of Ottinge was per- 
 vaded by a general air of pleasurable anticipation. One 
 fact was certain, that, up till three o'clock of this, the fol- 
 lowing afternoon, neither of the runaways had returned ! 
 However, just as it had gone four, here was Miss Susan — 
 bringing to some a distinct feeling of disappointment — 
 seated erect in a little basket carriage, drawn by an 
 immense cart-horse, driven at a foot pace by a boy ; 
 and a couple of hours later she was followed by the 
 motor, this time on a lorry, and, undoubtedly, also, on 
 what is called " its last legs." 
 
 When everything had been exhaustively explained 
 to Miss Parrett ; she, having solemnly inspected the 
 remains of her beautiful green car and heard what its 
 repairs were likely to cost, heard also the price which 
 she would be offered for it — fifteen pounds — broke into a 
 furious passion and declared, with much vehemence 
 and in her shrillest pipe, that never, never more would 
 she again own a motor ! 
 
 And, since the motor had ceased to be required, 
 there was no further use for a chauffeur, and once more 
 Owen Wynyard was looking for a situation.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A NEW SITUATION 
 
 The venerable green motor, whose value by an expert 
 had been so brutally assessed, was not considered worth 
 repair, yet Miss Bella Parrett could not endure to part 
 with a possession which had cost five hundred pounds, 
 for fifteen sovereigns ; so it was thrust into a coach- 
 house, shut in the dark with cobwebs and rats, and 
 abandoned to its fate. 
 
 Miss Susan, who enjoyed motoring and liked the 
 chauffeur, was exceedingly anxious that Bella should 
 purchase another car, but of course she was powerless, 
 being next to penniless herself ; indeed, at the outside, 
 her income amounted to one hundred a year — less income 
 tax. The mere word motor seemed now to operate 
 upon her wealthy sister as a red rag to a bull ; for the 
 loss of five hundred pounds rankled in her heart like a 
 poisoned arrow. 
 
 The old lady had decided for a brougham, a middle- 
 aged driver, and a steady horse. (It may here be added 
 that the animal, which was coal-black and had a flowing 
 tail, came out of the stables of an undertaker, and was 
 as sedate and slow as any funeral procession could 
 desire.) 
 
 As for Wynyard, his fate was sealed ! A chauffeur 
 without a car is as a swan upon a turnpike road. He 
 had had visions of proposing himself as coachman — for he
 
 252 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 did not wish to leave the village, and the vicinity of 
 Aurea Morven — but Miss Parrett had other plans. In 
 her opinion Owen, the chauffeur, was too good-looking 
 to remain about the place — on account of the maids — 
 and indeed her sister Susan treated him with most 
 shocking familiarity, and spoke to him almost as if 
 he were her equal. Her quick little eyes had also 
 noticed in church that, during her brother-in-law's most 
 eloquent sermon, the chauffeur's attention was con- 
 centrated upon her niece Aurea ; and so, without any 
 preamble, she called him into the library and handed 
 him his pay, a month in advance, promised a first-rate 
 reference, and waved him from her presence. 
 
 And Wynyard's occupation was gone ! There 
 would be no more expeditions in the ramshackle old 
 motor, no more potting of geraniums for Miss Susan, 
 no more clipping of hedges, or singing in the choir. He 
 must depart. 
 
 Departures, to be effective, should be abrupt ; 
 possibly Wynyard was unconscious of this, but the 
 following day he left for London ; his yellow tin box 
 went over in a cart to Catsfield, whilst he walked to the 
 station across the fields by the same road as he had 
 come. His absence caused an unexpected blank in 
 the little community ; the Hogbens regretted him 
 sorely, he w^as such a cheery inmate, and gave no 
 trouble. His absence was deplored at the Drum ; the 
 village dogs looked for him in vain ; his voice was missed 
 in the choir ; other people missed him who shall be 
 nameless ; and Joss howled for a week. 
 
 Wynyard had written to his sister to inform her 
 that, owing to the breakdown of the dilapidated old 
 car, he was once more out of a job, and found, in reply, 
 that she was on the eve of sailing for America. He
 
 A NEW SITUATION 253 
 
 went round to see her in Mount Street, two days before 
 she started. 
 
 " You are looking remarkably fit, Owen," she said, 
 " and the Parretts can't say too much for you; indeed, 
 in Susan's letter I observe a tone of actual distress ! 
 Six months of the time have passed. I suppose you 
 have saved a little money ? " 
 
 " I have twenty pounds in the bank, and a couple 
 of sovereigns to go on with. Of course I must look out 
 for another billet at once." 
 
 " And on this occasion you will take with you a 
 really well-earned character. You have no debts 
 and no matrimonial entanglements — eh ? What about 
 Miss Morven ? " 
 
 " I've never laid eyes on her since I saw you." 
 
 " How is that ? " 
 
 " She's been in London." 
 
 " And now you are here — ah ! " 
 
 " I didn't follow her, as you seem to suppose. I 
 wasn't likely to get another billet in Ottinge, and 
 anyway, I was a bit tired of having Miss Parrett's heel 
 on my neck." 
 
 " Tired of ' ordering yourself humbly and lowly to all 
 your betters,' poor boy ! But to return to the young 
 lady ; are you still thinking of her ? " 
 
 Was he not always thinking of her ? But he merely 
 nodded. 
 
 " You haven't written ? " 
 
 " No ; I'm not such a sweep as all that ! " 
 
 " But, Owen, didn't you wring a sort of half promise 
 from the unfortunate girl ? I know it was only ' per- 
 haps,' but chateau qui parte — femme qui ecottte." 
 
 " I think it will be all right." 
 
 " And that her ' perhaps ' is as good as another's
 
 254 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 solemn vow ! I must say you show extraordinary 
 confidence in yourself and in her, and yet you scarcely 
 know one another." 
 
 " No, not in the usual dancing, dining-out, race-going 
 style; I give in to that, or, indeed, in the ordinary 
 way at all. She only saw me driving or washing the 
 motor, or doing a bit of gardening." 
 
 " And you think you were so admirable in these 
 occupations that you captured her heart ! Owen, I'm 
 seeing you in quite a new light, and I think you are 
 deceiving yourself. I expect the young woman has 
 forgotten you by this time. London has — attractions." 
 
 " Time will teU ; anyhow, she's refused the great 
 Bertie Woolcock." 
 
 "No!" incredulously, "who told you? When did 
 you hear it ? " 
 
 " It was all over Ottinge a week ago, and I heard 
 it at the Drum. I was also given to understand that 
 Miss Parrett was fit to be tied ! " 
 
 " If she had an inkling of her late chauffeur's pre- 
 tensions, a strait waistcoat would hardly meet the 
 occasion. How I wish we could take you with us to 
 America ; but it's not in the bond. Martin has a great 
 deal of capital invested out there ; he is not very strong, 
 and after we have put all his business through, we are 
 going to spend the winter in Florida. We shall not be 
 back before April, and then I will keep my promise. 
 I am so sorry, dear old boy, that I shall be out of the 
 country while you are ' dreeing your weird ' and not 
 able to help you ; but of course Uncle Dick's great 
 object is for you to learn absolute independence. I 
 vrill give you my permanent address and a code-book, 
 and if an3rthing happens for good or bad, you must 
 cable. We have let this house for six months — to
 
 A NEW SITUATION 253 
 
 friends. We may as well have it aired, and have the 
 good rent ! Every one lets now — even dukes and 
 duchesses ! I wonder what your next billet will be ? 
 You had better advertise." 
 
 " What shall I say ?" he asked. 
 
 " Let me think." After a moment she rose and 
 went to her writing-table, scribbled for a few moments, 
 and brought him the following ; ' As chauffeur, smart 
 young man, experienced, aged 26, steady, well recom- 
 mended, wants situation. Apply Office of this 
 
 paper.' " Just send this to the Car, the Morning Post, 
 the Field, Country Life ; it will cost you altogether 
 about twenty-five shillings, and I'll pay for it." 
 
 " No, no. Sis," he protested, " that's not in the 
 bond. And, as it is, you are keeping up my club 
 subscription." 
 
 " Pooh ! " she exclaimed, " what's that ? I hope 
 this time you will get into a nice rich family who have 
 a good car, and that you will be able to have a little 
 more variety than in your last place, and no young 
 ladies. You will be sure and write to me every week ? " 
 
 At this moment the door opened and Sir Martin 
 Kesters entered, and paused in the doorway. 
 
 " Hullo, Owen, glad to see you," holding out his 
 hand; " so you are back ? " 
 
 " Only temporarily — for a day or two." 
 
 " You've done six months, and the worst is over." 
 
 " Well, I hope so; but one never can tell." 
 
 " Upon my word, I don't know how you stood it. 
 Leila described the place. I'm not a gay young feUow 
 of six-and-twenty, and a week would have seen me out 
 
 of it ; but six months " and he gazed at him in blank 
 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Oh, well," apologetically, " I've learnt all sorts of
 
 256 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 things, I'm quite a fair gardener, and can clip a hedge 
 too ; I know how to physic dogs, and fasten up the 
 back of a blouse." 
 
 " Owen / " exclaimed his sister, " / am present ! " 
 
 " It was only Mrs. Hogben ; she had no woman in 
 the house, and Tom's hands were generally dirty, and 
 she said she looked upon me as her other son. She is 
 a rare good old soul, and I'd do more for her than that." 
 
 " You must feel as if you'd been underground, and 
 come up for a breather," said his brother-in-law. 
 
 " My breather must be short ; but I'm not going 
 to take any situation with ladies." 
 
 " Why so proud and particular ? They won't all 
 be Miss Parretts ! " 
 
 " Oh, you women are so irregular, unpunctual, and 
 undecided — yes, and nervous. Even Miss Susan clawed 
 me by the arm when we took a sharp turn." 
 
 " I hope the next year will fly," said Sir Martin ; 
 " I tried my hand on your uncle, you know — did Leila 
 tell you ? I have got him to make it eighteen months 
 hard labour — and eighteen months it is." 
 
 " No ! I say — that is splendid news ! How awfully 
 good of you ! " 
 
 " I fancy he's a little bit indulgent now ; he finds 
 that you can stick it, and have brought such a magnifi- 
 cent character." 
 
 " Profound regrets," supplemented Leila, " if not 
 tears. Ah, here is dinner ! I don't suppose you've 
 dined since you were here in April ; come along, Owen, 
 we are quite alone, and let us drink your health." 
 
 Two days later Wynyard saw his sister and her 
 husband off from Euston by the White Star Express, 
 and felt that his holiday — his breathing time, was over. 
 He must get into harness at once. His one hope, as
 
 A NEW SITUATION 257 
 
 he wandered about the streets, was that he might catch 
 sight of Aurea. By all accounts, she was staying in 
 Eaton Place ; more than once he walked over there, and 
 strolled up and down on the opposite side, and gazed 
 at No. 303 as if he would see through the walls. But 
 it was no use — telepathy sometimes fails ; Aurea never 
 appeared, and, had she done so — though he was not 
 aware of the sad fact — she would not have vouchsafed 
 the smallest notice of her aunts' former employe. 
 
 The daily post brought several replies to Owen's 
 advertisements. When he had looked through and 
 sorted them, he found that, after all, the most tempting 
 was from a woman — a certain Mrs. Cavendish Foote, 
 whose address was Rockingham Mansions, S.W. 
 
 The lady announced that she required a really smart, 
 experienced chauffeur for town — she had a new Renault 
 car; he would have to live out, and she offered him 
 four guineas a week, and to find himself in clothes and 
 minor repairs. She wrote from Manchester. He replied, 
 forwarding his references, and she engaged him by 
 telegram, saying she would be back in London the 
 following day, when he was to enter her service, and 
 call to interview her. 
 
 It seemed to him that this was good enough ! He 
 would rather like a job in town for a change — the 
 more particularly as Aurea and her father were staying 
 with General Morven in Eaton Place, and now and 
 then he might obtain a glimpse of her ! He glanced 
 through the other letters before finally making up 
 his mind ; one was from a nobleman in the north 
 of Scotland, who lived thirty miles from a railway 
 station. He thought of the bitter Scotch winters, and 
 how he would be cut off from all society but that 
 of the servants' hall ; no, that was no good. Another 
 17
 
 258 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 was from a lady who was going on tour to the south of 
 France and Italy. The terms she offered were low, 
 and she preferred as chauffeur, a married man. There 
 were several others, but on the whole the situation in 
 London seemed to be the best. He debated as to 
 whether he should put on his chauffeur clothes or 
 not, but decided against it, and, hailing a taxi-cab, 
 found himself at Rockingham Mansions in ten 
 minutes. 
 
