The Pagan's Cup

Pratt shrugged his shoulders. The vicar was talking of things too high for his comprehension. He looked at the mad girl decorating the altar. "I suppose the villagers think a great deal of this church," he said.

"It is the most precious possession we have," replied Tempest, reverently, "and it is all that remains to us of the beautiful and sacred things created by the faith of our forefathers. There were many vessels for the altar, Mr Pratt; but these were melted down by the Gabriel who fought for the first Charles in order to help his king. I would we had a communion service as beautiful as this shrine," and Mr Tempest sighed.

The remark gave Pratt an idea. He wanted to obtain the goodwill of the villagers seeing he had come amongst them to pass his days in peace. If they loved their church so much they would approve of anyone who helped to decorate it. "I am not rich," he said slowly, "and I can't give you a whole service such as you want. But I should like to present this chapel with a communion cup. I have in my travels collected many beautiful things, Mr Tempest. Amongst others a golden cup of Roman workmanship which I obtained in Italy. It is a splendid example of the jeweller's art, and would look well on that table."

"On the altar," corrected Tempest, wincing at the sound of the word which he connected with the Low Church party. "It is more than good of you, Mr Pratt. We must talk the matter over. I do not accept gifts lightly, especially for the service of the Church. But come, let us look at the tombs. Then we can go to luncheon."

Pratt said no more, but fully made up his mind that the cup of which he spoke should figure on the altar. He had a vague kind of idea that he could buy repentance if he gave so splendid a present. If the vicar proved difficult to deal with, he resolved to ask for Mrs Gabriel's help. As the lady of the manor, she could insist upon the acceptance of the offering. There was no reason why Tempest should refuse it, but Pratt knew that the old man was – as he phrased it – queer, and one never knew what objection he might make. If he thought that the cup was given only to secure the goodwill of the parish he would certainly refuse it. A gift made in such a spirit could not be accepted by the Church.

Meanwhile he examined the tombs of the crusading Gabriels, which he had seen often before. But the vicar made the present visit more acceptable by recounting the legends connected with each recumbent figure. The tombs were three in number, and occupied what was called the Ladye's Chapel. Their sides were richly blazoned with the Gabriel crest and with decorations of scallop shells to denote that those who rested below had been to the Holy Land. The figures of the brave knights were cross-legged, and their hands rested on the pommels of their huge swords. Considering the lapse of time, they were in a wonderful state of preservation. Pratt looked upon them with a sigh, and the vicar inquired the reason of his sadness.

"I was thinking of the glory of having such ancestors," said Pratt, and Mr Tempest noticed that his Yankee twang and mode of expressing himself had quite disappeared. "I would give anything to come of such a line – to have a dwelling that had been in the possession of my race for centuries, and to have traditions which I could live up to. I am a lonely man, Mr Tempest," he added, with some pathos, "no one cares for me. I never had a home, or a family, or a position in the world. All my life I have had to fight for my own hand, and for years I have been a rolling stone. Money, yes! I have made money, but I would give it all," and he pointed to the crusaders, "if I could call those my ancestors."

Mr Tempest looked surprised. "I did not expect to hear such views from the mouth of a Republican," he said, "for, as you are an American, I presume you hold by the political faith of Washington."

"I don't hold by anything in particular," replied Pratt, recovering himself, as they left the chapel. "I am unfettered by sectarian prejudices. You can call me a cosmopolitan, Mr Tempest. But we can talk of these things on some other occasion. You must come to see me. I have furnished The Nun's House, and have got out my collection of rare and curious things. Will you and Miss Tempest dine with me next week?"

"I rarely go out," replied the vicar; "however, I will see what Sybil says. If she is willing, I will come with pleasure."

"Oh, Miss Tempest will be willing," said Pratt, significantly. "Leo Haverleigh is coming to dine also!"

"They are very good friends," said the vicar, simply. No thought of what Pratt meant entered his mind.

