"Are you not judging dear Robert too hardly, aunt?"
"No, Madge, no. It is as plain as can be; he thinks of nothing else
when he comes home--he, a man to whom any alliance is open, to be taken
in like that by a keeper's--an ex-poacher's daughter."
"Judith is very ladylike and sweet," said Marjorie softly, as if to
herself.
"Madge, do you want to make me angry?" cried Mrs Rolph, indignantly.
"Shame upon you! And it is partly your fault. You have been so cold
and distant with him, when a few gentle words would have brought him to
your side."
"I am sure you would not have liked me to be different towards him. You
would not have had me throw myself at his feet."
The words were as gentle-sounding as could be, but all the same there
was a suggestion of strength behind, if the speaker cared to exert it.
"No, no, it is not your fault, my dear," cried Mrs Rolph, angrily; "it
is mine, I can see it all now. It was a foolish mistake having her
here. Educating a girl like that is a great error, and I see it now
that it is too late. Oh, Madge, dear, if I could see him happily wedded
to you, how different things might be. But I declare that nothing shall
ever induce me to consent. If he will go on in utter rebellion to his
mother, he must do so."
"But is it too late, aunt?"
"Unless you rouse yourself up to the position, act like a woman of the
world, and drag him from this wretched girl. Oh, it is too disgraceful.
If I had only thought to send her away before his regiment was
quartered so near."
"Yes," said Marjorie, musingly, "but it is too late now."
"Then you will not try?"
"I did not say so. Here he is."
There was a step in the hall, the sound of a stick being thrust
carelessly into a stand, and, directly after, Rolph tramped into the
room.
"Ah, Madge," he said, in a careless, easy way; and, ignoring the smile
of welcome with which she greeted him, he walked across to his mother's
chair.
"Well," he said, "how is the head?" and he stooped down and kissed her
brow.
"Not at all well, my dear," she said affectionately. "I think I will go
up to my room."
"Have a drive, dear; I'll order the tandem out."
"No, no, my dear, I shall be better soon."
She rose, kissed him, and left the room.
"Dodge to leave Madge and me together," muttered the young man. "All
right. Bring things to a climax."
"How very little we see of you, Robert," said Madge softly. "So much
training?"
"Health. Shows how wise I have grown. I'm like pepper; a little of me
is very nice--too much an abomination."
Marjorie sighed.
"Hallo! Been reading poetry?"
"No," said the girl, in a low, pained voice. "I was thinking."
"Thinking, eh? What about?"
"Of how changed you are from the nice frank boy who used to be so loving
and tender."
"Ah, I was rather a milksop, Madge; wasn't I?"
"I never thought so; and it pains me to hear you speak so harshly of
yourself. What has made you alter so?"
"Ask Dame Nature. I was a boy; now I am a man."
Marjorie sighed, and gave him a long, sad look.
"Well," he said, "what is the matter?"
She looked at him again, long and wistfully.
"As if you did not know," she said.
"Know? How should I know?"
"Then I'll tell you," she cried quickly.
"No, no; confide in some lady friend."
"Robert," she said, in a low, husky voice, and her whole manner changed,
her eyes flashed and the lines about her lips grew hard. "What have I
done that you should treat me like this?"
"Done? Nothing."
"Then why have you turned so cold and hard to me?"
"I am the same to you to-day that I have always been."
"It is not true," she whispered, with her voice full of intensity of
feeling, "you left no stone unturned to make me believe you cared for
me."
"Nonsense! Why--"
"Silence! You shall hear me now," she continued, with her excitement
growing. "I resisted all this till you almost forced me to care for
you. You even make me now confess it in this shameless way, and, when
you feel that you are the master, you play with me--trifle with my best
feelings."
"Gammon! Madge, what is the matter with you? I never dreamed of such a
thing."
"What!"
"Are you going mad?"
"Yes," she cried passionately, "driven so by you. It is shameful. I
could not have believed the man lived who would have treated a woman so
basely. But I am not blind. There is a reason for it all."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you think me a child? I am to be won and then tossed aside for the
new love--fancy, the poacher's daughter, and when--"
"Don't be a fool, Madge. You are saying words now that you will
repent."
"I'll say them," she cried, half wild with jealous rage, and her words
sounding the more intense from their being uttered in a low, harsh
whisper, "if I die for it. The gamekeeper's daughter, the girl taken in
here by your mother out of charity."
"Madge!"
"Who is to be the next favourite, when you are weary of your last
conquest--one of the kitchen wenches?"
"Perhaps," he said coolly.
"Rob! Have you no heart that you treat me as you do?"
"I never thought, never said a word to make you think I meant--er--
marriage."
"Think you meant marriage?" she whispered. "I did love you as dearly as
I hate you now for your heartless cruelty to me. But you shall repent
it--repent it bitterly."
"Look here," he said roughly; "for years past we have lived in this
house like brother and sister, and I won't have you speak like this.
Does my mother know?"
"Ask her."
"Bah!"
"You dare not ask her what she thinks or whether she approves of your
choice. Captain Rolph in love with the gamekeeper's daughter! Is she
to be taken to the county ball, and introduced to society? And is she
to wear the family diamonds? Judith--Judy--the miserable, low-bred--"
"Here, hold hard!"
