Kitabı oku: «Eve», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XIX.
BARBARA’S RING

Jasper quickly got the lantern out of the stable, and lighted the candle in the kitchen. Then he ran with it along the rough, stone-strewn lane, between walls of moorstone, till he came to the moor. He followed the track rather than road which traversed it. With evening, clouds had gathered and much obscured the light. Nevertheless the north was full of fine silvery haze, against which stood up the curious conical hill of Brent Tor, crowned with its little church.

When suddenly Jasper came up to Miss Jordan, he took her unawares. She was stooping, searching the ground, and, in her dark-green riding habit, he had mistaken her for a gorse bush. When he arrived with the lantern she arose abruptly, and on recognising the young man the riding-whip dropped from her hand.

‘Mr. Jasper!’ she exclaimed.

‘Miss Barbara!’

They stood still looking at each other in the twilight. One of her white hands was gloveless.

‘What has brought you here?’ asked Barbara, stooping and picking up her whip with one hand, and gathering her habit with the other.

‘I heard that you had lost something.’

‘Yes; I was thoughtless. I was warm, and I hastily whisked off my glove that I might pass my hand over my brow, and I felt as I plucked the glove away that my aunt’s ring came off. It was not a good fit. I was so foolish, so unnerved, that I let drop the glove – and now can find neither. The ring, I suspect, is in the glove, but I cannot find that. So I sent on Johnny Ostler for the lantern. I supposed he would return with it.’

‘I took the liberty of coming myself, he is a boy and tired with his long journey; besides, the horses have to be attended to. I hope you are not displeased.’

‘On the contrary,’ she replied, in her frank, kindly tone, ‘I am glad to see you. When one has been from home a long distance, it is pleasant to meet a messenger from home to say how all are.’

‘And it is pleasant for the messenger to bring good tidings. Mr. Jordan is well; Miss Eve happy as a butterfly in summer over a clover field.’

If it had not been dusk, and Barbara had not turned her head aside, Jasper would have seen a change in her face. She suddenly bowed herself and recommenced her search.

‘I am very, very sorry,’ she said, in a low tone, ‘I am not able to be a pleasant messenger to you. I am – ’ she half raised herself, her voice was full of sympathy. ‘I am more sorry than I can say.’

He made no reply; he had not, perhaps, expected much. He threw the light of the lantern along the ground, and began to search for the glove.

‘You are carrying something,’ he said; ‘let me relieve you, Miss Jordan.’

‘It is – your violin.’

‘Miss Barbara! how kind, how good! You have carried it all the way?’

‘Not at all. Johnny Ostler had it most part. Then Mr. Coyshe carried it. The boy could not take it at the same time that he led my horse; you understand that?’ Her voice became cold, her pride was touched; she did not choose that he should know the truth.

‘But you thought of bringing it.’

‘Not at all. Your father insisted on its being taken from his house. The boy has the rest of your things, as many as could be carried.’

Nothing further was said. They searched together for the glove. They were forced to search closely together because the lantern cast but a poor light round. Where the glare did fall, there the tiny white clover leaves, fine moor grass, small delicately-shaped flowers of the milkwort, white and blue, seemed a newly-discovered little world of loveliness. But Barbara had other matters to consider, and scarcely noticed the beauty. She was not susceptible as Eve to the beautiful and picturesque. She was looking for her glove, but her thoughts were not wholly concerned with the glove and ring.

‘Mr. Jasper, I saw your father.’ She spoke in a low voice, their heads were not far asunder. ‘I told him where you were.’

‘Miss Barbara, did he say anything to you about me? Did he say anything about the – the loss of the money?’

‘He refused to hear about you. He would hardly listen to a word I said.’

‘Did he tell you who took the money?’

‘No.’ She paused. ‘Why should he? I know – it was you – ’

Jasper sighed.