At the Vicarage they were met by Sybil and the curate, who had been talking to her about parish affairs for the greater part of the morning. At once Raston drew aside his ecclesiastical superior, and the two went into the library, leaving Sybil to entertain the American. She was not averse to doing this, as she liked Mr Pratt and his merry conversation. Having recovered from the emotion caused by the atmosphere of the chapel, the man was more pronouncedly Yankee than ever. He described his walk with the vicar, and repeated his invitation to dinner. "Mrs Gabriel and Mr Haverleigh are coming," he said, "and I shall also ask Sir Frank Hale and his sister."

Sybil smiled on hearing that Leo was to be present, but her brow clouded over when she heard about the baronet and Miss Hale. She did not like that young woman, and Pratt knew the cause. It was not unconnected with Leo. He was the prize for which these young ladies strove. Miss Hale was very much in love with the young man, and so was Sibyl, but he cared more for the vicar's daughter than for Miss Hale. The two girls guessed each other's feelings, and disliked one another accordingly. This might not have been proper, but it was eminently human. However, Sibyl was too much a woman of the world to show Pratt what she felt, and she accepted his invitation calmly enough. "I shall be delighted to come," she said, "but I can't answer for my father."

"Oh, I have something to lure him," said Pratt, easily, "and I think you will be pleased also, Miss Tempest." And thereupon he told the girl of his proposed gift. "The cup is over a thousand years old," he explained. "It belongs to the time of the Cæsars."

"From all I have heard of them," said Sybil, bluntly, "I don't think a vessel of their manufacture ought to serve for a Christian ceremony."

"On the contrary, the cup will be sanctified by being put to such a good use," said Pratt, "and you can set your mind at rest, Miss Tempest. I got the cup from the church of a little Italian town, where it served for a chalice. It has been used in the service of the Romish Church for ages."

"In that case I am sure my father will be delighted to accept it. He is anxious to get some vessels for the chapel altar. It is very good of you to give the cup, Mr Pratt."

"Not at all. It is better put to such use than in my collection. However, you will see all my curios when you come. Mr Haverleigh has already seen them."

"He told me about them yesterday. I only hope Mr Haverleigh will be here next week. He said something about going away."

"Why is he going away?" Pratt fixed his keen eyes on the girl.

"I think he is in trouble. That is," added Sybil, hastily, "I gathered as much. But don't say I told you anything, Mr Pratt. Ah," she broke off suddenly, "here are my father and Mr Raston."

Pratt cast another sharp glance at her. He guessed that something was wrong with Leo, and that the young man had told her of his trouble. He wondered if the two were engaged when they were thus confidential. Pratt took an interest in Leo, as he had known him for some years, and rather sympathised with his outbursts of youthful folly. He thought that marriage would steady the lad's somewhat volatile nature, but he could not make up his mind as to whether Miss Hale or Miss Tempest was the best wife for him. However, it was useless for Pratt to worry over this, as he recognised very clearly. In the first place, it was none of his business; and in the second, Leo would certainly choose for himself.

"I am giving a house-warming, Mr Raston," said Pratt during luncheon, "and I should like you to come to dinner. Next Thursday. I suppose in this Arcadian spot it is not necessary to give written invitations."

"I accept with pleasure," replied Raston, quite ignorant that Pratt wished to enlist him on his side in getting the vicar to accept the cup; "but as to written invitations – what do you say, Miss Tempest?"

"Oh, those are most necessary," laughed Sybil. "We are very particular in this part of the world."

"I am an American, you see, Miss Tempest, and I don't know your English way of doing things. But the invitations shall be written in due form. I guess it is as well to humour the prejudice of folks."

"If you wish to be popular," said the vicar, "you must do so here."

"As I intend to die in this part of the world, I must get on with the crowd somehow. I am not accustomed to be shunned, and that is what your people here are doing."

"Oh, no!" cried Sybil, much distressed, "they are only waiting to know you better, Mr Pratt. In a year you will be quite friendly with them."

"I'm friendly with them now," said Pratt, dryly, "it is they who hold off."

"We are slow to make friendships here," said Raston, "but when we do accept a friend we stick to him always."

"You are a native of these parts, Mr Raston?"

"I was born and bred here."

"It is I who am the stranger," put in Mr Tempest, "and it was a long time before my parishioners took to me."

"You are adored now, papa," said Sybil, with a bright glance.

"And someone else is adored also," put in Pratt. Sybil flushed at the compliment. She thought it was in bad taste.

