GOLDEN HOURS.
How Haskins reached the Devon Maid that evening he could not tell, for
his memory was occupied in recalling every word of that delightful
conversation. But in some way he managed to strike a narrow path
which led on to the high moors, and thence gained the highway,
descending into Denleigh valley. It was rather late when he entered
his sitting-room, and the rosy hues of the sunset had given place to
the shadowy stillness of a summer night. Supper was waiting for him,
and almost immediately the negro appeared with a hot dish.
"I thought you were lost, sah," said Geary, looking closely at
Gerald's flannels, which were somewhat torn by brambles, and smeared
with mud.
"Oh no," answered the young man, ready with an explanation, since he
wished to satisfy the negro's curiosity without enlightening him. "I
have been down the river and up the river in my canoe. But I got mixed
up with stones and cross-currents, and blundered in the darkness. I
therefore hid my canoe in the bushes, and came back."
"And you like the river, sah?" asked Geary, lingering.
Haskins supped his soup and nodded. "A most charming river," he said
in a careless voice, "very quiet, very lonely. I shall explore it
again to-morrow afternoon."
The negro withdrew quietly, and Haskins reflected on the persistent
way in which the man questioned him. More than ever did he mistrust
Adonis, and now with stronger reason, for he felt certain that the
negro was connected in some way with Major Rebb, who in his turn was
assuredly connected with the Pixy's House and its inmates. If Geary
discovered that Gerald had met with the Enchanted Princess, he might
officiously inform Rebb, when there would be trouble. Without doubt
the Major was behaving illegally in shutting up a perfectly sane
girl, and therefore would not create a public scandal. Nevertheless,
if he knew that Haskins had penetrated his secret, he might remove
Mavis to another hiding-place. Gerald could not risk that, until he
knew more, and again had met the girl. He looked upon himself as the
knight-errant of distressed beauty, and it behooved him to be wary in
his dealings with a very difficult and somewhat dangerous matter.
After supper Haskins lighted his pipe and seated himself by the open
window to think over matters. Mrs. Geary entered and removed the
remnants of the meal in her dumb way. After placing a cup of coffee on
a small table at her guest's elbow she withdrew, and he was left to
his reflections. These began with a consideration of Mavis' beauty of
person and charm of conversation. It can thus be guessed that Haskins
was in love--genuinely in love, and for the first time in his life.
As Bulwer Lytton says: "There are many counterfeits, but only one
Eros!" This was Haskins' experience. He had loved in an earthly way
many times in his time, and several times had mistaken the false for
the true. A fastidious mind had saved him from the commercial passion
of the ordinary man, and he had usually approached women in the belief
that they were goddesses. This was hard on the sex, as the attitude
exacts too much perfection in a world of temptation. Consequently
Gerald had been deceived several times, and therefore had guarded
himself carefully against the tender passion. Then he met with Charity
Bird, and,--in common with many another man--fell in love with her
physical charms. But in spite of her beauty, which he grew to admire
as he would that of a picture, Haskins failed to find in her the wife
and helpmate his exacting nature demanded. Outwardly Charity was all
that he could desire, but inwardly she was less attractive, being
matter-of-fact when she was not silly. She might suit Tod, but she did
not match with Gerald, so he withdrew with little regret, and for some
months, he had been heart-whole and fancy-free.
Now, in an unexpected and extraordinary way, the young man had met
with another Charity Bird, more perfect than the original. Mavis was
as beautiful in looks, and yet was higher in mind. From the strange
upbringing to which she had subjected she looked at life--what little
she knew of it--in a poetical way. Yet judging by her remarks on
cooking and embroidering and gardening, she had a fund of common
knowledge, directed by common-sense. It was too early as yet to
pronounce authoritatively on her capabilities and trend of thought:
but the spiritual power manifested in her personality appealed
strongly to the lover who had loved her counterfeit. Here indeed was
the true Eros; a deity, who could be worshiped without disappointment.
Gerald, with less reflection than he usually gave to his decisions,
determined to be a faithful attendant at the shrine of this divinity.
Having thus settled his attitude towards the girl, with the
impetuosity of a young man and a true lover, Haskins began to think
over Miss Durham's position. In spite of the hideous rumor, reported
by Geary, he believed, from personal observation, that the girl was
quite sane. Rebb, who was her acknowledged guardian, had apparently
set such gossip afloat so that no one might comment upon the seclusion
of the girl. Guarded in this way by public fear, which had been
erected by a lying tale. Mavis might continue to dwell for the rest of
her life amidst the ruins of the Pixy's House, closely watched by the
Florentine and spied upon, in a less degree--as Gerald shrewdly
suspected--by Geary, who was probably a creature of Major Rebb's.