‘I can see,’ pursued Barbara, ‘that you were hard tried. I know that you had no happy home, that you had no mother, and that your father may have been harsh and exacting, but – but – ’ her voice shook. ‘Excuse me, I am tired, and anxious about my ring. It is a sapphire surrounded with diamonds. I cannot speak much. I ought not to have put the ring on my finger till the hoop had been reduced. It was a very pretty ring.’

Then the search was continued in silence, without result.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, after a while, ‘I may seem engrossed in my loss and regardless of your disappointment. I expected that your father would have been eager to forgive you. The father of the prodigal in the Gospel ran to meet his repentant son. I am sure – I am sure you are repentant.’

‘I will do all in my power to redress the wrong that has been done,’ said Jasper calmly.

‘I entreated Mr. Babb to be generous, to relax his severity, and to send you his blessing. But I could not win a word of kindness for you, Mr. Jasper, not a word of hope and love!’

‘Oh, Miss Jordan, how good and kind you are!’

‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said in a soft tremulous voice, ‘I would take the journey readily over again. I would ride back at once, and alone over the moor, if I thought that would win the word for you. I believe, I trust, you are repentant, and I would do all in my power to strengthen your good resolution, and save your soul.’

Then she touched a gorse bush and made her hand smart with the prickles. She put the ungloved hand within the radius of the light, and tried to see and remove the spines.

‘Never mind,’ she said, forcing a laugh. ‘The ring, not the prickles, is of importance now. If I do not find it to-night, I shall send out all the men to-morrow, and promise a reward to quicken their interest and sharpen their eyes.’

She put her fingers where most wounded to her lips. Then, thinking that she had said too much, shown too great a willingness to help Jasper, she exclaimed, ‘Our holy religion requires us to do our utmost for the penitent. There is joy in heaven over one sinner that is contrite.’

‘I have found your glove,’ exclaimed Jasper joyously. He rose and held up a dog-skin riding-glove with gauntlet.

‘Feel inside if the ring be there,’ said Barbara. ‘I cannot do so myself, one hand is engaged with my whip and skirt.’

‘I can feel it – the hoop – through the leather.’

‘I am so glad, so much obliged to you, Mr. Jasper.’ She held out her white hand with the ring-finger extended. ‘Please put it in place, and I will close my fist till I reach home.’

She made the request without thought, considering only that she had her whip and gathered habit in her right, gloved hand.

Jasper opened the lantern and raised it. The diamonds sparkled. ‘Yes, that is my ring,’ said Barbara.

He set the lantern on a stone, a slab of white felspar that lay on the grass. Then he lightly held her hand with his left, and with the right placed the ring on her finger.

But the moment it was in place and his fingers held it there, a shock of terror and shame went to Barbara’s heart. What inconsiderateness had she been guilty of! The reflection of the light from the white felspar was in their faces. In a moment, unable to control herself, Barbara burst into tears. Jasper stooped and kissed the fingers he held.

She started back, snatched her hand from him, clenched her fist, and struck her breast with it. ‘How dare you! You – you – the escaped convict! Go on; I will follow. You have insulted me.’

He obeyed. But as he walked back to Morwell ahead of her, he was not cast down. Eve, in the garret, had that day opened a coffer and made a discovery. He, too, on the down, had wrenched open for one moment a fast-closed heart, had looked in, and made a discovery.

When Barbara reached her home she rushed to her room, where she threw herself on her bed, and beat and beat again, with her fists, her head and breast, and said, ‘I hate – I hate and despise myself! I hate – oh, how I hate myself!’

CHAPTER XX.
PERPLEXITY

Barbara was roused early next morning by Eve; Eve had overslept herself when she ought to be up; she woke and rose early when another hour of rest would have been a boon to poor Barbara. The sisters occupied adjoining rooms that communicated, and the door was always open between them. When Eve was awake she would not suffer her sister to sleep on. She stooped over her and kissed her closed eyes till she woke. Eve had thrown open the window, and the sweet fresh air blew in. The young girl was not more than half dressed. She stood by Barbara’s bed with her lovely hair dishevelled about her head, ing a halo of red-gold glory to her face. That face was lovely with its delicate roses of health and happiness, and the blue eyes twinkling in it full of life and fun. Her neck was exposed. She folded her slender arms round Barbara’s head and shook it, and kissed again, till the tired, sleep-stupefied girl awoke.

