The Star-Gazers

“How dare you!”

“Because I am her father, ma’am, and my child is as much to me as your son is to you.”

“This is insolence, sir. Have the goodness to remember who I am.”

“I never forget it, ma’am. You are my missus, the old master’s wife. But this is not a matter of mistress and servant, but of a mother and a father disputing about their children.”

Mrs Rolph drew herself up, and her eyes flashed, but the fire was drowned out directly by the tears of trouble and vexation, and the woman prevailed over the mistress directly after, as she said, in quite an altered tone, —

“Hayle, my good man, what is to be done?”

“Hah!” ejaculated the keeper; “now, ma’am, you are talking like a sensible woman, and we may be able to do business.”

“Yes, yes, Hayle, I was angry. I could not help it. All this comes nigh to breaking my heart. It is, of course, quite impossible. What do you propose to do?”

“Forget it, ma’am, if I can.”

“And Judith?”

“Hah! That’s another thing, ma’am.”

“But she surely is not so vain as to – to – ”

“My Judith is a woman, ma’am. Is that vanity?”

“Yes, of course. No, no, Hayle. But, once more: it is impossible.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ah, that’s very good and sensible of you. Now, look here. I have thought it all over as I came, and I am sorry to say what I have decided upon seems to be the best plan. It will grieve me terribly, but there’s no help for it. You and Judith must go away. You will agree to this, Hayle?”

“You mean, ma’am, that we old people are to settle the matter as to what is best for the young folks?”

“Yes, yes, that is right.”

“And what will the young folks say?”

Mrs Rolph hesitated for a moment or two.

“We cannot stop to consult them, my good man, when we are working for their good. Now, look here, Hayle; of course it will put you to a good deal of inconvenience, for which I am sorry, and to meet that difficulty I went back to my room and wrote this.” She took a cheque from her little reticule. “It is for fifty pounds, Hayle; it will cover all your expenses till you obtain another appointment. Why, Benjamin Hayle, how long have you been in our service?”

“A many years, ma’am,” said the keeper gravely; and then he read the cheque over as Mrs Rolph placed it in his hands. “Ah! ‘Pay to Benjamin Hayle or bearer, fifty pounds. – Constantia Rolph.’ A good deal of money, ma’am. And now, I think I’ll call Judith down.”

“Yes – yes, do. I must say a few words to her. Poor girl, I wish her well.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the keeper quietly.

“Yes: it is not all her fault.”

“Judith – Judith, my girl,” said the keeper, opening the door at the foot of the stairs. “Come down.”

There was the quick rustling of a dress, and Judith came down, red-eyed, pale and wild-looking, to lay her hand on her father’s arm.

“Ah, Judith, my dear,” began Mrs Rolph, hastily. “Your father and I have been discussing this unhappy affair, and, sorry as we are, we feel obliged to come to the conclusion – the same conclusion that you will, as a good, sensible girl, when you have well thought it out – that this silly flirtation cannot go on. It is for your sake as well as my son’s that I speak.”

Hayle felt his child’s hand tremble on his arm.

“You are too wise and too good to wish to injure my son’s prospects for life, and so we have decided that it will be better for your father to leave the place, and take you right away, where all this little trouble will soon be forgotten.”

“And,” interposed the keeper, “the missus has given me this, my dear – a cheque for fifty pounds, to pay all our expenses. What shall I do with it, my dear?”

“Burn it, father,” said Judith, slowly. “It is to buy us off.”

“Hah!” said the keeper, with a smile full of satisfaction, “that’s well said;” and he placed the end of the cheque to the glowing ashes. It burst into flame and he held it till it was nearly burned away, tossing the scrap he had held into the fire.

“Hayle, you must be mad!” cried Mrs Rolph, astonishment having at first closed her lips.

“Nay, ma’am, we’re not mad, either of us,” said the keeper, gravely. “There are some things money can buy, and some things it can’t, ma’am. What you want is one of the things it can’t buy. Judith and I are going away from the cottage – right away, ma’am. I’m only a keeper, but there’s a bit of independence in me; and as for my girl here, whom you made a lady, she’s going to act like what you have made her. She owns to me, in her looks if not in words, that she loves young master, and she’s too proud to come to you and be his wife, till you come to her, and beg her to. Am I right, Judith?”

The girl gave him a quick look, and then drew herself up, and clung to him.

“Yes, father,” she said, in a whisper which caused her intense suffering “you are right.”