After a time the conversation turned on Pearl Darry, and Raston, who was deeply interested in her, gave them some insight into the girl's mind. "She does not care for churches built by hands," he said. "If she had her way she would take the altar into the middle of the moor and worship there. I think she feels stifled under a roof."

"Ha!" said Pratt, with a swift glance, remembering Mrs Jeal, "is she of gipsy blood? She looks like it."

"No. Her dark complexion comes from Highland blood," explained Sybil. "Her father, Peter Darry, was a stone mason. He is dead now – died through drink. While working in Perth he married a farmer's daughter. They came back here and Pearl was born. Then her mother died and her father treated her badly. Mrs Jeal rescued her, and Peter fell over a cliff while drunk."

"Mrs Jeal is a good woman," said Tempest, mechanically.

"Do you endorse that statement, Miss Tempest?"

Sybil looked at Pratt who had spoken. "I think Mrs Jeal was very good to take charge of Pearl," she said evasively, whereat Pratt smiled to himself. He saw that Sybil did not like the woman, and privately admired her insight.

Mr Pratt was destined to deliver all his invitations verbally. On his way home after the vicar's luncheon he met with a rider on a roan horse. This was a fair, handsome young man with a clear skin, a pair of bright blue eyes and a sunny look on his face. He had a remarkably good figure, and rode admirably. Horse and man made a picture as they came up the road. Pratt waved his hands and the rider pulled up.

"How are you this morning, Haverleigh?"

Leo laughed. He did not wear his heart on his sleeve, and if he was worried, as Sybil averred, he did not show his vexation. "I am all right," he replied, with a smile. "Who could help being all right in this jolly weather? And how are you, Mr Pratt?"

"I am busy," responded the American, gravely. "I have been lunching with the vicar, and now I am going home to write out invitations for a dinner at my new house."

"Will you ask me, Mr Pratt?"

"I have asked Miss Tempest and I want you to come."

Leo laughed. Also he flushed a trifle. "It is very good of you," he said. "And who else will be at your house-warming?"

"Mrs Gabriel, Mr Raston, Miss Hale and her brother."

"Oh!" Leo looked annoyed at the mention of Miss Hale. "I am not sure if I shall be able to come," he said, after a pause.

"No?" Pratt's tone was quite easy. "Miss Tempest said something about your going away. But I hope you will put that off. My dear fellow" – Pratt smiled meaningly – "you can depend upon me. It is not the first time I have helped you!"

Haverleigh made no direct response, but sat on his saddle in deep thought. "I'll come," he said at length, and rode off abruptly.

"I thought you would," murmured Pratt, with a bland smile. He knew more about Leo Haverleigh than most people in Colester.

CHAPTER III

THE LADY OF THE MANOR

Haverleigh's face did not continue to wear its sunny expression after he left the American. He frowned and bit his moustache, and in the annoyance of the moment spurred his horse full speed up the castle road. Only when he was within the avenue and nearing the porch did he slacken speed, for his mother – so he called her – might be looking out of some window. If so, she would assuredly accuse him of ill-using his horse. Mrs Gabriel rarely minced matters in her dealings with Leo. He was never perfectly sure whether she loved or hated him.

Mindful of this, he rode gently round to the stables, and, after throwing his reins to a groom, walked into the castle by a side door. As he had been absent all the morning, he was not very sure of his reception, and, moreover, he had eaten no luncheon. The butler informed him that Mrs Gabriel had asked that he should be sent to her the moment he returned. At once Leo sought her on the south terrace, where she was walking in the hot June sunshine. He augured ill from her anxiety to see him. A memory of his debts and other follies – pardonable enough – burdened his conscience.

"Here I am, mother," he said as he walked on to the terrace, looking a son of whom any woman would have been proud. Perhaps if he had really been her son, instead of her nephew, Mrs Gabriel might have been more lenient towards him. As it was she treated him almost as harshly as Roger Ascham did Lady Jane Grey of unhappy memory.

"It is about time you were here," she said in her strong, stern voice. "As you are so much in London, I think you might give me a few hours of your time when you condescend to stay at the castle."