‘I cannot sleep this lovely morning,’ said Eve; then, with true feminine non-sequitur; ‘So you must get up, Barbie.’

‘Oh, Eve, is it time?’ Barbara sat up in bed instantly wide awake. Her sister seated herself on the side of the bed and laid her hand in her lap.

‘Eve!’ exclaimed Barbara suddenly, ‘what have you there – on your finger? Who gave you that?’

‘It is a ring, Bab. Is it not beautiful, a forget-me-not of turquoise set in a circlet of gold?’

‘Who gave it you, Eve?’

‘A pixy gift!’ laughed the girl carelessly.

‘This will not do. You must answer me. Where did you get it?’

‘I found it, Barbie.’

‘Found it – where?’

‘Where are forget-me-nots usually found?’ Then hastily, before her sister could speak, ‘But what a lovely ring you have got on your pincushion, Bab! Mine cannot compare with it. Is that the ring I heard the maids say you lost?’

‘Yes, dear.’

‘How did you recover it? Who found it for you?’

‘Jasper.’

Eve turned her ring on her finger.

‘My darling,’ said Barbara, ‘you have not been candid with me about that ring. Did Dr. Coyshe give it to you?’

‘Dr. Coyshe! Oh, Barbara, that ever you should think of me as aspiring to be Mrs. Squash!’

‘When did you get the ring?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘Who gave it to you? You must tell me.’

‘I have already told you – I found it by the wood, as truly as you found yours on the down.’

Suddenly Barbara started, and her heart beat fast.

‘Eve! – where is the ribbon and your mother’s ring? You used to have that ring always in your bosom. Where is it? Have you parted with that?’

Eve’s colour rose, flushing face and throat and bosom.

‘Oh, darling!’ exclaimed Barbara, ‘answer me truly. To whom have you given that ring?’

‘I have not given it; I have lost it. You must not be angry with me, Bab. You lost yours.’ Eve’s eyes sank as she spoke, and her voice faltered.

The elder sister did not speak for a moment; she looked hard at Eve, who stood up and remained before her in a pretty penitential attitude, but unable to meet her eye.

Barbara considered. Whom could her sister have met? There was no one, absolutely no one she could think of, if Mr. Coyshe were set aside, but Jasper. Now Barbara had disapproved of the way in which Eve ran after Jasper before she departed for Ashburton. She had remonstrated, but she knew that her remonstrances carried small weight. Eve was a natural coquette. She loved to be praised, admired, made much of. The life at Morwell was dull, and Eve sought society of any sort where she could chatter and attract admiration and provoke a compliment. Eve had not made any secret of her liking for Jasper, but Barbara had not thought there was anything serious in the liking. It was a child’s fancy. But then, she considered, would any man’s heart be able to withstand the pretty wiles of Eve? Was it possible for Jasper to be daily associated with this fairy creature and not love her?

‘Eve,’ said Barbara gravely, ‘it is of no use trying concealment with me. I know who gave you the ring. I know more than you suppose.’

‘Jasper has been telling tales,’ exclaimed Eve.

Barbara winced but did not speak.

Eve supposed that Jasper had informed her sister about the meeting with Watt on the Raven Rock.

‘Are you going to sleep again?’ asked Eve, as Barbara had cast herself back on her pillow with the face in it. The elder sister shook her head and made a sign with her hand to be left alone.

When Barbara was nearly dressed, Eve stole on tiptoe out of her own room into that of her sister. She was uneasy at Barbara’s silence; she thought her sister was hurt and offended with her. So she stepped behind her, put her arms round her waist, as Barbara stood before the mirror, and her head over her sister’s shoulder, partly that she might kiss her cheek, partly also that she might see her own face in the glass and contrast it with that of Barbara. ‘You are not cross with me?’ she said coaxingly.