“There, ma’am, are you satisfied?”

“No,” said Mrs Rolph in a husky voice, “I am not satisfied, but it cannot be. My son’s welfare is at stake.”

She rose, and tried to speak again, but unable to utter another word, she left the cottage, father and daughter watching her till she disappeared among the dark aisles of the firs.

Volume One – Chapter Eight.

Mars in the Ascendant

“Better get it over,” said Captain Rolph, the next day, as he indulged himself in what he called a short “spin” down the lane by the side of The Warren, and in the direction of the Alleynes’ home, which stood up, grim and bleak, out of the sandy desert land. “What with the old man, and the major, and the mater, and Madge, and – oh, hang it all! I’m not going to stand any humbug from Judy, and so I tell her. There, I’ll go and get it over at once.”

He stopped running, braced himself up, and marched in regular military fashion, back to The Warren, to see Marjorie seated at one of the front windows, ready to give him a smile in response to his short nod.

The next moment he stopped short, gazing sharply down the avenue at the broad, bent back of the keeper, who, with head down, was striding away toward the gate.

“What’s he been here for? – to see me?”

Rolph entered the house, walked noisily into his study – a gun-room, for the study of fowling-pieces and fishing rods, with a museum-like collection of prize cups and belts dotted about, in company with trophies of the chase, heads, horns and skins. Here he rang the bell, which was very promptly answered by the butler, Captain Rolph being a follower of the celebrated Count Shucksen, and using so much military drill-sergeant powder with his orders that they went home at once.

“Hayle been to see me, Smith?” he asked, sharply.

“No, sir. Came to bring up your guns after my mistress had been down to the keeper’s lodge this morning.”

“Brought up my guns,” said Rolph, wonderingly. “What for?”

The man looked at him rather curiously in silence.

“Well, idiot, why don’t you speak?”

“Not my business, sir. In trouble, I suppose. Benjamin Hayle and me has never been friends, and so he said nothing, on’y one word as he went out.”

“And what was that?”

“Sack, sir – sack!”

“That’ll do.”

“Yes, sir – I knew it would come some day,” said the butler to himself. “Sticking up a notorious poacher on a level with respectable servants, and putting his daughter over ’em, making my lady of her. But pride always did have a fall.”

“Humph!” muttered Rolph, with a laugh, “the old girl strikes first blow without knowing what was coming. All right. Now for it. Just as well, perhaps. But he was a good keeper.”

He went out into the hall just in time to meet Marjorie, who was tripping blithely down the stairs, singing the while.

“What a lovely day it is, Rob,” she said.

“Is it?” he said grimly.

“Isn’t it, dear? Why, what’s the matter? Are you going in to see auntie on business?”

“Yes, on that business. Did you and my mother hatch up that dodge between you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Rob.”

“Of course not, my clever little schemer. Come in, too, and hear how I’ve flanked you both.”

A sudden change came over the girl’s smiling countenance, with its air of wonder, and it was with a vindictive flash of her eyes that she suddenly caught Rolph by the arm.

“Not married?” she said in a harsh whisper.

“No; not yet.”

“Hah!”

It was a catching sigh of relief as Rolph threw open the drawing-room door, and, with mock politeness, stood aside for Marjorie to enter.

Mrs Rolph looked troubled and disturbed, and evidently welcomed the appearance of Marjorie, making a sign for the girl to come to her side, and then drawing herself up in her most stately way ready to receive her son’s attack, which was not long in coming.

“Why did you go to Hayle’s this morning?”

“On business, Rob.”

“What for?”

“To tell him that the time had come when I required his services no longer, and that he must go at once.”

“What! My keeper?”

“Mine, Robert,” said Mrs Rolph, firmly. “You forget the terms of your father’s will. You have your income; I have mine, with undisturbed possession of everything at The Warren while I live. You occupy the position of my guest when you are here.”

“Humph! all right. And so you have discharged Ben, eh? When does he go?”

“To-day.”

“Sharp practice, mother; and all because poor Judy is pretty.”

“And all because, as I told him, I wished to save – I will speak plainly, even in your cousin’s presence – a weak, vain girl from disgrace.”

“Humph! pretty plain speaking that, mother.”

“There are times when plain speaking is necessary, my son, and when strong action is required to save you from the consequences of a mad passion.”

“Rubbish!”

“What! Don’t you know Ben Hayle better than that? Do you think he is the man to sit down quietly when he knows the truth? Have you not seen that the foolish fellow believes thoroughly what he as good as told me to my face this morning – that he expects to see his daughter some day mistress here?”