Now, the question was this: Why did Rebb shut up so pretty and
unsophisticated a creature in conventual solitude? She had committed
no crime, and, from what little Haskins had seen of her, she had no
instinct which would make her commit one. There must be some other
reason and a strong one for the odd behavior of Rebb. This reason
Haskins determined to learn, howsoever much Geary and his employer
might desire to conceal it.
Also there were other questions to which the young man desired
answers. Why was Mavis so similar to Charity in looks? Why had she not
been taught to read and write? Why was Geary--as Haskins verily
believed,--posted at the Devon Maid to keep his one sinister eye on
her? Gerald could not have sworn in a court of law that the negro was
connected in any way with the Pixy's House secret; but he had an
intuitive feeling, from the man's behavior towards Major Rebb, and by
his eager statement of a false rumor, that in some manner the landlord
had to do with the matter. Haskins, therefore, placed himself on his
guard and by a careless demeanor, and apparent frankness he succeeded
in lulling Geary's suspicions as to his true reasons for postponing
his journey to St. Ives. It was Geary who could answer, at least, some
of the questions which vexed Gerald's soul, and he lingered to hear
them. Unfortunately he did not know how to inquire without betraying
his secret visit to the Pixy's House.
Two or three days went by, and Haskins regularly took his way to the
river, to seek the fairy palace. After that first attempt to navigate
so stubborn a stream as the Ruddle he used the canoe very little. It
was easier and more expeditious to take the highway to the moors and
then strike into the secret path which led to Mother Carey's Peace
Pool. This Haskins did, and then would paddle across to the landing
place, whence he could gain the summit of the cliff. Here he would
climb the wall to hide behind the beech-tree, and hither Mavis would
come to chatter to her "Fairy Prince," as she still continued to call
him. But owing to the presence of Bellaria the young man did not dare
to descend into the grounds. Any moment might have brought about
discovery had he risked so much, for, according to Mavis, the
Florentine was a keen and restless dragon.
"She's afraid of something," said Mavis, one day, when Gerald
questioned her about the woman. "I don't know what it is; but she is
afraid."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because she is always looking over her shoulder with a scared
expression, and she never sleeps in the same bedroom."
"Has she more than one then, Mavis?"
"Oh yes. There are many many bedrooms in the house, and Bellaria goes
to a different one nightly. She's afraid of the darkness, too, and
remains always in the house after sundown. When she goes shopping in
Leegarth she returns quite pale and nervous. I am quite sure that she
is afraid of something, but she always gets angry with me, when I ask
what is the matter."
"Curious," murmured Haskins, "here is another mystery!" then he asked
aloud: "How often does your guardian come to you?"
"Not very often. Sometimes he is away for months and then will come
twice in a week. He really is very kind, for he always brings me
presents. I call him Santa Claus when he does that. But, oh! there is
Bellaria. Stay here, Gerald; I'll see what she wants."
As it was early in the afternoon Haskins had an excellent view of the
Florentine, who stalked across the lawn almost to the foot of the
beech, drawn thither by her nursling's answering cry. "You are always
sitting on the high branches of that tree," said the Italian crossly,
and in most excellent English. "Why do you do that?"
"I can see the river and the pool," said Mavis quickly. "Oh! Bellaria,
I wish I was a nymph, that I could plunge into the cool water."
"You can do that without being a nymph, _cara mia_. But not in the
pool below--not outside the grounds. Your guardian would be angry. No
English young lady leaves her home until she is twenty-one."
Haskins smiled when he heard this frightful falsehood. Bellaria had
been well trained by her master, and such was the simplicity of Mavis
that she accepted the limitation of her liberty in all good faith.
"But I shall be so glad when I am twenty-one," she complained with a
sigh.
"Si! si! si!" Bellaria placed her hands on her hips and nodded three
times emphatically. "But you will not like the world. No, ah, Dio mio!
the world is a dangerous and evil place." And she looked in a scared
manner over her shoulder, shivering in the warm air.
The Florentine had been a handsome woman, tall and dark, and of a
commanding appearance. She was still remarkably straight at the age of
fifty-six, and carried herself with a defiant air when forgetful of
the danger that threatened her, whatsoever that might be. Then she
would cringe and wince, as Gerald had just seen her do. Her eyes were
large and black, but the pupils were dilated, and she looked like a
terrified rabbit. Apparently the woman had cause to fear some enemy or
some punishment, for not only were her eyes scared-looking, but her
plentiful hair was absolutely snow-white. This might have been age,
but fifty-six is not a very great age, and the hair might easily have
been an iron-grey. There was certainly some shadow on her life which
threatened disaster, and only when she forgot the danger, in
conversation with Mavis, did Bellaria appear defiant and stately and
tolerably young. But the very slightest reminder of that past--and the
past apparently contained the danger referred to--and her form
dwindled, her body bent, her eyes grew timid, and she aged to seventy,
as though by enchantment. All this might have been fancy on Haskins'
part, for he was extremely imaginative, but he believed that he had
read the woman rightly. Whatever might be the reason, Bellaria Dondi
had been frightened into this lonely house; there to hide from some
appalling danger.