Marjorie Emlin stopped short, startled into silence by the furious look
and tone she had evoked. The young man had listened, and from time to
time had made deprecating movements to try and turn away the furious
woman's wrath till she had made this last attack, when he glared with a
rage so overpowering that she shrank from him.
"You have done well," he said. "My mother looks upon you as a daughter.
I have always been to you as a brother."
"It is not true," she said, as she stood quivering with fear and rage
before him, trying to meet his eye. Then, with a low cry, full of
vindictive passion, she struck at him, and ran out of the room.
"Curse the girl!" growled Rolph. "I wish women wouldn't be such fools.
A kiss and a few warm words, and then, hang 'em! you're expected to
marry 'em. Man can't marry every pretty girl he kisses. They want a
missionary among 'em to tell 'em this isn't Turkey. If there's much
more of it, I'm off back to Aldershot. No, I'm not," he added, with a
half laugh, "not yet--Hallo, mother! You?"
"Yes, my boy. I saw Madge go out just now, looking wild and excited.
Rob, dear, you have been speaking to her?"
"Well, I suppose so," he said bitterly.
"And you have told her you love her?--asked her to be your wife?"
"Good heavens, mother! are you gone mad too?--Madge--I never dreamed of
such a thing."
"Why?" said Mrs Rolph, with a strange coldness.
"Because--because--"
"Yes; because you have taken a fancy to another," said Mrs Rolph
sternly. "Robert, my son, it is not I who am mad, but you. Have you
thought well over all this?"
"Don't ask questions," he said sulkily.
"I am your mother, sir, and I assert my right to question you on such a
matter as this, as your poor father would have questioned you. But
there is no need. I have done wrong, and yet I cannot blame myself, for
how could I, his mother, know that my son would act otherwise than as a
gentleman."
"Well, I never do."
"It is false. When Mary Hayle died, I bade her go in peace, for I would
try to be a mother to the orphaned girl. Heaven knows, I tried to be.
I brought her here, and made her the humble companion of your cousin
Madge. She shared her lessons; she was taught everything, that she
might be able to earn her own livelihood as a governess."
"Well, I know all that."
"To be treated with ingratitude. My foolish son, when he comes home,
must allow himself to be enmeshed by a cunning and deceitful woman."
"What bosh, mother!"
"But it is true. You do not dare to tell me you do not love Judith
Hayle?"
"There is no dare in question. I like the girl."
"Unhappy boy! and she has led you on."
Captain Rolph whistled.
"Any telegram come for me? I sent a man to Brackley."
"Telegram!"
"Yes. I want to know about the footrace at Lilley Bridge."
Mrs Rolph gave her foot an impatient stamp.
"Listen to me, sir. This is no time for thinking about low sports."
"Hallo? Low?"
"Yes, sir; low. I have never interfered when I saw you taking so much
interest in these pursuits. My son, I said to our friends, is an
officer and a gentleman, and if he likes to encourage athleticism in the
country by his presence at these meetings, he has a right to do so; but
I have not liked it, though I have been silent. You know I have never
interfered about your relaxations."
"No; you've been a splendid mater," he said laughingly.
"And I have been proud of my manly son; but when I see him stooping to
folly--"
"Misapplied quotation, mater--when lovely woman stoops to folly."
"Be serious, sir. I will not have you degrade yourself in the eyes of
the neighbourhood by such conduct, for it means disgrace. What would
the Days say--Sir John and Glynne? If it had been she, I would not have
cared."
"Let the Days be," he said gruffly.
"I will," said Mrs Rolph; "but listen, Rob, dear; think of poor Madge."
"Hang poor Madge! Look here, once for all, mother; I'm not a witch in
Macbeth. I don't want three ounces of a red-haired wench--nor seven
stone neither."
"Rob! Shame!"
"I'm not going to have Madge rammed down my throat. If I'm to marry,
she's not in the running."
"What? when you know my wishes?"
"Man marries to satisfy his own wishes, not his mother's. I have other
ideas."
"Then what are they, sir?" said Mrs Rolph scornfully.
"That's my business," he said, taking out his cigar-case.
"Then, am I to understand that you intend to form an alliance with the
family of our keeper?" said Mrs Rolph sarcastically.
"Bah!" roared her son fiercely; and he strode out of the room and banged
the door.
"Gone!" cried Mrs Rolph, wringing her hands and making her rings crackle
one against the other. "I was mad to have the wretched girl here. What
fools we women are."
Her son was saying precisely the same as he marched away.
"Does she think me mad?" he growled. "Marry freckle-faced Madge!--form
an alliance with Ben Hayle's Judy! Not quite such a fool. I'll go and
do it, and show the old girl a trick worth two of that. She's as
clean-limbed a girl as ever stepped, and there's a look of breed in her
that I like. Must marry, I suppose. Ck! For the sake of the estate,
join the two then--I will--at once. It will stop their mouths at home,
and make an end of the Madge business. She'll be all right, and begin
kissing and hugging her and calling her dearest in a week. That's the
way to clear that hedge, so here goes."
He stopped, took a short run and cleared the hedge at the side of the
lane in reality to begin with, before striking off through one of the
adjacent fir woods, so as to reach the sandy lanes and wild common on
the way to Brackley.
Volume 1, Chapter III.