“Ben Hayle’s a fool,” cried Rolph, angrily, “and you and Madge here are half-crazy. Let’s have an end of it. Once for all, mother, I mean to do exactly as I like, and I have done as I liked.”

Mrs Rolph started forward in her chair, and Marjorie’s lips tightened.

“What do you mean, Rob?” cried the former.

“You want to see me married, I believe?”

“I want to see you prove yourself an honourable gentleman – a worthy son of your father, not a man for whom I should blush.”

“All right, then. I’ve taken the right steps for settling into a quiet, country gentleman. I’m going to be married.”

Marjorie’s eyes flashed.

“Rob, you will not be so mad as to marry that girl?”

“Yes, I shall,” he said coolly.

“Then I have done with you for ever. Judith Hayle may come here when I am in my grave, but till then – ”

“Let the churchyard alone, mother. Do you think I’m such a fool as to marry a poacher’s daughter?”

“Rob! Then you have repented!” cried Mrs Rolph excitedly, and Marjorie trembled and sank upon her knees to cling to her aunt’s waist.

“Oh, yes, I’ve repented, and I’m going to be a very good boy and get married soon.”

“Madge, my dear child!” cried Mrs Rolph, embracing the girl at her feet.

“There, don’t get filling her head full of false hopes, the same as you did Judy Hayle’s mother,” said Rolph brutally. “I went yesterday and proposed, and have been accepted.”

Marjorie’s breath came and went in a low hiss as she turned her wild eyes upon her cousin.

“Proposed? To whom? Rob, not to that pert, penniless girl at The Firs?”

“What, the moon-shooter’s sister!” cried Rolph. “Hah! nice, little, bright-eyed thing. But no: try again.”

Mrs Rolph rose excitedly from her chair, and Marjorie’s hands dropped from her waist as she crouched lower upon the carpet.

“Not John Day’s daughter – Glynne?”

“Good guess, mother. Glynne Day is to be my wife by-and-by. The old man is agreeable and the major isn’t. So now, the sooner you go and call upon them and make it all right the better.”

Poor Marjorie dropped out of Mrs Rolph’s sight.

“Rob! my dear boy!” she cried as she flung her arms about her son’s neck to kiss him fondly, while Marjorie rose slowly, looking white even to her lips, and with a peculiar smile dawning upon them as her eyes flashed upon the group before her.

“I knew I could trust you, Rob,” cried Mrs Rolph; and then, recollecting herself, “Madge, my poor child, I am very sorry, but, you see, it was not to be.”

“No, auntie dear,” said the girl, with the smile growing more marked; “marriages are made in Heaven, you know. I shall not mind – much. Of course the great aim of all our lives was to see dear Rob happy. Glynne Day is very beautiful and sweet, and a daughter of whom you will be quite proud. I should be deceitful if I did not own to being grievously disappointed, but, as was natural, Rob’s love for me has only been that of a brother for a sister” – she fixed Rolph’s eyes as she spoke, and his turned shiftily away – “and if I have been a little silly, the pain will soon wear off. Glynne Day. How nice. I’m sure I shall love her very much, though she is rather cold. Isn’t she, Rob?”

“That is very nice of you, Madge, my dear,” said Mrs Rolph, embracing her niece. “And who knows how soon another prince may come, my dear.”

“Oh, aunt!”

“And you will try to forget all this?”

“Of course, aunt, dear. It was fate,” said the girl innocently.

“And – and you will not mind going over to Brackley with me to call?”

“I, mind? Oh, auntie, I should be horribly disappointed if you did not take me. There, Rob,” she continued, with a little sigh, “that’s all over, and I congratulate you – brother; and I shall kiss dearest Glynne as I kiss you now.”

“Humph! thought she was going to bite me,” muttered Rolph. Then aloud, “Well, Madge, it was a bit of a flirtation, I own. Now, then, as you’ve behaved like a trump, so will I. What shall it be – a pearl locket, or diamonds, or a bracelet?”

“Oh, how good and generous you are, Rob dear. How nice of you!” cried Marjorie in gushing tones. “I have so often longed for a sapphire bracelet.”

“Then you shall have one,” said Rolph, but not quite so warmly as he had spoken before. “I’m off now.”

“Won’t you stay to lunch, dear?” said Mrs Rolph.

