Many such days of sheer delight they had, and kept the dark cloud
resolutely below their horizon. They accommodated their activities to
the limited powers of the elders, and took them wherever it was
reasonably possible for them to go. They chartered a boat for the day,
and took them and all the luncheon-things round from Creux Harbour to
Grande Grève, subjecting Charles to long-unaccustomed labours at the
oar. In the same way they introduced them to Dixcart Bay, and
Derrible, and Grêve de la Ville; and, choosing a fit day, they
circumnavigated the island again in three boat-loads, landing for
lunch on an even keel on Brenière, and penetrating into every
accessible cave they came to,--Mrs. Pixley enjoying the wonders in
fear and trembling, and breathing freely only when they were safely
out in the open once more. And Graeme and Margaret watched the
approximating of Hennie Penny and Charles with infinite delight. It
needed only a full understanding between these two to complete their
own great happiness.
But the dark cloud was there, though they might refuse to look at it,
and clouds below the horizon have a way of rising, especially dark
ones.
The post-office in Sark is a cottage, or the part of a cottage, turned
from private to public use. In former times the service was of a very
perfunctory character, Providence largely taking the place of
post-master while that official attended first to his fishing and then
to his duties, and any who had good and valid reason to expect a
letter came down to the mail-bag where it lay on the beach and went
through it for themselves.
The advent of visitors accustomed to more exact and business-like
methods, however, has done away with this Arcadian simplicity, and now
each day when the boat is in, all who prefer not to wait for the tardy
delivery at their own houses, collect gradually round the official
cottage, and in due course, and after the exercise of virtues, receive
their mail across the counter. And some tear their letters open at
once, regardless of spectators, and devour them on the spot, but the
wiser carry them home for private consumption. For one never knows for
certain what of heartbreak and disaster the most innocent-looking
envelope may contain.
Graeme and Margaret and Miss Penny, however, being in retreat, and
having cut the painter with the outside world, had not cultivated the
post-office until Charles and Lady Elspeth arrived. But, as Charles
had to keep more or less in touch with Throgmorton Street, they had
now got into the habit of calling with him for his letters, except
when the doing so interfered with the programme for the day. And many
an amusing, and sometimes touching, insight did they get there into
human nature. Graeme said it was worth while the trouble of going,
just to sit in the hedge opposite and watch people's faces, especially
the faces of those who tore open their letters and those who got none.
They were sitting so in the hedge one morning, quietly watching and
commenting silently, and by looks only, on the vagaries of the
letter-scramblers, and Charles had pushed into the crowded little room
to antedate the delivery by a few minutes if possible.
As he came out, with his letters in his hand, they all saw at a glance
that something had happened. His face, which had been gradually
relaxing to its old look of jovial good-fellowship and satisfaction
with the world, was tight and hard, and yet they saw that he had not
opened a letter. He turned up the road with a mere jerk of the head,
and they followed wondering, and all, as it came out afterwards, with
the same dim idea as to the possible cause of his upsetting.
He handed Margaret a couple of letters for Lady Elspeth, and made an
attempt at conversation as they went along, but the cloud they had
been keeping out of sight was visible now to all of them. Among the
unopened letters in his hand was one which disturbed him even before
he knew what was in it, and they could only wait, with troubled minds,
for developments.
Charles went straight to his room, as he usually did when business
matters claimed his attention, and from the look on his face Graeme
judged that the scramble, fixed for that day on account of a specially
low tide, round the Autelets, whose rock-pools and phosphorescent
seaweeds and beds of flourishing anemones were a perpetual delight,
would be off for the time being at all events.
But Pixley came down presently and intimated that he was ready, and
they trooped away, leaving the elders at home for a day's rest, since
rock-scrambling was outside their limits.
Their progress, however, was not the usual light-hearted saunter
enlivened by merry jokes and laughter. The lanes were fragrant as
ever, the air was full of larks and sunshine, but the cloud had risen
and overshadowed them, and Graeme guessed why Charles had come. There
was something he wanted to discuss with them alone, out of the hearing
of his mother and Lady Elspeth.
He was not surprised--when they had scrambled down into Port du
Moulin, and had passed through the arch, and were sitting on the rocks
above the first of the sea-gardens,--when Charles said, "There's
something I want to consult you about, and I couldn't do it at the
house, as I want it kept to ourselves. I got this, this morning. Will
you read it?" and he handed Graeme a letter. Graeme opened it and read
it out.
"99A HIGH STREET, ALDERNEY.
"MY DEAR CHARLES,--I will not at the moment attempt any
explanation of the calamity which has befallen our house. If you
knew all, you would not blame me as I fear you must be doing. Let
me say, however, that I have every reason to hope that in course
of time I may be able to redeem the position by making good all
deficiencies and so clearing our name of reproach. To do so, I
must get away--to Spain in the first instance, and for that I
need your assistance. The end came unexpectedly and took me
unawares, and I am almost penniless here. In asking your help, I
do so the more confidently as, in the path I have indicated, lies
the only hope of redemption. In assisting me you will not only be
doing what a prosperous son might reasonably be expected to do
for his father in his day of misfortune, but you will be acting
for the general weal in putting me into a position to make good
what I have all unwittingly become responsible for, and to that
sacred end the remainder of my life shall be most solemnly
dedicated.
"I came here from Cherbourg, and am for the moment safe from
oversight. As soon as you place me in position to do so, I shall
get away and begin my new life-work, which I am earnestly
desirous of doing at the earliest possible moment.
"Address me as above--Revd. J. Peace.
"Your affectionate FATHER."
Graeme kept the humorous wrinkles about his eyes and mouth in order
with difficulty as he read this very characteristic effusion, but
Margaret was the only one who saw it. Charles had kept his eyes
intently on the pool below, and Miss Penny had been regarding him
sympathetically.
"What do you make of it?" said Charles. "It makes me sick."
"He evidently needs your help," said Miss Penny.
"Yes, but have I the right to give it him? That's the question."
"He says----" began Graeme.
"Oh, he says!" growled Charles. "Trouble is, he's been saying for the
last twenty years, and it has all been a lie. This is probably all a
lie too. Not all"--he added grimly. "As I read it, he has got funds
stowed away somewhere and he's anxious to get to them."
"So that he may make restitution," urged Miss Penny.
"Yes, that's what he says," said Charles, in a tone that showed no
slightest tincture of conviction. "What would you do," he asked,
looking up at Graeme, "if you were in my place?"
Graeme filled his pipe thoughtfully.
"Let us look at it quietly all round," he said, and lit up and puffed
away contemplatively.
"From what he says,"--checking off his points on his fingers,--"if you
don't assist him, he may be taken, and the--the unpleasantness of the
situation be thereby increased.... I do not see that his punishment
would help anyone--except maybe as a deterrent, and that is
problematical.... I gather from this, as you do, that he has funds
awaiting him somewhere.... You have no great faith in his promises--"
"None," growled Charles.
"And I presume, as a business man, you would count a bird in the hand
worth several in the bush--in other words, you would sooner have what
he has stowed away--somewhere, than what he hopes to make some time--"
"Sight sooner!"
"Then, I should say, offer him such assistance as he needs to get
away, and, if you can see your way to it, a bit to live on afterwards,
on condition of his placing in your hands everything he has got stowed
away, so that you can pass it on to the receiver."