 These were a fine set of flats, with carpeted stairs, 
 imposing hall, and gorgeously liveried attendants. He 
 asked to be shown to Mrs. Cavendish Foote's address. 
 It was No. 20 on the third floor. The door was opened 
 by a smart maid with a very small cap, an immensely 
 frizzled head, and sallow cheeks. 
 
 " To see Mrs. Cavendish Foote on business ? " she 
 repeated, and ushered him into the tiny hall, which 
 was decorated with a curious assortment of pictures, 
 stuffed heads, arms, and looking-glasses. 
 
 " Oh, bring him in here," commanded a shrill treble 
 voice, and Wynyard found himself entering a large 
 sitting-room, where he was saluted by an overwhelming 
 perfume of scent, and the angry barking of a tiny black 
 Pom. with a pink bow in his hair. 
 
 The apartment had been recently decorated ; the pre- 
 vailing colours were white and pink — white walls, into 
 which large mirrors had been introduced — pink curtains, 
 pink carpets, pink and white chintz. Two or three half- 
 dead bouquets stood in vases, an opera cloak and a 
 feather boa encumbered one chair, a motor coat another, 
 several papers and letters were strewn upon the floor, 
 and on a long lounge under the windows, a lady — white 
 and pink to match her room — lay extended at full length, 
 her shapely legs crossed, and a cigarette in her mouth.
 
 A NEW SITUATION 259 
 
 She wore a loose pink neglige — the wide sleeves exhibit- 
 ing her arms bare to the shoulder. 
 
 " Hullo ! " she exclaimed, when she caught sight of 
 Wynyard, as he emerged from behind the screen, 
 
 " Mrs. Cavendish Foote, I presume ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Right-o ! " she answered, suddenly assuming a 
 sitting posture ; " and who may you be ? " 
 
 " I've come about the situation as chauffeur." 
 
 " The chauffeur ! " she screamed. " Good Lord ! why, 
 I'm blessed if you ain't a toff ! " 
 
 " Is that a drawback ? " he asked gravely. 
 
 " Well, no — I suppose, rather an advantage ! I 
 thought you were my manager, or I wouldn't have let 
 you in," and she pulled down her sleeves, and threw the 
 stump of her cigarette into the fireplace. "You see, though 
 I'm Mrs. Cavendish Foote, my professional name is Tottie 
 Toye. I dare say, you have seen me on the boards ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have had the pleasure," he answered 
 politely. 
 
 " Oh my ! " she ejaculated. " Well, anyhow, you've 
 got pretty manners. Can you drive ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I mean in London traffic. I don't want to get 
 smashed up, you know ; if I break a leg, where am I ? 
 How long were you in your last place ? " 
 
 " Six months." 
 
 " And your reason for leaving ? " 
 
 " They gave up keeping a motor." 
 
 " Idiots ! " she exclaimed. " I couldn't live without 
 mine ! Your job will be to take me to the shop, and 
 fetch me back at night, and to run me about London in 
 the daytime, and out into the country on Sundays — home 
 on Monday night. Do you think you can manage all 
 that ? "
 
 26o A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 " The car is in the garage close to this. I dare say 
 you would like to take her out for a run and try her ? I 
 shall want you this evening at seven o'clock." 
 
 " Very well," he agreed. 
 
 " I suppose you're one of these gentlemen that have 
 come down in the world, and, of course, a chauffeur has 
 a ripping good time. I like your looks. By the way, 
 what's your name ? " 
 
 " Owen." 
 
 " And I suspect you are at this game, because you are 
 owing money — eh ? " and she burst into a shriek of 
 laughter at her own joke. " Well, life has its ups and 
 downs ! If it was all just flat, I should be bored stiff. 
 I've had some queer old turns myself." 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and a stout, 
 prosperous-looking gentleman made his appearance — 
 red-faced, blue-chinned, wonderfully got up, with shining 
 hair, and shining boots. 
 
 " Hullo, Tottie ! " he exclaimed ; " who have we got 
 here ? " glancing suspiciously at Owen. " A new Johnny 
 — eh — you naughty girl ? " 
 
 " No, no, dear old man," she protested; " and do you 
 know, that you are twenty minutes late ? so I have given 
 him your precious time. This" — waving her hand at 
 Owen — " is Mr. Cloake, my manager. Mr. Cloake, let 
 me present you to my new chauffeur." 

 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 TOTTIE TOYE 
 
 Miss Tottie Toye's Renault was a beauty, and, after 
 the old rickety green car, it afforded Wynyard a real 
 pleasure to handle it. He took it for a trial turn to 
 Bushey, in order to get accustomed to its mechanism — 
 for every motor has its peculiar little ways and its own 
 little tempers — and punctually at seven o'clock he was 
 at Rockingham Mansions, awaiting his employer, the 
 dancer. 
 
 Presently, heralded by her high, shrill voice, she 
 appeared, accompanied by a melancholy young man, and 
 bringing with her such a reek of scent, that it almost 
 deadened the petrol. Tottie was wrapped in a magni- 
 ficent pink velvet cloak trimmed with ermine, and, as she 
 stepped into the car, turned to her companion and said — 
 
 " Teddy boy, just look at my beautiful new chauffeur ! 
 Isn't he like a young duke ? " 
 
 Teddy grunted some inaudible reply, slammed the 
 
 door of the car with unnecessary violence, and they were 
 
 off. The London streets at this hour were swarming with 
 
 motor busses, cars, cabs, and carriages — people going to 
 
 dinners or the play. It was rather different to the empty 
 
 roads in the neighbourhood of Ottinge, but Wyn^-ard 
 
 managed to thread his way to the theatre dexterously 
 
 and speedily, and, when the lady jumped out of the car 
 
 at the stage door, she clapped him on the back and said — 
 
 361
 
 262 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " You'll do all right ! Come round for me again at 
 eleven — and don't be getting into any mischief." 
 
 He touched his cap and moved away. Precisely at 
 eleven o'clock he was waiting, and after some delay 
 Tottie reappeared, in a condition of the highest excite- 
 ment, screaming with laughter and carrying a gigantic 
 bouquet. She was accompanied by a very prononcee 
 lady and three young men. With a good deal of noisy 
 talking and chaffing they all packed themselves into the 
 car, sitting on one another's knees, and fared to the 
 Savoy, where they had supper. Here again he waited 
 outside until twelve o'clock and closing time ; and as 
 he sat, a motionless figure, a great deal of London life 
 drifted by him : the rolling " Limousine," emblem of 
 luxury — broken-down, hopeless-looking men — members 
 of the dreadful army of the unemployed — flaming 
 women with the scarlet sign of sin in high relief. What 
 a diabolical existence ! 
 
 At twelve his party reappeared — noiser and more 
 hilarious than ever. It struck him that Lottie's lady 
 friend and two of the young men had had quite as much 
 supper as was good for them. Once more they crammed 
 into the car, the party returned to the flat to play bridge, 
 and he at last was released ! 
 
 So this was now his life ! late hours, excursions into 
 the country on Sundays, trips to Brighton, to Folkestone, 
 to Margate ; he had no leisure, for, when Tottie was 
 not making use of the car, the good-natured little creature 
 — unlike Bella Parrett — lent it to her friends, and her 
 friends made unreasonable use of it. They were all 
 of the same class as herself : exuberant youths, who 
 imagined that they were seeing life ; prettily painted, 
 beautifully dressed young women, whom th2 men called 
 by their christian names ; certain elderly gentlemen ; and
 
 TOTTIE TO YE 263 
 
 now and then a portly dame, who was spoken of as 
 " Ma." 
 
 On one occasion, in Bond Street, Tottie and some of 
 her vivacious companions were shopping — a showy party, 
 with loud voices and louder clothes, scrambling into 
 the motor at the door of a shop — when who should pass 
 by but Sir Richard Wynyard! He glared at them, 
 then glanced at the chauffeur. What ! his own nephew 
 in the middle of such a rowdy crew ! Owen touched 
 his cap to him, but he vouchsafed no notice, and, with 
 a glassy stare, stalked on. 
 
 Another time, as Wynyard was waiting outside a 
 theatre, Aurea Morven and her uncle were coming out. 
 She looked so pretty — lovely, indeed — in a white cloak with 
 a knot of silver ribbon in her dark hair. Fortunately, she 
 did not recognise him, for at the moment Tottie dashed 
 out of the stage door in a violent hurry, followed by 
 two women and a man, and called authoritatively — 
 
 " Go ahead, Owen, old boy ! The ' Troc' as hard 
 as you can tear ! " 
 
 Wynyard had been in the present situation for six 
 weeks, and, although the pay was good and punctual, 
 he found the life wearing. He never knew what it was 
 to have a day off — or any time to himself ; other 
 employes had Sundays — Sunday to him was the heaviest 
 day in the whole week. Tottie, besides her professional 
 engagements, appeared to live in an irregular round of 
 luncheons, suppers, bridge, and balls — of a certain class. 
 She was madly extravagant, and seemed to take a 
 peculiar delight in throwing away her money. The 
 sallow-cheeked parlour-maid, who had a fancy for Wyn- 
 yard, and generally contrived to have a word with him 
 when she came downstairs with cloaks or shoes — informed 
 him in confidence that " the missus was a-goin' it ! "
 
 264 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " But what can you expect ? " she asked, with her 
 nose in the air. " Her mother kept a tripe shop ; she 
 ain't no class ! Of course the money's good as long 
 as it's there ; but 1 don't fancy these sort of fast 
 situations. Give me gentry," 
 
 "But Mrs. Foote's all right," protested Wynyard ; 
 " it's her friends that are such a queer lot — and, I'm 
 afraid, they cheat her." 
 
 " You bet they do ! And as to her being all right — 
 I should say she was all wrong, if you ask me. She's 
 no more Mrs. Cavendish Foote than I am ; she was 
 divorced three years ago. Cavendish Foote — he was a 
 young fool on the Stock Exchange ; she broke him, 
 and now he's gone to America." 
 
 An exceedingly unpleasant idea had lately been born 
 in Owen's mind; it was this — that his employer had 
 taken a fancy to him. She leant with unnecessary weight 
 on his arm when she stepped in and out of the motor ; 
 summoned him to her sitting-room on various pretexts to 
 give him notes ; offered cigarettes, talked to him con- 
 fidentially, and begged him " to look upon her as a friend." 
 
 " I like you, Owen, I swear I do, and I'd do a lot 
 for you, so I would too — and don't you make any 
 mistake about that ! " 
 
 Wynyard found this state of affairs extremely em- 
 barrassing — especially when they went for trips into the 
 country alone, and, wrapped up in furs, she would come 
 and sit beside him, and tell him of all her successes ; stop 
 at inns, order lunch, and invite him to share the meal, 
 and drink champagne ! But this he steadily declined. 
 The cooler and more reserved he was, naturally the more 
 empresse she became ; and one of her pals, in his hearing, 
 had loudly chaffed her on being "mashed on her chauffeur." 
 
 Once or twice, she found some one to mind the car.
 
 TOTTIE TOYE 265 
 
 and gave him a ticket for the theatre, in order that 
 he might witness her performance. Tottie really was 
 marvellous ; it was no wonder that she was earning 
 two hundred pounds a week ! Her dancing, her agility, 
 her vivacity, and her impudence, enraptured each 
 nightly audience. There was something in her gaiety 
 and her unstudied animation that reminded him of 
 Aurea Morven ; yet to think of the two in the same 
 moment was neither more or less than profanation — 
 the one was a sort of irresponsible imp, whilst the other 
 resembled a beautiful and benevolent fairy. 
 
 It was early in December, Tottie had run over to 
 Paris with Mr. Cloake and suitable pals, and Wynyard 
 had got his neck out of the collar for a few days. In fact, 
 he had insisted on a holiday, and treated himself to 
 a dinner at his club. Here he met some old friends — 
 that is to say, young men of his own age, who had been 
 at Eton, or in the Service with him. He always looked 
 well turned out, and none of them ever thought of asking 
 " What are you doing now ? " except a schoolfellow, 
 who said — 
 
 " I say, old man, we don't often see you here ! What's 
 your job ? I know the uncle has cut up rusty, and that 
 you are on your own. Fellows say that you are down 
 in some big steel works at Sheffield, and they have seen 
 you out with the hounds." 
 
 " No, they're wrong — that's a bad shot. I don't 
 mind telling you, old pal, that I'm a chauffeur." 
 
 His friend stared, and then burst out into a roar of 
 laughter. 
 
 " Yes, I'm the chauffeur of the well-known Tottie 
 Toye." 
 
 This information seemed to leave the other not only 
 solemn, but speechless — which being the case, Wynyard
 
 266 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 went on to impart to him in confidence all the particulars 
 of his uncle's manifesto, and how he was endeavouring 
 to keep himself in independence, without as much as a 
 penny stamp from one of his relatives. 
 
