CHAPTER XI

A VISIT TO CORNWALL

LIFE at the moment with the Miss Buchans was at first rather irksome, but Gentian's nature had its compensation. If she suffered intensely, she enjoyed intensely, and the little things of life laid hold of her with an absorbing interest. Miss Horatia's horses and a couple of young terriers were a perpetual joy to her. One morning Miss Horatia saw Gentian mounted on one of her hunters which the groom was exercising. The audacity of it amused her, but when she came to breakfast she took the girl to task for her rashness.

"If you want to learn to ride, practise on old Sophy, the grey mare. I don't want you to break your neck. Rufus is not fit for a novice."

"I only walked him up and down the avenue. I was out playing with the dogs, and I couldn't resist mounting when he came by with an empty saddle on him. Green says I've a born seat on horseback. Do you mind? I ought to have asked your permission."

"I won't have you ride my hunters," said Miss Horatia good-naturedly; "but you can ride out on Sophy if you like."

Gentian flushed with pleasure. Every morning before breakfast she accompanied the groom when he exercised the horses. There was a burst of warm weather, and the hunting had stopped. After breakfast she went up to Miss Anne's room and read and worked with her, writing some of her letters, and occasionally going to the town to pay her bills, or to shop for her. In the afternoon the car was taken out.

And after tea Gentian was allowed a couple of hours to herself. They dined at half-past seven, and music and games were the order of most evenings. Gentian would fly over and pay Mrs. Wharnecliffe a visit sometimes, and when Sir Gilbert was home again, she went over to him. Once a week she had her organ practices, for she resumed her organist's duties on Sundays at the little church, and always put fresh flowers on the new grave in the little churchyard.

Very slowly peace was returning to her heart. A long talk with Sir Gilbert had completed what Thorold had commenced. Gentian could look up now and take courage. A sharp attack of gout, which laid Mr. Wharnecliffe up, prevented his wife from going to Cornwall as soon as she had intended. Gentian was disappointed, but she had learnt to control her feelings.

The Miss Buchans were kind, and treated her quite as one of the family, but their surprised faces when Gentian at first burst into one of her tirades, showed her that she must put a curb upon her tongue. It was discipline to which she was not accustomed. She relieved her feelings by writing long letters to Thorold.

"I don't care whether you answer me or not, and I give you leave to tear my letters up directly you have read them, but I have no Waddy now, and I simply must pour out my heart to some one. You would not know me. So meek, so quiet, so gentle of tongue am I, so serene and unaware of all vexations and annoyances! That is the outside me. But the inside! Ah! It is a boiling cauldron, and a mass of contradictions, whims and whamsies.

"I am learning to ride; it is kind of Miss Horatia to let me. I work off a good many tempers and moods when I am jogging along the roads with Green, the groom. But when we get to a bit of grass we have a good canter, and away fly all my black shadows and rebellious feelings! I come back to the house ready for anything!"

And then one morning Mrs. Wharnecliffe arrived at the Mount asking the Miss Buchans if they would allow Gentian to come with her the next day to Cornwall.

"We shall only be away the week-end. I am going to put up at the small inn at Perrancombe. And I shall go down in the car; the trains are so tedious."

Miss Anne said she would be willing to spare Gentian, and so it was settled and the girl went about the house with such a radiant face that Miss Horatia chaffed her about it.

"I thought you and Thorold Holt were always sparring with one another. You have told me that you did not like his interference. Is it a case of 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'?"

"It isn't altogether him," said Gentian confusedly; "it's the sea, and the mines, and the Cornish people I want to see. Besides, it's a trip to an unknown place, and I always love that!"

Then she added with her natural truthfulness:

"I feel differently about Cousin Thor now; he's a link with the past—the only link I have; every one has been swept away from me. He's always a kind of buffer to me, and I miss him. And he has been very kind to me, hasn't he? I came to England a stranger. Now dear Waddy has gone, I feel stranger than ever. There isn't a person in the whole wide world who really belongs to me. How would you feel if you were I?"

"You'll be able to remedy that one day," said Miss Horatia.

Miss Anne looked horrified at the insinuation, and Gentian laughed her merry laugh.

"I'm not in a hurry to belong to a stranger," she said.

The next day came, and proved ideal for motoring. A bright blue sky, and very little wind. Mrs. Wharnecliffe called for Gentian at ten o'clock. They sped swiftly along and were both rather silent at first. Then Gentian began to talk.