Leo threw himself wearily into a stone seat and played with his whip. This was his usual greeting, and he knew that Mrs Gabriel would go on finding fault and blaming him until she felt inclined to stop. His only defence was to keep silent. He therefore stared gloomily on the pavement and listened stolidly to her stormy speech. "No reverence for women – after all I have done for you – clownish behaviour," etc.

Some wit had once compared Mrs Gabriel to Agnes de Montfort, that unpleasant heroine of the Middle Ages. The comparison was a happy one, for Mrs Gabriel was just such another tall, black-haired, iron-faced Amazon. She could well have played the rôle of heroine in holding the castle against foes, and without doubt would have been delighted to sustain a siege. The present days were too tame for her. She yearned for the time when ladies were left in charge of the donjon keep, while their husbands went out to war. More than once she fancied that if she had lived in those stirring times, she would have armed herself like Britomart, and have gone a disguised knight-errant for the pleasure and danger of the thing. As it was, she found a certain relief in the power she exercised in Colester. Her will was law in the town, and her rule quite feudal in its demand for absolute obedience.

Report said that the late John Gabriel had not been altogether sorry when he departed this life. Undoubtedly he was more at rest in the quiet graveyard near the chapel than he had ever been before. Mrs Gabriel mourned him just as much as she thought proper. She had never professed to love him, and had married him (as she calmly admitted) in order to become mistress of the grand old castle. Besides, Gabriel had always hampered her desire to rule, as he had sufficient of the old blood in him to dislike being a cypher in his ancestral home. Consequently, husband and wife quarrelled bitterly. Finally, he died, gladly enough, and the Amazon had it all her own way. It was about two years after his death that Leo came to live with her, and everyone was amazed that she should behave so kindly towards the child of her dead brother, whom, as it was well known, she hated thoroughly.

However, Leo came, and from the moment he entered the house she bullied him. Spirited as the boy was, he could not hold his own against her stern will and powers of wrathful speech. When he went to school and college he felt as though he had escaped from gaol, and always returned unwillingly to Colester. Mrs Gabriel called this ingratitude, and on every occasion brought it to his mind. She did so now; but even this could not induce Leo to speak. He declined to furnish fuel to her wrath by argument or contradiction. This also was a fault, and Mrs Gabriel mentioned it furiously.

"Can't you say something?" she cried, with a stamp. "Is it any use your sitting there like a fool? What explanation have you for me?"

"To what?" asked Leo, wearily; the question had been asked so often. "You have accused me of so many things."

"Then why do you do wrong? I am talking of those debts you have incurred in London. You gave the list to me before you went out riding."

"I know, mother. I thought it best to avoid a scene. But it seems there is no escape. When you have quite done perhaps you will let me speak?"

"You shall speak when I choose," rejoined Mrs Gabriel, fiercely. "All I ask you now is, how comes it that your debts run up to three hundred pounds? I allow you that income. You should make it do."

"Perhaps I have been a little foolish," began Leo, but she cut him short.

"A little foolish, indeed! You have behaved like a fool, as you always do. What right have you to be extravagant? Are you in a position to be so? Have I not fed and clothed and educated you?"

"You have done everything that a charitable woman could have done."

"You mean that a mother could have done. Had you been my own child – "

"You might have been kinder to me," finished the young man.

Mrs Gabriel stared aghast at this speech, and at last broke out furiously, "Had you been my own child you would have been a stronger man; not a weak fool squandering money, and defying your benefactress. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"I am," replied Leo, bitterly, "ashamed that I have endured this humiliating position for so long. I was only a child when you brought me here, and had no voice in the matter. Yet, out of gratitude, I have borne with your injustice, and – "

"Injustice!" broke in Mrs Gabriel. "What do you mean?"

"My meaning is not hard to gather, mother. You have never been just to me, and the bread with which you have fed me has been bitter enough to swallow. Do you think that I can go on listening to your angry words without a protest? I cannot. My position is not of my own making, and since you find me a burden and an ungrateful creature, the best thing will be to put an end to the position."

"Indeed!" sneered the woman. "And how do you propose to do that? You are quite unable to earn your own living."

"Oh, there is one way of doing that," replied Leo, grimly. "It does not need much education to be a soldier."