 " I've done eight months," he said, " and I've 
 saved thirty pounds. 1 seem to see the Winning Post," 
 
 " By George ! " exclaimed his friend, " I don't know 
 how you can stick it. Fancy being mixed up with 
 Tottie and her crowd ! " 
 
 " Oh, for that matter, I've nothing to say to them. 
 ' Needs must when the devil drives,' and the pay is good." 
 
 " I believe Tottie has a mania for spending money. 
 She has been twice married ; her extravagance is crazy, 
 and her generosity boundless — of course, she is robbed 
 all round. Now she has got into the hands of a fellow 
 called Cloake — and unless I'm mistaken the end is near. 
 Get out of it as soon as you can, Wynyard, my friend." 
 
 " I believe I shall. I can't say it's a job I fancy." 
 
 " Look here, I've an idea. There's a friend of mine 
 — Masham — an enormously rich chap, a bachelor, mad 
 keen about motoring — racing, you know. He was in 
 the Paris to Berlin race — and has been over to Long 
 Island — and on the slightest provocation would be off 
 to Timbuctoo ! He's looking for a man, not so much 
 to drive — but, of course, he must be a chauffeur — as to 
 go about with him — a gentleman. I should say it was 
 the very billet for you — if he doesn't kill you ! It's 
 not every one's job ; he is so confoundedly rash, and is 
 always ready to take risks." 
 
 "I don't mind that," said Wynyard; "'nothing 
 venture — nothing have,' " 
 
 " He wants a smart chap — a well-bred 'un — with 
 no nerves. Shall I undertake the delicate negotiation ? 
 I expect you'd suit him down to the ground ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 MASHAM — THE MOTORIST 
 
 " I'll go over and have a jaw with him ; you stay here 
 till I come back," said Wynyard's friend, rising as he 
 spoke. 
 
 Ten minutes later, he appeared accompanied by 
 a clean-shaven, bullet -headed little man — with a brick- 
 coloured complexion, sleek black hair, a pair of small, 
 piercing grey eyes, and the shoulders of a Hercules. 
 
 " Wynyard, let me introduce you to Masham, the 
 celebrated motorist. Masham, this is my old chum 
 Wynyard ; we were in the same house at Eton. He 
 is in want of a job — you are in want of a chauffeur — 
 and here you are ! " Then, with a wave of his hand, 
 he added, " Now, I'll leave you to worry it out between 
 you. You will find me in the card-room," and he took 
 his departure. 
 
 " Well," said Masham, throwing himself back in 
 an arm-chair, and stretching out his legs, "our mutual 
 friend has been telling me all about you, and how you 
 are an Army chap, awfully sportin', and have no nerves 
 to speak of." 
 
 " Yes, I shouldn't call myself — er — nervous," said 
 Wynyard, lighting a cigarette. 
 
 " I suppose Eustace has told you that I'm motor 
 
 mad ? Motoring is my fad. I expect I've put in more 
 
 miles than any man of my age in England. On these 
 
 267
 
 268 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 long journeys I like to have a pal who can drive a bit, 
 is a gentleman, and has got his head screwed on the 
 right way. By the bye, are you a married man ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Good! That's all right. Well, the ordinary 
 chauffeur palls a bit after a time, and you can't well 
 have him to dine with you — and — er — in fact — he's not 
 your own sort ! On the other hand, there are one's 
 relatives and chums ; but some of these — and I've sampled 
 a good few — know nothing of the mechanism of a car — 
 racer and runabout, it's all one to them — and they bar 
 going with me. I put them in a first-class blue funk 
 when my speed is eighty miles an hour, and hats and 
 things fly out of the car. Of course, it's not always 
 possible; but sometimes in the very early mornings 
 on those long flat roads in France I let her out ! I 
 tell you, it's an experience. However, the last time 
 when I got her up to ninety kilometres, at the first halt, 
 my chauffeur got off and left me ! I'm not a bad sort 
 to deal with, as old Eustace can tell you ; you just let 
 me alone, and you'll be all right. You live with me — 
 same quarters, same table — and your bUlet will be that 
 of chauffeur-companion — compagnon de voyage — with an 
 eye to the car and to take the wheel now and then. 
 If you can talk French it will be an advantage ; but I 
 don't suppose you picked up much French at Eton ? " 
 
 " I picked it up when I was a small boy. I had a 
 French nurse," replied Wynyard, " and I can get along 
 all right." 
 
 " Good ! My idea is to motor down to Biarritz, 
 then across to Marseilles, and afterwards, with a look in 
 at Monte, take part in some international racing. Who 
 were you with last, or who are you with now ? " 
 
 " Just at present I'm chauffeur to Tottie Toye."
 
 MASHAM— THE MOTORIST 269 
 
 " My great aunt ! " 
 
 " Well, you see, when she engaged me from an 
 advertisement, she represented herself as Mrs. Cavendish 
 Foote — the terms were liberal, and I agreed." 
 
 " Yes, and when you saw her ? " His little eyes 
 twinkled. 
 
 " I must confess I was rather taken aback ; theatrical 
 folk are not much in my line — irregular hours and 
 sudden odd jobs — sometimes I've been out with the car 
 till three in the morning. However, it was a question 
 of money, and I took it." 
 
 " May I ask what she pays you ? " 
 
 " Four guineas a week." 
 
 " I'll go one better than that. I'll give you three 
 hundred a year — twenty-five pounds a month, and all 
 found ; but, mark you, you had better insure your life, 
 for I've had some uncommonly narrow squeaks." 
 
 " m take the risk," said Wynyard. " Would you 
 mind telling me what is your idea of a narrow squeak ? " 
 
 " Well, once crossing a railway line an express 
 missed me by twenty seconds ; another was when the 
 car ran backwards down a pass in the Tyrol, and over 
 the bridge at the bottom ; that time the chauffeur was 
 killed. I'm keeping his family, of course — and hence- 
 forth I bar married men ! I broke three ribs and a leg ; 
 however, we won't dwell on these unpleasant memories. 
 Do you think you will be ready to start in a week ? 
 The car is down at Coventry. I'll fetch her up day after 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " I shall be ready ; but I have one stipulation to 
 make." 
 
 " All right— let's have it." 
 
 " As a chauffeur my name is Owen — not Wynyard." 
 
 " Same thing to me. Uncle objects, eh ? "
 
 270 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " I suppose Miss Toye will accept a week's notice ? " 
 
 " Of course she will," declared Masham. " We will 
 have a day or two at Brookwood, to see how the car 
 travels, and then cross the Channel. Have a drink ? " 
 
 " Thank you, a small whisky and large soda." 
 
 Mr. Masham ordered for himself a large whisky and 
 a very small soda ; indeed, the soda water in his glass 
 was a negligible quantity. 
 
 " I don't drink much — but I take it strong," he 
 remarked as he gulped it down, " and I never smoke — 
 bad for the nerves ; " and then he began to discourse of 
 motors and the class and style he believed in. He 
 believed in single- cylinder machines, a short wheel base, 
 wide handle-bars, and a large petrol tank. He did not 
 believe in the aeroplane craze, and, indeed, became both 
 hot and excited when Wynyard introduced the subject. 
 
 " Madness ! Wild goose business ! Can come to 
 nothing — look at the accidents ! Stick to Mother Earth, 
 I say ! I'm an earth man — a motor man. The sea 
 for fish, the sky for birds, earth for humans. I bar 
 both air and sea." 
 
 After a few minor arrangements, Wynyard took 
 leave of Mr. Masham, went in search of his friend, and 
 informed him that all was fixed up ; he had accepted 
 the post of companion-chauffeur to the celebrated Harry 
 Masham, and was about to tender his resignation to the 
 equally celebrated Tottie Toye. 
 
 During Lady Kesters' stay in the United States, she 
 had kept up a brisk correspondence with her brother, 
 and written long and enthusiastic descriptions of her 
 impressions of New York, Washington, and Boston ; 
 for his part, he had sent her somewhat scanty news. 
 The following, is one of his longest letters : —
 
 MASHAM— THE MOTORIST 271 
 
 " Dear Leila, — I am still with Miss T. Toye, and 
 giving (I hope) satisfaction and saving hand over fist. 
 I can't say, however, that the berth is congenial. I am 
 kept pretty busy, taking Tottic to the theatre, fetching 
 her home, motoring her about town to shops and 
 restaurants, and dashing into the country for week- 
 ends. In Town, I wear my goggles as much as possible. 
 I tell her my eyes are weak — I dare say she doesn't 
 believe me ! I'm not proud, but I don't want my old 
 friends to spot me as Tottie's chauffeur. The other 
 day I was in Bond Street in the afternoon, with a car 
 full of a noisy painted crew, and they attracted the 
 attention of no less a person than Uncle Dick. He 
 stared at them, and then at me. I thought he was 
 going to have an apoplectic seizure, and I'm sure he 
 thinks I've gone to the devil ! Perhaps you'd let him 
 know that I've got to live, and Tottie pays well, and 
 her money is as good as another's. All the same, I 
 am not sure that I can stand her much longer ; she and 
 her particular lot are a bit too rowdy. The other night 
 a fellow dared her to kiss me as she got out of the motor, 
 and, by Jove ! she did. I was not at all grateful. I was 
 nearly stifled, and I've not got the better of her scented 
 embrace yet. She talks of buying another car — price 
 fifteen hundred pounds — simply because Vixie Beaufort 
 has a better one than hers, and she's not going to be 
 beat. She has a funny way of asking all sorts of people 
 to supper, and is surprised when the crowd turns up ; 
 and sometimes she forgets her party altogether, and 
 sups out, then the boot is on the other foot ! She 
 plays bridge of a sort, and loses her money (and her 
 temper), and throws the cards at her partner. The 
 frizzy parlour-maid is my informant ; she comes down 
 with cloaks and furs, and generally contrives to have 
 a word with me. She says the place is getting too hot, 
 and if I will leave, s^^ will ! Think of that ! I'm glad to 
 hear such good news of Martin. I expect you will both 
 be home by April, and by that time I should not wonder 
 if I were in another situation. Ryder Street will always 
 find — Your affectionate brother, 0. W."
 
 272 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 To this he received a long reply from Florida. 
 Martin was better, shares were booming, and The Palm 
 Branch was the most delicious spot on earth. No 
 wonder that Florida boasted the largest hotel in the 
 world ; the climate, the tropical flowers and fruit, the 
 bicycling and bathing, and the immense variety of 
 visitors were all a delightful novelty. 
 
 She went on to say — 
 
 "I do wish you were with us ; there are such 
 charming girls to be met and known — bright, well-bred, 
 intellectual, and fascinating. I am in love with several 
 of them myself. I hope we shall be back in Mount 
 Street at the end of April ; meanwhile we are sunning 
 ourselves here. Take my advice, and give the vivacious 
 Tottie notice, and try for nice country place with some 
 wealthy old squire who is not exigeant with respect 
 to work, and would only require to be motored to the 
 Sessions or to church ; in such a place, you can lie perdue 
 instead of flaring about town with Tottie and Co. I 
 would be perfectly happy if you were here, dear old boy ; 
 the only drawback to my enjoyment is the fear that you 
 are hard worked, and hard up ! Bear this in mind, 
 ' Time and tide run through the longest day ; ' in ten 
 months you will be settled at Wynyard, and your own 
 master." 
 
 As it happened, there was no occasion for Wynyard 
 to formally tender his resignation to Miss Toye. The 
 morning after his interview with Mr. Masham, when 
 he arrived at the garage where the car was kept, another 
 chauffeur came up to him with a sympathetic grin upon 
 his face. 
 
 " Hullo, Jack — your car is took ! There's an 
 execution in your missus' flat, and the men came 
 round 'ere first thing. Very nippy, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you are talking about," re-
 
 MASHAM— THE MOTORIST 273 
 
 joined Wynyard. He walked over to the place where 
 the car was always garaged, and it was empty ; every- 
 thing was gone — even to the oil cans ! 
 
 " There, now, you see it's a true bill," said the other 
 man, who had followed him. " Tottie Toye is broke ; 
 there was a great burst-up at the theatre, and she has 
 cut it." 
 
 This was true. Wynyard now remembered that the 
 last time he had driven Tottie from the hall there had 
 been something of a scene at the stage-door — loud 
 talking, an eager crowd, and Mr, Cloake, very red and 
 excited, had supported Tottie into the motor, apparently 
 in hysterics and tears. He went round to the fiat, and 
 discovered that men were already in possession, busily 
 making an inventory of its contents. Tottie had 
 effected her escape with all her jewels, her best clothes, 
 and her dog, and was reported to be at San Sebastian. 
 
 It seemed to Wynyard that something was bound 
 to happen to whoever employed him — one time it was 
 a breakdown, now the bailiffs. 
 