"Do you think it would be impossible for me to live with Cousin Thor and keep his house for him? He would look after me so very well. You don't seem to like the idea of my living alone, and I do want a home. I've always had one. It's all very well being with the Miss Buchans for a time, but I shan't be able to keep on doing it for ever. I cry over it when I'm in bed at night. I never felt lonely when Waddy was alive. I knew she would never leave me, but I'm desperately lonely now."

"My poor child!" said Mrs. Wharnecliffe, laying her hand softly on the girl's arm. "I was hoping you were settling down happily. You have your riding to interest you, and it is a busy, useful life for you."

"Tell me, if Cousin Thor takes this house, couldn't I live with him in it? I should love to look after him; he never looks after himself."

"No; I don't think that plan would work at all," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe decidedly. "He has never expressed a wish to have you, has he?"

"Oh, no. I would go like a shot if he did."

Gentian gave a sigh, then brightened up.

"Shall I sound him on the subject, or will you?"

"Thorold has been too long a bachelor to like a woman in his house. She would embarrass him and be in his way. I tried for a long time to get him a lady housekeeper, but he would not have it."

"I dare say," said Gentian gloomily, "that this Miss Muir will marry him. I don't think he is a bit too old to be married. And a wife would soon get him out of his old-fashioned bachelor ways."

Mrs. Wharnecliffe could not help laughing. Gentian still talked at times like a child. She turned the conversation to other subjects, and Thorold was not mentioned again.

They arrived at Launceston about two o'clock, and had lunch at an hotel there. It was between four and five when they reached their destination. Gentian was charmed with the village in a wooded valley that ran down to the sea. They heard the thunder and roar of the surf breaking over the rocks before they came in sight of it. The church was perched on a hill, and they turned, up a steep lane to get to the Rectory which was close to it. Just as they came up to a big iron gate set in the middle of two granite walls, Thorold himself appeared.

"I've been looking for you for the last hour," he said: "have you had lunch?"

"Yes, at Launceston. We've seen no sign of the inn, so came on to ask you where it was."

"It isn't in the village, which is good, for you will be quieter away from the fisher-folk. It is five minutes' drive from here on the high road which leads across the moor."

"Come in, and we'll drive on together."

Thorold slipped into the front seat by the chauffeur, then he looked back at Gentian and smiled at her.

"How do you like Cornwall?"

"It's rather bare and wind-swept," said Gentian, "but the sun on the sea reminds me of Italy."

"If we follow this line along, we shall come to the house I want you to look at, but we'll find the inn first."

It was a very small place when they reached it—but it looked clean, and there were flowers in the small garden behind it, which delighted Gentian's heart.

They put up the car, then sat down and had tea together. Thorold told them that his friend the Rector had hoped to give them tea—but Mrs. Wharnecliffe was tired and wanted a rest. Motoring was not the exhilarating experience to her that it was to Gentian.

But in an hour's time she declared she was ready for a walk, and they sauntered through a sheltered lane which twisted and turned continually till Gentian said it made her quite giddy. Thorold was able to give them a good deal of information about his mine. Work was beginning, and he was very hopeful of the result.

"Is it tin or copper?" asked Mrs. Wharnecliffe.

"Tin," said Thorold.

"No radium about it?"

He laughed.

"No, that is only obtainable in the china clay. I am not going to make my fortune over this, Lallie."

"If you did, you would only give it away twenty-four hours after you had got it," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe.

Gentian was rather silent, listening to the talk but not joining in it. Presently they came in sight of a clump of pines, then a white gate was seen, and Thorold told them that this was the little house he wished them to see. They glided down a drive bordered by high tamarisk hedges, then came to a fair-sized shrubbery of rhododendrons and azaleas, with a background of trees, and then swept round to the front of the house.

"What a little darling!" exclaimed Gentian.

It was a solid granite house with a slate roof, but it was covered from end to end with creepers. Jasmine and rose, and the sweet-smelling stentonia, and a big magnolia hid the grey walls from view. There was a neglected lawn in front of it, with an old sundial in the middle, but when Gentian jumped out of the car and stood on the doorstep, she gave an exclamation of surprise and delight.

The lawn sloped down to green cornfields, and at the bottom of them lay the blue, shining sea. No trees hid the ocean from their eyes. The Cornish coast-line stretched away on the right. To the left against the sky-line was Rame Head, and nearer Tregantle Fort could be dimly seen.

The house was small and very old. There were casement windows, and the square stone hall was dark. An old staircase, with solid oak stairs, went up in the middle of it.

Mrs. Wharnecliffe looked about her, then opened a door at the back of the hall and found it led out into a square paved court.