It appeared that the fit of terror tormented her now, and that she had
sought Mavis' company from sheer dread of solitude. Quite ignorant of
the man up the tree--or rather the lover who was seated on the
wall--Bellaria sat near the trunk, talking to Mavis. Both the lovers
were afraid lest their secret should be discovered, but Bellaria kept
up so loud a conversation--and it seemed as though she spoke loudly to
reassure herself--that the occasional movements of Haskins passed
unheeded. Mavis proved herself to be a capable actress, despite her
simplicity, for nothing could have been more artless than her
demeanor. "Geary is coming to see me to-night," said Bellaria, after a
pause, and the observation startled the listener. "He sent a message
by Matthew"--this was the aged, cross gardener, of whom Mavis had
spoken.
"Why is he coming?" questioned Mavis.
"Major Rebb told him to come and see that the young man who is
stopping at the Devon Maid has not been lurking about here."
"What young man?" asked Mavis coolly.
"I have told you. A friend of the Major's, who is stopping at Geary's
inn. He has taken to rowing on the river, and might find this place."
"I wish he would," said the girl, truthfully. "I should like to see a
really young man."
"You will some day," Bellaria assured her, "and then you will be
sorry, _cara mia_. Young men are all liars and villains. Geary wrote
to Major Rebb in London telling about this Mr. Haskins--that is the
name, I believe--so the Major says that Geary has to come over
to-night to look round the place and ask me questions. So absurd,"
Bellaria shrugged her thin shoulders! "As if anyone could come here
unless I knew."
"Why shouldn't this Mr. Haskins come, Bellaria?"
"Because you may fall in love, and if you do you may want to marry
this man. Major Rebb does not wish you to marry until you have seen
the world, my dear."
"But I have to wait for another ten months," pouted Mavis.
"What is that? I--yes I, who speak, Bellaria Dondi--shall never never
see the world again. Here I am shut up for ever and ever."
"Why, Nanny? I have often asked, but you never will tell?"
"I tell no one the reason why I stop here," said the woman sombrely.
"I am dead to the world and to its people. For twenty years I have
been dead, and it is as well that I should be thought to be dead. If
they knew--if they guessed--ugh!" She looked round and shivered.
"If who knew?"
"No matter! no matter." Bellaria leaped to her feet. "All is done with
and over. I was famous once, _cara mia_. Yes--behold in me a great
singer. But you know, you know. Often have I talked to you of my
greatness. And it was blotted out in a night by---- Hush! hush." She
cast a scared glance over her shoulder and darted into the middle of
the lawn.
"Bellaria! Bellaria!" called out Mavis, "I'll climb the beech again."
But the woman did not reply. She burst out into the Shadow Song from
_Dinorah_, and Haskins realized at once what a magnificent voice she
must have had. Even now many of the notes were true, though
occasionally a high one was cracked and wheezy. Spreading her black
skirts, she bowed and becked and swept and danced to her shadow in the
strong sunlight, while her voice fluted high and birdlike through the
air. Thus singing and dancing, she re-entered the house, her dark hour
over for the time being. Haskins wondered what could be her secret.
Here, indeed, was a woman with a past.
But by this time Mavis had climbed the tree again, and was hurriedly
persuading him to go. "Bellaria suspects nothing," she said eagerly,
"and after Geary comes to-night he won't come again. But you must be
careful."
"How can I be more careful than I am?" asked Gerald taking her hand.
"Come at night," she urged, "come to-morrow night when the moon is
high and the fairies come out to dance. I am often in the garden on
these summer nights, for Bellaria will not come out, and I hate to be
mewed up in stuffy rooms. She will not think that I am meeting anyone,
and then we can talk without fear of discovery. I shall lead you into
the other garden through the arch."
"But if Bellaria sees me from a window?"
"Her bedroom is on the other side of the house, looking down on to the
woods. She will not see us, and she will never suspect that anyone is
with me. She knows that I love the moonlight, and, besides, she will
not dare to come out because of her fear."
"I wonder what that fear is," said Gerald meditatively.
"I do not know. But go now, dear Prince, and come again to-morrow night
at ten o'clock. To-night you must not come lest Geary see you."
"And if he did?"
"Oh!" Mavis shivered. "I don't know what he would do. He is a terrible
black man, and has a horrid knife with a yellow handle--a big knife,
oh! so dangerous. He brought it from Jamaica: he told Bellaria so. He
would kill you, if he found you."
"I quite believe that," said Gerald grimly, and resolved to arm
himself with a revolver when he next came to the Pixy's House. He was
resolved not to die without a fight. "But don't worry, darling. I'll
be all right. Goodbye. To-morrow night, then."
He dropped from the wall and departed, while Mavis wailed that he had
not kissed her.