‘No, Eve, no one can be cross with you.’ She turned and kissed her passionately. ‘Darling! you must give back the little ring and recover that of your mother.’

‘It is impossible,’ answered Eve.

‘Then I must do what I can for you,’ said Barbara. Barbara was resolved what to do. She would speak to her father, if necessary; but before that she must have a word on the matter with Jasper. It was impossible to tolerate an attachment and secret engagement between him and her sister.

She sought an opportunity of speaking privately to the young man, and easily found one. But when they were together alone, she discovered that it was not easy to approach the topic that was uppermost in her mind.

‘I was very tired last night, Mr. Jasper,’ she said, ‘over-tired, and I am hardly myself this morning. The loss of my aunt, the funeral, the dividing of her poor little treasures, and then the lengthy ride, upset me. It was very ridiculous of me last night to cry, but a girl takes refuge in tears when overspent, it relieves and even refreshes her.’

Then she hesitated and looked down. But Barbara had a strong will, and when she had made up her mind to do what she believed to be right, allowed no weakness to interfere with the execution.

‘And now I want to speak about something else. I must beg you will not encourage Eve. She is a child, thoughtless and foolish.’

‘Yes; she should be kept more strictly guarded. I do not encourage her. I regret her giddiness, and give her good advice, which she casts to the winds. Excuse my saying it, but you and Mr. Jordan are spoiling the child.’

‘My father and I spoil Eve! That is not possible.’

‘You think so; I do not. The event will prove which is right, Miss Jordan.’

Barbara was annoyed. What right had Jasper to dictate how Eve was to be treated?

‘That ring,’ began Barbara, and halted.

‘It is not lost again, surely!’ said Jasper.

Barbara frowned. ‘I am not alluding to my ring which you found along with my glove, but to that which you gave to Eve.’

‘I gave her no ring; I do not understand you.’

‘It is a pretty little thing, and a toy. Of course you only gave it her as such, but it was unwise.’

‘I repeat, I gave her no ring, Miss Jordan.’

‘She says that she found it, but it is most improbable.’

Jasper laughed, not cheerfully; there was always a sadness in his laughter. ‘You have made a great mistake, Miss Jordan. It is true that your sister found the ring. That is, I conclude she did, as yesterday she found a chest in the garret full of old masquerading rubbish, and a tambourine, and I know not what besides.’

A load was taken off Barbara’s mind. So Eve had not deceived her.

‘She showed me a number of her treasures,’ said Jasper. ‘No doubt whatever that she found the ring along with the other trumpery.’

Barbara’s face cleared. She drew a long breath. ‘Why did not Eve tell me all?’ she said.

‘Because,’ answered the young man, ‘she was afraid you would be angry with her for getting the old tawdry stuff out of the box, and she asked me not to tell you of it. Now I have betrayed her confidence, I must leave to you, Miss Jordan, to make my peace with Miss Eve.’

‘She has also lost something that hung round her throat.’

‘Very likely. She was, for once, hard at work in the garret, moving boxes and hampers. It is lying somewhere on the floor. If you wish it I will search for her ornament, and hope my success will be equal to that of last night.’ He looked down at her hand. The ring was not on it. She observed his glance and said coldly, ‘My ring does not fit me, and I shall reserve it till I am old, or till I find some young lady friend to whom I must make a wedding present.’ Then she turned away. She walked across the Abbot’s Meadow, through which the path led to the rocks, because she knew that Eve had gone in that direction. Before long she encountered her sister returning with a large bunch of foxgloves in her hand.

‘Do look, Bab!’ exclaimed Eve, ‘is not this a splendid sceptre? A wild white foxglove with thirty-seven bells on it.’

‘Eve!’ said Barbara, her honest face alight with pleasure; ‘my dearest, I was wrong to doubt you. I know now where you found the ring, and I am not in the least cross about it. There, kiss and make peace.’

‘I wish the country folk had a prettier name for the foxglove than flop-a-dock,’ said Eve.