"Oh," she said, "you must have glass panels in this door to let the light in, Thorold, and turn this little courtyard into a conservatory. What is the aspect?"

"East," said Thorold. "Frances Muir suggested a Dutch garden here."

"Oh," said Gentian quickly; "then she's been over the house with you?"

"She's known this house all her life," Thorold responded.

Gentian said no more, but her quick eyes were taking everything in. She liked the old-fashioned kitchen and dairies; there were two rooms on each side of the front door, and a third sitting-room in a side wing. Upstairs there were five good-sized bedrooms and some attics. Gentian danced in and out of the empty rooms in her light-hearted fashion; she loved the oak panelling in the dining-room, and the deep window recesses. Mrs. Wharnecliffe signified her approval of the house as a whole.

"A man won't find it lonely," she said, "but if you were bringing a wife here, I shouldn't be so content, for I think she would get the blues. Have you no neighbours?"

"Oh yes, within driving distance. Do you think it gloomy?"

He turned to Gentian.

"Now it is empty it is, but it won't be when it is furnished," said Gentian, looking about her with dreamy eyes. "I can see it with wood fires and thick curtains, and music, and books, and flowers."

Then she laughed.

"And you in it, Cousin Thor, moving about in your serene, cheerful way, never ruffled if the soot fell down the chimney and the water-pipes leaked and the fires smoked. Are you going to keep a car?"

"No, I'm thinking of a horse."

"And a man and his wife to look after you," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe. "Thorold, I am afraid you will be buried alive here."

He smiled and shook his head.

"I have too many people to consider and to help."

"Now let us come to your repairs," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe. "Of course, you must cut down your creepers, and one or two trees that are too close to the house, and the shrubberies want cutting back. I should put a south window in the biggest sitting-room which faces west, then you'll get plenty of sunshine."

She went through the rooms again, discussing many possible improvements. Gentian left them and wandered round the neglected garden. She followed a little path through the shrubbery which led her to a rising knoll on which was a seat looking seawards. She sat down and lapsed into day dreams.

"I must be getting very old," she mused; "I feel as if I want to settle down somewhere and stay there. I don't want to career about the world any more. How peaceful it is here!"

A thrush was singing in the bushes close to her; there was a sweet scent of syringa which was not far away; and as she raised her head she heard a lark singing in the cornfields. A moment after steps approached her. It was Thorold.

"I have tracked you at last," he said. "Mrs. Wharnecliffe is on her way back to the inn; I told her we would follow. What do you think of the view from here?"

"I think it is heavenly."

He sat down on the seat beside her.

"To-morrow you must come and see the mine. I am in two minds about taking this house. Dick Muir and his daughter advised me against it. They want me to remain on with them indefinitely, or else build on a site which Dick can let me have, but I don't care about doing that. I would rather take rooms in the village where Godwin was. I don't feel like starting another house just yet. The mine is a speculation. I may lose all my money over it."

"And then you would be a pauper like me," said Gentian cheerfully; "I wonder how you would like that."

"I have gone through poverty, child."

"Yes, I forgot. Forgive me. And I hope with all my heart that your mine will succeed. I think I would take the house, Cousin Thor, and then you could invite Mrs. Wharnecliffe and me down to visit you. I would like to come alone best, but Mrs. Wharnecliffe won't let me hint at such a thing! I can't fancy you in lodgings; you've always had a nice home. I only wish I could get the chance of having one."

Then she stole a look at him through her long eyelashes.

"I heard from Jim Paget the other day. He's been over the Rocky Mountains and now is on his way home. He would give me a home, any day. I might do worse than have him, but I'm afraid we should fight like cat and dog. Still, I would have a house of my own, and I should love furnishing it and arranging rooms."

"Don't marry for a home," said Thorold gravely. "The man must come first. You would have a miserable life if you did not care for your husband."

"Do you think so? It's a funny world. Things happen so contrary. He likes me, and I don't like him, and yet I may meet somebody else whom I shall like and he won't like me. I somehow feel as if I shall never have just what I want. And I think I'm getting dull and old, and I shan't be at all likeable when my teeth and hair fall out."

Thorold threw his head back with his quick laugh, as he did when she amused him.

"Cheer up, you are not so very ancient yet."

"Tell me truthfully, do you think I shall make any man a bad wife?"

Thorold turned to her. Something in his eyes made Gentian catch her breath. He was about to speak, when round the corner of the shrubbery path appeared Miss Frances Muir.

She greeted them delightedly.