 Before he and his new employer went abroad, they 
 spent several days at Brookwood, and here the new 
 chauffeur was first introduced to the machine — a long, 
 bare, business-looking car, built for speed, not comfort, 
 and painted a dull slate colour. 
 
 " She's as ugly as she can stick ! " admitted her 
 owner ; " but she runs sweetly and is a magnificent 
 machine ; has won three big races, a grand goer, and 
 ab-so-lutely reliable ! " 
 
 Flying round the track at Brookwood she certainly 
 bore out her reputation for speed; but as to whether 
 she was absolutely reliable, remained to be proved. 
 
 18
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 TAKING RISKS 
 
 Early in January Wynyard found himself on the 
 Continent, roaming hither and thither as dictated by the 
 caprice of his employer. First they went to Paris, then, 
 leaving behind them the intricacies of the traffic, de- 
 parted from that gay city by the Port de Choisy for 
 Mellun, Sens, and Dijon. From Dijon (the Charing 
 Cross of motors) they sped across to Biarritz, over the 
 Pyrenees to Madrid, then back to the Riviera, via 
 Carcassonne and Toulouse. 
 
 It was Masham's custom to start at daybreak ; 
 the car was on the wing as soon as the birds. They 
 swept along the great straight highways, by quiet 
 sleeping farms, through low-hanging mists, and now and 
 then past an old white-faced chateau, staring sternly from 
 amidst its woods — or again, a gaudy red villa smothered 
 in lime trees. Masham had not overstated the case when 
 he declared that he " took risks." Once or twice, when 
 they hummed along wide, empty roads, as the wind 
 roared past their ears, and the engine vibration was such 
 that every nerve was ajar, it appeared to the chauffeur 
 that he was trusting his life to a madman ! Speed, his 
 employer's passion, seemed to grow insatiable with time 
 — his appetite for eating up, with furious haste, miles 
 and miles and miles, and ever hurrying onwards to the 
 unattainable horizon, increased with indulgence. The
 
 TAKING RISKS 275 
 
 intoxication of motion appeared to lift him completely 
 out of himself — and to change his personality. 
 
 Wynyard had once quoted to his friend, " Needs must 
 when the devil drives ! " Now at times he could readily 
 believe that the old gentleman himself was holding the 
 steering-wheel ! 
 
 Sometimes, as they tore through villages, they left a 
 track of whirling feathers — the remains of a flock of 
 geese or poultry ; and Masham boasted, to his chauffeur's 
 disgust, that once, between Pau and Biarritz, he and 
 his machine had been the death of five dogs. On more 
 than one occasion, when his excitement was frenzied, and 
 he undoubtedly saw red, Wynyard had endeavoured to 
 wrest the steering-wheel from his employer. They had 
 several narrow escapes, and many of their skids were 
 neither more nor less than hair-raising. Wynyard's face, 
 which was tanned and weather-beaten, displayed several 
 new lines, and sometimes wore a very grim expression, 
 as the car whirled round a sharp corner with a single 
 and defiant hoot 1 But these risks were his price ; it 
 was all in the day's work, for three hundred a year. 
 
 It seemed strange that he was unable to find a 
 commonplace situation, which offered the happy medium ; 
 either he drove an old doddering car at infrequent 
 intervals, or he was bound to this grey racer, like Ixion 
 to his wheel. 
 
 Excepting on the occasions when Masham was 
 specially reckless, the situation was all right. They lived 
 at the best hotels, and he sat at the same table with his 
 employer — whose talk was ever and always of the car, 
 or other people's cars — of petrol, garages, tyres, and 
 racing. He was a man of one idea. 
 
 His companion-chauffeur was a good deal staggered 
 by the large quantity of cognac absorbed by his patron ;
 
 276 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 but it never appeared to affect his nerves, and merely 
 rendered him unsociable and morose. His one, all- 
 devouring ambition was to win a race for the highest 
 speed, and to be known as the most daring and successful 
 motorist in Europe ! When they stopped at hotels he 
 herded with his kind — after the manner of golfers and 
 racing people — comparing cars, speeds, weights, and 
 prices, talking knowingly of " mushroom valves " and 
 the " new sliding sleeve engine." On such occasions, 
 nstead of being, as usual, somewhat stolid and glum, he 
 became extraordinarily animated and eloquent ! 
 
 Masham was a man of good family, his own master, 
 and the non-resident owner of a fine property in the 
 north of England, which, in order to indulge his passion 
 for speed, he neglected shamefully. 
 
 Arrived at Nice, he put up at one of the fashionable 
 hotels, running over daily to Monte Carlo, which, in the 
 month of March, was crammed. On these expeditions, 
 he was accompanied by his companion, and the car was 
 garaged, whilst its owner took what he called " a turn in 
 the rooms." He played for high stakes, generally put 
 down a mille note, and was uncannily lucky. This good 
 fortune he attributed to the little silver figure of a certain 
 saint, which he clutched in one hand, whilst he staked 
 with the other ; this saint was his mascot. He never 
 remained long in the Casino, being too impatient and 
 restless ; and when he had made a round of his favourite 
 tables, would sally forth in search of refreshment, or to 
 saunter about the square and the exquisite gardens. 
 His companion did not gamble — strong as were inherited 
 instincts, and hot as was the gambling fever which ran in 
 his blood ; — he had no money to lose, and the prize he 
 wished to win was Aurea Morven. 
 
 Naturally, Masham came across many acquaint-
 
 TAKING RISKS 277 
 
 ances in such a cosmopolitan rendezvous as " Monte," 
 Wynyard also encountered several familiar faces, and, 
 one afternoon, as he was passing through a great crowd 
 at the " Cafe de Paris," a light hand was laid on his 
 arm, and, looking down, he was astonished to meet the 
 upturned blue eyes of Mrs. Ramsay — Mrs. Ramsay in 
 black, but no longer in weeds; Mrs. Ramsay another 
 woman, and ten years younger; Mrs. Ramsay self- 
 confident, prosperous, and handsome. 
 
 " Why, it's Owen ! " she exclaimed. " Who would 
 have thought of seeing you here ? " 
 
 He smiled affirmatively, and glanced at her com- 
 panions round the tea-table. Ottinge was strongly 
 represented : here were the Rector and Miss Aurea, also 
 General and Mrs. Morven, and a smart young man in 
 attendance on the younger lady. 
 
 " Hullo, Owen ! " exclaimed Mr. Morven, rising and 
 shaking hands; "this is an unexpected meeting ! " and 
 he stared with puzzled interest at the erect figure, high- 
 bred face, unimpeachable grey suit, and Homburg hat. 
 
 " I'm not over here to gamble," he continued. " We 
 are at Mentone, and I've come to have a look at this 
 pretty, wicked place." 
 
 " It's pretty wicked by all accounts ! " replied 
 Wynyard, speaking now, as Mr. Morven noted, in the 
 tone of equal to equal. 
 
 " Aurea," he said, turning to his daughter, " don't 
 you see Owen ? " 
 
 Miss Morven — who had entirely regained her beauty, 
 and was charmingly dressed — glanced up from under- 
 neath her immense rose-wreathed hat, and coolly sur- 
 veyed her former lover. She was, if possible, prettier 
 than ever, he said to himself, as he doffed his hat in 
 acknowledgment of her curt nod ; but her eyes, as they
 
 278 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 met his, resembled two dark pools — frozen. For some 
 unknown and unguessed-at reason, Aurea was no longer 
 friendly to him — much less anything nearer — and the 
 discovery seemed to plant a dagger in his throat. He 
 found it desperately difficult to utter a word, much less 
 to carry on a brisk conversation with the Rector and 
 Mrs. Ramsay. General and Mrs. Morven were, he con- 
 cluded, the important elderly couple who sat at the other 
 side of the table, and the young man, who was engrossing 
 Miss Morven's sole attention, was some idle ass, who 
 wore his hair parted in the middle, and three rings on 
 his left hand. He hated him then and there ! 
 
 Meanwhile, Miss Morven encouraged him, and kept 
 up a conversation in low, confidential tones. Her hat 
 concealed her face, and Wynyard realised, for the first 
 time in his life, how rude a hat could be ! This black 
 hat, garlanded with pink flowers, was but too eloquently 
 expressive of the fact, that its wearer desired to ignore 
 the existence — much less the presence — of her aunts' 
 late employ^. 
 
 However, the Rector and Mrs. Ramsay were most 
 anxiously disposed to make amends for Miss Morven's 
 detachment. 
 
 " What do you think of the gardens ? " inquired the 
 former, indicating the flower-beds that lay between 
 them and the Casino — a blaze of velvet violas. " Quite 
 in your line, eh ? " 
 
 Wynyard muttered an inarticulate assent — all his 
 thoughts were concentrated on Aurea. 
 
 " I'm glad to see you are getting on," resumed the 
 Rector cheerily ; " prospects improving, eh ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid not," answered the chauffeur; his mind 
 full of this gentleman's only daughter, and the haughty 
 little face which was so studiously concealed.
 
 TAKING RISKS 279 
 
 " What are you doing now, eh ? " 
 
 "I'm with Masham, a man who has a racing motor, 
 as useful companion." 
 
 " Oh, by Jove, I know him ! " broke in the General. 
 " Masham's the wildest driver in England, or, indeed, 
 Europe — a racing lunatic — wish you safely out of his 
 company ! Is he here ? " 
 
 " Yes, in the rooms ; and I'm just loafing about till 
 he is ready to go back to Nice," 
 
 " You have never asked about poor dear little 
 Ottinge," interposed Mrs. Ramsay, with an injured 
 air, — Mrs. Ramsay who had hitherto been a silent and 
 much interested spectator of Wynyard and Aurea. 
 What was the matter with the girl ? 
 
 " And how is Ottinge ? " he inquired, turning to the 
 Rector. 
 
 " Oh, pretty well, thank you. Young Hogben is 
 married to Dilly Topham. I must say I never thought 
 that would come off, but it has ; and they seem fairly 
 happy. Old Mrs. Topham, however, gave no dowry ; 
 she cannot bear to part with a penny, but she sent a 
 present of three jars of mouldy jam, and a broken-down 
 lamp." 
 
 " Miss Parrett has been dangerously ill," supplemented 
 Mrs. Ramsay, " but is better. Old Thunder has bought 
 a donkey and a bath-chair ; and oh, sad news indeed ! — 
 how am I to tell you ? — Mackenzie is no more." 
 
 " I can bear up," he answered, with a short laugh. 
 This was ungrateful, for was it not Mackenzie who had 
 introduced him to Aurea ? 
 
 " He was kicked by a horse, and was killed on the 
 spot," said the Rector ; " I think, Mrs. Ramsay, you show 
 a very unneighbourly spirit." 
 
 " But I never considered myself the neighbour of
 
 28o A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Mackenzie ! " she argued, " just the opposite — and he 
 was not an estimable character. A good man should not 
 own a bad dog." 
 
 " Oh, well, give a dog a bad name " 
 
 " And Mackenzie deserved it," she interrupted; " he 
 was the village bully. If he met a smaller dog, it was 
 death for the small dog ; if one of his own size, he passed 
 on. You know, or you may not know, that, at teas at 
 the Rectory, he sat on the laps of timid ladies, devoured 
 their offerings, and intimidated them with growls — 
 they dared not displace him." Then, turning her head, 
 " Aurea, we are talking of Mackenzie and his enormities." 
 
 " Oh, are you ? " she rejoined, with civil indifference. 
 
 " Yes," resumed Mrs. Ramsay ; " and is not it well 
 known that he attacked a solitary visitor in the Rectory 
 drawing-room — whose furs affronted him — and tore her 
 muff to shreds with ferocious satisfaction ? I believe 
 her screams could be heard at the Drum, and she had to 
 be restored with brandy and burnt feathers." 
 
 " You would delight Dr. Johnson, my dear lady," 
 said the Parson ; " he loved a good hater." 
 
 " Oh, if you only knew how he treated and maltreated 
 my poor paying guests," — and she looked at Wynyard — 
 "you remember the beagle, and how you doctored him; 
 only for you he would have died." 
 
 "Yes; but the beagle survives — Mackenzie is no 
 more. De moriuis nil nisi honum." 
 
 To hear this chauffeur with a ready Latin quotation 
 in his mouth ! What was the world coming to ? thought 
 Mrs. Morven, who had finished her tea, and was now 
 playing the part of a dignified audience. 
 
 " We are all at the H6tel des Montaignes, Mentone," 
 continued Mrs. Ramsay ; " I want you to come over and 
 see me, will you ? "
 
 TAKING RISKS 281 
 
 " I should be delighted, but my time is not my own — 
 perhaps I can get off on Sunday. May I write ? " 
 
 " Do ; and I shall expect to hear that you are coming 
 to lunch." 
 