‘My dear,’ said Barbara, ‘you shall show me the pretty things you have found in the attic.’

‘What – Bab?’

‘I know all about it. Jasper has proved a traitor.’

‘What has he told you?’

‘He has told me where you found the turquoise ring, together with a number of fancy ball dresses.’

Eve was silent. A struggle went on in her innocent heart. She hated falsehood. It pained her to deceive her sister, who had such perfect faith in her. She felt inclined to tell her all, yet she dared not do so. In her heart she longed to hear more of Martin. She remembered his handsome face, his flattering and tender words, the romance of that night. No! she could not tell Barbara.

‘We will go together into the garret,’ said Barbara, ‘and search for your mother’s ring. It will easily be found by the blue ribbon to which it is attached.’

Then Eve laughed, held her sister at arms’ length, thrusting the great bunch of purple and white foxgloves against her shoulder, so that their tall heads nodded by her cheek and ear. ‘No, Bab, sweet, I did not find the ring in the chest with the gay dresses. I did not lose the ring of my mother’s in the loft. I tell you the truth, but I tell you no more.’

‘Oh, Eve!’ Barbara’s colour faded. ‘Who was it? I implore you, if you love me, tell me.’

‘I love you dearly, but no.’ She curtsied. ‘Find out if you can.’ Then she tripped away, waving her foxgloves.

CHAPTER XXI.
THE SCYTHE OF TIME

‘My papa! my darling papa!’ Eve burst into her father’s room. ‘I want you much to do something for me. Mr. Jasper is so kind. He has promised to have a game of bowls with me this evening on the lawn, and the grass is not mown.’

‘Well, dear, get it mown,’ said Mr. Jordan dreamily.

‘But there is no man about, and old Davy is in bed. What am I to do?’

‘Wait till to-morrow.’

‘I cannot; I shall die of impatience. I have set my heart on a game of bowls. Do you not see, papa, that the weather may change in the night and spoil play for to-morrow?’

‘Then what do you wish?’

‘Oh! my dear papa,’ Eve nestled into his arms, ‘I don’t want much, only that you would cut the grass for me. It really will not take you ten minutes. I will promise to sweep up what is cut.’

‘I am engaged, Eve, on a very delicate test.’

‘So am I, papa.’

Mr. Ignatius Jordan looked up at her with dull surprise in his eyes.

‘I mean, papa, that if you really love me you will jump up and mow the grass. If you don’t love me you will go on muddling with those minerals and chemicals.’

The gaunt old man stood up. Eve knew her power over him. She could make him obey her slightest caprice. She ran before him to the gardener’s tool-house and brought him the scythe.

In the quadrangle was a grass plat, and on this Eve had decided to play her game.

‘All the balls are here except the Jack,’ said she. ‘I shall have to rummage everywhere for the black-a-moor; I can’t think where he can be.’ Then she ran into the house in quest of the missing ball.

The grass had been left to grow all spring and had not been cut at all, so that it was rank. Mr. Jordan did not well know how to wield a scythe. He tried and met with so little success that he suspected the blade was blunt. Accordingly he went to the tool-house for the hone, and, standing the scythe up with the handle on the swath, tried to sharpen the blade.

The grass was of the worst possible quality. The quadrangle was much in shadow. The plots were so exhausted that little grew except daisy and buttercup. Jasper had already told Barbara to have the wood-ashes thrown on the plots, and had promised to see that they were limed in winter. Whilst Mr. Jordan was honing the scythe slowly and clumsily Barbara came to him. She was surprised to see him thus engaged. Lean, haggard, with deep-sunken eyes, and hollow cheeks, he lacked but the hour-glass to make him stand as the personification of Time. He was in an ill-humour at having been disturbed and set to an uncongenial task, though his ill-humour was not directed towards Eve. Barbara was always puzzled by her father. That he suffered, she saw, but she could not make out of what and where he suffered, and he resented inquiry. There were times when his usually dazed look was exchanged for one of keenness, when his eyes glittered with a feverish anxiety, and he seemed to be watching and expecting with eye and ear something or some person that never came. At table he was without conversation; he sat morose, lost in his own thoughts till roused by an observation addressed to him. His temper was uncertain. Often, as he observed nothing, he took offence at nothing; but occasionally small matters roused and unreasonably irritated him. An uneasy apprehension in Barbara’s mind would not be set at rest. She feared that her father’s brain was disturbed, and that at any time, without warning, he might break out into some wild, unreasonable, possibly dreadful, act, proclaiming to everyone that what she dreaded in secret had come to pass – total derangement. Of late his humour had been especially changeful, but his eldest daughter sought to convince herself that this could be accounted for by distress at the loss of Eve’s dowry.