"Here you are! I've been scouring the village for you, for I heard Mrs. Wharnecliffe, your friend, had returned to the inn. How do you do, Miss Brendon? We met in Edinburgh, didn't we? How are your old ladies? I thought them so quaint, especially the horsey one."

"They are quite well, thank you."

Gentian's tone was stiff; she resented the Miss Buchans being criticized.

"Now, Mr. Holt, you must come home at once. Your manager is at our house waiting to see you. It's something about the mine, some of the machinery has gone wrong."

"Ah!" said Thorold, with a concerned face. "Then my fears are realized. Gentian, I'm afraid I must leave you. Explain it to Mrs. Wharnecliffe. I hope to take you over the mine to-morrow, but I must go off with Dormer at once."

"I'll take Miss Brendon to the church," said Frances Muir, "that is, if she is not in a hurry to return to her friend. What do you think of this little house?"

"I like it," said Gentian. "I'm in no hurry at all, and should like to see the church. Has it a nice organ?"

Thorold smiled.

"It has a wheezy old harmonium, that is all," he said.

"It is awful, isn't it?" said Miss Muir. "But I'm not musical, I don't know one note from another. Our little schoolmistress plays it."

They were walking along the lane at a good brisk pace, then Thorold turned up one road and they took another. Gentian was quiet and grave, as she usually was when she did not feel sure of a person.

Miss Muir did most of the talking.

"Dad is so delighted to have Mr. Holt down here. It's making him quite young again, but we don't approve of that house for him. It's too desolate and lonely. I'm not going to let him take it if I can help it. And he would be better the other side of the village near his mine."

"If I had a mine, I wouldn't want it just outside my windows," said Gentian, "and Cousin Thor is accustomed to a nice house and has always lived alone. There aren't any other empty houses about are there?"

"Oh, he could build. I love planning houses; I always think I should have made a good architect. He and I spend our evenings in drawing out plans. I have a lovely one just completed, that would suit all his requirements."

"I hate new houses," said Gentian shortly, "they have no tradition or atmosphere."

"But you won't be asked to live in it," said Miss Muir laughing.

Gentian spoke with real temper now:

"Can't one like or dislike things for one's friends without being involved in them personally? I don't think I'll go to the church now, thank you. I'll wait till Cousin Thor can take me. Here's the inn, good-bye."

She flashed away from Miss Muir like a bright meteor, and burst in upon Mrs. Wharnecliffe in impetuous fashion.

"I dislike Miss Muir very much; I think I hate her," she announced, flinging her gloves down on the table, and facing her friend with hard, defiant eyes.

"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Wharnecliffe with a smile.

"Oh, she's what people call 'catty.' She gives herself airs, and thinks she's going to frame Cousin Thor to her liking."

"Perhaps she will," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe slowly; "perhaps Thorold has met his fate in this little Cornish village."

"I wish him a better fate than that conceited girl," snapped out Gentian. "I don't believe he likes her a bit. I shall ask him. Fancy! She doesn't know one note of music from another and doesn't care! Boasts of it! A person without any love for music is a person without a soul!"

"My dear Gentian, don't get so hot over her."

"But, Mrs. Wharnecliffe, why should she take possession of him as she's doing? He never knew her before he came here, she's not going to let him take that house, she says. She wants to build him one of her own planning."

"Thorold is not a weak boy, my dear Gentian. He will please himself. He is a man who has decided opinions of his own, and is not easily influenced by others, as I have found to my cost."

"No," said Gentian, suddenly becoming quiet and rather despondent, "he's like a granite wall, and if you beat your head against him, you'll only break it, and not hurt him. Sometimes I think Cousin Thor has no feeling at all! Just once—now and then—very seldom, his eyes betray him!"

She stopped herself and relapsed into silence. What did that look of his mean? And what was he going to say when Miss Muir had so inopportunely interrupted them?

Mrs. Wharnecliffe glanced at her anxiously. She never could understand the girl, but she was fond of her. Her contradictions moods and irrelevant talk bewildered her. What a creature of impulse she was! Even her late sorrow had not steadied her, and yet how nobly she had stood by her sick friend in her last illness! How wonderfully patient and capable she had become!

"I think, my dear, you had better go and change your dress. Dinner is at the early hour of seven here. Thorold was to dine with us. Where has he gone?"

"Off to his old mine. There's something gone wrong."

Mrs. Wharnecliffe sighed. "I always feel he will ruin himself over this project. It is such a risk!"

Gentian left the room, murmuring to herself: "If she hadn't interrupted us! Oh, if she only hadn't!"