 " Here is Masham," he announced, as the muscular, 
 brick-faced gentleman pushed and elbowed his way 
 towards them. 
 
 " Hullo, Owen, ready to start, eh ? We must get a 
 move on." — " Oh," to the General, " glad to see you — 
 splendid weather out here, eh ? " 
 
 At this moment a party of compatriots arrived, and 
 figuratively swallowed up General and Mrs. Morven, the 
 Rector, Mrs. Ramsay, and even the celebrated Mr. 
 Masham. Here was Wynyard's opportunity, and, as 
 usual, he seized upon it without ceremony. It was im- 
 possible that Aurea (who was rarely out of his thoughts) , 
 whose little word, " perhaps," had buoyed him up on 
 many stormy waters, meant what her looks and attitude 
 implied. Resolutely he came up to her, ignoring the 
 glassy stare of her companion, and said — 
 
 " Miss Morven — has forgotten me — perhaps ? " 
 
 Miss Morven looked up at him with an expression of 
 delicate disdain. Could this self-possessed young lady, 
 in a wonderful hat and Parisian frock, be the self-same 
 girl who had stood beside him on Yampton Hill, with 
 loosened hair and spattered habit ? 
 
 After a reflective pause, she murmured — 
 
 " No, I've not forgotten my aunts' — er — chauffeur; 
 but I do not think we were ever — acquainted." 
 
 Wynyard had wonderful self-command, but mentally 
 he reeled ; he felt as if some one had suddenly dealt him 
 a terrible blow between the eyes. Outwardly he turned 
 a sudden, pallid white, and drew back, as Miss Morven 
 rose, picked up her parasol, and said to her companion —
 
 282 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Now, if you like, I will go down to the Condamine 
 and see the motor boats," 
 
 And, almost at the same moment, Mr. Masham claimed 
 his companion and hurried him away to the garage. 
 
 " I say," said the General to his brother (he usually 
 prefaced his remarks with " I say "), " who was the 
 young stranger who seemed to know Ottinge ? Ton 
 my word, he deserves a medal for the discovery. Wait, 
 I seem to know his face ! Yes, I've got it. Wynyard 
 of the Red Hussars — he went the pace — uncle cut up 
 rough — he's in my club." 
 
 " No, for once you are a bit out ! You will be 
 amused to hear that that good-looking, well-set-up 
 young man was Bella's chauffeur," 
 
 " Nonsense 1 " 
 
 " It's a sober fact. I liked him," continued the 
 Rector ; "he has good manners — manners make the 
 man — I had him in the choir, and he's a first-class 
 cricketer. I always, between you and me, believed 
 him to be a gentleman who was expiating some — er — 
 mistake. I declare, Susan was actually fond of him, 
 and he turned the heads, unintentionally — I'll say that 
 for him — of every girl in the village." 
 
 " Well, I'm blowed ! He is the very image of Dick 
 Wynyard's heir — next to the baronetcy and property. 
 Old Dick never speaks of him now, and I've not seen 
 him about for nearly two years. Mrs. Ramsay, what do 
 you say to a village romance, and a chauffeur being 
 as like a young swell as two peas ? " 
 
 " Oh," replied the lady, deliberately moulding on her 
 gloves, " truth is stranger than fiction ; I've known 
 some funny things in my life. I always liked Owen, 
 and I am glad to see he is getting up in the world." 
 
 " Up ! " repeated the General ; " if he is companion to
 
 TAKING RISKS 283 
 
 Masham, he is much more likely to leave the world 
 altogether — and that at an early date ! Well, Edgar, 
 Aurea has gone off with young Beauclerc and his people 
 to the boats. Shall we go to La Turbie as arranged, 
 and have the honour of escorting the two ladies ? " 
 
 And then, with one consent, they rose with a loud 
 noise of scraping chairs, and passed into the square 
 in single file.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 AN EXPLANATION 
 
 Mrs. Ramsay's trip to the Sunny South was accounted 
 for by the fact that she had recently come into possession 
 of a comfortable fortune, left to her by her godfather 
 " in recognition and admiration," said the will, " of 
 the noble way in which Kathleen Ramsay had carried 
 out her marriage vow — for better or worse." 
 
 The widow had gladly accepted an invitation, and 
 joined the Morven party. She was extremely fond of 
 Aurea, the girl's sunny nature and light-heartedness 
 was a grateful tonic for her own sad frame of mind; 
 but she now felt deeply indignant with her friend for 
 her treatment of Mr. Wynyard, and could not have 
 believed her capable of such snobbishness, had she not 
 witnessed it with her own eyes. She had noticed his 
 hurried address, Aurea's quick reply, and then his 
 face. What had the girl said, to thus turn him into 
 stone ? Personally, she liked Owen immensely ! was 
 deeply in his debt, and ready to forward his happiness 
 and his interests to the best of her ability. Kathleen 
 Ramsay, a woman of warm feelings and responsive 
 susceptibilities, would have been delighted to promote 
 a love-match between Owen Wynyard and Aurea Morven. 
 
 Aurea's unexpected attitude had filled her with 
 amazement and rage ; she could hardly restrain herself, 
 
 but managed to hold her peace — and that with pain 
 
 384
 
 AN EXPLANATION 285 
 
 and grief — for four whole days ; at the end of the time, 
 she received a letter from Aiirea's lover, which caused 
 her restraint to break all bonds : — 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Ramsay, — I find it will be impossible 
 for me to go over and see you, as we are leaving for Milan 
 to-morrow. I should have liked to have had a long talk 
 with you — you and I have few secrets from one another — 
 but, as the Rector and Miss Morven are in your hotel, I 
 could not have faced them again, and given Miss Morven 
 the trouble of cutting me for a second time. You suspected 
 me, I know, and I may tell you that it was Aurea Morven 
 who kept me in Ottinge for six months; that, chiefly 
 for her sake, I took on a detestable job in Town, and 
 engaged to risk my neck with this crazy motorist ; 
 for every week that I was earning my bread and keeping 
 my promise, was bringing me, I believed, nearer to her. 
 To the best of my knowledge I have never given her any 
 reason to think ill of me ; on the contrary, I have striven 
 tremendously hard to make myself more worthy of 
 her, and the other day, when I met her accidentally, I 
 thought it was a wonderful piece of good luck for me ; 
 instead of which, it was the blackest day I've ever 
 known. She refused to remember or recognise me. 
 I have only six months more to work off — sometimes I 
 think I'll chuck the whole thing and enlist ; I would, 
 only for my sister. What's the good of trying ? I'm 
 afraid this is a beastly sort of letter, but ..." 
 
 Some words were scratched out, but read, very 
 carefully, and held up to the light, they were faintly 
 decipherable. 
 
 " I sometimes feel as if I were going mad — I don't 
 care now if we have some bad accident. I only hope 
 it will kill me. — Yours sincerely, Owen Wynyard." 
 
 It was the Honourable Mrs. Ramsay, daughter of 
 the late, and sister of the present. Viscount Ballingarry — •
 
 286 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 and not Katie — who, that evening, entered Aurea's 
 bedroom immediately after a knock. She discovered 
 her young victim in a charming white neglige and a 
 rose silk petticoat, engaged in brushing her magnificent 
 hair. There was war in the visitor's face as she seated 
 herself, and, after a moment's expressive silence, fired 
 her first gun. 
 
 " Aurea, I want you to tell me why you were so 
 amazingly, so cruelly, rude to Owen, your aunts' 
 chauffeur ? " 
 
 Miss Aurea, after a glance at her friend, coolly 
 replied — 
 
 " Why should / be called upon to do the polite to 
 my aunts' ci-devant employe ? " 
 
 " Aurea ! This is not you — there must be some 
 crooked turn in you, or there's some other detestable 
 girl in your body ! " 
 
 " It is Aurea Morven, I assure you," and she drew 
 herself together with a quick movement ; " and I do not 
 wish to hear anything of Owen, the chauffeur, I know 
 more about him than you suppose." 
 
 " You don't know a quarter as much as I do ! " re- 
 torted Mrs. Ramsay with decision, and her eyes gleamed. 
 
 " I know that he was on a ranch in South America, 
 that he was a waiter on the Anaconda " 
 
 " Oh yes, go on." 
 
 " That he was probably in the Army, that he is in 
 disgrace with his family, and came to hide himself in 
 Ottinge till the storm, whatever it was, blew over ! and 
 that a tall dark lady came to meet him at Brodfield, 
 and even at the Drum." 
 
 " How do you know ? " inquired Mrs. Ramsay. 
 
 " I saw her — I saw him kissing a woman at the 
 Drum as I passed; all Ottinge might have done the
 
 AN EXPLANATION 287 
 
 same ! Their shadows were on the blind. I saw him 
 and the woman drive away ; they passed me in a motor, 
 he, leaning back delightfully at his ease, and she bending 
 over him as if she adored him ! And this is not second- 
 hand news, for I witnessed it myself." 
 
 " M^hy should you be so furious, Aurea ? Aurea, 
 I know why I " and her tone was vibrating and sar- 
 castic. 
 
 The girl turned upon her with flashing eyes ; but, 
 before she could speak, Mrs, Ramsay said — 
 
 " You say your news is first-hand — so is mine ; I 
 promised to keep Mr. Wynyard's secret." 
 
 " Oh yes, I knew his name was Wynyard," inter- 
 rupted Aurea, 
 
 " Of course — my poor old man uttered it with his 
 last breath. He was fond of Owen ; he mistook him for 
 his friend and schoolfellow — Owen's father — and Owen 
 allowed him to think so, I pledged myself to silence, 
 but even he would permit me to break it now. The lady 
 who came to see Owen, and who has so excited your 
 wrath, was " — speaking very deliberately — " his sister. 
 Lady Kesters," 
 
 Aurea's tortoiseshell brush fell to the floor with a 
 resounding clang. Then, in a very few words, Mrs, 
 Ramsay — impulsive, eloquent, and Irish — laid the whole 
 story of Sir Richard's bargain before the girl, who stood 
 listening as if in a dream, 
 
 " Mr, Wynyard was so good to my poor husband, 
 and, indeed, to me, I'll never, never forget it. And, you 
 see, Jimmy knew his father and mother, whom he could 
 not remember, and one night in the dusk, just before 
 I left, he told me his whole story. Of course I had 
 always known he was the son of Captain Wynyard, 
 and that he himself had been in the Red Hussars, but
 
 288 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 I did not know why he was earning his bread as 
 your aunts' chauffeur ! He never said a word of you, 
 but I understood — I realised the attraction that kept 
 him, a young man of the world, in out-of-the-way Ottinge. 
 He opened his heart to me that August night, and 
 now, Aurea, you have broken it." 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Don't pretend," she cried passionately, and she 
 looked at her almost threateningly ; " don't add to your 
 sins. You know as well as I do how you treated him — 
 certainly not as a lady should do ; why, if I were to 
 meet one of the Brodfield fly-drivers here I'd give him 
 a civil greeting. You were outrageously rude — you 
 overdid it. My only comfort is that, to be so jealous, 
 you must have been extremely fond of him." 
 
 Aurea coloured — she could blush furiously — and her 
 complexion was very pink indeed, as seen through long 
 strands of hair. 
 
 Then she sat down rather suddenly, and said — 
 
 " What's done is done — and never can be undone ! " 
 and buried her face in her hands. 
 
 Whereupon the Honourable Mrs. Ramsay, having 
 said her say, and " rubbed it in " remorselessly, quietly 
 effected her departure.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 SITUATION THE FOURTH 
 
 It was evident that some kind of armistice or pour- 
 parlers had been arranged between Mrs. Ramsay and 
 her misguided young companion, for, when the General, 
 the Rector, and Mrs. Morven returned to England, home, 
 and duty, these ladies still remained abroad, and went 
 together to a small and picturesque village in the very 
 heart of the Alpes-Maritimes. Aurea longed for some such 
 quiet retreat, where she could hide herself, and recover 
 from a blow which had still left its quivering traces. 
 Love and happiness were possibly within her reach, and 
 she had, in all ignorance, cast them aside ; her widowed 
 chaperone understood and sympathised, and, though it 
 was she who had inflicted the wound, she was absolved. 
 In the inn of a little mountain village the friends 
 spent three weeks far from the giddy crowds, aloof from 
 luxury, and the world. Here were thick cups, thin 
 candles, good coffee, and sour bread. What long walks 
 and talks they enjoyed, and how fully the girl opened 
 her innocent heart to the experienced, world-worn 
 matron ! Letters were rare, and newspapers ignored ; 
 in Aurea's mental condition, what were to her the fate 
 of plays, of Cabinets, yea, of nations ? She was never 
 likely to hear tidings of him through the Press ; but 
 here Aurea was wrong. The unexpected — as is so 
 frequently the case — declared itself. One afternoon the 
 two ladies walked to a town at some distance, and as 
 19
 
 290 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 they waited for a well-deserved cafe complet, Mrs. 
 Ramsay idly glanced over an old and fly-blown copy of 
 the continental Daily Mail, and the following paragraph 
 caught her eye and seemed to stab her in the face : — 
 
 " The neighbourhood of Villo, near Turin, has been 
 shocked by a terrible accident, which took place yester- 
 day. Mr. H. Masham, the well-known racing motorist, 
 returning victorious from a competition, in order to avoid 
 a wagon, dashed into a hillside at full speed. The motor 
 turned over completely ; he and the chauffeur were pinned 
 underneath. Mr. Masham was dead when extricated, and 
 there are no hopes of the recovery of his companion." 
 