Barbara asked her father why he was mowing the grass plot, and when he told her that Eve had asked him to do so that she might play bowls that evening on it, she remonstrated, ‘Whom is she to play with?’

‘Jasper Babb has promised her a game. I suppose you and I will be dragged out to make up a party.’

‘O papa, there is no necessity for your mowing! You do not understand a scythe. Now you are honing the wrong way, blunting, not sharpening, the blade.’

‘Of course I am wrong. I never do right in your eyes.’

‘My dear father,’ said Barbara, hurt at the injustice of the remark, ‘that is not true.’

‘Then why are you always watching me? I cannot walk in the garden, I cannot go out of the door, I cannot eat a meal, but your eyes are on me. Is there anything very frightful about me? Anything very extraordinary? No – it is not that. I can read the thoughts in your head. You are finding fault with me. I am not doing useful work. I am wasting valuable hours over empty pursuits. I am eating what disagrees with me, too much, or too little. Understand this, once for all. I hate to be watched. Here is a case in point, a proof if one were needed. I came out here to cut this grass, and at once you are after me. You have spied my proceedings. I must not do this. If I sharpen the scythe I am all in the wrong, blunting the blade.’

The tears filled Barbara’s eyes.

‘I am told nothing,’ continued Mr. Jordan. ‘Everything I ought to know is kept concealed from me, and you whisper about me behind my back to Jasper and Mr. Coyshe.’

‘Indeed, indeed, dear papa – ’

‘It is true. I have seen you talking to Jasper, and I know it was about me. What were you trying to worm out of him about me? And so with the doctor. You rode with him all the way from Tavistock to the Down the other day; my left ear was burning that afternoon. What did it burn for? Because I was being discussed. I object to being made the topic of discussion. Then, when you parted with the doctor, Jasper Babb ran out to meet you, that you might learn from him how I had behaved, what I had done, whilst you were away. I have no rest in my own house because of your prying eyes. Will you go now, and leave me.’

‘I will go now, certainly,’ said Barbara, with a gulp in her throat, and swimming eyes.

‘Stay!’ he said, as she turned. He stood leaning his elbow on the head of the scythe, balancing it awkwardly. ‘I was told nothing of your visit to Buckfastleigh. You told Eve, and you told Jasper – but I who am most concerned only heard about it by a side-wind. You brought Jasper his fiddle, and when I asked how he had got it, Eve told me. You visited his father. Well! am I nobody that I am to be kept in the dark?’

‘I have nothing of importance to tell,’ said Barbara. ‘It is true I saw Mr. Babb, but he would not let me inside his house.’

‘Tell me, what did that man say about the money?’

‘I do not think there is any chance of his paying unless he be compelled. He has satisfied his conscience. He put the money away for you, and as it did not reach you the loss is yours, and you must bear it.’

‘But good heavens! that is no excuse at all. The base hypocrite! He is a worse thief than the man who stole the money. He should sell the fields he bought with my loan.’

‘They were fields useful to him for the stretching of the cloth he wove in his factory.’

‘Are you trying to justify him for withholding payment?’ asked Mr. Jordan. ‘He is a hypocrite. What was he to cry out against the strange blood, and to curse it? – he, Ezekiel Babb, in whose veins ran fraud and guile?’

Barbara looked wonderingly at him through the veil of tears that obscured her sight. What did he mean?