“No. I shall have a sandwich in my room. I’m training. I say! can you go over this afternoon?”

“Of course we will, dear,” said Mrs Rolph, warmly; and there was a look of relief in her eyes.

“Then that’s all settled,” said Rolph; and he left the room, not noticing the hard look in his cousin’s eyes. “Sorry about poor old Ben Hayle,” he muttered as he went to his own room. “But perhaps it’s best. Going to be married, and must be a good boy now.”

Then a thought struck him, and he hurried back to the drawing-room, to surprise Marjorie upon her knees, with her face buried in Mrs Rolph’s lap.

“Oh, beg pardon,” he said, hastily; “but look here, mother; don’t be quite so hard on Ben Hayle. I mean as to a day or two.”

“Leave that to me, Rob – please,” said Mrs Rolph.

“Oh, all right,” he cried, and he went right off this time. “Poor little Madge! but she won’t be long before she hooks another fish. Bet a sov. she tries it on with the astronomer; but I must go and smooth it down a bit at the lodge. What a blessing it is to have nearly enough coin. That bracelet did wonders; but Judy mustn’t play quite so high, and, as for Ben – well he’s my mother’s man, and – I know; I’ll let him keep that old gun.”

Volume One – Chapter Nine.

Attraction and Repulsion

Rolph dined at Brackley that evening, and found Sir John in the best of spirits. Glynne was bright and eager to show him the progress she had made with her painting, at the sight of which he started as they stood together in the drawing-room.

“But I say, Glynne, you know, this is doosid clever and ought to go to the Academy; only, hang it all! you mustn’t get painting fellows like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because – because – well, you see the fellow’s a regular scamp – dangerous sort of a character, you know – been in prison for poaching, and that sort of thing.”

“But he’s such a patient model.”

“Model, eh? Not my idea of a model. Look here, if you want some one to sit, you shall have me.”

The conversation changed to the visit she had received that afternoon; and Glynne in her new excitement was rapturous about “dear Mrs Rolph,” but rather lukewarm about her niece, and Rolph noticed it.

“Madge nice to you?” he said.

“Your cousin? Oh, yes,” replied Glynne, thoughtfully. “She seemed rather shy and strange at first, but soon got over that. We have always been a little distant, for I think I was too quiet for her; but of course we shall be like sisters now.”

“H’m, yes, I suppose so. But Madge is rather a strange girl.”

The dinner passed off pretty well. Rolph drinking a good deal of the baronet’s favourite claret, and every now and then finding the major’s eyes fixed upon him in rather a searching way which he did not like; but on the whole, Major Day was pleasant and gentlemanly, and rather given to sigh on seeing how happy and bright his niece looked. When at last she rose during dessert, and Rolph opened the door for her to pass out to the drawing-room, he was obliged to own that they would make a handsome couple, and on seeing his brother’s inquiring glance, he nodded back to him, making Sir John look pleased.

“I’ve no right to object if they are satisfied,” he said to himself; “but he is not the fellow I should have chosen.”

All the same, he shook hands warmly enough when Rolph left that night.

“Jack,” he said, as he sat with his brother over their last cigar, “I think I may as well get married now.”

“You think what!” cried Sir John dropping his cigar.

“I think I shall get married. I mean, when Glynne has gone.”

“I should like to catch you at it!” growled Sir John. “When Glynne goes you’ve got to stop with me.”

“Ah, well we shall see,” said the major, whose eyes were fixed on the dark corner of the smoking-room, where he could see a fir glade with a pretty, bright little figure stooping over a ring of dark-coloured fungi – “we shall see. Glynne isn’t married yet.”

The next morning, soon after breakfast, Rolph started off for a run, for he was training for an event, he said, the run taking him in the direction of the preserves about an hour later.

He had gone for some distance along the path, but he leaped over a fence now and began to thread his way through a pine wood, where every step was over the thick grey needles; and as he walked he from time to time kicked over one of the bright red or speckled grey fungi which grew beneath the trees.

He had about half a mile to go through this wood; the birch plantation and the low copse, and then through the grove in one of the openings of which, and surrounded by firs, stood the keeper’s cottage.

He pressed on through the fir wood, then across the birch plantation, where the partridges loved to hide, and the copse where the poachers knew the pheasants roosted on the uncut trees at the edge, but dared not go, because it was so near the keeper’s cottage.