 Mrs. Ramsay made a desperate attempt to hide the 
 paper, but it was impossible to hide her own white face, 
 and Aurea insisted on reading the paragraph. When 
 she had grasped its contents, she turned to her friend 
 for a moment with great, agonised, unseeing eyes, and 
 for the first time in her life of twenty-one years Aurea 
 ' Morven fainted. 
 
 That same hour Mrs. Ramsay despatched a reply-paid 
 telegram to the Italian Hospital, asking for immediate 
 tidings of Mr. Owen, and the answer received was — 
 
 " Owen left yesterday — address unknown." 
 
 Well, at any rate, he was still in the land of the living, 
 and from this important fact Miss Morven must extract 
 such comfort as she deserved. 
 
 The truth was, that the chauffeur's injuries were not 
 so severe as had been supposed — a few cuts and bruises, 
 a slight concussion, and a broken collar-bone. His 
 fine constitution had speedily carried him out of the 
 doctor's hands, and when Wynyard returned to London, 
 it was to find that his sister and her husband had 
 arrived as a part of the great tide that flows annually 
 from the West. Lady Kesters had heard of her brother's 
 accident in New York, and spent a small fortune in
 
 SITUATION THE FOURTH 291 
 
 cables, and now they met again, after a separation of 
 six months, with mutual satisfaction ; but, in spite of her 
 insistence, Wynyard firmly resisted his sister's invitation 
 to take up his quarters in Mount Street. 
 
 " No, no," he answered, " that is not in the bond ; 
 I'll get through on my own. I've only four months to 
 work off. I can run in and out till I find another place." 
 
 " What about money, my dear boy ? Your stay in 
 that Italian hospital must have been expensive." 
 
 " I was heavily insured against accidents ; after my 
 first week with Masham — when I realised his style of 
 driving, I took out a policy for fifteen hundred pounds ! " 
 
 " I wonder you dare get into a motor," she said. " I 
 don't see how you can possibly have any nerve left." 
 
 " Oh, I'm not such a wreck as all that ; and, considering 
 everything, I got off uncommonly well. I'm sure poor 
 Masham was insane. He certainly looked it at times. 
 It's my experience that there are quite a good-sized crowd 
 of lunatics about at large ; I've knocked up against one 
 or two lately. Masham always prophesied he would be 
 killed in a motor accident — and seemed rather to glory 
 in the prospect." 
 
 " You do tumble into the queerest situations — old 
 maids, dancers, madman ! I must confess I cannot 
 understand why you remained with him, carrying your 
 life in your hands ? " 
 
 " In Masham's hands, you mean ! " corrected her 
 brother ; " he seldom allowed me to drive." 
 
 " And if you had been killed, where, pray, did I come 
 in — or Aurea Morven ? " 
 
 ti 
 
 Owen Wynyard's next situation as chauffeur was 
 with a certain Mrs. Buckingham Brune, a wealthy 
 matron who had a fine place in the north of England. 
 Miss Weedon, her daughter by a first marriage, was a
 
 292 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 notable heiress, and her mother was determined that 
 she should make an alliance befitting her great fortune 
 and fame. Her father, Sir Jacob Weedon, the son 
 of a peasant, had risen to wealth and honour solely 
 through his own active brain and dogged industry. 
 He had not the smallest desire to conceal his origin, 
 and often alluded to the days when he was " a poor, 
 half-fed body " ; and his coal-pick actually hung as a 
 glorious trophy over the chimney piece in his smoking- 
 room. But his wife was of a different type ; she 
 smothered (when possible) his reminiscences, and desired, 
 since his death, to soar to other worlds — on the wings of 
 Ermentrude's fortune ; but Betsy Ermentrude, a simple 
 maiden in her prime, inherited her father's character and 
 ideas, and had no craving for super-society or to wear 
 the coronet of a peeress. Her mother had married a 
 second time, a good-looking young man, many years her 
 junior ; he was a lazy member of an impoverished 
 family, who had no objection to a luxurious home, 
 hunters, motors, pocket-money, and the best of shooting. 
 It was considered (among his intimates) that Toby Brune 
 had dropped into a " nice soft thing." They were not, 
 however, thinking of Mrs. Brune, who was notoriously 
 as hard as nails, but of Toby's enviable surroundings. 
 
 Miss Weedon made no rash assertions, never took 
 exception to her mother's gay guests, but quietly made 
 up her mind that, as her parent had pleased herself, she 
 would do likewise, and shape her own life. Betsy was a 
 slight, sandy-haired girl with appealing blue eyes, a 
 determined mouth, and a radiant smile. Her figure was 
 willowy and graceful ; in short, she was unnecessarily 
 pretty for an heiress. 
 
 This was the entourage in which the chauffeur now 
 found himself, his sole stipulation being to " live out." 
 He had no desire to mix with the great staff of servants.
 
 SITUATION THE FOURTH 293 
 
 and found comfortable quarters at one of the gate 
 lodges. The family owned no less than three fine cars ; 
 the one Wynyard drove was a Panhard — the exclusive 
 possession of Miss Weedon and her friends. Mrs. Brune 
 toured the country in a magnificent Mercedes. She was 
 a stout, black-haired lady, with a short neck and a full 
 meridian. To make her look young and slender was 
 the hopeless task of milliner and maid. Their employer 
 had, however, contrived to squeeze herself into the best 
 society, was a clever, pushing woman, who had early 
 acquired the art of " Who to know, and who not to 
 know." Her cook was a notable French chef, and smart 
 guests, who stayed at the Court, invariably carried away 
 with them the happy tidings that " they had been done 
 remarkably well, and indirect everything was topping ! " 
 
 Mrs. Buckingham Brune, for her husband's benefit, 
 rented a fine moor in Scotland, and here the family 
 were luxuriously established for August and September, 
 Owen, by special permission, lived with one of the 
 keepers, and was chiefly employed to fetch guests to 
 and from the station, or to motor the ladies to the 
 neighbouring sights. 
 
 Occasionally Miss Weedon adventured forth alone, 
 and, at a discreet distance from the lodge, picked up a 
 certain young man — who, as it happened, was an 
 acquaintance of the chauffeur's. Miss Weedon's love- 
 affairs were not precisely his business, but they had his 
 sympathy and, if desired, his sanction. Supposing 
 Teddy Wantage were anxious to marry the heiress and 
 they liked one another, supposing he were man enough to 
 carry her off — who was to stand in their way ? Not he ! 
 He detested Mrs. Buckingham Brune, her preposterous 
 pretensions, and shameless tuft-hunting, and was fully 
 prepared to help old lame-dog Teddy over an awkward 
 matrimonial stile.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 SIR RICHARD AS CHAPERON 
 
 Sir Richard Wynyard was passing through Edinburgh 
 on his way to London ; he had been shooting up in 
 Perthshire, and found, as he drove up toWaverley Station, 
 that he had missed his train by two minutes — this, 
 and the fact that he felt some acute twinges of gout, 
 combined to make him a little short in his manner. 
 As he had an hour's wait, he pushed up to the book- 
 stall, gruffly demanded an English paper, and tossed 
 a copper in payment. The copper missed its goal, 
 fell with a clang on the flags, and a young man, who was 
 also buying papers — a chauffeur chap, — turned about, 
 and Sir Richard found that he was face to face with 
 his nephew — also that he was extremely glad of the 
 meeting. The baronet was beginning to feel a bit 
 lonely in life ; now that old age was reaching for him, 
 he experienced the lack of some personal belongings, 
 of comfort and hope in the future, and a sense of ex- 
 clusion and loneliness invaded him, especially in those 
 hours when he lay awake 'twixt dark and dawn. His 
 nearest of kin, Leila and Owen, had been out of touch 
 with him for many months — Leila away in the United 
 States, and Owen working his life or death sentence. 
 
 He had been terribly frightened at the time of Mr. 
 Masham's accident, had sorely repented of his bargain 
 with his heir, and repeatedly said to himself, " There was 
 no doubt that motoring was an infernally risky business."
 
 SIR RICHARD AS CHAPERON 295 
 
 " Hullo, Owen ! " he exclaimed, " what are you 
 doing here ? " 
 
 " I'm driving a car. My people have just gone ofi 
 by the express." 
 
 " Um — quite fit now ? " looking him over from 
 head to foot. 
 
 "Yes, thanks; I'm all right." 
 
 " And what's your job ? ' 
 
 " I'm chauffeur to Mrs. Buckingham Brune, of Ash- 
 bourne Court. She's up here on a moor just now." 
 
 " Buckingham Brune — yes — yes — I know — enor- 
 mously rich ; daughter, a great heiress — let's see — a 
 quarter of a million — Miss Weedon ? " 
 
 " She was Miss Weedon till an hour ago ; now she's 
 Mrs, Wantage ! I brought her in from the lodge this 
 morning, attended the wedding, and saw the runaway 
 couple off ten minutes ago." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " Sir Richard gave a little stagger. 
 " What ! eh ? You don't mean it ! I say, what a feUow 
 you are for being in the thick of rows and bothers ! " 
 
 " Oh, no bother to 7ne," replied his nephew care- 
 lessly ; " I'm only a chauffeur, not a chaperon ; but I 
 must say I'm awfully glad Wantage brought it off ! " 
 
 " And what a haul — half a million ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but, upon my honour, 1 don't believe he was 
 thinking of the money. She's an uncommonly nice 
 girl- 
 Sir Richard's face expressed scornful incredulity. 
 
 " Pity you didn't go in for her yourself, eh ! " Then, 
 after a meditative pause, " I expect there will be a 
 holy row ! What will her mother say ? ' 
 
 " That remains to be heard ! She wanted her 
 daughter to marry that drunken little sweep, Vippen 
 — he's staying there now." V 
 
 " Lord Vippen ? " *
 
 296 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " And it's my painful duty to face the music, and 
 deliver the fatal letter." 
 
 Sir Richard gave a long whistle. 
 
 " Yes ; it's a job I don't half fancy. Well, I must 
 be getting a move on — the car is just outside." Then, 
 holding out his hand, " I'm awfully glad to have seen 
 you. Uncle Dick, and looking so fit." 
 
 " I say, Owen," suddenly taking him by the arm and 
 leading him aside, " I've had enough of this." 
 
 His nephew stared at him interrogatively. 
 
 " Let's cry quits — time's up — all but a few weeks ! 
 You have done uncommonly well, and I was an old 
 idiot." 
 
 " No, I don't think so, sir. I believe it was quite 
 a sound idea ; but, since you've given me the word, 
 I must confess I'm not sorry it's finished." 
 
 " And I'll tell you what, my boy — you gave me a 
 jolly good fright the time Masham was killed." 
 
 " Nothing to my own fright when the car turned 
 over; but, I say, I must be off to Hillstan — it's thirty 
 miles away — and do my errand. Where shall I find 
 you when I come back ? I'm fairly safe to get the 
 kick out, and I expect I'll have to walk to our nearest 
 drivelling little station." 
 
 " Look here, Owen, I'll hire a car. I'll telephone 
 now, and go with you, and this other can fetch us back 
 — we'll have a good talk." 
 
 Owen was secretly amused, though his face was 
 impassive. Here was Uncle Dick, extraordinarily eager 
 for his company, actually chartering a motor, and 
 grudging him out of his sight for a couple of hours ! 
 He never dreamt of the old man's hungry heart — how, 
 at times, life seemed empty and hopeless — and he had 
 nothing to look forward to but the grave.
 
 SIR RICHARD AS CHAPERON 297 
 
 The narrow escape of his nephew had brought home 
 to him that he was really fond of the scapegrace now 
 confronting him ; even in a holland coat and chauffeur's 
 cap, what a handsome, well-set-up young fellow ! And 
 there was something different in this Owen : a look 
 of decision, manliness, and independence in his face ; 
 a strain of confidence in his speech ; even if he were 
 not the future Sir Owen Wynyard, this individual was 
 undeniably capable of " hoeing his own row." 
 