‘He is an old man, papa, but hard as iron. He has white hair, but none of the reverence which clings to age attaches to him.’

‘White hair!’ Mr. Jordan turned the scythe, and with the point aimed at, missed, aimed at again, and cut down a white-seeded dandelion in the grass. ‘That is white, but the neck is soft, even if the head be hard,’ said Mr. Jordan, pointing to the dandelion. ‘I wish that were his head, and I had cut through his neck. But then – ’ he seemed to fall into a bewildered state – ’the blood should run red – run, run, dribble over the edge, red. This is milky, but acrid.’ He recovered himself. ‘I have only cut down a head of dandelion.’ He reversed the scythe again, and stood leaning his arm on the back of the blade, and staying the handle against his knee.

‘My dear father, had you not better put the scythe away?’

‘Why should I do that? I have done no harm with it. No one can set on me for what I have cut with it – only a white old head of dandelion with a soft neck. Think – if it had been Ezekiel Babb’s head sticking out of the grass, with the white hair about it, and the sloe-black wicked eyes, and with one cut of the scythe – swish, it had tumbled over, with the stalk upwards, bleeding, bleeding, and the eyes were in the grass, and winking because the daisies teased them and made them water.’

Barbara was distressed. She must change the current of his thoughts. To do this she caught at the first thing that came into her head.

‘Papa! I will tell you what Mr. Coyshe was talking to me about. It is quite right, as you say, that you should know all; it is proper that nothing should be kept from you.’

‘It is hardly big enough,’ said Mr. Jordan.

‘What, papa?’

‘The dandelion. I can’t feel towards it as if it were Mr. Babb’s head.’

‘Papa,’ said Barbara, speaking rapidly, and eager to divert his mind into another channel, ‘papa dear, do you know that the doctor is much attached to our pet?’

‘It could not be otherwise. Everyone loves Eve; if they do not, they deserve to die.’

‘Papa! He told me as much as that. He admires her greatly, and would dearly like to propose for her, but, though I do not suppose he is bashful, he is not quite sure that she cares for him.’

‘Eve shall have whom she will. If she does not like Coyshe, she shall have anyone else.’

Then he hinted that, though he had no doubt he would make himself a great name in his profession, and in time be very wealthy, that yet he could not afford as he is now circumstanced to marry a wife without means.

‘There! there!’ exclaimed Mr. Jordan, becoming again excited. ‘See how the wrong done by Ezekiel Babb is beginning to work. There is a future, a fine future offering for my child, but she cannot accept it. The gate is open, but she may not pass through, because she has not the toll-money in her hand.’

‘Are you sure, papa, that Mr. Coyshe would make Eve happy?’

‘I am sure of it. What is this place for her? She should be in the world, be seen and received, and shine. Here she is like one hidden in a nook. She must be brought out, she must be admired by all.’

‘I do not think Eve cares for him.’

But her father did not hear her; he went on, and as he spoke his eyes flashed, and spots of dark red colour flared on his cheek-bones. ‘There is no chance for poor Eve! The money is gone past recovery. Her future is for ever blighted. I call on heaven to redress the wrong. I went the other day to Plymouth to hear Mass, and I had but one prayer on my lips, Avenge me on my enemy! When the choir sang “Gloria in Excelsis, Deo,” I heard my heart sing a bass, “On earth a curse on the man of ill-will.” When they sang the Hosanna! I muttered, Cursed is he that cometh to defraud the motherless! I could not hear the Benedictus. My heart roared out “Imprecatus! Imprecatus sit!” I can pray nothing else. All my prayers turn sour in my throat, and I taste them like gall on my tongue.’

‘O papa! this is horrible!’

Now he rested both his elbows on the back of the blade and raised his hands, trembling with passion, as if in prayer. His long thin hair, instead of hanging lank about his head, seemed to bristle with electric excitement, his cheeks and lips quivered. Barbara had never seen him so greatly moved as now, and she did not know what to do to pacify him. She feared lest any intervention might exasperate him further.