Then on to Thoreby Wood, in and out among the bronze-red fir-tree trunks, under the dark green boughs, where the wind was always moaning, as if the sea shore was nigh, and the bed of needles silenced his footfalls, for the way was easy now. In another minute he would be out of the clearing, close to the cottage – at the back.

“Why, there she is,” he said to himself, with his heart giving a throb of satisfaction, as he saw before him a girl standing where the sun shone down through the opening where the cottage stood, and half threw up the figure as it rested one hand upon a tree trunk and leaned forward as if gazing out from the edge of the wood at something in the opening beyond.

Rolph stopped short, to stand gazing at her admiringly.

“What is she watching?” he said to himself, then, smiling as the explanation came.

“Been feeding the pheasants,” he thought. “She has thrown them some grain, and they have come out by the cottage.”

“Yes,” he continued, “she is watching them feed, and is standing back so as not to scare them. Poor beggars! what a shame it seems to go and murder them after they have been reared at home and fed like this.”

He hesitated for a few moments, and then began to walk swiftly on, with hushed footsteps, toward where the figure stood, a hundred yards away.

When he saw her first, he was able to gaze down a narrow lane of trees, but a deep gully ran along there, necessitating his diverging from that part, and going in and out among the tall trunks, sometimes catching a glimpse of the watcher, sometimes for her to be hidden from his sight. And so it was that when at last he came out suddenly, he was not five yards behind her, but unheard. He stopped short, startled and astonished. For it was not Judith who stood watching there so intently.

Madge! there!

At that moment, as if she were impressed by his presence, Marjorie Emlin rose partly erect, drawing back out of the sunshine, and quite involuntarily turning to gaze full in Rolph’s face, her own fixed in its expression of malignant joy, as if she had just seen something which had given her the most profound satisfaction. She was laughing, her lips drawn away from her teeth, and her eyes, in the semi-darkness of the fir wood, dilated and glowing with a strange light.

For a moment or two she gazed straight at Rolph, seeing him, but not seeming to realise his presence. Then there was a rapid change of her expression, the malignant look of joy became one of shame, fear, and the horror of being surprised.

“You here, Madge!” he said at last, in a hoarse whisper lest Judith should know that she was being watched. “What does this mean?”

She looked at him wildly, and began to creep away, as one might from some creature which fascinated and yet filled with fear.

She was still shrinking away, but he had caught her wrist and held it firmly as she glared at him, till, with a sudden effort, she tried to wrest herself away.

There was no struggle, for he suddenly cast her away from him, realising in an instant the reason of her presence and of this malignant look of satisfaction, for, as Madge darted away, he rushed into the opening where the cottage stood, in response to a wild cry for help.

He reached the porch in time to catch Judith on his arm, as she was running from the place, and receive Caleb Kent who was in full pursuit, with his right fist thrown out with all his might.

The impact of two bodies at speed is tremendous, and scientific people of a mathematical turn assure us that when such bodies do meet they fly off at a tangent.

They may have done so here, but, according to matter-of-fact notions, Rolph’s fist and arm flew round Judith afterwards, to help the other hold her trembling and throbbing to his heart; while Caleb Kent’s head went down with a heavy, resounding bump on the tiled floor of the little entry.

Then Judith shrank away, and Rolph in his rage planted his foot on Caleb Kent’s chest, as the fellow lay back, apparently stunned.

But there was a good deal of the wild beast about Caleb Kent. He lay still for a few moments, and then, quick and active as a cat, he twisted himself sidewise and sprang up, his mouth cut and bleeding, his features distorted with passion; and, starting back, he snatched a long knife from his pocket, threw open the blade, and made a spring at Rolph.

Judith uttered a cry of horror, but there was no occasion for her dread, for, quick in his action as the young poacher, Rolph struck up the attacking arm, and the next moment Caleb Kent was outside, with his opponent following him watchfully.

“Keep of!” snarled Caleb, “or I’ll have your blood. All right: I see; but never mind, my turn will come yet. If I wait for years, I’ll make this straight.”

And then as Rolph made a rush at him, he dodged aside and darted into the fir wood, running so swiftly that his adversary felt it would be useless to pursue.

Neither did he wish to, for Judith was standing there by the porch, looking wild-eyed and ghastly.

“You – you are hurt,” she faltered.

“Hurt!” he cried, as he clasped her once more in his arms. “No, no, tell me about yourself. Curse him! what did he say?”

“I was alone here and busy when he came. He has followed me about from a child and frightened me. To-day he walked straight in and roughly told me that he loved me, and that I must be his wife.”