 He felt proud of this nephew, who seemed to be 
 years older than the Owen of the Red Hussars or Owen 
 of the ranch — here was a full-grown man ! As a 
 boy, Owen had never been afraid to look him squarely 
 in the face, but now his nephew's eyes seemed to dominate 
 him altogether. Was it the younger generation knocking 
 at the door ? 
 
 " Mind you, if we meet Mrs. Brune, and you are in her 
 car, she will run you in for a Joy rider ! " said his nephew, 
 with a grin. 
 
 " Well, perhaps you'd better go alone. I was only 
 thinking of backing you up when she tackles you." 
 
 " Awfully good of you. I'll get you to back me up 
 in earnest in another direction." 
 
 " As long as it's not a bill ! " and Sir Richard actually 
 laughed. 
 
 " No, no ; I've lots of money for a chauffeur — here's 
 the car, a 45 h.p. Panhard — isn't she a beauty ? " he said, 
 as they arrived at the station entrance. " I'll get it over 
 as soon as I can, and bring my traps to the Station Hotel." 
 
 " Yes, I dine at eight sharp — good luck to you ! " and 
 he waved his hand to his nephew, and then stood watch- 
 ing him as he steered through the traffic with admirable 
 judgment, and presently sped out of sight. 
 
 Then Sir Richard collected his luggage, engaged 
 rooms at the hotel, ordered a special reconciliation dinner,
 
 298 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 and wired to Lady Kesters, " Have seen Owen — all is 
 square. Expect us to-morrow." 
 
 At eight o'clock uncle and nephew, in glossy shirts and 
 evening- dress, sat dov^n tcte-a-it-te, to enjoy their oysters. 
 
 " And what about Mrs. Buckingham Brune ? " 
 inquired Sir Richard. 
 
 " She took it better than I expected. At first I 
 thought she was going to strike me, and I was in for 
 a bad time ; but when she heard that Wantage was no 
 pauper, and that his maternal uncle was a duke, she 
 calmed down, and I expect after a little time they will 
 be all right. She actually got the Peerage and looked 
 him up on the spot — my word did not count ! However, 
 we parted friends ; and she sent me over in the car and 
 offered me a splendid reference." 
 
 " Oh, so you got round her ! And what are your own 
 plans, my boy ? " 
 
 " The agency — and Wynyard — and " 
 
 " Oh, that's of course," he interrupted ; " but I mean 
 now — to-morrow ? " 
 
 " To-morrow I'd like to run up to Lossiemouth." 
 
 " For golf — yes ; but why not Berwick ? It's much 
 handier ! " 
 
 " Well, you see, Uncle Dick, I'm not specially inter- 
 ested jn any one in Berwick ; but there's a girl up north 
 that interests me more than any one in the world." 
 
 " Ah f " hastily emptying his champagne glass, and 
 putting it down with a jerk. 
 
 " Now I'm no longer in service, and have some 
 prospects, I want to find out if she will marry me ! " 
 
 " So it's got as far as that, has it ? " 
 
 " No, it has not even started. Last time we met, she 
 would not speak to me." 
 
 " And what are you going on, then ? " 
 
 " A mere chance. I believe there was a — a — mis-
 
 SIR RICHARD AS CHAPERON 299 
 
 understanding, so a friend told me ; anyway, she's the 
 only girl I could ever care for." 
 
 Sir Richard became more and more interested. 
 Could it be possible that Owen had inherited such loyal 
 devotion from himself ? 
 
 " Who is she ? " he asked. 
 
 " She is Miss Morven, daughter of the Rector at 
 Ottinge and the Parretts' niece. She sometimes came 
 out in the motor, and I used to see her in the garden." 
 
 " And how did you make love to her — language of 
 flowers, hey ? " 
 
 " No ; I never was anything but the chauffeur. I see 
 by the Scotsman she is up at Lossiemouth with her uncle. 
 General Morven." 
 
 " What — old Charlie Morven ! Why, I know him. 
 I'll go up there with you and see you through — and take 
 him out of your way." 
 
 " Do — it will be awfully decent of you ; but Miss 
 Morven may not have anything to do with me ! " 
 
 " What ! not marry my nephew with Wynyard at his 
 back and a fine fat fortune ! Nonsense, nonsense ! 
 Here, waiter, just fetch me a Bradshaw." Then to his 
 companion, " I'll wire for rooms to-night, and we will 
 make a start for Lossiemouth first thing to-morrow 
 morning."
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 REINSTATED 
 
 It was dinner-time in one of the larger hotels at Lossie- 
 mouth — a soft September evening, the windows stood 
 wide, admitting the warm salt air, and above the clatter- 
 ing of plates and voices, one occasionally caught the mur- 
 muring of the North Atlantic, the creak of an oar, or the 
 scream of a seagull. At a table in one corner a party of 
 three were seated — a party that were, as a rule, accorded 
 an unusual and flattering amount of attention — a white- 
 moustached soldier, a dignified, elderly lady (whose grey 
 hair was undoubtedly dressed by a maid), and a remark- 
 ably pretty, dark-eyed girl. They were in mourning, but 
 nothing so deep as to suggest an overwhelming calamity ; 
 the young lady wore white, the elder black crepe-de-chine, 
 the man black studs and a black tie, and their names in 
 the hotel register were " Major-General, Mrs., and Miss 
 Morven, London." 
 
 Miss Parrett was no more ; a sudden attack of " her 
 bronchitis " — she always spoke as if it were an exclusive 
 possession — had hurried her out of existence. She had, 
 however, executed her will, and after elaborate directions 
 respecting her funeral, her monument, and her hatch- 
 ment, it was found that she had bequeathed all she 
 possessed to her sister Susan, with the exception of her 
 automobile, which was left to her dear friend, Mrs. 
 Maria Wiggens ; and whether this memento was instigated 
 by generosity or malice, is a debated question until the
 
 REINSTATED 301 
 
 present hour. There were no legacies to charities, or 
 even the smallest souvenir for her special little clique. 
 The contents of the testament were a sore disappointment 
 to some, but few grudged Miss Susan independence and 
 fortune, for she knew how to make excellent use of both. 
 Isabella Parrett was no more, and Susan, her sister, 
 reigned in her stead. 
 
 The Morven family, who were not real heart-and-soul 
 golfers, were beginning to weary of the one perpetual 
 subject that surrounded them from morning till night. 
 The difficulties of the fifth tee, vivid descriptions of the 
 various approaches, bunkers, and greens, had palled 
 somewhat — even on the General. He secretly languished 
 for the society of some one who had been in the Service, 
 and a chance of discussing the late manoeuvres as 
 described in the daily Press, New arrivals were always 
 a matter of interest, and here came two — ushered by 
 the head waiter. There was a certain stir and a good 
 deal of staring as a little elderly gentleman, with very 
 square shoulders, and a young man — possibly his son 
 — approached. 
 
 " I say ! " ejaculated General Morven, laying down 
 his spoon, " if here isn't old Dicky Wynyard ! " and 
 he rose from his seat and made signals. " Yes — and his 
 nephew." 
 
 Aurea looked up with startled eyes, and became 
 suddenly white. There was Owen approaching in the 
 wake of his uncle ; he wore an air of complete self- 
 possession, the usual dinner-coat, and had undoubtedly 
 cast off the role of chauffeur. 
 
 " I say, this is good luck! " exclaimed the General, 
 extending a genial hand. " Fancy meeting you up here. 
 Sir Richard ! I did not know you ever came North ! 
 Hullo, Wynyard, glad to see you. I've not come across 
 you in the club for ages."
 
 302 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Yes; I've been recommended to Lossiemouth to 
 get the real, unadulterated air straight from the North 
 Pole and to have a little golf, and I've brought this 
 young fellow along with me," Sir Richard answered, 
 lying boldly and with ease ; his nephew was positively 
 staggered by such fluent proficiency. 
 
 " I think you know my wife," said the General. 
 " Yes ; let me introduce you to my niece, Miss Morven." 
 
 Sir Richard bowed, and said — 
 
 " And allow me to present my nephew, Mr. Wynyard 
 — Mrs. Morven," and, accompanying his introduction 
 with a sharp glance, " Miss Morven." 
 
 " Mr. Wynyard and I have already met," she 
 announced, in a faint voice. 
 
 " That's all right, then," said her uncle heartily. 
 " Now we all know one another," and he rubbed his 
 hands, " Sir Richard, will you sit at our table ? There 
 is lots of room for five." 
 
 " Thanks, we shall be delighted." 
 
 " How did you discover Lossiemouth ? " inquired 
 Mrs. Morven when the newcomers were seated. 
 
 " Well, the fact is, I never heard of it till lately, and 
 then a friend strongly advised me to try it — he said 
 it was just the place to suit me." He glanced com- 
 placently at his nephew, as much as to claim approval. 
 " I'm uncommonly glad to meet you. General ; we 
 can have some rounds together. What's your handicap ? " 
 
 As the two older men talked, Mrs. Morven proceeded 
 to cultivate the younger, and Aurea for once felt herself 
 out in the cold and — what was more serious — indescrib- 
 ably ill at ease. She dropped her fork, helped herself 
 twice to salt, and crumbled her uncle's bread. 
 
 It was evident that Owen, or, rather, Mr. Wynyard, 
 had made his peace and was reinstated in his proper 
 niche in society. Why had he come to Lossiemouth ?
 
 REINSTATED 303 
 
 Why was Sir Richard looking at her so keenly with his 
 little searching eyes ? Why was Owen making himself 
 so extremely agreeable to her aunt ? — listening, with 
 reverent sympathy, to a harrowing description of her 
 neuralgia, and a still more harrowing account of the 
 death of her beautiful prize blue Persian — run over by 
 a motor in Eaton Place. 
 
 " Think of it ! A motor — a motor going over a cat ! " 
 
 " I'm afraid motors are no respecter of persons or 
 cats. As to dogs, they are killed by the dozen," 
 
 Mrs. Morven shuddered, sipped her claret, and 
 turned the subject to books and fiction. 
 
 " I hope you have brought something fresh ? Our 
 stock is nearly exhausted." 
 
 " I'm afraid not, only a couple of magazines ; I was 
 reading a thriller in the train. The worst of it is, that 
 just as you become passionately interested and some- 
 thing tremendous is going to happen, you are choked 
 off by a full-page advertisement of pills or boot polish. 
 I like my fiction undiluted ; don't you ? " 
 
 Aurea was amazed at this flow of conversation from 
 the monosyllabic Owen. Evidently Owen was one 
 individual, and Mr. Wynyard another. She was even 
 more impressed by the quiet confidence of his manner. 
 Had he noted her embarrassment and nervousness ? 
 Suddenly he turned to her, and said — 
 
 " And how is Ottinge, Miss Morven ? " 
 
 The question was so unexpected that for an instant 
 she could not find her voice; there seemed to be an 
 obstruction in her throat, but she managed to reply — 
 
 " It is much as usual." 
 
 " What ! no change in twelve months ! " he ex- 
 claimed, in a key of surprise. " Oh, but, of course, the 
 world flows very deliberately in that sleepy old village. 
 And how is Mrs. Ramsay ? "
 
 304 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " Very well ; she generally has a houseful of nephews 
 and nieces, very Irish and lively." 
 
 " And the Hogbens — are they flourishing ? " 
 
 " Yes, old Mrs. Topham is dead ; she left a great deal 
 of money in unexpected places. Tom and Dilly are com- 
 paratively rich, and have moved into Claringsbold." 
 
 " So Miss Susan will have to look out for another 
 gardener ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but she keeps three and a boy. She has a 
 beautiful Panhard landaulet." 
 
 " I say — you don't mean it ! " 
 
 " And she is talking of putting up a conservatory, and 
 has begun to build a cottage hospital." 
 
 " I won't recognise the place. Is the Drum still 
 standing ? Have you a rink and a theatre ? " 
 
 Aurea smiled. 
 
 " And how is my dear old pal. Joss ? " 
 
 " Getting a little stout for want of exercise." 
 
 " I'd no idea you knew Ottinge so well," put in Mrs. 
 Morven. " What a memory you have ! " 
 
 " For some things, my memory is like a rat-trap, and 
 for others my mind is a blank." 
 
 " I suppose you stayed at Westmere for the shooting ? " 
 broke in the General. 
 
 " No ; but " — and he glanced at Aurea — " I've often 
 been there. What has become of Bertie Woolcock ? " 
 
 " Oh, by Jove ! didn't you hear ? He went off to 
 India to shoot big game, and got caught himself ! A 
 very pretty, smart American girl he met on board ship — 
 no money — so on this occasion Uncle Sam has scored as 
 regards the dollars." 
 