"A soldier!" screamed Mrs Gabriel.

"Yes. I made inquiries while I was in London, as I knew very well what welcome you would give me. It is my intention to volunteer for the war."

"You'll do nothing of the sort."

"I beg your pardon. I have made up my mind."

"Then I shall have nothing more to do with you."

"That is as you please, Mrs Gabriel. You are my aunt, and I suppose you have the right to support me out of charity. At any rate, you have no right to keep me here and taunt me all the time with my inability to keep myself. Again I say that the position is none of my making. However, I intend to relieve you of the burden of a useless man. Next week I shall enlist. Then you will be well rid of me."

Mrs Gabriel gasped. "I forbid you!" she cried, with a stamp.

"I am afraid I must decline to accept the command," said Haverleigh, with great coolness. "You have told me often enough that I am a beggar and a loafer. You shall do so no longer. As to my debts, I shall see to them myself. You need not pay them, nor need you continue my allowance. I earn my own bread from this moment."

"How dare you, Leo? Do you not owe me something?"

"No! You have cancelled all obligation by the way in which you have treated me. Everything you have done has been done grudgingly. If you did not intend to behave as a woman should, why, in Heaven's name, did you not leave me to be dependent on strangers? They could scarcely have been more harsh to me than you have been. But this is the end of it. I relieve you from this hour of the burden you complain of."

"Take care. I intended you to be my heir, and – "

"I decline to accept further favours at your hands," said Leo, proudly; "for what you have done I thank you, but I do not care to accept an inheritance as a favour. Now you know my intentions and I shall not change them."

Mrs Gabriel raged for twenty minutes without making the least impression on the young man. He was determined to put an end to the position, and she found that she could not longer dominate him by her wrath. Then Mrs Gabriel became aware that she had driven him like a rat into a corner, and that, like a rat, he had turned to fight. For reasons best known to herself she did not wish him to leave her. Forthwith she abandoned her tyrannical attitude, and took refuge in the weakness of her sex. Considering her boasting, this was ironical.

"It is cruel of you, Leo, to behave thus to a woman who loves you!"

Leo, leaning over the parapet, shrugged his shoulders and replied without looking round. "That is just the point," he said. "You really do not love me – no, not one little bit."

"I do. See how I have looked after you all these years."

"And made me feel that I was a pauper all the time," he retorted. "But is it necessary to go over all the old ground? I have made up my mind."

"You shall not enlist."

"I tell you I shall."

The two faced one another, both pale and both defiant. It was a contest of will, and the weaker would be sure to yield in the long run. Mrs Gabriel quite expected that her adopted son would give in, as he had often done before, but this time she found to her surprise that he declined to move from his attitude of defiance. Seeing that she was beaten, she suddenly calmed and proceeded to win the necessary victory in another and more crafty way.

"Sit down, Leo," she said quietly. "It is time we had an explanation. You are behaving very badly, and I must request you at least to listen to me."

Haverleigh had been doing nothing else for nearly an hour, so this speech was a trifle inconsistent. However, he could not be brutal, so with another shrug he resumed his seat. All the same he was resolved in his own mind that no argument she could use should make him alter the course he had determined upon. Leo could be obstinate on occasions.

"I do everything I can for your good," said Mrs Gabriel in a complaining tone, "yet you thwart me at every turn." Then she proceeded to recount how she had sent him to Eton, to Oxford, how she had permitted him to go to London and allowed him money, and how he had behaved foolishly. It was at this point the young man interrupted her.

"I admit that I have been foolish, but that comes from want of experience. You can't expect me to have an old head on young shoulders."

"Don't interrupt me, please," said Mrs Gabriel, sharply. "Now that you have sown your wild oats, I want you to come here and take your position as my heir. I am no longer so young as I was, and I need someone to help me in administering the estate. Besides, I want you to marry."

Leo rose from his seat. "You wish me to marry," said he; then, after a pause, he proceeded sarcastically, "And I suppose you have chosen me a wife?"

"Just so," said Mrs Gabriel, coolly. "I want you to marry Miss Hale."

"Not if there was not another woman in the world!"

"That's all nonsense, Leo. She has a good dowry and she is an agreeable girl. You shall marry her."