 By this time dinner had been brought to a close with 
 large cups of milky coffee, and the Morven party rose and 
 drifted into the hall. It was Aurea's custom to sit out 
 on the verandah with her uncle as he smoked ; her aunt
 
 REINSTATED 305 
 
 betook herself and her neuralgia into the drawing-room 
 and there sat knitting amidst an agreeable circle of 
 matrons — chiefly Scotch. To-night, she half expected 
 Aurea to accompany her, and the young lady herself 
 was undecided. The two elder men were lingering in 
 the hall, lighting up, and had already commenced an 
 animated discussion. — Owen had not yet produced his 
 cigar case. — She was on the point of following her 
 chaperon, much as she disliked sitting indoors this 
 exquisite September night, when he said — 
 " Will you come for a stroll with me ? " 
 She nodded assent, and turned to reach for her wrap 
 with a fast beating heart. The door had already closed 
 on Mrs. Morven's stately form, and the young couple 
 walked out through the porch, with a matter of course 
 air, and crossed the road towards the golf-links and the 
 beach. Sir Richard followed them with his keen little 
 eyes, but General Morven was far too much engrossed in 
 a Service grievance to see beyond his nose. 
 
 20
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 BY MOONLIGHT 
 
 As it was a lovely evening, many other couples were on 
 the links or the shore, lured abroad by the beauty of the 
 scene, the clear radiance of the northern sky, and the 
 brilliance of a harvest moon. A soft, almost languorous 
 little breeze, stirred the long coarse grass among the dunes 
 — perhaps it had stolen across the bay from those dark 
 mountains of Rossshire, carrying tender messages from 
 the purple heather ? To-night, the great burners in the 
 lighthouse had a sinecure, for it was as bright as day. 
 From a villa overlooking the sea, a violin and piano 
 flooded the air with sounds that seemed to evoke the 
 very spirit of romance — a passionate triumph of the 
 greatest gift in life. 
 
 As Aurea and her companion descended to the shore, 
 they had scarcely exchanged a word beyond Wynyard's 
 " Mind that stone," and " Let us get away from the 
 crowd, right down to the sea." 
 
 Aurea felt inwardly agitated, but determined to do 
 her utmost to exercise self-control. She knew instinct- 
 ively that the most critical hour in her life was about to 
 strike. In a somewhat unsteady voice she broke the 
 silence — a woman sometimes does speak first. 
 
 " You are the very last person in the world I expected 
 to see." 
 
 He turned and faced her. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 306
 
 BY MOONLIGHT 307 
 
 " For several reasons." 
 
 " Can you guess the reason why I came up to Lossie- 
 mouth, and why I have asked you to come out with me ? 
 I am a free man since yesterday ; the yoke is off, the gag 
 is out of my mouth, and 1 want to repeat what I told 
 you on Yampton Hill — that I love you." 
 
 There was a long pause, broken by the soft whispering 
 of the ebbing waves, 
 
 " I wonder you do ! " said the girl at last ; her voice 
 broke as she added, " after Monte Carlo." 
 
 " Well, yes ; I admit that that was pretty bad, and 
 quite bowled me over; but Mrs. Ramsay explained — 
 she has been a good friend to me." 
 
 " 1 did not know you had a sister," continued Aurea, 
 with a sort of sob. 
 
 " You knew nothing about me, and now you shall 
 hear everything ; " and in a few hurried sentences he told 
 her of India, Canterbury, and the bill, his debts, of the 
 City office, and the ranch. '* 
 
 " You see, Uncle Dick's patience was fairly worn 
 out, and, honestly, I don't wonder. I was always coming 
 back on his hands ; so he gave me the two years' sentence 
 to earn my own bread, and be independent. I'm an 
 awful duffer in many ways, and I talked it over with 
 Leila — my sister, you know. I had to make a start at 
 once, for one thing, and I'd no chance of any good billet — 
 everything now is examinations, or capital. I suggested 
 enlisting or breaking horses, but she put forward the 
 chauffeur scheme ; it was rather a crazy idea, wasn't it ? " 
 " I don't know. You were a capital driver — even 
 Bertie Woolcock allowed that ! " 
 
 " Well, anyway, Leila foisted mc on your aunts — it 
 was pretty cool, I'll admit — and just at first — I — well — I 
 felt I couldn't stand it. I'd had a fairly rough time 
 in the Argentine — it wasn't that — but "
 
 3o8 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " I know," she broke in, " it was Aunt Bella." 
 
 " I was not used to old ladies, and she was so — er — 
 peculiar ; I believe, to the last, she thought I sold or drank 
 the petrol. Well, I'd made up my mind to clear out, 
 and then — I saw you, and I decided to hold on — yes, 
 like grim death. It was a lucky day for me when you 
 came to the Manor — otherwise, I'd have gone away, and 
 no doubt drifted about, and become a regular slacker ; 
 but you held me fast, I settled down, I made the best 
 of the job, and took everything as it came in the day's 
 work — for your sake." 
 
 Aurea nodded. 
 
 " I got to like the Ottinge folk, and to know them 
 and their rustic ways, and, living as a working man, 
 it was a splendid chance for me to learn many things 
 I was as ignorant of, as that stone. I used to sit in the 
 tap and listen to the talk, and got to see things from a 
 different perspective. And I'd some good times, too, 
 at choir practice, and penny readings, and the night 
 of the servants' ball at Westmere, when I had one 
 delicious waltz with you — do you remember ? " 
 
 " I do, indeed, and how Bertie Woolcock snatched 
 me away, and said ladies should never dance with men- 
 servants, and I replied, that his mother had opened the 
 ball with the butler ! " 
 
 " You had him there ; and then came my London 
 situation, and the time with Masham, and now it's aU 
 over. I met Uncle Dick yesterday by chance, and he 
 has been a brick. We had a rare good old talk last 
 night, and I told him the history of the last eighteen 
 months. I'm to manage the property, go into the 
 Yeomanry, live at Wynyard — it's a big rambling old 
 house — and he thinks I ought to marry ; what do you 
 say ? " 
 
 Aurea was silent.
 
 BY MOONLIGHT 309 
 
 " My sister declares that in all her life she never 
 heard of anything so outrageously audacious and im- 
 pertinent, as my imploring you to accept me blindfold ; 
 and, as it is — you know so little of me. Why, we never 
 sat at table together till to-night. I've always been 
 below the salt ! " 
 
 As he ceased speaking and awaited her reply, Aurea 
 plucked up her courage and said : " But I do know 
 you — I know you are kind and patient, and good- 
 tempered, and to be trusted," 
 
 " And you do care for me ? " 
 
 " Yes — I — always did — though I fought against it ; 
 and most of the time I knew your name was Wynyard, 
 and that you'd been in the Service." 
 
 " But how on earth did you find it out ? " 
 
 " By chance, from a Hussar in Brodfield ; as he passed 
 I heard him say to his companion, * That's Lieutenant 
 Wynyard,' but I kept the information to myself." 
 
 " And now there are no longer any secrets between 
 us — you and I belong to one another, don't we ? " 
 
 As Aurea,with a slight but significant gesture, assented, 
 he drew her close to him, she yielded, and he stooped and 
 kissed her. 
 
 Someone in thevillaabove was playing Tschaikowsky's 
 " Chant sans paroles," and its tender and exquisite 
 harmonies seemed an appropriate accompaniment to the 
 scene upon the shore. 
 
 It was ten o'clock, and Mrs. Morven, who was knitting 
 and counting, frowning and thinking, suddenly over- 
 heard a long-legged lassie, with a tawny mane, say to 
 her mother, in a tone of repressed excitement — 
 
 " Mother — only think ! You know the pretty girl — 
 the one we all admire — I saw her on the beach just now, 
 a good bit away, and she was crying I'm sure — and the 
 young gentleman who came at dinner time kissed her !
 
 310 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Mrs. Morven rolled up her stocking, arose with 
 deliberate dignity, and sailed forth into the hall, where 
 she found her husband and Sir Richard talking to one 
 another, with great animation, on the subject of rubber 
 shares. 
 
 " Where," she inquired, with a dramatic gesture, 
 " is Aurea ? and," casting a keen glance at Sir Richard, 
 " where is Mr. Wynyard ? " 
 
 The General could put two and two together as well 
 as most men. Yes, it would do — nice young fellow — 
 old family — baronetcy — and lots of money ; and, nod- 
 ding at his companion with undisguised significance, 
 he said, as he rose — 
 
 " I say, Sir Richard, I suppose you and I will have 
 to make a search-party and bring our young people 
 home ! " (Our young people !) 
 
 Perhaps it is unnecessary to add that the same young 
 people were by no means grateful for their disinterested 
 exertions. That night, at a very late hour, Aurea confided 
 to her aunt that she was engaged to Owen Wynyard. 
 Mrs. Morven, who had accompanied her niece to her 
 bedroom, stood by the table, knitting in hand — an 
 embodiment of the judicial British matron. 
 
 " Engaged ! What nonsense, my dear girl ! Why, 
 you don't know him ! Where have you met him ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I do ; I knew him at Ottinge. He was 
 Aunt Bella's chauffeur for six months." 
 
 Mrs. Morven took two hurried steps to a chair, sat 
 down upon it, and gasped. 
 
 " Your aunts' chauffeur ! " she exclaimed at last. 
 New and bright ideas suddenly dawned upon her mental 
 horizon. She never remembered to have heard her 
 niece mention the chauffeur — though more than once 
 she had spoken disparagingly of the green car. This
 
 BY MOONLIGHT 311 
 
 silence, she now realised, had held a most deadly sig- 
 nificance. Yes, she saw it all — the good-looking chauffeur 
 had been at the bottom of everything : of Aurea's in- 
 difference to young men, her indifference to amusement 
 — was he the reason that last winter her niece's brilliant 
 young beauty had become tarnished ? She looked up 
 at her to-night ; Aurea was supremely lovely. 
 
 " 1 see I have stunned you. Aunt Maggie." 
 
 " And he was at Monte Carlo. Yes ; I now remember 
 him perfectly. I thought the face was familiar; but 
 why a chauffeur ? " 
 
 " For the reason I refer you to his humpy little old 
 uncle ; but it's all right now." 
 
 " Of course he is Leila Kesters' brother, and Sir 
 Richard's heir — Wynyard of Wynyard. Yes ; I re- 
 member hearing that the 3'oung man was very' wild 
 and extravagant, raced and gambled. However, he is 
 remarkably good-looking, and has charming manners ; 
 no doubt he has sown his wild oats — I don't envy him 
 being in your Aunt Parrett's service for six months ! " 
 (These ladies had detested one another.) " That was 
 enough punishment for anything ! I suppose he really 
 was employed — not make-believe ? " 
 
 " Make-believe ! Employed ! I should just think 
 so — washing the car, gardening, clipping hedges, cleaning 
 windows " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " throwing up her delicate hands ; 
 " what possessed him to stay ? " 
 
 Aurea laughed and coloured, and then said — 
 
 " Well, Aunt Maggie — I — I suppose / had something 
 to say to it." 
 
 " He must be extraordinarily devoted ! Why, he 
 must adore you, my dear ! I'm sure your uncle would 
 never have cleaned windows and washed cars for me\ Ha ! 
 ha ! well, Aurea, I confess 1 like your — er — chauffeur."
 
 312 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " But he's not a chauffeur now, and will soon have 
 ,a motor of his own. He is his uncle's agent ; we are 
 to live at Wynyard, and have a splendid allowance. 
 Owen means to do a lot for the tenants, and I'm to take 
 over the village girls — oh, we have had such a talk ! " 
 
 " A talk ! Yes, no doubt. What will your father 
 and Susan say ? " 
 
 " They will be enchanted ; they are both fond of 
 Owen ; indeed, for one whole day, the village was thrilled 
 with the idea that Susan and Owen had eloped ! " and 
 she related the story with so much of her old spirit, that 
 her aunt lay back in her chair and laughed till she wept. 
 
 " 1 believe I shall like young Wynyard," she repeated, 
 as she dried her eyes, " and you know your uncle and I 
 look on you, Aurea, as our own child, so the General 
 will have a word in the settlements ; and when you 
 marry, you shall have my emerald necklace. Good- 
 night, dearest. I must go off and talk this over with 
 my old man. I declare I feel so excited, that I'm sure 
 I shall not sleep a wink." 
 
 And what of Aurea, to whom Destiny had brought 
 a rapturous fate within the last two hours ? She pulled 
 up the blind, opened wide the window, and, leaning her 
 arms on the sill, gazed upon the scene — the gently 
 heaving ocean, the vast, limitless firmament, the silver 
 moonlight — and wondered, was any girl in all the wide 
 world as happy as herself ? 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed by Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinbursh
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 369 010 
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 • Box 951388 
 
 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed.
 
 > 
 
 iliPii